We Wants It, Precious

The problem with this, is that non-upright freezers are insanely hard to organize, and that seems to make them fill up all the more. I’ve resorted to keeping a chart of what’s in which freezer and in what section, but quite frankly… that’s not doing much for me. I actually had to put off getting our free turkey this year because I had to make room in the freezer- the chest freezer.

For now, I’ve invested in a handful of stackable plastic crates (which I pray are small enough to actually fit where I want them!), but what with freezing my own cookie dough, jars and jars of home made stock and conserved chicken fat- I’m not too optimistic.

Anyone have $1000 to donate to my cause?

Yeah, that guy.

So, last night I was visiting with some friends, and I left just a little late. Pretty much midnight on the dot. And my friend’s house is just outside of town- far enough out to be a pretty nice neighborhood, but close enough that a paranoid person like me prefers to not be alone as she gets into her car. Granted, there was NO ONE out there, but, to be on the safe side, I thought I’d be all clever and hit the lock button on my key as soon as I got into the van instead of fumbling around for the lock button on the door. It worked, and I was very proud of myself.

Until I tried to start the engine. Oh yeah, it was loud, and it wouldn’t stop. You see, my husband always referred to hitting the lock button as locking the doors, and hitting it the second time as “setting the alarm”. And that made sense to me, because I always heard the locks click on the first button push, and the horn honks once on the second.

But apparently, they’re both alarm setters. And my natural response was to hit the “lock” button repeatedly, trying to make it stop.

It didn’t work.

I did eventually figure out that hitting the “unlock” button works. And I immediately pulled away before any of her neighbors could make it to their windows to see who was making all of that noise. (My apologies, Deb, to you and your neighbors.)

Of course, that didn’t end the story. Of course not! My friend lives very close to one of those mini-marts. A mini-mart that I had to pass to get home. So, after I managed to get turned around into the direction that I wanted to go, a cop pulled out of that mini-mart and followed me half way home. He never did pull me over, but it’s incredibly nerve wracking having a cop follow you through exclusively 25MPH zones. (Seriously, can anyone go 25MPH without riding their brakes?) Especially when you’ve just set off your own vehicle’s car alarm, close enough to where the cop had been sitting that it’s likely the reason why the cop is following you home. Eep!

On the bright side, I do know now that my alarm works!

Remember, we’re 2nd shift, and so our big meal of the day is “lunch” at about 7pm, and sadly heated in the microwave. For our 3rd meal of the day, we usually do our own thing (usually eggs for him, and leftovers for me), though I do sometimes cook.

So, still stressed out, hubs starts preparing to cook his dinner as I’m reheating a lovely grass fed burger and some green beans in my cast iron skillet, and starts complaining that he can’t find his tortillas AGAIN. This would be because he insists that all of his items be in the front and easy to access while everything I cook with gets shoved to the back. When I cook, I don’t care and shove things in wherever they fit.

So, being the loving wife that I am (ok, just irritated because he’s whiny in the kitchen) I shooed him out of the way, lifted up the plate of leftover pancakes and pulled out his tortillas. I did notice that they dripped a bit as I put them onto the counter, but just assumed it was condensation from one of the many stupid things that we keep in the fridge and hoped he wouldn’t even notice it.

Unfortunately, he not only noticed it, but he noticed that it was milk.

Milk? Impossible. I’ve been buying milk in glass bottles, and glass doesn’t just develop a leak! Maybe I didn’t put the lid on tight and milk that was under the lid dripped out?

I started checking all of the milk bottles that I’d opened (raw for me, pasteurized for him, chocolate for us), and none of them were dripping. And then, through the clear glass of a half empty milk bottle, I saw an unattractive thick yellow smear. Surrounded by clear glass.

The bottle in the back had not only cracked, the entire front was shattered. And there was about 1/2 inch of milk left in the bottom. A half gallon of milk (my precious raw milk at that!) was gone. Literally gone. As in, maybe a quarter cup was scattered over items in the lower two shelves.

Well, I’ve been meaning to clean the refrigerator anyway…

Our fridge is kept ice cold. Milk kept in the back ALWAYS freezes. Always. And I know this. But when I was putting the groceries away, our fridge was already packed full to the gills (it’s a cheap, small fridge provided by our apartment complex management). I’m still not sure if it froze and burst the glass, or if it was from other glass bottles being shoved against it repeatedly.

I did pretty well, too. I only got stuck with a glass shard once, and it only took a few minutes to clean off the food and shelves (despite my husband’s dire predictions of how the fridge would reek of spoiled milk- raw milk doesn’t really spoil, it sours, and the beneficial bacteria in there more or less just gave our entire food supply a healthy dose of probiotics… assuming that any of it got into the food itself).

Problem is… where did the rest of it go?

There’s a kind of grating in the back on the bottom shelf, which I’d always assumed led straight into the bottom drawer. With a sick feeling, I pulled the drawer out, expecting our produce and deli meat to be swimming in milk- only to find it dry as a bone.

The thing is, that drawer broke within weeks of us moving in, so as I pulled it out, it came out. I mean, really came OUT. And that’s when I found out where all the milk (and some crumbs) had gone.

I used up almost a whole roll of paper towels, knowing that hubs would not want me to run a pile of laundry, and me being unable to find the worthless towels anyway since hubs always insists on hovering exactly in my way when in the kitchen. Not really a problem except…

The bottom of the drawer had been sitting in the milk and was now sitting on the space carpet. And, as I was swishing around in there, a bunch of milk swooshed out and ran under the fridge. I think I got it all…

So while I didn’t cry, I think I finally, finally understand where the saying “No use crying over spilled milk” comes from. You just get on your knees, mop it up, regret the loss of $4 worth of milk plus the $2.50 deposit for the bottle, and realize that you’ll have to go milk-less for a few days.

I’m also more determined than ever that when we’re able to buy a house, that it will have TWO kitchens. One for him, and one for me.

BTW- if you want to know about the real food that I cooked this weekend, go ahead and click that link.

All of a sudden, hubs starts sniffing the air (sounded more like snorting, but, whatever) and then says “do you smell something?”. I do. “Smells like steak” I said. “Smells like steak on the grill” he said. I shrugged and went back to reading my book. After all, if we’re weird enough to be up at 3:30 am, why wouldn’t someone else be weird enough to grill a steak at 3:30 am? I would, if I had a grill.

But this is not enough for hubs, he heads downstairs. I head to the upstairs window to see if I can find said griller so I can invite myself over for a late night snack. I can’t see them, so I assume they must be on our side of the building, and therefore hidden from my view.

But hubs is still downstairs.

So I head on down, and as I hit the ground floor, the smell of steak just slaps me in the face. Weirdly- the smell of steak grilling in the rain (our family did this often). I walk towards hubs, who’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, sniffing in circles and we converge right next to the dishwasher, which is halfway through the cycle.

“Did you forget to wash off the plates before you loaded the dishwasher?” he demands asks. “No” say I. “Well it’s coming from the dishwasher” says he. He then promptly opens the dishwasher, mid-cycle.

Out wooshes the smell of steak on the grill, and what we took to be smoke at first, but surely was just steam?

Well, after several opening and shuttings and hearing the hiss of water dripping on the heating elements, and finally noticing that the white mineral build up on same elements had turned brown… we shut it down for the night. Also, apparently, I’ve kept the washing cyle on high heat for the past four years. Who knew that would be an issue?

In either case, we don’t seem to be having a problem with the dishwasher as long as I turn off the high heat setting, and with every load  the steak smell fades away.

To be honest, I kinda miss it.

Periodically, I get the urge to work on my novel- which is also about the time that I remember something that actually has to get done. Most of the time, I ponder which of my many sites I have to work on while I’m busy feeding virtual fish.

Last week, my friends convinced me to finally write a PLR pack like I’ve been talking about for the past 3 or 4 years. I keep meaning to, just never get around to it. But guess what? They pushed me, I did it and… Now I’m putting off learning how to list it so that it gets automatically delivered, and knowing that I’ll actually have to post it up for sale. Personally, I think sales pitches are stupid, so I probably won’t bother doing that at all, but I then worry that if I don’t do a sales pitch, will I not actually sell the pack?

And then I think, “I should do an e-book!” But what on? I know Walt Disney World better than almost anyone who hasn’t worked there for 5 or more years (seriously, I’ve met lifers there who barely know how to do more than ring up a sale). And should I really be spending my time on an ebook when I won’t even go do the link building for the sites that are already earning me money?

I know, I need to just suck it up and do it. Focus. The problem is, what on?

First, a co-worker quit. He’s one of those jerk-on-the-outside-teddy-bear-on-the-inside types (and no bringing up the fact that I hate teddy bears!). Since I knew he was quitting as soon as he had a good job lined up, and I know that he’s the one that steals my Pepperidge Farms Milano double chocolate cookies (I know because he brazenly steals and eats them IN FRONT OF ME), I prepared and bought a second package of Milanos and hid them in one of my drawers under a pile of old grocery bags.

So, this after noon he tells me that today was his last day working there, and I jump up and grab the bag out of the drawer and hand them to him. He gives me the “what’s the crazy lady doing?” look until I explain that I’ve been holding onto them until I knew he was going and they’re a parting gift. Would you believe that this big, mean, Sicilian pirate from Philly comes over and hugs me before he left? Awwwww.

So, after work I hit the grocery store. End up striking up a conversation with the two people behind the deli counter. THEN I end up somehow crossing paths with the same couple over and over and over… And yes, I know that that’s common. What’s not common is that the other person/people turn out to be friendly and joke about it with you. So, I’m getting near the end of the store, the couple passes me again and then suddenly stop and grin at me. The wife looks at me and says “Well, we have to go home now, so have a good evening!”. *lol* There was a bit more banter involving weekends, Christmas, New Years, etc, and then they were on their way.

So I’m already late finishing up the groceries and get in line. Next thing you know, I end up chatting to the cashier. We end up so deep in conversation that actually walked with me to the door still talking! I kid you not! In fact, she started to go back to her station several times, and then come back to tell me something else. *lol* All in all, groceries took about 45 minutes longer than usual, but I had a blast!

Yes, indeed, It’s not yet Thanksgiving but I’m almost totally done with Christmas shopping. I have one item left to order for my husband, one to pick up in a store, one or two items to get my mom (had one of them, but the seller refunded because he found stains on it after listing), one more for my nephew and one or two more for my dad. My nephew and my dad are the only ones that I’m still searching for the items, the rest I’m just lazy.

I put my tree up two nights ago, and will probably slowly decorate it throughout the week. We bought our wrapping paper on Sunday, aaaaand, the cutest thing ever.

A big plushy (so soft!) hippo wearing a Santa hat and scarf, and when you press its paw (hoof?) it sings “I want a hippopotamus for Christmas”. I love that song!

Seriously, I managed to get through the entire summer season with maybe one or two bites total- until Monday.

Sunday was the first cool day of the summer, and hubs and I went out at dusk to walk around Stauffer Mansion (of which the grounds were turned into a local park), which tends to be a bit buggy anyway. So, Monday I wake up with two mosquito bites on my left ankle. Not so bad. Almost amusing given that they’re the first bites I’d had in months.

And then I woke up Tuesday. Itchy as heck. I now have 2 bites on my left ankle, 5 bites on my left calf, 4 bites on my right calf, and two bites on my left wrist. I thought that it was perhaps happening while I was asleep, but fact is, I cover my butt up even if I’m sweating! And all the bites are below the hem of my capris except for the ones on my wrist.

Hubs has all of ONE bite. I accused him of wanting to use me as mosquito bait when he asked me to take a walk with him tonight.

Now, get this, hubs actually found an article that probably explains why these buggers are all over me, but not him. According to an article on the Wall Street Journal, mosquitoes are repelled by stress. My husband? Psycho stress ball. Me? People are lucky if I even pay attention to them, let alone actually have a reaction.

It may be time to start obsessing over my upcoming jury duty again before I turn into one big itchy ball.

It’s actually pretty sweet looking, but I fought hard against it! I’m used to my Ford which when you touch the gas it GOES and when you touch the brake it STOPS. It was built on a truck chassis, so it sat high as well, which I loved. I didn’t like how low the Pontiac sat, or how soft the brake and gas pedal felt since it was built on a sedan chassis.

But, when hubs pulled up with our Doom Buggy license plate on the front, I changed my mind. It looks beautiful on that van! The price is so worth it just to have somewhere to hang our Doom Buggy plate.

In fact, the plate earned the Pontiac the nickname of “Doom Buggy” or “Buggy” for short. Though most people probably think we’re referencing the horse and buggies that are often driven around here, being Amish country and all.

And I had somewhere to put my Philharmagic license plate frame now too. It was on my Olds before I sold it, and it’s been lonely ever since.

You may not be able to see it, but we got one of those train design plates, where $15 of the cost goes to museums and such. Plus, the darker design suits us.

And to tell you the truth, I loooove the steering wheel. Perfect firmness for comfortable steering. I’m getting used to the brake and gas pedals too, but I’ve found that I’ve developed a lead foot with the firmer Ford gas pedal, and so I don’t actually realize that I’m making the Pontiac speed. Gotta watch that.  I was never a white vehicle person, but I love how it makes our special plates and plate frames stand out. I just wish there was an external antenna for me to put a Disney antenna topper on! I’m stuck looking for a non-Tinkerbell steering wheel cover.

You know, I usually look forward to holiday weekends because it gives me a chance to really focus on my websites while hubs is at his family’s, but that’s not what I did this weekend.

Tuesday was our 3rd anniversary (that would be May 19th if you didn’t feel like doing the math) so we took Friday off as a vacation day. Now, since we’re in save money mode, we had trouble figuring out what to do to celebrate. So, we eventually settled on doing what we did last year and spent the day in York. Yeah, I know.

So, Friday we hit both malls in York (York Galleria first because I hate crowds and I wanted to hit it before people got out of work). Got my hair cut (Weird tradition, but I’ve gotten my hair cut ON my anniversary every year since my wedding day- this year I was a bit late), bought a couple Veggie Tales DVDs, 2 Celtic music cds, 2 Disney shorts DVDs, some stuff for hubs, and so on. Had breakfast (at 1pm) at Round The Clock Diner which is da bomb. Best club sandwiches and croissant sandwiches around (also the best clam strips but we skipped those this time). And hubs insisted on hitting Toys R Us and Ollies (discount store where ya never know what you’ll find) and I insisted on hitting Borders. Duh. Me + allowed to buy anything I want = books.

OK, so it was almost 90 degrees out and high high high humidity. I had about 20 oz of water during the course of the day and hubs had a glass at breakfast, so by the time we got home we were sick as dogs from dehydration but then ordered out for filet mignon and lobster tail anyway. Oh yeah. Cuz that’s how we roll. (and that lobster tail was so good that I didn’t even use the butter!).

So, we’re still pooped from Friday, but Saturday hubs went to his brother’s to play board games. I, however, spent the whole day running around. I had to get birthday cards for both mom and dad, an anniversary card for them, and a father’s day card for pop.  Spent about an hour wandering around the local Christian bookstore debating whether I really wanted to spend $25 for that cute pink camo LTV (or is it LTC? Living Translation something) Bible or not (decided against, hoping it’s still there for my birthday- seriously, too cute!). Did the grocery shopping for the drinkables since I knew I’d be lugging in all the groceries myself later on, got home with just about enough time to eat Bagel Bites before church. Ran off to church, went straight to the grocery store and finally got home and could rest at about 10pm. Not counting putting the groceries away.

Then Sunday we went over to his parents’ house. Played frisbee in the backyard for about 45 minutes while we waited for his brother to get there. Sit down to eat only to realize that the AC wasn’t working and it was 85 degrees outside. So after dinner, hubs and I took a walk (a long walk- probably a mile or so) while we waited for the repair man to show, and then sat outside enjoying the pre-storm breeze while waiting for the house to cool off after the AC got fixed. (Note: one major problem with central air is that when it blows- you don’t have 3 other units sitting in other rooms). Up till about 3 am playing board games and then….

Today was Dad’s 68th birthday, so I rolled out of bed and went straight over to parents’ house. We went out for a nice (not fancy, just good) dinner about 45 minutes away and then spent another hour or so tooling around all the back country roads. Afterwards, mother and I went to visit my great aunt in a nursing home (she recently had a stroke, and she’s living there while they’re doing therapy with her), and then went to see either another great aunt or possibly a great great aunt, or possibly the cousin of a great aunt, or… Some other relative who was in the same nursing home whom I’ve never met before.  I’ll tell ya what, though, her room was CUTE! Loads of storage, kitchenette, huge bathroom (has to be big enough to accomodate a wheelchair), and she was pretty sweet too. I totally loved her! I wouldn’t mind being like her when I grow up. Sweet attitude, gets around pretty well, goes to all the activities, and was concerned about the other residents who went to the wine and cheese party (because of their medications, you know).  What a shame that I wasn’t introduced to her sooner.

So. Now I’ve got about an hour before bed and I’m finally online, even though I’m also cooking at the same time. And now, I’ve got to go and do some link building. Yeesh. A woman’s work is never done- even on a holiday weekend.

But coolest thing so far this weekend? Just a little bit ago my husband told me I was looking “particularly scrumptious today”. Good boy!