Somebody's poisoned the water hole!*

Sad Homeowner reporting here.

So when I moved into my house I knew at the time that there was a well. What this meant to me was tap water I refused to drink and no water bill from the county. I kind of liked the freedom of using water without charge, made me feel like I really owned this land. I knew there was always an option to hook up to the county since most of my neighbors had done so back when the railroad came through town...I mean, the water pipes came through. Sorry, felt very old, small town-ish there for a second, like Dr. Quinn. The woman who owned the house at the time had opted to stay on the well, probably thinking what I thought, "Why pay for water when you've already got it for free?" She did hook up to the sewer (thank you ma'am) so that I don't have a septic tank or anything (thank you, thank you ma'am).

Well, the honeymoon phase is over. Yesterday I was cleaning my bathroom. I scrubbed the toilet (which sometimes seems useless cause it's hard water and therefore the toilet has the horrible hard water stains but I clean it for the sake of habit, not for the hope of having a beautiful white toilet) when I went to flush the water that filled the tank was murky. I thought to myself, Self, this is weird. I shrugged my shoulders and soldier on. I went to the sink to wash my hand and the water trickled out. Trickling is not something my faucets have been known to do, the water pressure that comes out of the shower is sometimes painful. I quickly washed my hands as the water source vanished before my eyes. I tried the shower, the sink again, the sink in the other bathroom, the kitchen sink. All of them seemingly bone dry. My well! So of course, I call my dad, even though my dad hasn't had a well before, but dads have all the answers don't they?

We talked about the possibilities but we both came to the same conclusion, it isn't the pump, nor the power to the pump, it is most definitely the well itself. Then, as any heroic father would do, he offered without me asking to call the county and find some well people and get some estimates for me. The way he saw it I had two options, hook up to the county or dig a little deeper with the well. After considerable though (more like ten minutes of nostalgia about how life used to be on county water lines) I knew I would likely just opt to hook up to the county. It may make me cry financially up front, but in the long run life will be better, more secure, on the county pipeline.

Excuse me, I have to go die now.*

Life is full of embarrassing moments. Different levels of embarrassing too. One man's embarrassing story is just another man's awkward, fleeting moment soon to be forgotten. I had a face-off like this before. I won, simply because the guy who started the competition only had an awkward story to share as his most embarrassing moment. Forgetting your basketball shorts and having to wear someone else's during a game isn't embarrassing unless they were too big and fell down during the game...sorry Brad, no win on that one. So he got most awkward and I got most embarrassing. But I digress.

I've had big embarrassing moments, like falling down a flight of stairs in an extremely reverent church setting, retelling embarrassing moments (because school, especially college classes, thought that would build unity). ...And that's pretty much it, because I'm not easily embarrassed. At some point in my life, I can't put my finger on when, I developed a sense that something has to be really embarrassing to be an embarrassing moment worth remembering.

The story I am about to tell doesn't hold with it the shame of embarrassment, but rather the shame that comes with getting caught eating cookies from the cookie jar. I share all that embarrassing rhetoric above because at first, I thought I was embarrassed, and now I realize that I'm not actually.

The story involves a sign on the wall at work and two little bottles of super cheap super glue:

A long, long time ago, down on the second floor, the "P" in "group" fell from grace. It plummeted three feet to the carpet below. It was found by a passerby who immediately ran it up to my desk in hopes that I could fix it. I graciously accepted the fallen consonant and warmly welcomed it as an object to add to a growing collection of miscellaneous things at my desk and promptly forgot about it. A few weeks later I saw the "P" amongst my things and decided to try and do something...I passed the buck off to someone else. In my memory, I had e-mailed several people and put up a valiant effort to save this letter, but the facts will tell you otherwise.

The "P" was restored to its rightful place amongst the other letters in "Group" and the fiasco was quickly forgotten about. That is until a few months ago when some unknown stranger was strolling past the conglomerate of words on the wall and found himself stuck to the bottom corner of the "P", the letter holding on desperately to the fabric of this stranger's polo as though its very life depended on it. The stranger was able to free himself, but not before the "P" had loosened the bottom half of it's body, making it easier to latch on to other passersby.

Calls and e-mails flooded my voicemail and inbox. I had recalled from the first time that the people who put up the sign had been no help and that we had used something akin to super glue, so I put in an order for super glue. When it arrived my new partner in crime, Lil' Bit, and I went to the second floor to investigate the situation and to put things right.

After two bottles of super glue, several moments of panic as we thought out fingers were stuck to the letters and standing, pushing against the wall as quite a few people from the office walked by with smart remarks and hardy-har-hars, the 'P' as well as the 'R' were sturdy and immovable. There were, however, permanent finger prints on the letters, encapsulated by dried super glue, and an incredibly accurate right angle of dried glue on the wall that had dripped down from one of the letters.

The incident is infamous, with even the CEO knowledgeable about what we had done. The people from the sign company denied ever telling us to use super glue and they came to inspect the damage...dismal in their eyes, but the letters aren't hurting anyone anymore so I feel like crime has been fought and justice satisfied. I kept up my vigilant search for the e-mail that would prove we had done what we should have done, but couldn't find it. I finally broke down and sent a text to the only woman who would know/remember what had really happened. Here is our conversation:

Troublemaker: We called the company and they put it back 4 us...they have special stuff they put on there 4 it...it won't stay up if you put glue or anything on there.'
Me: Soo....super glue is a bad idea. Got it. Thanks!
Troublemaker: Did u try and super glue it back???
Me: I don't want to talk about it...but sadly, it was the highlight of my week.
Troublemaker: that made me giggle...i still love u!

When I told Lil' Bit that I may have been wrong about the glue she said that she would handle it, I told her it was my doing, I would take care of it, she smiled up and me and said, "Let's not pretend we both didn't have something to do with it." And in that moment I thought of a saying I had read a long time ago, "A good friend will come bail you out of jail, a true friend will be sitting next to you saying...'that was fun!'"

The pain and closest thing to embarrassment in this situation? I remembered something that never happened and let it guide my actions. The highlight? Apparently Lil' Bit and I accomplished the impossible. They said it wouldn't stick...but it's sticking!

Up and Down, Up and Down! Strong strokes! PAINT! Don't tickle.*

This weekend I decided to paint my bathroom! I have wanted to the whole time because I didn't like the color, but then I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I played around with some ideas and then yesterday I got home and was cleaning and decided that I would just go do it. So I went to Lowe's and picked out a color, bought a few supplies and got to work!

In pairs - the befores and afters:

And just so you can see the comparison...

I personally....love it. And I love the smell of paint, makes things smell so new!

I have a big head and little arms. I'm just not sure how well this plan was thought through.*

I have a bowl of chocolate on my desk. For any of you who know me, you know that I don't eat chocolate. So why do I have a bowl of it on my desk? To make friends and influence people of course!


There is one manager who likes the Hershey's Special Dark Chocolate mini bar, so every time he comes over I give him one. Mostly when we are done with him, I give him one, he thanks me and he leaves, no matter what he was doing. Rare occasions does he stick around after getting the chocolate.


He had already received his piece for the day (not that there is a limit, but beyond one piece I just make him ask...plus I am running out). So when he came over in the afternoon to give me something I thanked him and went to put it in the scanner. He was walking away, but saw me lean towards the scanner (which is right next to the candy dish) so he turned around and took a few steps towards my desk. I looked up to see if he needed anything and he laughed, mostly at himself, and explained that he thought I was going for the candy dish so he turned around to get the piece of candy, but just realized I wasn't doing that.


I had to laugh too and I said, "I really have you conditioned don't I?" Pavlov would be proud.

It made me think of an episode from The Office when Jim conditions Dwight to salivate for an Altoid every time his computer starts up...that makes me smile.

I just know a lost cause when I see it. That's the reason I don't recycle.*

Last week we got some sample pens (amongst other things) from a new company that we are purchasing our office supplies from. We split up our spoils and took the pens to sample them and see how they worked (or because we are greedy and love free stuff). Not being the most green person (I believe in recycling, but I am not willing to pay more for green stuff just because it's what the cool kids are doing) I let Pam take the biodegradable pens...


I was down at her desk today asking her to order some supplies and talking about the weekend when her pen broke, her biodegradable pen. I told her maybe it already started its biodegrading and went on about how you can't trust that stuff, you don't know how long you will have it, like the Sun Chips bags. How long will it last? (And yes, I'm aware that it has a long shelf life and probably waits to biodegrade until in the compost, but it's more fun to live life thinking that the bag that holds your chips could disappear back to mother earth over night from your pantry).

Pam asked if she should put the broken piece in water and see how long it takes and I laughed and said, "Plant it and see if anything grows" ...which of course, is illogical, you can't grow a plant from a piece of biodegradable pen, but wouldn't it be cool if you could plant your dead pen, give it some water and sunlight and walla! You have an office plant.

I may be biased but I think it's a fabulous idea.

Who gave him carrots?*

Tommy

Jake

Last night I babysat my two nephews. I got there in the early afternoon, so we were playing around but hadn't eaten dinner yet. Tommy decided that he wanted to watch Polar Express so he got in his bed, said he needed a blanket and asked for milk and a candy bar (he always asks me for that).

Me: How about just milk?

Tommy: Okay, I just need milk and a peppermint patty.

Me: Will you still eat your dinner?

Tommy: Yes.

Me: (I wasn't born yesterday) Pinky swear it (but I am immature: I stuck out my pinky).

Tommy: (Smiles and pulls my pinky).

Me: No, do your pinky like this and pinky swear to eat your dinner.

Tommy: (still smiling) I just want milk.

So I go get him the milk and when I come back and see him looking all cozy and in a nap-like position I asked him if he had already taken a nap today (my thought was that it was too late in the game to take a nap). He said he had and I said, "So you won't fall asleep?"

Tommy: Yes.

Me: So you will fall asleep?

Tommy: No. (and in his head probably thinking, "Give me the milk woman!")

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

So...surprise, Tommy fell asleep. I made them dinner and tried to get Jacob to eat it. Finally he did when I said he could take his plate out to the back patio and eat while playing with his trains. When he brought it back in I could see that he hadn't eaten much of it.

Jacob: Can you put my food in there (points to the trash can)
Me: How about we put it on the table in case you want more later, just to nibble
Jacob: Okay, yeah I might want more
Me: Yeah, just in case.

Jacob: (who had been closing the door, stops, opens it back up) I'm tired of eating Jess.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Great aspirations

Tommy: Maybe if I grow up I'll have a big poo-poo.

~*~*~*~*~

Tommy telling me about the "big black birdies" (planes) at the aviation museum.

Tommy: You're gonna be a big black birdie one day. But the big black birdies are old and don't fly anymore.

Me: Is that why I'm going to be a big black birdie? Because I'm old and don't fly?

Tommy: No, you'll be a big black birdie and won't fly

Me: Cause I'm old?

Tommy: yeah.

~*~*~*~*~*~

And here is the crowning jewel of the evening, the amount of laughing involved has begun my six pack.

Jacob was pretending to be a baby after dinner and Tommy comes up and covers him, being careful not to cover Jacob's face saying, "There you go." He patted him. Jacob kept insisting he was a boy baby (they have a baby sister, it's probably important to point that out).

Then Jacob started to cry and I asked him what he needed.

Jacob: Milk, I need milk.

Tommy slowly starts to lift up his shirt: Here you go Jake, here you go. Here's some milk. (and started to go towards him).

It took me a second to figure out what was happening, and then I started to laugh, "No, Tommy, you don't have to do that." I went to get milk as quickly as I could but the whole time I could hear Tommy saying, "Here's some milk Jake" and couldn't stop laughing.

In the meantime, here is my brother-in-law Ben. last week he was working out in the yard all day with my dad putting up a play set.
What's that? You didn't know catch that?? Yeah...that's unfortunate.

Whatever, I'm getting cheese fries.*

Today for lunch we went to Noodles and Company (they don't have fries so this works out great for me - 0% temptation). I like Noodles and Company, I've only been there a grand total of 2 times, but it's good food and they sell monster sized Rice Krispy Treats (which apparently the proper way to say it is, "Rice Krispies Treats"). I bought one of course and smashed it into my purse for later, you know, when your eyes start drooping and your mind starts to wander and you can't focus on work. That's usually the time I start thinking about the vending machine downstairs, wondering what kind of sugar (non-chocolate, non-chewy, non-fruity) fix I can get from it and if I'm willing to pay the money for it.

So here I am, hitting that wall where I need sugar and I'm content to pick at my monster sized rice krispy treat. My fingers get this strange greasy feeling though and I hate that, and then I thought, 'you know what would be great? Bite sized rice krispy treats!" And then I remembered, someone else had that same great idea many years ago and decided to market it as cereal...
...cereal my mother would not buy for me. Bummer. Wish they had still been selling it in every store when I moved out on my own. I would always have a box on hand (much like I am with Captain Crunch). I could really use a couple boxes of this stuff. I could just put some in a baggy and carry it around with me always. They shouldn't have marketed it as cereal, I think bite sized Rice Krispy Treats would do very well in today's market...or maybe they would be before (or after) their time. Like the peanut butter twix.