My day according to my phone’s power bar

The Full Bar: Tunes for the road, games for lunch, research for blog posts, check the weather because… why not, download an app you’ll take off tomorrow, text like a mad thing, etc.

The Mighty Three Quarters: I could watch a movie!

The Bar Is Half Full: Let’s switch expectations from ‘movie’ to ‘YouTube’.

The Bar Is Half Empty: How did that happen? I only watched a few YouTube videos?! (Wait, what time is it?)

It’s Not Red Yet: OneA couple of…. I’m sure a few Ticket to Ride game(s) won’t matter.

20% Message of Warning: Okay need to conserve energy here. Only check things that are absolutely necessary. Like my Sims.

10% Message of Doom: WAIT. It was at 20% FIVE MINUTES AGO. All I did was VERY RESPONSIBLY send my Sims to work. Okay, deep breath… I can still get directions. I can still get directions. I can still get directions.

Nononononononononononononononono: HOW WILL I GET HOME WITH NO MUSIC IN MY CAR.


Yarn Chronicles, Part 1

Red: Umph!

Purple: What the…

Gray: Hey! Stop pushing!

Red: I’m not pushing! I’m getting pushed!

Gray: Well… who’s pushing you?!

Red:  I don’t know, ask purple. He can see better from his angle.

Purple: Don’t look at me… I can’t see anything but a big, squishy, silver blob.

Silver: Are you calling me fat?!

Purple: …

Silver: Well, ARE YOU?!

Purple: Look, all I can see is you. From every. Single. Angle.

Silver: I am not fat! I am multi-ply bulky.

Red, Purple, and Gray: *snicker*


<nothing can be heard above the laughter>

Light Camel with a Hint of Gold: I don’t know why you’re listening to them anyway. If anyone’s getting out of this box anytime soon, it’s you.

Gray: Oh, hi Tiny. I forgot you were down there. All the way at the bottom of the box.

LCwaHoG: I am smaller in stature because I’m CASHMERE. Not that you would understand anything about pedigree.

Gray: I understand it’s got about eighteen other skeins on top of it right now.

LCwaHoG: I would LOVE to continue this conversation, but my mother always taught me not to talk to MACHINE WASHABLE.

Red: Would you all shut up?! Who got pushed? And how?

Gray: How would I… WAIT… Is that…



*to be continued*



A little bit of random awesome

Breaking Cat News

What sound does a nut make when it sneezes?*

The University of Victoria offers a science course about Batman.

March 26th is Spinach Day but also Make Up Your Own Holiday day. My new holiday is on December 1st and it’s called Spinach is Evil Day.

Can you tell I’m a fan?

How can they not know when the Badonkadonk will be back in stock?

Did you hear the one about the magic tractor?**




**It was driving down the road and turned into a field!


My dad’s birthday is coming up…

And while there are MANY things I love about him, I managed to whittle the list down to ten of my favorites.

MY dad…

  1. Researches his children’s strange new hobbies, not matter how far out of left field they are, and actively seeks out coupons / deals / exhibits in the Sunday paper to pass along.
  2. Has at least  five puns for every situation. Even going into surgery.
  3. Always has time for family.
  4. Can eat more Smarties / Sweetarts / Peeps in a sitting than anyone. And all of anyone’s friends. Plus a few acquaintances.
  5. Takes super good care of himself… even in the face of Boston crème pie. And let’s face it… that’s the ultimate test of willpower.
  6. Can make pretty much anything out of wood or PVC pipe.
  7. Puts a lot of thought and care into gifts.
  8. Taught me the beauty of a well-designed spreadsheet.
  9. Loves animals. He even put a tiny satellite dish on his birdhouse. No word yet on when he’ll add Fios.
  10. Will sit patiently for three hours while his kids crack crabs, drink beer, and act goofy.

Bonus Round Nurses love him: he rarely complains, always tells bad jokes, and is generally pleasant even in a hospital gown.

Prime Rib: 1 Me: 0

I could imagine it swearing at me from the cooler in the back seat, promising disaster for the indignity of being squished next to leftovers . I turned the radio up and tried to think of something else, but the fact was inescapable: at some point in the near future I was going to cook a prime rib for my family.

As I’m sure I’ve mentioned before (but am too lazy to go back and check), I don’t generally cook for other people. If it’s a potluck, sign me up for bread. There are things I can cook fairly well, like risotto and casseroles, but my Achilles heel has always been meat. Let’s just say at my house you’ll never wonder if the chicken is fully cooked. Doneness is apparent the instant a shriveled hunk lands on your plate. While I have no issues sadly chewing my way through a piece of pork with less moisture than the Sahara, it’s not something I want to inflict on anyone I actually LIKE.

So you can imagine my apprehension with this PRIME RIB in my backseat.

Night Before The Big Day

Seasoned His Evilness (aka HE aka prime rib) with salt and pepper. Then sat on the couch and pondered all that could be going wrong in my fridge. Got up to check on HE; it just sat there, mocking me. Go back and play some video games. Between outflanking zombies and bartering for better equipment consider whether I put too much salt on. I followed a recipe that PROMISED perfect results, but what if?! Check on HE again, wonder if leftovers will give it a funny taste. Throw away leftovers. Back to video game. Re-think timing approximately eight times.

The Big Day

Set oven to highest temperature. Put in HE. While running around getting everything else ready and pondering my limited oven space versus casseroles that need warming, notice I’m blinking a lot. Then notice smoky haze throughout apartment. Run to windows in valiant race to beat smoke detector. Open windows in 18 degree weather. It can’t be helped. Smoke detector thankfully doesn’t go off.

Over the next hour or so raise and lower the oven temperature per Magical Recipe. HE looks good in oven light, and the thermometer shows a steady creep towards medium rare. Still smoky, so make sure bedroom door is closed so I don’t smell like prime rib all next week at work. Realize I can’t fit chicken in oven; call brother to pick up KFC (grilled) for my dad.

Family has arrived. HE comes out looking beautiful. Majestic even. I have pulled this off. Tent with aluminum foil and put casseroles in to warm up while cooking risotto and pouring drinks and trying to tell my dad how to use the TV through my kitchen wall. No one has to wear their coat inside despite windows having been opened earlier. Gas heat FTW!

Cut open HE. Stare. Blink a few times hoping it’s just the smoke haze making it look like HE is brown all the way through except for a tiny medium rare part at the bottom. Resist stabbing HE ferociously.

Me: It’s overdone! But I followed the recipe!

Mom: It still smells great and look how juicy it is!

Me: Overdone!

Mom: It’s going to be fine.

So I served it, and she was right. The rest of the food turned out well, my family gamely passed on steak sauce, and I enjoyed having them over. The dinner was a success. In the end HE only served as a catalyst for a quest to cook a prime rib to a delicious medium rare. Quiver in fear all you potential HE’s out there. In the end, I am determined to have the last laugh.

Ten+ things that go through your mind when the UPS guy delivers a box of veggie burgers…

  1. Wait… what?
  2. Oh, right, the whole ‘I should really eat better’ virus that invaded my brain over the weekend.
  3. What’s this sticker on the front? Dry ice? Isn’t that made from the stuff fancy chefs use to make instant ice cream?
  4. AM I GOING TO GET INSTANT ICE CREAM?! *happy office chair twirl*
  5. There is no ice cream in this box. *sad office chair drag*
  6. So apparently I now have a box of Discs Infamously Manufactured Erroneously Assuming Tongues Imagining Nomming Greatness or DIMEATING. There is goof good in this situation somewhere. I just need to think.
  7. *thinks hard*
  8. Visions of steak, pasta, and molten chocolate cake appear frolicking through a beautiful field.
  9. Then a veggie burger, dragging it’s dry carcass over a hill to ruin the fun.
  10. Decide to look up dry ice on the internet, because hopefully that will distract you from the Thriller dance DIMEATING are now doing in your imagination. Wait, dry ice can BURN you?! I HAVE ORDERED A WEAPON. WITH FIBER.
  11. Fan yourself to get over panic of dry ice. Doughnuts brought by contractor catch your eye. You already ate two this morning. That is more than enough; however, this is an emergency. Like, resorting to a plain cake donut emergency. (If only you’d worn white instead of navy, that powdered sugar one would be yours).
  12. What do you even put on these things? Ketchup? Relish? Ranch Dressing?
  13. Whoa, whoa, whoa… ranch dressing goes on a salad, so according to science… these things are a salad!
  14. Celebrate science with a doughnut.