Home for the weekend

Fetch me my tricorn hat!  I need a meal!

I picked up Thing 2 from school today; he's been at UNC for two weeks and needed a laundry trip home.  Naturally, as mentioned, I said yes to this request, as I actually miss the kid. Who'd-a thunk it?

He entertained me nearly the whole ride with a recitation of what he's been up to for those 2 weeks, aided by the journal he's been keeping of his daily activities.  Wonder where he got THAT from? (my Mom, I think.  Seriously.  She writes down a short encapsulation of what goes on day to day on a desktop calendar.  It's a good idea.)  The school handed out some pocket-sized notebooks and it appears that they are just the right size for noting 'things' in during the day and through the night.  So, he read through the book, adding bits and pieces throughout his narrative, until we reached today.

The LONGEST part?

Describing everything you can get to eat in the cafeteria.  Holy  moly!  I thought that my college eating experience was good (and it was! Thanks JMU!), but his is yards and yards better.  SO glad we got the super-sized swiper plan so that I can go try this whole thing out sometime.  Because, hey, when your kid tells you he's eating stuffed flounder of roast beef and mashed potatoes, you KNOW he's eating better than you most times.

Also, there's something about a double-chocolate macademia nut cookie that I hear is to die for.

---

I also like that he took himself for a walk to the Arboreturm, 'just for something to do,'
 and was enthusiastic about it.  That's my boy.

---

 I think it's going to all work out, friends.  I really think it will.

Tiff out.

Well howdy!

I have not posted anything in almost 2 months?   What the heck is going on?  It's not like I've been:

• Travelling the world (the farthest I've gone is Virginia.  No wait!  Michigan!)
• Being all tied up inventing something the whole entire world needs (but I did finalize an SOP)
• Learning a new skill (though does 'renting cars' count?)
• Holed up writing the next great American novel (not even YA stuff)
• Reinvigorating my health with vigorous daily exercise (and why is it spelled that way, 'exercise'?  It should be exersize, right?)

My life has been kind of boring, if you want to know the truth.  I gave up on both the vegetable and flower gardens, even.  I think the only thing I've been doing a real good job on lately is spending money.  Like, to the point that I'm having to move it out of savings (ouch) to pay for the stuff that needs buying.  I suppose when one is purchasing a good deal of items not on the budget (plane tickets, hotel rooms, rental cars, new brakes, anyone?), when one doesn't use credit cards the ol' bank account will be taking a hit.  But hey, tomorrow comes with a paycheck, so that's a silver lining.  AND, all that travel stuff was for a good cause, because it's not every day that a family member gets married AND decides to spend the first week of their honeymoon in little old Raleigh, NC.  It was nice having Biff's daughter and her new husband around for the week - we just don't get to see them all that much (Michigan is kind of far away.  I just looked at the map to confirm).

Dang, the last time I posted we hadn't even gone to Lake Week yet, and now it seems so far away.  Side note regarding the top news of yesterday: I was shocked at the senseless murders of a TV reported and her cameraman by a disgruntled former colleague, even MORE shocked to find out that it happened right at the Lake.  The same lake my family has been gong to for vacation for over 30 years!!  Bridgewater Plaza is as familiar to us as anything, and next year when we are there something will have changed about it, because murder in broad daylight is so horribly sad and such a waste of life that something will, in some way, have necessarily to be different.  It's terrible and wrong and disappointing that those two were killed by someone who subsequently took the coward's way out and shot himself.  Why didn't he just shoot himself first and let those two young people live?  Why did that selfish waste of skin feel like killing someone is just recompense for the slights it seems that he imagined she flung at him?  What kind of lunatic believe that murder is justifies because someone (perhaps) called you a bad word?  Right, a LUNATIC.  Way to ruin their lives, their families lives, and my vacation, you dickhead.

Changing topic now.

Thing 2 has been away at college now for nearly 2 weeks.  He has asked to come home for the weekend tomorrow, which I am happy to have him do.  At first I was going to stand firm that he should hang out there for at least a month, but as soon as he asked to come home I was all like 'ABSOLUTELY!!!' and so I will be picking him up tomorrow at 4:45 and try to not suffocate him with that first hug.  He's in near-constant contact with his brother, but does he call his mother?  Well, yes.  He does.  He also sent his brother a picture of 'The Pit' outside the student union last Saturday, and apparently everyone left campus because what is normally a very bustling area on campus was EMPTY (see picture above of what it looked like on move-in day this year).  Like, nobody there.  Can it be true that kids want to go home after their first WEEK in school?  Seems way too soon to me.  Of course my experience was different, because of Ye Olde Marschiernekapelle, which started a week before school did and kept us occupied many weekends.  I guess everyone needs to find their own way.

I'll leave it there, so as to retain some kind of material for the next time I feel like posting.  Until then, please keep us in your thoughts because we are likely going to be hosting Tiffowe'en this year and that's always a ton of planning and preparation.

Tiff out.

Need a playmate

Hi, I'm a very handsome (so I'm told) young adult male with sleek black hair, a noble nose, good taste in the finer things in life (like snacks and naps), and a love of all living creatures.

I have 2 cats, but only one of them likes me.  The other one gets mad when I'm around, but I've been working on her slowly and she now lets me kiss her, gently, from time to time.  She's touchy though, so I prefer to hang out with the other one, who can sleep anyplace or time, and often does.  He's sort of like a big orange rug, which is a lifestyle I can get behind, totally.

My house is solid and smells good most of the time.  Wednesday nights are the best nights because they're trash night.  However, because most dinners are home-cooked (wink!) pretty much every day there's something new going on that is pleasant and homey.

I am sort of sporty too, if you like that kind of thing.  Not like marathon sporty, more like 'playing catch in the backyard' sporty, or 'taking long walks in the woods' sporty.  I'm not picky, really, as long as there's about 30 minutes a day of running around.  Young males like me need to get their ya-yas out, you know.  I hope that doesn't offend anyone, because it's the truth and I only tell the truth..

ANYHOW, what I'm looking for is a friend.  A buddy to hang out with, you know?  I'm pretty new here and feel like it's time to branch out, maybe, to find some new faces to hang out with.  It's OK if it's just online or whatever, but if you live close by and want to hang out that'd be cool to.

This just feels like the right thing to do, so if you're interested, leave a comment below with your contact info and I'll get back to you.  Or my Mom will.  She's typing this for me, for reasons that will now appear obvious.

My name is Wernstrom, but you can call me Wern.  Or Buddy.  Or Budder.

So, yeah!  Hit me up with the digits ('cuz I ain't got any!  Hee!)!

Wern.

Please stop doing this

Folks, we need to talk about a few things. 

Things you need to stop doing.  Like, NOW.

---

Using these two phrases, for starters:

'Took a turn for the worst'

'All the sudden'

Because, really, it's presumed that (unless you're a non-native English speaker) you have come into contact with a variant of these turns of phrase before, and at that contact it's likely the phrase was being used correctly.  Perhaps I am wrong in this, but I'll bet not.  The use of these phrases MUST be stopped.

They are, in correct form, as follows:

'Took a turn for the worse'

'All of a sudden'

Please take note and endeavor to use them in their proper form from this point on.

Thanks much!

---

Also, if you would be so good as to cease being exclusionary, purposely ignorant, hateful, judgemental, violent, manipulative, and/or close-minded.

Instead, try being these things:

curious
welcoming
loving
accepting
peaceful
straightforward

It might seem weird at first, but once you get some practice in I'll bet you find that you're a lot less angry and defensive.

Good luck!

---

One last thing (this is for anyone who works in a cube farm): if you are having a conversation in your cube with someone, either on the phone or in person, please, for the sanity of all around you, do NOT drop your voice to a whisper just as you're getting to the juicy parts of what you're sharing.  It's really super-annoying and makes some of us get a little stabby. 

If you KNOW you're going to 'go there' in a conversation, either take it to a meeting room or save it  for instant messaging.  Because that would be the kind and least distracting thing to do, and might save you from being impaled by a plastic cafeteria knife.

---

These message brought to you by someone who clearly has some 'issues' with people lately.

What are yours?

Tiff out.

Thanks for that

Part of why I don't love my job is that there's a LOT of training involved.  Like, a lot.

I also don't like having to follow the rules, like ever, but must adhere to The System where training is concerned or the folks in the Upper Offices get notified and I would get called on the carpet, which I like even less than following the rules, so follow them I do.

Therefore, I do the damned training.

This morning's offering was along the lines of 'How we made your job easier by introducing new steps in the process and multiple new forms to fill out, plus make you do more of the work other people should be doing.  Amen.'

What, that doesn't make sense to you?  Welcome to Corporate America, my friend.

Oh sure, it's padded with little items like 'we now provide a fully hyperlinked document for you to check, so now YOU check it instead of that dude in India,' which isn't as fun as it sounds (!) because the type of document we're talking about can have thousands of pages and multiple thousands of links to check, and did I mention I'm not all that hot on detail work either?  Of all the things I don't care for at my job though, detail work, especially QC work, is my least least favorite, and sometimes I enjoy it, but THIS kind of detail work is mind-numbing.  Oh, and then we need to complete a form that says 'I checked it, it's FINE,' which if it turns out things are NOT actually fine when it comes time to submit the thing, will bounce back at the sign-ee like an angry toddler on a trampoline.

But I digress.  Back to the training - -

Normally, intructor-led training is more entertaining than the canned slide decks or recorded sessions in which the same smiling lady is used to present a wide variety of topics (eg, 'Marcy' in one training is 'Lucy' in another and she wears the same clothes and holds the same poses, because why pay for another set of stock photos when you already have The World's Stiffest Spokesmodel on hand?).  Instructors can do that little interaction thing, and sometimes can inject a little humor, right?

Well, notsomuch today.  Sure, there were humorous things that happened, like that long space of dead air while the nice fellow swooped around a long document looking for his one example of a broken link (so he could show us what one looks like), a time during which I may have hoped that the connection to the meeting was irretrievably broken, and that awkward giggle when the other instructor fished around for a way to say "I don't know" to a good question, but otherwise this one was pretty dry.

It had to be, because they rip-raced through absolute PILES of material, barely mentioning stuff that's pretty important. THEN they had the nerve to tell us that the meeting would end 25 minutes short of the scheduled hour, and I had to wonder why they glossed over so much if they KNEW the presentation only goes 35 minutes.  Seriously.  If  I'm going to not do actual work and instead go to a training, I want that training to last the full allotment of time instead of 'giving me back' 25 minutes of my day to, ostensibly, DO WORK. That's just a terrible trick to play on someone, wouldn't you agree.

So, yes.  Thanks for that trainers for all that "time back" hooey, but I played a trick on you.  I didn't work at all.  I wrote this post instead.

---

Oh, and my kid graduated on 06 June.  GPA of 4.875, 18th in his class of 500+ kids.  He seems to think that's pretty normal.  I seem to think it's pretty awesome.  He worked HARD for those grades, but didn't want to celebrate it.  Weirdo.

So I'm putting his picture on the internet instead.

:)

Yes, he's still in braces.  We got started late...

One proud mama, out. 

Oh for F*(&s sake

Years from now it is likely that the furore being experienced in the hearts and (I guess they are) minds of some folks is going to seem quaint and adorable by most of the people who are still around to remember this one earth-shattering thing that has happened that can now never unhappen:

BRUCE JENNER IS TRANS.

OMGOMGOMGOMG!  Where's the bomb shelter?  How do I protect my children?  What has this world come to that a man's man like Bruce is now a lady named Caitlyn?  It's an outrage!!  He can't be a she!  He's a he and he needs to be a he because if he is now a she then all my teenage broodings over how great a 'he' he was are now in vain because he was living a lie and liars are sinners and sinners go to hell and in my Heaven Bruce Jenner should be there gleaming like the god he is, medals around his burly neck and his glorious hair blowing in the celestial breeze!  Damn! 

Who wants to be a LADY, for crying out loud?

Well, me.

I am a lady, who never really felt all that 'girly.'  Don't think that makes me less of a lady because I tend to not think like one.  Does that make me a boy?  No.

I have a sound mind, a strong one, even, and while I don't tip around in girly acroutrements and preen over hair and makeup or get tall worked up over the newest fashions and manicure styles and Who Has The Biggest Diamond, I can be as much of a lady as the next man.  Or female.  I don't think it's about the outside as much as the inside, in other words.

I am a lady, who often feels much more like a guy.  I'm basic, simple, and now that I'm old I have much less drama and hormones to flood my physical being with what was chromosomally determined at conception, I have pared back to what I believe I really am, which is a PERSON.

Whoa.

Imagine.  Wanting to be the person you are.  What nerve.

Well, Caitlyn (nee Bruce) Jenner has been trying to be what she isn't for well over 30 years.  THIRTY.  Let her have a moment when she feels just right in who she is, even if the plumbing might not match the rest of the remodel.  Who gives a tiny crap about something as insignificant as that, when someone can finally say something as banal (to me) as 'hey, I like jeans and a tee just fine, no need for pantyhose and perfume here,' or, more likely, 'I like me in a dress and heels and big hair like Julia Roberts in Steel Magnolias.' 

Word: It's not the end of the world.  This transitioning doesn't reflect on YOUR gender situation (unless it does, and then I hope in some way what is happening right now helps you).  It's not as though this sort of thing has never happened before.  This is not the first time.  It's HER first time, though, and I think that while it might be confusing and strange and really uncomfortable for some folks, in the end it's about finding what make a person comfortable and at  peace that matters, and not what they wear or who they are becoming, or have become.


It's just not that huge a deal, except for him.  A little support would be great instead of a heaping helping of obnoxious bullying and creepy innuendo (Mike Huckablech!).

God.  Give me a spirit of graciousness and understanding in this moment.  Remind me to be civil and not fan flames of hatred and discomfort.  Let me be the open arms, the understanding heart, the sought-for peace.

Rant over.

Whoopsie!

It's been almost a month since I last posted, if the Blogger list is to be believed.  Clearly, things have been happening around here.

Liiiiiiiiiike, 

A) Thing the Younger is graduating high school this year, and so naturally I have to set aside some 'fret' time each and every day about this momentous life passage that was too quick to arrive.  OK, I don't really do that, but could if I was that sort of person, which I am not, and likely should be more of because things would get done around here, most likely.  We were involved, however, in discussions regarding enrollment and housing choices, both of which have occurred and are paid for.  It's going to be Tarheel country up at our house!

B) There were some birthdays and that whole Mother's Day raft of shenanigans really took the wind out of my sails for several days.  Plus which I got chocolate, so that took priority over writing anything here.

C) I also had to pay rapt attention to the Internet, as it's been a little dicey lately and needs to be monitored.  Closely.  Every day.  Did you know the average Facebook user spends 40 minutes a DAY there?  Slackers.

D) I started to write more than once, but each and every time a puff of wind blew in my face, or a cat wanted in (or out, or both, because, catS), or nobody else was making dinner, or I just coulld expend the energy to open up Blogger and just start in.

E) Also, I spent a fair bit of time working out the plan for my novel, and managed to whittle way some of the really bad ideas to arrive at what I think might be workable, and so got all skittish about writing anything else for fear that activity might push the good ideas out, which as it turns out happened quite naturally over time and it seems at this point like I'm going to have to go re-think my previous thoughts to see if they're still in the 'winning' column of Stuff I Would Like to Read (and therefore write).

F) Oh, and getting Thing 1's cosplay outfits ready for Animazement, which started yesterday, took some time.  I spent a LOT of time avoiding it, because it was going to be hard and I wasn't sure I could do it at all so didn't start because then, in a twisted way, I couldn't eff it up.  It was only when I noticed that HE wasn't starting anything either that we had a little chat about our shared procrastination issues and we dove in.  Things were going pretty well for me until yesterday, when I put the jacket (like, an actual SUIT JACKET!) together all wrong and it was too late to fix it so I wound up PAINTING another jacket approximately the right color and sheen to match what would have been the Perfect Jacket if I hadn't messed it up.  See today's pic above for what was supposed to happen.  I didn't make it that far, though it would have been awesome to have it come together, because we started working on it in January and the pattern and material set me back 80 bucks and C put a LOT of time into fusing the shiny stuff to some beefier material to make suitable (!) suiting fabric.  Oh well.  There are about a hundred ways to interpret this character (as I just found out (INTERNET!)), so I hope that the cosplay will be recognizable and enjoyed.

We DID successfully style the wig and make a Worbla mask and heart for the other cosplay character he's doing, so that's a win.  This is what we were going for:

He also did the whole suit and gloves and tie and shirt thing.  It came together nicely and I cannot WAIT to see pictures.

So, yes, it's been a while and I have NO good reasons why I haven't continued the frenetic pace of blogging I have set thus far this year.   Please accept the above neatly-listed Maytime activities as proof of my continued existence and interest in reaching out to you, the good people of the internet (and sometimes real life).

Happy long weekend!

Tiff out.

Wern-in-natin' the countryside

Ask anyone around these parts why we got a dog last year and most if not all of them would say “we have no idea.  Both Tiff and Biff have stated bluntly that they were never going to get another dog because cats are so much easier and they can just leave for longer periods of time and gallivant and frolic and such without having to worry about some dumb ol’ canine needing to be walked and fed and loved and stuff.”

And it would be true.  Every single syllable.  Once Skeeter Thee Dog passed on, we were freed up significantly to do whatever we wanted to, when we wanted to, for periods of up to 3 whole days at a time without having to call in the kitty-sitter to come refill the food bowls and check for carcasses.  We were footloose and fancy-free, and it was great.  GREAT!!  No dog hair to sweep up, no toys to throw and throw and throw, no schedule to be aware of, just loosey-goosey life, livin’ la vida lazy!

I didn’t realize how good we had it, until we got a puppy.

The most unexpected puppy ever, a puppy that really probably ought to be living with someone else right now.  Someone else who understands dogs, who forgives them their stupidity and messes, who adores their goofy flabbergasting ways.  Who might be able to make sense of what happened yesterday afternoon in the 5 hours or so he was home alone.  Picture it:

I walk in the door at about 4:15, greeted as usual by Wern, who is standing on the couch in the usual position, happy as all get–out to see me, or so it would have appeared if I was utterly blind and had no sense of touch or smell.

The happiness was not FOR me, though, it was for the ‘work’ he’d been up to while on his own.  Work that included jumping ON the kitchen table (he’s never done that before) and eating 2 packets of ketchup, 15-20 Hershey’s kisses (wrapped in festive pastel foil, which I expect to start seeing again any day now), a tube of lip gloss, a tub of tuning slide grease, a (small) bottle of rotor oil, 2 ziploc bags, and a work glove.  In the carnage, he managed to dislodge 10+ CDs from the Ziploc they had been stored in and scatter them all over the floor, knock the (small) pile of mail to the floor, possibly eat some of the mail (can’t be sure, it’s either that or he snacked on some cash-register receipts), and knock a box of sewing pins all.over.the.floor (and carpet, and couch, and under the recliners).

It looked, quite literally, like someone had chucked a lit stick of dynamite into just the right spot to maximize ‘stuff spread’ on the BOOM.

I didn’t react well.

To put it mildly.

Oh sure, I put him outdoors (after slamming the door in his face and without checking his feet or mouth for PINS) so he wouldn’t get in my way (‘stay safe’) while I was cleaning up, and once done cleaning up I called the vet to get their recommendation on what to do (they said ‘go to the emergency room’ and I laughed and laughed).  Sure, I made sure he was safe and secured the incident zone, sure I did, and then I called Biff and asked him where the shotgun was.

I did.

Because #1 – I’d had it with this wild beast and #2 - I do not have, at this time, any money to give to ER vets for our dog.  Not even for an X-ray, because here’s why: there was some mix-up in the HR system at work and mysteriously my withholding allowances went from 0-80 (sort of) sometime in the latter third of the year and as such I owed several thousands of dollars to the Feds which I THOUGHT I was going to use to buy siding for the house after we get the foundation work done in May.  Put it another way: foundation work + tax payout (the former siding!) = almost my entire savings account, with purt’ near no room left over for stupid dog tricks like maybe SWALLOWING PINS and having to pay out mucho dollars to assess the situation.

Well, calling Biff was the right thing to do, because he couldn’t put his fingers right smack on where the shells were for the shotgun.  Not only was he totally non-helpful in my bloodlust, Biff talked me back off the ledge from which I was planning to jumpstart my murderous career and suggested I call our buddy Jen, who knows Things About Animals and is good about putting the tops of upset people’s heads back on when their idiot pets caused it to nearly blow right off.  So, I texted Jen, and Jen said ‘call me,’ so I called, and she talked me down from the radiator next to the ledge back to a reasonably comfortable wing chair in the parlor, advising us to take a path that sounded sensible and level-headed and cheap.  Gosh Jen, I’m glad we crossed paths at a company that shall not be named many years ago – and not only for your ‘don’t be daft about the dog’ attitude.

So, Wern was fed well throughout the evening.  We watched for signs of distress but none came.  No GI effects throughout the night.  This morning he was pacing a bit but I think that’s because I was up at 4:30 a.m. for NO REASON AT ALL and he didn’t get his customary lie-in until 8 a.m. with me and was confused about how to be in the morning, in the dark.  I asked Mason to take him out at lunchtime, and I’m leaving soon to go check on him/let him out/feed him some more/ensure he’s not eaten through the back door and into the garden like some canine Lawnmower Man. 

Because even though he was in mega-jerk dog mode yesterday afternoon and evening, I’d still hate for the big galoot to feel sad or sick or ‘off’ without someone there to help him through what ails him.

Which does NOT mean I’m a ‘dog person,’ yet, but I think it’s one more step down the road to crazytown.

Tiff out.

Lacking temper-ance

The harsh truth is that all too frequently, boredom can be mistaken for contentment, and the urge to move on with can life can be mistaken for complacency.  It is possible to be content and satisfied with what makes up life as you might know it, but not be happy in it or challenged at all by it.  

Take the person who gets in their 8 hours a day at work but never really has anything to say about it.  They go, day in and out, and do what they do, content that they have something to do that doesn't challenge them too awfully much, and come home to the paper and slippers and a hot dinner bubbling in the crock.  They are complacent, content, bland as typing paper. Let them lose their position, and oh my, watch the fireworks start.  At once they are consumed with a fire to find something new, better, bigger, more FUN, perhaps, more of 'something' and much much less of what they had been doing that they thought they were happy with.  This is a dangerous person, for to take away the dulling blankets of contentment and complacency, they can now see the brightness of the world and want to burn in it.  Brilliant opportunities lie scattered all around where once there were nothing but dead ends and a beige sitting room at the end of the day.  Too see what is possible enrages and enchants them, pulls at them until finding their passion becomes the One True Thing, and many will lament at the long years spent believing that chasing after their dreams a folly and a lie.

The barmaid at the Lemon and Stick was such a person.  Only she was different from the blanketed dullard who requires a life shakeup to see clearly.  No, she saw plenty clearly enough what she was missing.  Excitement, for one.  New prospects, for a second.  Someone to listen to her crazy dreams, for a significant third.  The barmaid's current problem was that she was employed in the same small town in which she'd grown up, had never left, and where, it appeared, she would die and moulder.  Once upon a time she had confided in her cousin that she longed to leave Banner Bank, but was nearly instantly rebuffed as a fool to want such a thing as to leave paradise on Earth itself.  Why would she do a thing like that? her cousin asked, as though she's just said she'd wanted to kill her infant brother.  It's so fine here, so perfect, no war, no hate, no fears!  Ugh, and no challenges either, the young barmaid (though she wasn't so at the time, a barmaid that is) had replied, and challenge is what I want.  Some people are just like that, keeping challenge in heart and mind even when circumstances don't permit such a thing.

Years had passed since that conversation, and since that time the barmaid had learned to keep such things to herself.   Nobody wanted to buy a pint from a crazy dreamer, this much is true, and because she needed to earn her own keep now, pulling pints for the folk in town was the best way to at least be close to a chance that she might encounter a stranger who would come and drink at the tavern, or might overhear fishermen had talk of an odd new beast they'd pulled from the sea, or that possibly she'd serve an Escort, if they really existed.

Challenge or not, it was time to open.  She had stocked the clean glasses, checked the kegs, sliced the bread and cubed the cheese, then lastly ran to the kitchen to fetch the cider from the inglenook, where it was almost always cool this time of year.  In a rush, she bumped the table on which the small cow sat (though he knew he was an Ox, with a name besides that!), and rattled it good.

"Sorry," she said to the cow, though naturally she didn't think it would reply.  "I nearly got you that time, did not I?" then ran back to the front, where her regular customers were already assembling.

'Indeed you did, though not nearly enough to unseat me fully.' thought the ox. 'Didn't even wake me up, though that sunbeam certainly done.'  Sunbeams are notorious for awakening slumbering oxen.  Sunbeams are one of the few really good reasons an ox has to wake up, really, so he had to assess blame where it was, in this case, due. 

Despite his reply, though, she couldn't hear him.  Hardly anyone can hear such an ox as him.  She'd need insight and a few more years of training to do that.

Breathe deep the gathering bloom

In North Carolina, there is a fifth season.  It is the shortest of all seasons, but it has significant impact on each and every person within the central and eastern regions in particular.

This, is pollen season.  Pine pollen, to be precise.  And it’s happening right now.

The first time I experienced it was right after I moved to NC (10 YEARS AGO!).  I was just staring out a window at the office and noticed that the air seemed…thick.  Translucent, even.  As though there was a pall of smoke drifting, perhaps a small forest fire was happening, but no, this was different.  And why was my car green at the end of the day rather than its usual white?  That was pollen, all pollen.  Amazing.

Today, as I was driving in to work, I saw an AMAZING manifestation of just how hot for it the pine trees are right now.  The tree circled in the below pic was the hottest of them all, for as I passed it a puff of wind caught its branches and a thick CLOUD of pollen was released into the wild.  It was really very impressive, and I’m sure the sticky tips of all nearby cones are ripening with new life even as I type this.  Just that one outburst alone could likely have populated hundreds of acres of pines if it had been more precisely applied!

Nature is messy.

I now regret leaving the house windows open this morning. 

---

We finally waved the green flag at a foundation company to come shore up the underpinnings of our saggy ol’ house.  Apparently, foundation business is really great right now, as the earliest they could get us on the schedule is 11 May.

One more month of fun-house bouncy floors!  Whee!!

---

I think that because I came in late today I should leave early, don’t you?  There are bad storms coming into the area and I’d like to be home before they start.  A man was killed last night when a storm front came through.  He was struck by lightning in the parking lot of a Michael’s craft store and died later at the hospital.  Scary stuff.  Nobody ever really expects to get struck by lightning and killed, you know?

Also what nobody really expects, but  I saw yesterday:  a car wreck that tore the front off one car and completely bashed in the side of another, in a WALMART PARKING LOT.

Parking. Lot.

How recklessly do you have to drive to get into THAT kind of an accident in a PARKING LOT?

So yes, two things to not expect, both of which can kill you nearly dead (or, all the way, as the unfortunate young man at Michael’s discovered (or didn’t, depending on his state of consciousness.)).  PLENTY of reason for me to go home and hunker down with some HP Lovecraft, wouldn’t you agree?

Tiff out.

Escape artist

This is  a story about a dog.

OUR dog, Wernstrom.

Yay!  A Wern story!

Gather ‘round kiddies, and learn about freedom and what one dog would trade it for.

---

This morning, as I was getting ready to leave for work, I put Wern the dog out in the backyard to get some fresh air and make his last biological deposits to the yard for the morning.  Because our backyard is fenced (and doubly fenced on the side he knows he can jump over!), I didn’t feel it was necessary to watch over him while he was doing his ablutional activities.  The worst he could do would be to chase some birds and maybe dig a(nother) hole.

I had things to do, people!

After putting on the ol’ war paint and combing my hair, I went to fetch the puppy from the yard, having fully expected to hear him pounding at the back door as he does when he realizes he’s outside, alone.  But no pounding had occurred and I was proud of him for being such a big boy and not a big ol’ ‘fraidy cat as has been his MOA forever.

Opened the back door, stepped out onto the deck.  This usually brings him running like a deer, quick like a bunny.  But….no Wern.

“Oh crap, he’s learned to jump the OTHER side of the fence,” thought I.

But he was not in the lot next door.

He must have been gone a while by this point.  Several minutes at least!  He could be anywhere!  A mild panic began to sneak through the OPEN GATE to the driveway!!  Gah!  No jumpy, just a little stroll through the freaking open gate that I didn’t check before I put him out.

Now he SERIOUSLY could be anywhere.  So I  put on my shoes and prepared to take a quick stroll through the neighborhood with a treat in hand to tempt him back home.

It was a really quick walk, as he was nosing around in the front garden, sniffing at the weird-smelling dirt in The World Out Front.  I called his name, he looked at me.  I called more encouragingly, he looked up the street, as if to bolt.

Then I said the magic words:

“Come on in, Wern, let’s get a cookie!”

And like a black bolt of lightning, he raced in the door, a dog with a mission.  His momentary freedom squandered, all for a dried pig’s ear.

Pretty sure he thinks it was a good trade.

---

Tiff out.