Absolutely accurate scale drawing #2

This drawing illustrates exactly what is wrong with my kitchen. It was designed by someone who obviously never
1) Did dishes or
2) Cooked

The dish problem is that the only light source in the kitchen is above and behind the body doing dishes, thus rendering the sink a sea of darkness. I remedied this by putting a desk lamp over there where I can try to electrocute myself, but so far I remain among the living.

And problem #2 is the 4 total linear feet of counter space. Oh, food prep is highly overrated. If you have to clean it, trim it or cut it into pieces, it probably isn't good for you, anyway.



Added bonus problem - the oven door of the 1946 O'Keefe and Merritt stove (a real beauty) does not shut tightly. When I suggested to my landlord that he might invest $50 in some new springs and installation, he said this:

"Hey, this might sound kind of strange, but bear with me here -- you could get a 2x4 board and wedge it between the door and the wall."

I am not making this up.

The wall is about 7 feet away. I want to WEDGE a BOARD against the oven door, BISECTING my kitchen, and dislodge it every time I want to check the progress of my cookies??

That apparently made more sense to him than just fixing it already. Because fixing it already required MONEY (the man is not poor. He has over 20 rental units and spends about 6 months a year traveling).

So that's my kitchen tour, and an explanation of why I eat Trader Joe's boxed soup about 5 nights a week.

Oh, spam me, please, I LOVE it

Remember the old "friend" who only contacts me when he wants something?

I hadn't heard from him since he wanted me to help him do PR for a friend who was opening a business, but hooray, I just got an email titled "Your Water."

I thought it might be something political - a local water conservation measure or something, so I opened it and found:

As you may know, my wife, "Mary" (name changed to protect the guilty) is recovering from breast cancer,
and after much due diligence, we've discovered a simple way to give
her the best odds of never getting sick again.

Please share this with anyone who could use the info-

LINK TO SITE ABOUT WATER PURIFICATIONS SYSTEMS HE IS SELLING

Warmest regards,

Name of Loser Friend

At first I was furious. How dare he use his wife's breast cancer to shill for his latest crappy multi-level marketing scheme?

But then I calmed down and decided to do what I do best: ignore the email and mock him mercilessly on the Internet. I feel better now.

Edited to add: I decided to do something about it. I figured our friendship was over anyway, but I wanted him to know how appalled I was. I emailed him -
Dear [Loser Friend],

I think it is pretty disturbing that you use your wife's breast cancer as an
excuse to shill for water purification systems.

I always loved you, thought you were such a funny, insightful human, but it
seems like the only time you ever contact me is when you want something from
me. That hurts.

I forgot what it was that you sent to me, and I wrote back saying "Let's
make dinner plans" and I didn't hear one word from you, and that hurt, too.

I just wanted to let you know how I feel.

Take care, and I hope [Wife Name] is in good health.

Suebob

*********
He wrote back a couple hours later:
Sorry you were disturbed. We've been pretty disturbed as well.
The note was meant to turn a few of our friends on to something
new that we'd never even heard about before.
I'll make sure not to disturb you in the future.
*********

I thought it was interesting that he didn't defend his practice of only contacting me when he needed something. But there you go. Thus endeth 25 years.

Worst Fears

My dad will be 90 this year. 90, people. Good gosh a'mighty!

When is his birthday? Funny you should ask.

Well, BlogHer weekend, of course. Eeeeek. So I get to try to decide what to do about that. Go, and feel like a total shit for abandoning my dad as he marks 9 DECADES because he says he doesn't want any kind of recognition and it is just another day and blah blah blah.

Or don't go and miss out and regret THAT all year long?

Dunno.

But I digress. This post is really about how one of my worst fears almost came true today.

You know how Goldie is a big, active sighthound with very little training, right? She is 65 lbs of pure muscle, and no, she does not heel. This is my damn fault because I let her do what she wants on walks.

My logic is "Yeesh, the dog does what everyone else wants ALL the time. Let her do what she wants on walks. It's HER walk."

So she tugs and pulls and leaps into bushes with Grace and Nimbletude Unforeseen.

When I walk her, I control her as best I can. She has gotten better with age, and anyway I figure a shoulder separation is a small price to pay for a nice walk along the beach path.

But my dad likes to walk her, too. I have tried to warn him off this activity, since, though he is strong for a skinny old dude, he is also legally blind. But no. He likes to walk the dog.

Today he stopped to chat with a neighbor who has a puppy. Apparently a loose, off-leash puppy, because Goldie tried to play chase with the pup, though Goldie was on a leash. Goldie ran around Dad, effectively tying his legs together and then pulling him over.

He took quite a spill and scraped the hell out of his elbow and knee. Because he takes blood thinners, he was still bleeding a bit hours later.

This makes my stomach squinch up and my blood pressure rise to unhealthy levels. I try to remain calm, but the tremors in my hands probably give me away.

I don't know if my heart is strong enough for this strong-willed dog and strong-willed dad.

Bed dog or bed hog

An actual scale drawing of the sleeping arrangements in this house, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that some of us sleep like civilized, polite people, and others act like wild, bed-hogging beasts.

The big wonderful blogosphere

Oh, sure, there are More Important Issues. The world is full of Things To Do.

But every once in a while, I think you should take the opportunity to make the world a more fun place. Miss Britt is giving you that opportunity. Click, read, donate. After all giving makes you a happier person. Promise.

I'm not sure how to say this

This may be my most controversial blog post ever.

I don't want to offend anyone or drive off readers, but there is something I have to get off my chest and I can't hold back any longer.

I'll just say it.

I kind of miss pantyhose.

Whaaaa?

Yes, I am the last of a dying breed. Ladies who like pantyhose.

I know it isn't a popular idea. Young women would rather go without pants than be forced to wear pantyhose.

They just won't do it for love or for money. I see them with their little milk-white legs turning blue in the cold wind, covered in goosebumps. But you could offer them a lifetime supply of Hanes Her Way and they would say "No way." A lifetime supply for them is zero pairs.

I have cursed the hose myself. They don't fit right. They are either too light or too dark. They shred at the blink of an eye. They're expensive.

Yes, all of that. But they also make you legs look smooth and tan, and they keep you warm.

I hate having bare feet inside my shoes. It squeems me in a way that I cannot even begin to explain.

Now we have come to the real evil. Ladies of a certain age are aware that nylons are out, but they don't want to go without. So they wear tights or colored hose. Even when it looks like hell.

Today at the gas station I saw a lady in her Easter best. A peach pastel flowered dress. A peachy rose corsage. And navy blue nylons. Noooooo!

It's time to bring back Nude and Sheer and Taupe. For those of us who have pasty white, spotty or otherwise frightening legs, I beg you. Let us wear pantyhose. They aren't that bad.

Are they?