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and so it begins...

The temps at night have dropped, so the usual NC summer bug problem is under control again and I can cross Borax off the shopping list for a while (actually not, because it is AMAZING for dealing with skanky work uniforms.  And since the spousebeast has been moved to seafood specialist...well, y'all do the math.  Ew.  But at least he's no longer in the meat department and using the bandsaw.  Call me silly, but when he was working in a department where 3 of the 4 other team members were missing fingertips did NOT help me sleep well at night).

And now we begin the influx of field mice.

We get 2 or 3 a year. (Did I mention we live in an old apartment building and there are ways to get in EVERYWHERE?  I'm lucky we don't get feral ferrets).  I have ordred another set of Mice Cubes which should be here by tomorrow but...gah!

And that little fucker I caught nibbling on my ghostie bowl of candy is lucky that I won't bring any more chemicals in the house than is necessary, because I would be Decon-ing his ass.  I don't believe in cruelty, even to things that invade my house...but you mess with my chocolate and it is ON.

Of course, this happens now.  I'm already feeling a bit raw about how people see my home.  Thanks for showing up, motherfucker.

Yes, I live in an older building.  Yes, we have bug issues during the summer (the entire building does.  It is called living in NC.  This is why we have an exterminator who hoses the place down quarterly).  It doesn't matter how much you clean and scrub, you are going to see a roach or spider here and there.  I've learned to just hope it isn't a flying roach or jumping, hissing spider.  Again, North Carolina.

Our place is also small, and we have a lot of stuff going on.  The place is lined with bookshelves.  Most have books.  One wall is entirely devoted to cds (in alphabetical order, no less.  We literally have everything from Abba to ZZ Top.  And that's not counting my own stash that isn't allowed in the general collection).  We have tons of pictures from when we were kids up until the grownup prom last year, not even counting family photos.  Posters from events we've attended.  Goofy shit amd meaningful stuff and it is just US, okay?

To have someone I have known online for 20 years say  she's going to be in the area but neglect  to mention she's bringing her baby (no problem.  NEVER a problem!  Bring on all da baybeez!  That ship has sailed for me, but I will cheerfully hold and rock and get urped-up on by your kid for hours if you let me) and someone she just picked up FROM PRISON and then say "You have a lot of clutter, don't you? I would find that overwhelming...but I guess that's me" and then feel the need to act like we were dirty because she noticed a spider *on the porch*.

I guess some of the friends we make on this magical little box should STAY IN THE BOX.  :(

So, fair warning for anyone who wants to visit:  there are books everywhere.  Because we can't have kids of our own, we have an extensive family of stuffies and figurines.  The walls are covered with posters and pictures.  I have little altars everywhere.  Our pantry is a 6 ft tall bookshelf, so there is food on display, and it might not always be neatly arranged (but you will always be fed).  We feed the oudoor wildlife.  Unless one of us knows you don't partake, at some point you will be offered a beer (or a glass of wine, but that's only if I really like you).

It's an untidy ball of controlled chaos...but damnit, when you walk through these doors, we consider you family.  It hurts to be disrespected like that.

In better news, last night was my final night in deli hell!  I'm still waiting to hear back from various interviews, but I have been moved over to bakery.  Was I asked?  Of course not!  However, considering that's what I interviewed for initially, I am not going to complain.  I DO find it funny that tomorrow I am closing....by myself.  

Training?  What's that?  *shakes head*

It dawned on me yesterday that I got moved when we are heading into the holidays.  On the upside, that is the potential for tons of overtime.  AND, if you do overnights, you get a food voucher and put up in the hotel that's just across the parking lot.  The other upside is that that is more money to the vow renewal in April.

So the plan is to white knuckle it through the new year, unless I get an attractive offer elsewhere.  Although, honestly, I can get through November and December and probably make more money.

ARRRRGH!  I hate this!

all the foods!

I have a day off from work, so what do I do?

Cook, of course.

In something that NEVER happens, I actually slept through Kent's "ya gotta be kidding me"-thirty alarm (he got roped into opening the seafood case, which he was actually pretty stoked about.  Aside from, ya know, closing and then having to be up at 5:30am).  Unfortunately, that meant when I got up to get a drink of water in my usual sleeping attire (read:  fuzzy socks), he damn near threw me bodily back into the bedroom because his ride had asked to use our restroom.

So, yeah...Alex now has seen a leeetle more of me than I had ever intended.  Oy.

Anyway, after THAT bit of excitement, needless to say I was wide the fuck awake.  I'd promised myself chocolate chip pancakes (I still have 3/4 of a bag from the brownie bites I made when Kent road tripped to see his mom) and fruit salad (thank you, whoever ordered the fruit tray and never showed to pick it up.  They left it for us in the break room, and ten minutes before close, Manager Picky Pants told me to come get what I want before it got tossed.  So...yay!  Strawberries and grapes and pineapple, oh my!  And fruit dip!).  I made a big batch of pancakes, so some went in the freezer.  I started some beans for lunches this week.  Then made a batch of cheddar bacon corn muffins to take to the memorial service for our late produce manager (I love that the poster B put up said BYO Everything.  I asked her and the immediate response was those muffins.  Yes, yes...give me a box of Jiffy cornbread mix and I shall rule the world!).  And started soup beans.  And prepped a bunch of veggies for tonight's stir fry and Clean Out the &^%$#$ Veggie Bin Already soup later this week.

I can barely find the energy to chew on the nights I close.  It is amazing how much energy I have when I don't work.
Damn, it's dusty in here.  Some of these boxes have been here....forever, it seems.

I should clean things out.

But every time I try, it seems like they come right back.  Some multiply.

Oh, look.  "Be a good girl."  This is a doozy.  It goes back to....1977?  Why do I keep it?

"Just be good.  You're a good girl.  Be quiet."  I still have a terror of blue bathroom tile, of men walking up behind me, of the scent of Old Spice and cheap beer.  I shut the box quietly, so the voices don't notice.

The siren song continues, and I can't resist.  I open a corner and peek in again. "She's a good girl.  Loves her mama."  Oh, HELL no.  I slam the box shut.  Shut up, Tom Petty.  That is a lie, and you know it.

I AM a good girl.  I'm nice.  I was once told "You're so....nice" like it was an insult.

Maybe it is.  Opening the box again, I hear the faint voice of the Witch from Into the Woods. "You're so nice.  You're not good.  You're not bad.  You're just...nice."

I saw the play when I was in high school.  I was in love with every moment...and then there was this song.  I'm so...nice.

I'm a good girl..

"I'm not good.  I'm not bad.  I'm just right.  I'm the Witch.  You're the world."

There it is.  There's that moment.  It sends a thrill through my veins.  I can be the Witch.  I am the Witch.

I close the box gently, carefully tucking it in the corner.  Maybe I'll keep this one.

Socks! Socks, socks, socks!

Walgreens has cute socks for $1 a pair!  I've got witchy-poo orange and black stripey socks, socks with very Bowie-esque lightning bolts, and...wait for it...socks with foxes!  Whee!

And I found out when I checked out (yes, I made another run for the cheapest toilet paper in town and magically spent $30.  Damned school supplies and socks and their seductive ways!) that I have $5 in rewards credits.  Guess where I'm going before work tomorrow? :)

In my defense, I am culling my worn out socks (standing/walking 8+ hours a day means I am ROUGH on socks and shoes).  There are still lots of salvageable parts, so I'm going to make moster sock dolls.  A friend of mine who makes the most jaw-dropping tie-dyes and I are talking about splitting the cost of getting a table at a couple of craft shows this holiday season, and I think these would go really well with her tie dyes and my crochet.  Maybe we could make a few bucks.  If not, we'd at least get a chance to hang out, which is hard to do with our respective schedules.

Okay....off to the deli mines.  Whee.)
So much for the Interchangeable Snavelys.  I am now the Replacement Snavely.

Kent got tapped for a position to learn to be an expert meatcutter.  It's better hours.  A new skillset (always a bonus in this industry).  And, as he was so happy to tell me...Sundays off  (I FUCKING HATE FOOTBALL SEASON!).

I am proud of him.  Changing lanes in terms of career at almost 59 is pretty brave  (also, when he finishes the course, he's getting a raise).  But I HAD been tentatively approached.

And learned that it ultimately came down between him and the Slowmoving Mansplaining Mammal.  Kent totally deserves it, but I wasn't even given a chance to do a shift to show what I could do.

Ya know why?  I don't have a dick.  AND I can ride herd over deli with The Mom Voice.

I am really fighting between being happy for Kent and wanting to punch somebody.  I have found the glass ceiling, and it smells like sauerkraut and condescention.

LJI Week 0, Introduction

Here we are again.  Why is it that I am always starting a new job or facing a major job transition just in time for week 0 of LJI?  Luck of the sorta-Irish, I guess.

I'm not sure how many seasons of LJI I've done.  I *do* know I have been filling notebooks since I was about 9, starting out with steno pads in imitation of my mother's college poetry notebooks, moving on to the Nancy Drew journal my sister swapped with me after Christmas when she was 11 and I was 12  (I hated Nancy Drew, but I hated the chocolate covered mashmallows I got in my stocking even more.  At least the journal had a lock and wouldn't be as likely to make me barf if I ate it) and....I wish I knew how many paper journals I've filled in the ensuing 34 years.  I lost all of my early ones when my grandparents' house was demolished a few years back.

I still write in my paper journal almost every day, usually while waiting for the bus to work.  I also wrote my first poem in over a decade a couple of weeks ago, which surprised me.  I used to think I had to be miserable to write poetry.  Guess not.

I do more than write (lately, I have been having to steal headspace to do so).  I've been getting back into crochet after a generous gift from a friend who was tired of yarn hanging around at her house, and have actually gotten a couple of small commissions.  I also do the Yarn Fairy Project, where I make scarves and leave them around town for the homeless and anyone else who needs them. I live in North Carolina, and we are frequently unprepared for cold snaps (which is anything below 50F, to be honest).   And, for someone who is a lifer in the food service industry, I spend a lot of my off hours reading food writing, watching FoodNetwork, and cooking.

I live with the spousebeast, who has been in the food service industry only slightly less longer than I've been alive (he started as a dishwasher in his dad's restaurant at 14.  And he's 13 years older than I am.  The math does itself).  My children--22 and 20--have decided they prefer living with their father, although I hear sporadically hear from the youngest.  I guess money is more important than love, being able to be yourself, and dealing with a mother and a stepparent who are both openly queer.

Everyone chooses their own life path.

Speaking of, I also have really tragic choice in music.  Although I hope the concerts I'm seen ameliorate my tiny little collection of cds I only break out when I'm alone.

I've been reunited with my Beloved

Also, the spousebeast is back.  ;)

Priscilla, Queen of the Laptops decided she didn't like her exile in guyville, so Kent couldn't access DraftSharks, ESPN.com, OR his email.  I have no idea why, but it was kind of funny.  We've decided we're going to start saving so he has his own laptop next year and leaves mine the hell alone.  (And, no, I didn't block anything.  She just refused to cooperate)

We had a serious talk when he got home, and he's giving serious thought about not going next year.  I am not discouraging him.  He's starting to feel more and more isolated from the group and came home feeling sad.  And disrespected.  Things have gone downhill since he came out as bi,  And they seriously dogged on him because he "still" works food service, we don't own a car, blah de blah.

I get really tired that he gets continually judged for not always chasing more.  Is it such a crime to be happy?  Is that failure?  He came home to a clean home, his "comfy pants" and favorite slopping around the house on his computer chair, his favorite adult beverage,, and a card suggesting strongly that he be naked when I got home from work.  (Which he was.  Which was almost REALLY awkward, because the coworker who drove me home insisted on using his flashlight so I could get the door unlocked.  Hah!  Good thing the dude can run fast)  I bet those douchebros don't get that.

Grrrrr....

In other, better news....I have a date for Pride!  Yes, I am as shocked as y'all are.  I have a rainbow feather fascinator and rainbow kneesocks.  She's making rainbow tiedyed scarves and we're discussing outfits.  I swear, I feel like I'm 15 again and going to hang out with my first girlcrush.

And now....work.  At least I get to close with this cute weirdo who actually know what he's doing.

it's that time of year again

LJI and Fantasy Footnall.  The spousebeast is off in the mountains outside of Asheville with 11 other guys who behave like they're 15 for the next 4 days.  (And guess who is covering his shifts?  I cry foul!  Work really DOES consider us interchangeable).  I've already gotten the annual "okay, I love you and miss you andd to what the hell did you change your laptop password to THIS year?" call.  Heee....

Look, if you are borrowing my laptop and leaving me your crappy desktop, I WILL come up with something incredibly embarrassing requiring numbers and special symbols that is so comvoluted you will HAVE to write it down.  And repeat it back while your friends hoot and holler.

Of course, they all love me right now (well, save one), because they got bags of penis shaped sugar cookies.  Hey, they're the ones who always taunt each other with "eat a bag of dicks."  I just decided to request a day off earlier this week to make individual bags of customized dicks.

The cookie cutters came in three sizes.  So I may or may not have given TinFoil Hat Boy the small ones.  And I may or may not have made them look...er...limp.

Dude's been fucking with me for over a decade.  I got my revenge.  (Oh, and I frosted the balls Tarheel blue.  He's a Duke fan)  If I feel sufficiently wronged by you, let it be known....payback is coming.  You're just not gonna know when.

The pigtails, dimples, and generally sweet demeanor sure do fool a fuckton of people.

And. speaking of, time to go try to do my job AND Kent's with Slowmoving Mansplaining Mammal.  I've got three days of this.  Color me thrilled.

Aug. 19th, 2019

Kent and I get to close together 4 nights out of five this week.  And it looks like this is going to become A Thing.  Woo-hoo!

It was fucking hilarious to watch Manager Picky Pants grow visibly more frustrated as the night wore on, because he couldn't find any projects for us.   We were two steps ahead of him all night long.  :)

Thing is, we are very professional.  A couple of our co-irkers were surprised that we're married, and a few more thought we are besties from back in the day (which is true in a way) and a couple thought we're either cousins or siblings.  *cringe*  When we're at work, we WORK,  And we work as a team.  Heck, we don't even take our breaks together.

I'm still looking for a different job, but I am content to stay put for a while if this new schedule sticks.  As it stands, we'll have one day off a week together, and one day to ourselves, which is my gold standard for schedules.

And, the nights we close together, we've decided that HE will dismantle and clean the rotisserie and combi ovens, and I will field the soccer moms and people who don't understand that all of the food in the cold case is actually, well, cold (yes, Virginia, even the cabbage rolls.  And the meatloaf.  Chicken breasts?  Yep, them too) and slice meats and cheeses in 1/4 lb portions until my eyes go crossed.  Because trying to give good customer service when you're annoyed at being interrupted and covered in chicken grease likely isn't happening.

So, all in all, this looks like a positive change.

the things I find by dumpsters

Charming, quirky nightlight or potentially deomanically possessed tchotchke?  Y'all decide.

And, yeah...that's a pic of 15 year old me in the background.

Dreams and stranger things

Sorry for the radio silence lately.  It seems like all I do is work and sleep.  I have no life.  I barely have a relationship, since Kent's working days (we essentially see each other at work between 3-4:30, and maybe for an hour or two when I come home after closing.  I am SO not a night person).  I feel like I have zero agency any more, pver ANYTHING.

Hell, I can't even remember the last time I read a magazine, let alone a book.

Which is why I find it interesting that last night, I dreamed Kent and I were at this strange lecture/symposium/performance art piece about Henry Miller.  I was amazed at how much I remember about him...and what incredibly weird, fucked up yet totally plausible things my subconscious came up with to fill in the gaps.

The really funny thing is that I was always more of an Anais Nin girl.  I discovered Linotte, her girlhood diary, when I was about 12 or 13.  I felt like I'd truly met a soul sister.  I spent that entire summer reading my way through her diaries.  In retrospect, I am a little surprised Miz Powers (the most rockingest rock star librairian EVER) didn't tip my ever strict mother off to what I was reading.  Maybe she didn't know.  Or maybe she did...who knows?

Two take away points from this:  1)  I'd always considered Henry Miller a footnote in her life, not the other way around.  2) the earliest (positive) influences on my early sexuality were drag queens, Jareth, and Anais Nin's more...er.grown up work.  That explains...er...rather alot.
Oh, gods, today is gonna suuuuuuuck.

We have no food for the deli case.  Zip, zilch, zero....aside from a metric ass ton of pesto farfalle pasta salad with pistachios which, yes, is as unappetizing as it sounds.

Why the food shortage, you ask?  Because the deli manager made a bet with our GM that she could go a week without ordering anything but chicken.

The stupidity.  IT BURNS!  I wish they would just fuck in dry storage and get it over with.  Quit playing your cute little games that end up screwing us, too.

I told the MOD last night that I am just going to start making random salads out of stuff I raid from produce and ringing everything up as coleslaw.  He seemed strangely okay with that, especially after Kent told him about the bet (he was appalled).

We don't get a truck until TOMORROW. Yeesh.  And, lucky for me, I am off, so I don't have to unload the sonofabitch. (Kent's off, too, so we're going to brave the heat for a date day walk through town.  I've been craving lunch at Ms. Mong's, and Kent wants to hit the tienda because we're almost out of dried chiles for his signature spice blend)

I close tonight, which promises to be...problematic.  My co-closer (is that even a word?) is 4 months pregnant.  I understand pregnancy is hard (I was in grad school and working 3 jobs with Liam so, believe me, I know), but she's calling out more then she's showing up.  And even when she IS there, she spends most of her time in the bathroom or on her phone.  *sigh*

On the up side, Bakery Joe is closing, so I can parlay a quart of homemade soup (I made some amazing green chile pork and bean soup) and maybe a beer into a ride home.  :)
It's 101F today.  Ick, ick, ick.  Needless to say, any plans I had for a leisurely stroll to Carrboro to write in my journal and eat ice cream on the lawn of Weaver Street Market went "pffffft!" well before they even started.

Plans have noy gone so well for me ltely.  I got to work yesterday to find that TWO people in deli had been fired, one had to quit due to a family emergency...making me the third senior-most deli employee (Kent's first).  Yeah, before the end of my probationary period is over.  Oy.

I could drop kick Bakery J for not getting a lock on my open hours this week.  I had to tell him my availability changed abruptly.  At least he's not mad at me, conceded it is fair, and said the door is always open if I want to pick up a few shifts here and there.

This also means a full time job has opened up.

My brain hurts

talk about a waste of lip gloss

I get to do the Incredibly Pointless and Annoying Shift tonight.  3pm to close, which means 9:30 at the latest.  Blergh.  And I have to take a cab home, unless B is working *crossing fingers*.

He's a sweet kid, and basically told me he owes me forever...because I helped him put together a menu for his first homecooked romantic dinner.  :)  The young woman was suitably impressed, and they're now going steady (do people still call it going steady?).

It was really cute.  He was losing it, because he works in the meat department...and she's vegetarian.  He reported back (thankfully not with all the details.  I'm such a mom) that not only did she LOVE the pasta marinara with summer veggies, he didn't realize he'd actually really enjoy a pasta dish without meat.  Yay!


So, today, in addition to working the Pointless and annoying Shift, I find out if/when I start picking up shifts in bakery.  I'm excited to start...but part of me won't cry if I have tomorrow off.  Kent's been off for three days, and it would be kind of nice to have a day where he isn't underfoot.

On a totally unrelated note, is anyone having issues with FB?  I saw that there was an outage, but allegedly it's back up.  Is a puzzlement.
Ohhhhh....THAT'S interesting.

Kent just got subpeoned to testify against Happy Acres in a class action suit.

Anyone wanna bet on the over/under until I get served?
Had to explain to a co-irker that touching a cook's knife is like touching a witch's tarot deck:  do it without permission, and bad things might happen.

Seriously, who grabs someone's knife (that they have made clear that they have brought from home, because the general use knives are utter shite.  You can't stab anyone, but you might leave one hell of a bruise) when it is on their station?  And then go to break down boxes with it?!?!?!?!?!?

(I stopped her before she got to the pile of corrugated carcasses.  I even loaned her my box cutter and didn't stab her with it.  I deserve a cookie)

Gah.  It was kind of funny to see the slow dawning on her face as she realized that I wear a pentacle around my neck instead of a Star of David, though.  (This has happened to me so many times over the years.  Learn to count, people!)

Speaking of knives.....OMG, y'all.  A friend of mine from HS asked for my snail mail because she found something that made her think of me.  I figured it was something Wonder Woman related that she found at a flea market (seriously, we have the BEST flea markets in my hometown).

I came home to this:  https://chefsvisionknives.com/products/cosmos

I am beyond floored.  When I told her it was too much and she didn't need to do that, her response was "Yeah.  I've got money now.  And who permanently borrowed a dress from Theatre Bristol's costume closet and altered it when mama drank my prom dress money? You deserve it, sweet pea."

And these are NOT going to work with me.  First of all, they're ceramic and not up to all the stuff I have to do.  And if someone so much as breathed on them, I would stab them....with the crappy knives we have for general use, because I would not sully a gift blade with the blood of the gormless twits I work with.

Jun. 8th, 2019

I swear by all that is holy and good in the Universe, if I complain about work and Kent responds with "Well, it's better than not having a job," I WILL stab him with my (borrowed) chefs knife.

I don't want to go in today.  I got screamed at on Thursday because we ran out of chickens (not true.  We had six in the hot case, and 18 in the oven.  AND THAT'S NOT MY JOB!  Apparently, every-fucking-body in that store thinks that Kent and I are the same person with the same skill set).  Then Tiny Little Tyrant took Kent aside yesterday to bitch at him about my lackluster amount of production.

Point the first:  you made an issue when I was hired that YOU are my boss, not my husband.  If you have an issue, you need to be taking it up with me.

Point the second:  I get a slow start on the day because I ACTUALLY FILL OUT THE PRODUCTION TOOL.  You know, that thing that is supposed to keep us on track about waste and shit like that?  That corporate requires every quarter?  That you just make up numbers for?  Yeah, that thing.

Point the third:  I could produce one hell of a lot more if I tasked deli to slice my meat and cheese for me, got someone to fetch containers for me, had a personal butt monkey to run all over the store getting produce and sauces, and never once filled out a transfer log.

Point the fourth:  Things go hella faster when you schedule your own private minion to work with you.  I could make 72 salads and 60 sandwiches in 2 hours if I had an extra set of hands.

Blergh.  She had better not EVEN speak to me today.  Any interaction might cost me my job.

I'm wondering if this shit is worth a call to HR.  The screaming incident definitely is.

Breathe, Al.  You've got 8 hours of fuckwittery to put up with.

In better news, I had an amazing realization.  The spousebeast routinely drops 20 and change to buy things for Hearthstone.  If THAT comes out of the household money, what do *I* get?

My copy of A Star Is Born should arrive tomorrow or Monday.  :)  Next upis Boheniam Rhrapsody.

the curse of competence

Guess who is working all closes next week?  Apparently, I'm the best at it now that M is leaving.  Yippee.

I am going to have to have a sit down with management and explain AGAIN that, if the buses aren't running (and they don't after 9pm), I have to PAY to get a cab to get home.  Worse on weekends, when there are no busues running those hours, so working a Saturday/Sunday close is $48 in cab fare.  Either they take that into consideration, or I better be getting one hell of a raise real soon.

And if Kent meets my complaints with "Well, it's better than not having a job" one more time, I'll be doing a GoFundMe for attorney fees on my charge of (totally justifiable) homicide.

Blergh.

I'm trying to be shiny, happy, positive girl, but it ain't working.

At the very least, I'll get to spend time with Cheesy Poof, who works mids, gives killer shoulder rubs, and sneaks me stuff from bulk when management isn't around.

Yep, I have found someone to fag hag.  Or he found a fag hag.  Whatever.  When I first started the job, he was the "cheese specialist."  I don't remember how it came up, but he did his Cartman impression (which is actually better than Kent's.  Color me impressed) and I crowned him Cheesy Poof.

The rest is history.

(Even better: he also watches RHOBH and Vanderpump Rules.  Finally!  I have someone in my life with whom I can talk about the crucial issues surrounding these shows!  While bagging up organic jelly beans.)

(But we made ourselves Pride themed bags, then handed them out to staff.  One of the managers saw, thought it was brilliant...and guess what I will probably be doing tomorrow?  Yup.  Bags and bags of Pride jelly beans  While I love the idea, CF and I really need to quit coming up with ideas that just make more work for us)

I am not working today, thank you Baby Cheeze-Its.
It's my day off, I said.  I'll sleep in, I said.

Yeah....been up since--no joke--4:20.

This close, then open (clopen) schtick has really borked my sleep cycles (not to mention SERIOUSLY disrupting my viewings of Jeopardy.  I've not sure if I'm still rooting for the current champ or want to see who ultimately takes him down).  Next week, I'm scheduled for mids and closes, which isn't as bad, but means I am going to have to spend some quality time researching the bus schedules.  Ah, the joys of summer schedule on CHT!  Where, apparently, the townies who rely on them to get to work don't count.  Blergh.

My birthday was lovely (thanks for all the good wishes, y'all!).  Very quiet, which I've really been needing.  Kent and I had made grand plans for cooking all day...and blew them all off.  It was nice to be able to look at each other and say "Nah....." without guilt.  Instead, we made an amazing "dump cart stir fry" (gotta love free produce!) and he surprised me with a cake that three of my friends in Bakery made for me.  <3

AND I got flowers on my birthday for the first time in 30 years!  Yes, really.  The last time, my granma (who was working at a flower shop at the time) had 16 different colored roses sent to my boyfriend/GM's house (yes, I dated my GM.  Shaddup) for the party his mom was holding for me and the rest of our D&D group.  At the time, I wanted to crawl under a rock, as did my boyfriend.  I was getting singled out for attention, and the BF said later that he felt like he failed on the romantic side (but he got me a pink lava lamp from Spencers!  Dang, dude!  That lasted at least 3 months longer than the roses!).  Obviously, now I treasure that memory.

But I digress.  The spousebeast again conspired with S (she who designed the world's largest prom corsage) and I was presented with a decorated Mason jar-esque arrangement of yellow roses, yellow yarrow, red lilies, and Bells of Ireland.  I wish I had a camera, because it is so gorgeous.  And the buds of the lilies are starting to bloom!  How cool is that?

Speaking of blooming, Dave the Tomato Plant is doing *really* well.  I may have tomatoes this summer!  And the herb plants (basil, cilantro, and mint) are starting to sprout.  Yay!  And I found a couple of tiny wild strawberry plants hiding underneath the bicycle that has been chained to the side of our porch since we moved here.

Of course, this means I am now wondering what else I can grow.  Given the current weather, probably not much.  We're already seeing highs in the 90s, so I'm guessing this summer is gonna SUUUUUUCK.