I Thought Someone Was Playing a Trick On Me!

So yesterday, I loaded Leah into the car and we were backing out of the driveway on our way to the berry patch when I spied a package on the front porch.  I was so excited—I figured my DVD’s had arrived extremely promptly from Amazon and I’d have something to do with my afternoon.  I hopped out of the car and went bounding up to the box, and stopped dead in my tracks.

A bright green sticker on the box declared, “Live hermit crabs!  Do not delay!”

Now, I knew damned good and well I hadn’t ordered any hermit crabs.  I went through a phase where every time I went to Myrtle Beach, I wanted a hermit crab, but I was always talked out of it, so I am still hermit crab-less.  However, this last trip, though I enjoyed watching them, I had no desire to actually have one.  It was the first time I had thought, “Gee, I might just buy on this time!” and then thought, “No, I really don’t want one.”

So I thought for sure this was someone’s idea of a sick joke.  Someone who knew me well enough to know that I had wanted one at some point had then decided to ship me one.  I nearly opened the box, but decided to check the label to see who it was I was going to have to kill.

Well, surprise, surprise!  The package was shipped to the wrong address!  It was supposed to go to the same street address, but in Colonial Beach, not in Fredericksburg.  I called FedEx immediately and said, “Someone dropped live animals on my door step and they are not for me!”  The guy on the phone was cracking up.  I explained how we had just gotten back from the beach and I was sure someone had been playing a practical joke, but the only joke was on the part of the FedEx delivery man, who had to come retrieve the crabs and bring them to their rightful owner.

I suppose it’s nice to know that if I ever change my mind about getting a hermit crab, I need only drive about 30 minutes down the road and I can get one!

Something Silly for Friday

This is my favorite scene from one of my favorite movies growing up. I sing this song to Leah all the time. I guess because it is widescreen, you will have to click on it and watch it on the YouTube site to get the full image.

House of Possessed Toys

We are living in a home that is increasingly being taken over by toys that, while they are ostensibly owned by Leah, in reality seem to be owning us.

Back pre-Leah, I took care of my niece Dottie one day when my sister’s day care fell through.  Lucas took her to Woodbridge and after my dentist appointment, I took Dottie to Wegman’s for her first trip to the big store.  While I was there, I decided to buy her a toy to commemorate our day together and found a toy frog.  I love frogs, so I thought this would be just the thing and bought it.

We got home and I pulled out the tag that kept the batteries from running down and the frog immediately started ribbiting.  It has a deep, throaty croak, and if you so much as look at the thing, it ribbits.  Dottie didn’t seem to know what to do with it, so we put it to the side.

It turns out Leah loves this frog.  She will only play with it in her high chair at meal times, and so Michael and I have spent many, many dinners hearing “RIBBIT!  RIBBIT!” as Leah merrily bangs the thing on the tray, throws it on the floor, chomps on its legs, you get the picture.

But the other day, she got into applesauce and that frog was covered in applesauce.  It was disgusting.  I had no choice really than to put it in the sink and wash it up.  (It’s hard plastic with a little speaker in the back of the head.)  After it dried, I gave it back to her, and she starts abusing it in her normal fashion, only this time, no RIBBIT!  FREEDOM!  I was so excited.  She didn’t seem to mind that it wasn’t croaking, she just wanted to chew on it and bash the hell out of it.  This seemed to be a win-win.

Two nights later, it’s about 3:00am, and I hear “RIBBIT!  RIBBIT!  RIBBIT!  RIBBIT!”  I was like, “My God, it’s alive!!!!!!!!” and immediately began to pray it wasn’t like that doll in Child’s Play.  It happily ribbited for about 5 minutes and then it stopped and I went back to sleep.  Next morning, I give it to Leah, she starts tossing it around, and it starts croaking again like normal.  Then last night we’re sitting at dinner and she’s playing with it, and the croak got very weak and throaty at the same time, kind of like Barry White having an asthma attack.  “Riiiiiiiibbiiiiiiiiit…  riiiiiiiiiiiiiibbbbbbbbbbbiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttt….”  So I don’t know if the battery is dying, if it’s attempting to lure me into a false sense of security, or if it’s going to come back to life when I least expect it. 

Then someone gave us a Baby Einstein musical octopus, which we have dubbed Calamari.  Each tentacle says a different color and if you squeeze its head, it plays a little ditty.  When I say “little” I mean that facetiously, because it seems like it plays an entire symphony for about ten minutes.  Under no circumstances should you continue to push the buttons in the head or you will trapped in electronic music symphonic hell.

Well, a couple of weeks ago, we initiated “Daddy Time”.  Leah just has to get used to her father.  He lives here, he pays the bills.  She’s going to have to deal with his presence in a more productive way than screaming.  So each night, she spends an hour with him in his office.  We put a bunch of toys in there, which she is happy to play with, and he plays her music and sings to her, reads her the news, whatever he can think of to keep her happy.

So, one night in the beginning of “Daddy Time”, I put Calamari in there.  I heard him go off and then change tunes.  And then change tunes again.  And again.  Finally I heard, “SUSAN!  MAKE IT STOP!”  Unfortunately, at the time, I did not know how to make it stop!  I said, “Don’t touch it!  Just don’t touch it any more!”  I heard a thud as Calamari hit the floor, and then wailing as Leah deemed it unacceptable that her toy went bye-bye.

I have since learned that the only way to get it to quit is to push the button in one of the tentacles so it says, “Green!” or whatever color, and then it shuts up.

I don’t know if the toys are getting smarter or we’re getting stupider, but I am quite sure they’re going to take over any minute.  God save our souls!

Janet Evanovich and the Womb on Wheels

So, yesterday was it, the big day, the day I've been waiting for since the end of April when I found out Janet Evanovich was going to do book signings and she was coming to New Jersey. It only got better when I posted to the blog asking if anyone wanted to go to New Jersey with me, and not only did Melissa respond, but Russell and Amy said they'd like to come up from Savannah for the occasion! PARTY!

So at 9am yesterday, we met up with Melissa in the commuter lot on 123 and headed to New Jersey. The email we got from Janet's site said there'd be a big street festival in New Jersey to kick off the book's release, complete with a costume contest (this turned out to be a bit of a bust--nothing was really going on while we were there, although we won free drinks from Chick Fil A). We went back and forth--I immediately knew that I was going to dress Leah up as Lula, but finally we all decided to dress up--Melissa as Stephanie, me as Connie, and Amy as Mrs. Plum. I thought we all looked great! Melissa volunteered to drive and for her blue Vue to be the vehicle of the day, so we crammed in and off we went! Russell was excited because he got to see a new state--he'd never been to New Jersey before.

We made good time. We stopped once at a rest area to use the bathroom and get some provisions and still got to New Jersey at 12:30. We had a little bit of a challenge finding the B&N, getting a wee bit lost along the way (apparently I drained the iPhone's battery playing Tetris, so we weren't able to get directions as clearly as we might have), but finally found it, wonder of wonders, next to a Wegman's and... *drum roll* a CHRISTMAS TREE SHOP!!!!!!!!! Wahoo! Seriously, the shopping area was huge. We finally got out of the car and everyone hit the ground running for the bathroom--apparently it's not a good idea to get big drinks when you're going to be stuck in the car for a while :-) Then we went and bought our books--we cleaned them out! Well, not really, but we did buy a LOT of books. Afterwards, the clerk sent us outside to get our wristbands. We were #447-450 in line.



We headed over to Cheeburger Cheeburger for lunch instead of going into Philadelphia for a trip to the Dining Car, as planned. I'd never been there, but it was SO good. I had a grilled portabella melt, and it was amazing. On good Jersey rye bread. YUM. We got extra onion rings, which were delicious and then we decided to dress Leah up in her Lula costume. Melissa had borrowed donuts and fried chicken toys from her school, and we had a Cutielicious onesie from my mom, and Melissa got her a pimp hat and pants and cuffs and my sister contributed pants as well. Leah looked SO Lula by the time we were done, it was awesome.



Then we did some wandering and shopping for a while--hit the Christmas Tree Shop, went to Wegman's (their raspberry cupcakes are AWESOME!!!!!), and then decided to go back to B&N to see what was going on. We met Mr. Cluck and then went into the store. They'd broken out a bunch of helium balloons, and I decided I wanted to get a couple for Leah. I went over to a young woman with a pile of balloons and she said hello and started asking about the baby. She said, "What number are you?" and I said, "448" and she said, "Well, I hate it that you'd have to wait that whole time with a baby. Tell you what, I want you to go up to the front of the line and tell them that Alex said it was OK for you guys to go first--we're letting babies and people with disabilities go ahead."

Well, alrighty then, I thought! GREAT news! So I went towards where she pointed, thinking B&N has the nicest employees ever. Melissa said something about Janet's daughter and I said, "Who's Janet's daughter?" and Melissa said, "You were just talking to her!" Yes, folks, Alex is Janet's daughter and I didn't even know it!!!!! *Sigh* :-) But it was cool that she was so awesome, and I got balloons for Leah.

So we went up and stood where Janet was coming out and then I thought we should probably figure out where to stand to get in the right place to have the books actually signed and I went up to the B&N line manager and told her Alex said we could cut the line with the baby and where should we stand? She gave me directions, I rounded up our crew, and we stood. They let the line open for the first 50, and I will say, I agreed with the fact that the people who got there first should have gone ahead of us. After those 50 went through, they sent us through--it was the 4 of us and one other lady in a wheelchair. It was AWESOME.

Alex came back through the line and started asking Ranger or Morelli? I said, "Please, ask your mom to write 300 pages of Stephanie and Ranger, just once, no detail too small, and then Morelli forever." She said, "Sounds like you're a Ranger girl!" and handed me an "I love Ranger pin". I wore it proudly, despite also being a Morelli girl. I think Amy and Melissa got Morelli pins and Russell and I got Ranger pins :-) FUN!

Then we were up! There was an assistant taking cameras and pictures, and so I stepped up and gave him my camera. Then I went to stand with Janet, who was signing my books. She wasn't doing personalizations, which gave her a chance to do pictures, and I'd have rather had the pictures, honestly. Unfortunately, coming face to face with your favorite author tends to render you speechless and I could think of NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING, to say to her. And I was buying a good number of books, so it's not like I didn't have time. My mind drew a complete blank. She admired Leah a bit and finally I came up with, "Thank you for writing these books, they've brought me hours of joy" like a dumbass.

Because they'd said we could take a group picture afterwards, I stood to the side while Melissa got her book signed and then Janet turned to me and asked if she could have Leah. :-) She said, "I want one of those!" and I said, "Sorry, it took me too long to get this one." She said, "Oh, I can tell she was worth the wait!"

Then Russell and Amy went and then we all went back and got a group picture taken together. (Leah had long since lost the Lula gear--it was HOT in the store and we were all sweating.)





Each time I stepped forward with Leah, you could hear a bunch of sighs and squeals! Leah was eating it up. She was smiling like a champion. And then it was time to head back south. We loaded up the balloons, but soon it became clear that they had a mind of their own, so we decided to let the helium out and before long, Amy was huffing helium and saying, "I love you, Russell" and giggling in a helium voice. It was hilarious. Then Russell got in on the action, and I thought he sounded just a little bit gay with the helium voice, so I told him, "Say you love your J. Crew sweater" and Melissa amended it to, "Say you love your pink sweater from J. Crew." When he said it, I thought we were all going to fall out of the car laughing. The helium ran out WAY too quickly.

Russell requested we stop for Roy Rogers for dinner, so we hit a rest area with a RR and had some grub. Leah was starting to get VERY angry, so Melissa and I fed her and then Amy and I strapped her back in the car and we got back on the highway.

In no time flat, the screaming began. And continued unabated until finally we decided to pull into the next rest area and I would try to calm her down. I walked her around for a bit and then we settled into the car, her snuggled into my chest. Melissa offered to drive slowly around a bit to get the feel of the road back into her, and I said something to the effect that I had a noisemaker at home that plays a heartbeat, which babies find very soothing as it reminds them of being in the womb and they feel secure and snuggly. I asked her if she had a heartbeat on her iPhone and she found a free app for it, but it wasn't doing what it was supposed to do. Then she logged on and found a "baby soothing app" and it was only 99 cents, so she decided to download it. It had a heartbeat sound, so she plugged the phone into her car's sound system and soon we were listening to "ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump". Melissa put the car in gear, and started slowly circling the parking lot, and we were all giggling quietly, when I said, "I feel like we're being stalked by the tell-tale heart" and we all busted out laughing. There was a dude standing by his car in the parking lot and we were driving in circles around him with the heartbeat blaring. Melissa said, "Well, we've got a womb on wheels!" and we all started dying laughing again. It was HILARIOUS. I was crying I was laughing so hard, and I was not alone. So we start making all these heart jokes--I told Leah (who was snoring happily away against me) that she'd better be a cardiologist. We came up with every song we could think of that had the word "heart" in the title.

Finally, Leah was settled enough that we put her back in the carseat and headed down the road, heartbeat blaring, and the 4 of us 'adults' cackling like crazy. We got to the Ft. McHenry tunnel toll booths, and I told Melissa to crank the stereo as she paid. We were all dying laughing again, but the attendant didn't do anything. DISAPPOINTING!

Finally we made it to Virginia. The Beltway was clogged, so Melissa made a crack about clogged arteries and maybe we needed to get a bypass. Then Russell turned on his video camera to film us on the Wilson Bridge and at the mixing bowl and said into the microphone, "Here we are on the DC Beltway. We've been listening to a heartbeat for the last 200 miles to try to keep Leah calm" and I interjected, "But it was not 'in vein' because she's stayed asleep." and we all just totally lost it. Completely and totally lost it. The womb on wheels was rocking from the 4 of us just busting a gut laughing. How the baby did not wake up, I do not know. Seriously. We were howling, the tears flowing, I thought we might even drive off the road.

Well, all good things must come to an end, and eventually we hit Woodbridge and parted ways leaving the Womb on Wheels behind, and of course, Leah woke up and started SCREAMING without the heartbeat on. She screamed most of the way back to the 'burg, but I think it was just some serious tired, because we got home, I fed her, and I put her to bed, and she was out like a light in about 2 minutes and slept 8 solid hours. (For which I was very, very thankful)

It was a WONDERFUL trip, the most fun I've had in FOREVER on the road. I'm so glad Melissa, Russell and Amy made it and we had as much fun as we did. As Russell said on his Facebook this morning, "I'd do it again 'in a heartbeat'."

Excuse my while I go dry my tears and start reading. I've got Fingerlickin' Fifteen to get through :-)

My Giggle For the Day

This morning, bright and early at 7:30, the General had an appointment with the podiatrist to have his final check up on the ingrown toenail he had removed.

We were the first appointment of the day, but the doctor was a tad late and the General was feeling his oats by the time the guy arrived. Fortunately, the doctor is kind of a ham himself, so it didn't really matter when the doctor arrived apologizing for his tardiness and The General said, "It's about time! The Marine Corps is waiting for me!" But he said it with a laugh, and no harm done. (Though I think this job may have gone to his head just a bit.)

Anyway, he and the doctor were talking and they were discussing that in ten years, the General might expect that he'd have to have his toenail done again, because...

Are you ready for this?

...The General's feet are showing SIGNS OF AGING!

My husband is getting to be an old man!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

The doctor said the only cure for it was to quit having birthdays.

Oh man, The General showing signs of aging is just cracking me up!

What a way to start a Friday. I'm going to go buy his Christmas present today so he will be cheered up.

WOW! Sitemeter fun

I got my Sitemeter report today and I always enjoy looking at how people find my blog. Well, it looks like someone was doing a Google search on "Debbie screws Susan" and my blog came up.

I don't know how or why, and I don't think I want to know what that person was looking for.

Bwahahaha

So funny! Thanks, Bri.

A Look At Politics

To me, this video pretty much says it all about political punditry in the now. Enjoy.

What's the joke?

The joke was kinda not that interesting, but here it is...

My husband refuses to smile on command. He says he can't. And for some reason, he REALLY couldn't on Friday. We have certain cutesy words that usually make him smile, but even that wasn't working. So I finally said, "Will you just smile already!?" and he bared his teeth like a rabid dog. We all started laughing and even he cracked a smile.

So that's it... But it's such a happy picture, probably one of my three favorites from the entire event. If you want to see more, go to my flickr at http://www.flickr.com/photos/katekosior

Happy (Belated) Easter

My Next Cake

Purportedly courtesy of a WalMart fakery.

Oh yeah, and my mom should be ashamed of herself...

This is her dog, Sidney, in his Halloween costume. HILARIOUS. So stinkin' cute. I can't even look at this picture without crackin' up.

Hope you all had a Great Pumpkin last night...

A Little Something Fun for the Glecks & the Rest of You

Enjoy!

Thanks, Manda!

Star in Your Own JibJab! It's Free!

This is absolutely hilarious. Lovin' it!

The Trouble With Dinner

This will be my fourth and last post today. (I told you I had a lot!)

So, after the protest, we were both hungry, thirsty, and tired. We decided to go to Union Station, and my sister was all hot to trot on Johnny Rockets, since we could be served there. So we went and stood on line waiting for a table to open up. Finally, a very nice elderly couple left and we got their booth.

So we ordered drinks and I drank a half a glass of water in about 20 seconds. Then we ordered french fries and onion rings.

This was not meant to be my day. I asked Judy for the ketchup, and went to shake it up so I could get it nice and loose and mixed up. Doesn't the cap fly off and ketchup went everywhere!?

Back when I was 8 or 9 years old, McDonald's started making salads, and I got one once, and got a packet of thousand islands dressing. The packet was damned near impossible to open, so when I finally got it open a crack, in my gusto, I squeezed the packet hard, and the dressing exploded all over the place--me, my clothes, my hair, the window of the McDonald's, the table, everything.

This was a very similar experience. There was ketchup all over my shirt, down my sister's waterglass, all over the table. I looked like I'd been shot (which we agreed would make an awesome protest story--"yeah, but you should see the other guy!").

So we clean that all up. And Judy orders a chocolate malt. She goes to pour it into her cup, and a huge clump of ice cream falls out and splashes chocolate malt all over the table. So we're giggling and trying to clean that up.

Seriously, that meal, we must have gone through about 100 napkins easily. The table was sticky, covered in ketchup and milkshake, it was a mess.

We got out of there.

So I get home last night, and I called Michael and told him, "i'm not moving, I'm not cooking, what do you want for dinner?" So he says I can get him McD's. Stop in and pick up a couple of drinks and his dinner, and get home, we eat, and I take a hot shower and get in bed.

I offer him the last of my Coke, and he's laying there talking to me while I'm trying desperately to stay awake, and then it happens... He spills the Coke right down my back. It is icy cold, and I shot out of bed like a cannonball from the barrel of a cannon.

He's there, oblivious, I'm squealing and jumping around, and he's all "What happened?"

"You just spilled Coke down my back!"

"I did?"

"Yes, and on the sheets!"

"I did?"

"And look at your shirt!"

He got it on himself and didn't even notice.

So we cleaned up, and I gave up on food and beverages for the day and passed out cold... :-\

Hopefully everything cooperates better today!

Saints Preserve Us

In the history of embarrassing moments in my life, there have been only a few that stand out. I've got a new one to add to the list.

Yesterday was another big protest in DC for impeachment and an end to war. Seeing as how most of us have come to terms with the fact that the not-so-newly elected Democratic Congress is a bunch of "candy-asses" (to quote my husband), everyone is getting increasingly pissed off and the protests this month started with getting kicked out of the Patraeus hearings, the march yesterday, and then a week long rally on the Mall from 9/22 to 9/29, where another march is planned (but I won't be attending, due to the book festival).

In any event, I was going to Judy's to pick her up, and then we'd head to DC together via metro to attend the Code Pink rally in the morning, and then Code Pink would join up with the main group and we'd all march to the Capitol building.

So I told her I'd be up at 8:00 to make our signs, and we could then leave. So I left home at 7:00, got all the way up there and realized I had forgotten the key card that lets me into the garage, so I call over to her house and no answer, I figure she's asleep! So I start singing into her answering machine. That doesn't work, so I have to pull an underhanded maneuver to get into the garage, and find out that her landlord is parked diagonally across the parking spots, so I have to try and fudge my way into the sort of open spot so I can go wake up my sister.

I manage to do that, and get out, and lo and behold, the landlord is there sleeping in the car! I was kinda pissed off, so I made sure to set my car alarm twice for good measure.

So, I go into my sister's, and knock on the door, no answer. Now I'm really fuming because I know she's not up and we had plans for the morning, so I let myself in and look around. Dead quiet. Her door is open about 6 inches, so I decide I'm going to really surprise her and I open the door, and instead, it is I who is surprised, as my sister is not alone and is up to her eyeballs in Lucas, who is laying there looking for all the world like the cat who ate the canary.

So, I assess the situation, suavely say "Oh, good morning Lucas" as if I am accustomed to finding my sister in bed with conservative Republicans every day, walk in the room, and promptly lock myself in the bathroom--a dead end wherein there is only way out, and that's back through the bedroom.

What follows is my internal dialogue:

Oh shit. Shit! Why did I come in the bathroom?? SHIT!!! What am I going to do? I can't get out of here except to go back through the bedroom. And they're still out there... Because I know they're going to be waiting for me to get out of here so they can get up. Shit! Well, ok, I have to just act cool. Act cool and it'll be fine. It'll be fine. I guess I better flush the toilet so it looks like I planned to come in here all along. Ok, ok, here goes nothing. Be cool, be cool...

So, I come back out, smile at the two of them in what I hope is a supremely cool and non-threatening way, and say, "So, Judy, is everything OK with Alfie?" Judy looks at me like I've lost my mind, which I probably have at this point, and says, "Um, yeah, I think so, why?"

So I say, "Well, I just saw him sleeping out in the garage in his car, isn't that strange?" "He's probably just staying here till it's time for work or something."

So, to spur things along, I say, "It's probably best that we get moving, busy day ahead and all! I brought muffins!" and scurry out of the room.

At which point, the self-flagellation starts all over again...

Hammin' It Up

For the most part, being an amateur radio operator (AKA ham) is not something I find the most thrilling thing I can be doing with my time. I only have my most basic privileges, which means I can use a little handheld radio and talk to people locally. In New England, I used to get lucky and hit Rhode Island once in a blue moon, but here, I only know the one repeater (which I think is a tower where you send your signal from) and no one is ever on it. My husband, Mr. Technician General Super Operator, can use the big rig and contact people all over the world. But even then, they might talk for 15 seconds to swap call signs and be done with it. So I don't much see the point--I live vicariously through his far hits. The night he hit New Zealand was pandemonium here, let me tell you.

There is one bright star in my ham world, which is the weekly nets run by the amateur club here in town. On Thursday nights, everyone who wants to can tune in and listen to a little roll call of sorts. It is run by our neighbor and dear friend, and I love listening to him run the nets, because he always sounds so happy and he always says, "Yeah, okay..." after each person's check in, which just cracks me up for some reason.

So, last night we were listening, and usually, it's a pretty tame session. You check in, say your comments, and then listen to everyone else's. Comments range from "I'm sitting in my car on I95 trying to get home" to "nothing to report, just thought I'd check in" to "we had chicken for dinner at the new place in town". You get the picture.

Well, last night, someone blasted a hole in the calm. There was a guy in there from out of town, and he showed up just as the net was closing for the night. After the net, we have a "swap shop" where people who want to buy, sell, trade, or acquire new or used ham equipment can list their goods or wish list. Kind of like free classifieds.

So, our friend closes the net and this guy jumps on and announces himself on the net. So patiently, he is wished a good evening, and the swap shop is open. Our friend is rattling off the various and sundry pieces of equipment and all of a sudden, this guy jumps in again and rattles off some stuff. So patiently (but perhaps a bit firmly), Friend asks the guy not to interrupt (very bad ham etiquette breach!).

Finally, Friend finishes off the list and asks if there's anyone else who wants to list anything with the swap shop, and guess who?

And all of a sudden, it's pandemonium. This guy starts rattling off his own system of phonetic letters, strings of numbers, and he's confusing himself about what he's actually talking about.

Most of us, hams or not, know some or all of the phonetic alphabet(alpha, bravo, charlie, delta...). And if you are a ham, you should know all of it. This guy was making it up as he went along.

"I need quantity three, quantity three six geronimo [G is golf in phonetics] sevens"

"I need one six geronimo kilowatt three"

"I need three, quantity three six bobwhite tango five"

So finally, after two or three minutes, another guy gets in there and says, "Forget all that stuff, just give me the numbers and the letters, I don't want the Mickey Mouse." We were cracking up. It was clear the old timers were not pleased about their swap shop getting hijacked. "Don't give me the Mickey Mouse!"

So then, the guy starts in again. "Six G 7, that's quantity three, six geronimo--no, wait a minute, six seven--wait, quantity three six geronimo seven tubes."

Meanwhile our friend is trying to keep up with what this guy is saying and valiantly tries to read back what the guy wants. "So I have you down for needing three 6G7's, a 6GK3, and three 6BT5s. Thank you and good night."

But the guy won't be deterred. He's somehow convinced that it's wrong. So he starts rattling it off again. Then Mickey Mouse gets in there and says, "They never manufactured a 6GK3!"

So this guy says, "I didn't say I wanted a 6GK3, I said I wanted quantity three six geronimo kilowatt threes."

So Mickey Mouse says right on the air, "Can you believe this guy? Did you hear that?" and our friend says, "He just said three times he wants the 6GK3's and now he's denying it!" There was an aura of disbelief, outrage, and hilarity eminating from the radio.

Finally, they tell the guy they have the information and quickly close the swap shop. Undeterred this dude again starts rattling off information, including his home phone number, and then seems to think better of it and says, "Yeah, but don't call me for any other reason than you've got my stuff. Have a blessed night."

So we shut the radio off, Michael's running in and out of the office to email our friend to take an informal poll as to whether this dude is drunk or maybe not quite right in the head, the two of us are on the bed laughing our heads off, and about 30 minutes later, when we've calmed down, I turned the radio on again, and the guy is still in there!!! He's talking to absolutely no one. So I keyed up the radio (tuned it into the repeater) and I guess he must have heard that, because he starts saying, "To the station tuning in, I can't hear you!!!" He'd wait a few minutes, say his call again, and then say, "Station!? I can't hear you! You aren't hitting the repeater. Try again!"

It was the general consensus that the dude was d-r-u-n-k. It was so damned funny. Makes being a ham just a bit more enjoyable.

A Feat of German Engineering

The General's electric razor crapped out this week, and we contacted a friend at Gillette to see if she could get us a good price on the brand new Pulsonic Razor, which just came out and has ever bell and whistle you can imagine. Well, in fact, she could, and sent it along this week.

She told us that all we'd have to do is get a charger for it, since the one she was sending us had a German plug, and she figured that would cost about $25 and we'd be ready to roll.

The Pulsonic is a thing of beauty. And it's twice as quiet as the old razor he had bfeore that. We hit the store trying to find a compatible charger, but no dice. So finally, we went on the website for parts for the Braun razors, and there was the Pulsonic staring us in the face. OK, we'd have to order one. No problem.

Problem.

We couldn't find the plug anywhere. So I emailed customer service. I got a very nice response that read:

Unfortunately, the cord for the Braun Pulsonic line of shavers is not currently available at theEssentials.com. We hope to have this item stocked in our inventory by late September.

For immediate availability, we recommend you speak with Braun Consumer Service at 1-800-272-8611. Customer Service Representatives are available to assist you Monday through Friday between the hours of 9:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m. Eastern Time.

So I send this to Michael, and he immediately calls because we need a cord for this thing before it runs out of steam.

He finds out that Customer service isn't even sure the American plug has been manufactured yet. So we have this gorgeous razor and no way to charge it!

*Sigh* Don't it just figure?

Lines of Communication...

So, last night, I could not sleep. At all. I was up until 4:30 this morning. I don't know why, this NEVER happens to me. I pride myself on being a champion sleeper. However, last night with one thing and another, I guess I've been worried about some things and I just lay there, tossing and turning till I got back up.

So, one of the things I've been worried about is a friend with some mental health issues who is becoming increasingly withdrawn. I'll call him Dave. So I discussed my concerns about Dave with the General, who did his best to reassure me over the weekend that no matter what, everything would be fine, and I shouldn't worry about finding a body or anything.

Last night, the General got home and he was upset about Dave and shared that he actually has the same concerns as I do.

So this morning at 4:30AM, he gets dressed, turns his ears on, and asks me what's wrong. I said I didn't know, and he asked me if I was worried about what we talked about. I assumed he meant about Dave.

The conversation went like this:

ME: Yeah, maybe I am worried about it.

GENERAL: You know, I understand, but I want you to know we're doing everything we can. That's why I love going to work in the morning.

ME (puzzled, but ignoring it for now): I know, but what if something happens?

GENERAL: Something's probably going to happen. In fact, I'm going to tell you right now, I wouldn't be surprised if something happened. But that's why we do what we do.

Me: I don't know if that's enough.

GENERAL: Honey, it might not be, but we have many tools at our disposal to take care of the situation and try to avert a crisis.

Me: But what if we're too late?

GENERAL: We won't be. And I know we argued about this, but this is exactly why we need things like the Patriot Act in some situations.

Me: How is that going to help?

GENERAL: We can root out the problem before it becomes a problem.

Me: How is that going to help Dave and his problems?!

GENERAL: Dave?

Me: I think we're talking about two different things here, honey. I suspect you're talking about our argument over dinner, and I'm talking about Dave.

So, Dave, beware, the full force of the US Government is out there to prevent you from offing yourself. Think about it.

Ouch.

I feel like God is in Heaven screaming at me, "What more do I have to do to convince you that you need to get off your duff and get some exercise!?" The signs are coming from all sides--a pile of my friends are on diets, I joined CommonHealth at work, I'm working with clients who are ill from years of bodily neglect. And I'm screaming back at God, "Ok! I GET IT! Just give me a job that doesn't have me on the road stressing out all day so I have a little energy when I get home!"

Well, last night my sister came over to celebrate my big day, and I had gotten a Dancing With the Stars exercise DVD two months ago. It was still shrinkwrapped in its original packaging. Since my sister is looking so great these days, I figured she'd be up for it. We used to "Sweat to the Oldies" together, and frankly, the treadmill is not cutting it for me--I don't like walking in one place for more than about 10 minutes, even with the TV on. I do like to walk our neighborhood when the weather's good, but it's summer in Virginia, and when it's not 9,000 degrees, it's pouring.

But I digress. So, we decided to "Dance With the Stars". That Maksim is yummy, and the DVD promised to be for all skill levels, even beginners. Judy was game, so we popped the DVD in and were ready to become dancing stars.

I knew we were doomed when I said "Let's learn to foxtrot", dramatically threw my arms in the air, and the remote flew out of my hand, hit the collage I made of our Vegas trip, and fell on the floor, batteries scattered.

When we recovered from our giggles, we began. The warm ups were pretty good, and then it started to get intense.

(Now, I must say, this is probably a hell of a lot easier on hardwood floors, but I've got craptastic carpet and until I can afford otherwise, that's what we're exercising on. And also, we both got pedicures yesterday--a birthday treat from my sister, so our feet offered no resistance)

So, we start doing lunges. Why, I do not know. And Judy is lunging barefoot. And her foot keeps lunging, until she does a perfect split, her foot stopped only by my TV cabinet. We were in tears we were laughing so hard.

We get through the first two routines, which were about impossible not because they were difficult but because the instructors (sorry to say, Maksim and Ashley--I THINK) were not really telling you what to do. We paso doble'ed and something elsed and then Kym took over and taught us how to samba. And she was a great instructor. She told us what to do with our feet, our arms, etc. We were doing so well, although frankly, our turns need work, and then all of a sudden we shot backwards too far and I fell onto the couch and Judy cracked her heel on the couch. We just laid there laughing... It was the first time either of us had felt slightly coordinated in the past 40 minutes, and then we both crashed.

Well, by the time all that was over and we did the jive, we were beat, so we fast forwarded through putting all the dances together into one big routine and just did the cool down.

That DVD was great for a laugh, and for someone who has been avoiding exercise, it was a good time. :-) I'll probably alternate that and Richard Simmons, which I still have believe it or not, with walks around my block and see how I feel. Exercise is definitely less of a PITA with a good friend and a good giggle to get you through.