Tuesdays With Noirrie Eve

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Hum that in your mind's background while you read this ....

Ah, Christmas Eve. I sit here, coffee at hand, relishing the fact that my two family holiday gatherings are behind me. And guess what? I'm not going to spew about either one. Can you believe it? Actually, they both went quite well. Even the one that PSIL attended. Of course, that was, no doubt, owing greatly to the fact that we spent a sum total of 3.5 hours with her this year. Ah, well. Works for me. My family gathering was even well-behaved. I would say that it was because it was Christmas and everyone was on their best behavior. But you know my two families better than that. Must have been some cosmic behavior-modifying misalignment. Whatever it was, they were both nice. And they're both over.

And, for the first time in I cannot remember when, we get to stay home on Christmas day. All day. I relishing the very idea of it. We'll sleep in, open gifts, play with our toys and go see a movie together in the evening. Doesn't that just sound like a little slice of Heaven?

May you all have a wonderful Christmas and many blessings in the coming year.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

Time is money, Friend!

Yesterday, I spent a sum total of three hours sitting around doctor's offices. Of that, one hour and fifteen minutes was pure wait time. As in the wait to even see the docs. It was my doctor that was the worst offender. I waited a full hour before I even got to see him. To me, this indicates some serious scheduling screw ups. Oh, I realize things happen. Emergencies. Urgent phone calls. Donuts in the break room. But this kind of wait is not unusual with my doctor. And I find it flat ridiculous. Especially since this appointment was at 9:30 a.m. How can you already be running an hour behind schedule a mere one-and-a-half hours after you start?

So, I have a solution. I think anyone with which you have an appointment should have a fifteen-minute grace period to allow for calls, patients who won't leave and random pastry emergencies. After that, they should take $1 off their bill for every minute they keep you waiting. I wonder how quickly they would get in to see you if they did that? I wonder if this would help cure their obsessive over-scheduling? I wonder if I can get my doctor to do it?

Tuesdays With Noirrie

Snow Day

Day two of kids out of school due to icy conditions. *Heaves heavy sigh.* The roads were actually clear enough that they could have gone today. The ole school board jumped the gun a bit on canceling today, in my own humble opinion. Ah well. I suppose I really can't complain about a couple of extra days of sleeping late and not having a real schedule.

But I am sitting here hoping that all this rain coming down today will NOT freeze and that school WILL be in session tomorrow. Hey, Mommy needs her quiet time.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

No, no. Let US do it. Really.

Whew! My sister bought a new house. As is the tradition in our family, on moving day, we all show up with our varied and sundry vehicles, start grabbing crap left and right, shoving it in, and hauling it to the new place. We did this for Deb on Saturday. We had quite a crew and quite a fleet of vehicles. The view from above would have greatly resembled an ant hill when there's a nice pile of crumbs nearby with the industrious back-and-forth trekking. We were a well-oiled machine.

Well ... most of us.

Deb's husband is not a born worker-bee. In fact, work puts him into a seriously bad mood. Work sends him into a tail-spin. Work blows his circuits to the degree that, for the most part, he stood around and watched the rest of us do it. We all made a mighty effort to ignore this. But it was hard. Damned hard. Especially when:

a) He would bitch us out that we weren't doing it properly.

b) He loaded the washing machine onto the dolly then instructed my 110-lb. niece to wheel it outside. He did generously offer to hold the door for her, though.

c) He stood in the doorway of the new house watching all the rest of us tromp back and forth with our boxes.

d) Those various and sundry times he was spotted sitting in his recliner while the rest of us continued to work.

e) After watching Steve and Jacob unload a cabinet cursed them out for laying it on its side.

f) After being asked where he wanted the TV, he shouted, "Take it in the F**KING HOUSE!"

I could go on but I would run out of letters and you probably get the idea anyway. I'm glad Deb got this incredibly awesome new house. I'm glad we were able to help her. I'm glad it's done. And, God forbid she ever moves again, she'd better be prepared to send that SOB away, or she'll have a mutiny on her hands.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

I survived!

Whew! I survived yet another family-filled holiday. And my family survived my cooking. The whole Thanksgiving four-day event began with me making my best effort to poison my family. I bought a 20-lb. bird. Placed said bird in the fridge Monday morning to thaw. On Wednesday morning, said bird was still pretty darned frozen. So, I fell back on the tried-and-true thawing method recommended by Ladies Home Journal and the ultimate turkey guru, butterball.com. I placed the turkey in my bathtub, filled with cold water. Might I add here that, if you've never thawed a turkey this way, it's pretty ridiculous looking. I offered the boys $5 if they would put on their swim suits, sit in the tub with the turkey and let me take their picture, but they both declined. Harumph. I left the turkey to thaw thusly, after carefully calculating thawing time per pound. Add the pounds, subtract the 7, carry the nine .... um .... ten p.m.!

The first thing I noticed when I got up on Thursday morning and stumbled to the bathroom was, yes, my turkey STILL swimming around in my tub. Crapola! Well, maybe it stayed cold enough? When I picked it up, it made a horrible sloshing noise. No, not water sloshing. This sloshing was coming from inside the sealed packaging. It sounded as if the turkey itself had started to liquefy. Well, that can't be good!

Quickly called the grocery store and determined that they do, in fact, have thawed turkeys ready and waiting. Yay! (Obviously, I'm not the only one that's ever needed a last-minute turkey.) Sent Steve running off to the store and started the other preparations. Family began arriving in the afternoon and we were having a fine visit. Time to check the turkey. Leg temperature read 170-degrees. Thanksgiving law says to took it to 180-degrees. Dotti, who was eagerly awaiting the oven to cook her sweet potato casserole, assured me this would be fine. Set the turkey aside to let it "set". I'm told they'll continue to cook so I assumed it would be okay. About half an hour later, Steve began to carve, checking the meat and it all appeared to be cooked well. But what's this? Its little plug hasn't popped. Ut-oh. But look! The meat looks done! That was, until he got down into the middle. I just don't think that turkey meat is supposed to be pink. *sigh* So we carved around the edges of this stupid bird and put the middle bits back into the oven.

I'm happy to report that no one died.

Oh, but this wasn't the end of the holiday! Had company for a while on Friday and then started getting things ready for our next foray into family festivities. Spent the weekend with the Russells. Their turkey was completely done, which was good. Everyone played nicely together, which was good. PSIL behaved almost normally, which was great! (Although that left me without my normal post-PSIL visit blogging fuel.) The pride of survival there comes from having endured 87.5 hours of football in two days (I'm not sure what it is but the laws of TV physics cease to exist at mom-in-law's house, at least as relates to sports viewing), being "cosy" with 12 people, one of which was a nearly one year-old, in one small room for an entire weekend and not having my own coffee/bed/internet. But we made it.

I also survived turning 44 yesterday. Except that I've decided I'm going to write it as .44. As in caliber. As in magnum. Just sounds better somehow. Lane thinks I'm an idiot.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

Respec

In the World of Warcraft, each class of character has three areas of specialization you can go into. Sometimes, you start in one then change your mind about how you want to play that character. Actually, I do this frequently. Yesterday, I respecced my Druid to the healing specialty. Quick, easy, cheap (at least the first time). So, this got me to thinking ... what if you could respec that easily in real life? Just make a quick trip to your trainer, pay them a bit of gold and, bam! new life specialty. Hmmmm. Interesting. If you could do this, what would you change?

Think about it.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

Vacation


We returned from our annual trek to Branson, Missouri on Sunday evening.



Great things about vacations ...
and not-so-great things about vacations.

Getting out of town for a few days ...
but having to take your Mother-in-law.

Not having to cook, clean, or do any kind of chores ...
then having 87 loads of laundry to do when you return.

Getting to spend time together ...
in very close quarters.

Seeing all those gorgeous Christmas lights adorning everything ...
then coming home and still having Halloween decorations to take down.

Having someone kind and reliable to care for your pets while you're gone ...
then coming home to find that you accidentally locked the cat in your bedroom and all he had for a bathroom was a nice leather satchel.

Discovering lots of wonderful new places to eat ...
then having to cook again once you return.

That happy feeling you get upon returning home, glad to have gone, but equally glad to be back ...
then sending your Mother-in-law home first thing the next morning.

(Okay, that one was actually two 'greats'. I cheated)

Tuesdays With Noirrie

Gray

Yes, I admit it. My hair has been going gray for some time now. I don't really mind. It's not THAT gray yet. Just random hairs here and there and, so far, it doesn't really look bad. The only thing I really mind about it is their texture. Why are they so WIRY? I mean, I'll be fixing my hair and have it all washed, dried, blown, coiffed, smoothed and then ... sproing! One of those grays springs right out of my 'do, sticking straight up into the air. What's up with that? Do they want to make sure they're noticed? Are they just rebellious? Are gray hairs the bad boys of the hairstyle world? Who knows.

I may be in trouble with the advancement of my grays though. I mentioned them yesterday and Lane reminded me of my long-term hair plans. Remember me saying that, when my hair got fully gray, I was going to let it grow super-long and start dressing like a hippie? Well, Lane does. And he reminded me of that. And he swears he's going to hold me to it. Hmmmm....

Tuesdays With Noirrie

Yep, we're still freaks ...

Last year I revealed our Halloween freakishness to those of you who didn't already know about it. It hasn't abated. Some day I swear our neighbors are going to show up on our front lawn brandishing pitchforks and torches. Until then, I suppose we'll continue to be freaks. If you missed it (and if you care at all) you can see our decorations on my old blog:

http://dianasioux.blogspot.com/2006/10/and-what-does-this-say-about-me-i-love.html

and

http://dianasioux.blogspot.com/2006/10/halloween-freakishness-continued-as.html

It's all pretty much the same this year. I do try to add just one or two new things per year. This year it's this awesome skull that Carol made for me. Oh, and a lot more lights outside.

This cute little guy got added to the cemetery.

I have an idea for a ghost for the graveyard, but have been too busy (lazy?) to get it made. I actually started on it but it wasn't working out quite right so I stalled. Maybe that'll be my addition for next year. In the meantime ...

HAPPY HALLOWEEN !!

PSA

When you are attending a concert or any other event where the expectation is that you will sit quietly and listen to the performers and/or speakers, please people ...

STFU!!

That is all.