Passive Aggressive Machinery

A city worker just knocked on my door and asked me if I had been washing clothes or dishes. "No, not this morning, but I did last night," I said.

"Oh...ok."

"I did just run some water a few moments ago though," I said, thinking about the bottle I just prepped for Joey. I used a filter, but still.....

"Maybe that was it. We might have hit your sewer line and we're trying to figure it out."

"Uhhhh.....ok. Well, let me know if I need to do anything, or NOT do something," I said cautiously, hoping that they would actually TELL me if something was wrong.

Looks like that swamp thing out in my front yard is causing me problems. Maria, you're right, he looks like a transformer, but he hasn't spoken to me. :) I think he's the passive aggressive type - just tearing holes in my sewer line with a smile. :)

If that "thing" is still in my front yard tonight, it should add to our lame haunted house affect. It might scare the kiddies away. I might string some orange lights around it, and put a jack-o-lantern in the top, with some cob webs. The city won't be happy, but hey - they might have ripped my sewer line.

The new fad in lawn ornamentation

Word is that our neighborhood is getting cable. That's the good news. Bad new is a few of us have new yard decorations until they finish the project. Here's my eye sore. Lookin' gooood!

Sippy cup, anyone?

Anyone know how to get a child to take a sippy cup? Joey is ADAMENT about NO SIPPY CUPS. He sees one and cries horribly. Doc says he needs to get off the bottle by the end of November and head straight for table food. The food part I don't think will be a problem, but the no bottle thing - that will be a challenge. I know he doesn't have to be off the bottle right on his one year birthday, but I'd like to try.

Something

The new Starbucks is finally open. Just in time, because I've asked a girl from our church here to help me out with Joey once or twice a week after school. I just need an hour or so of "katie" time. I want to have some time to renew my spirit during the week. I really don't have a break otherwise. Joe and I go out on a date once a week, but I don't have much alone time to write, or read, or run, or just go unwind.

ANyway, so Starbucks is open. Today was my first day having Emily help out. So I jumped in my car, drove through the misty air to find a quiet corner of solace and a cup of tea. I arrived to find that it was about to close in 10 minutes.

A Starbucks that closes at 4 in the afternoon? WHAT?!

Apparently, since they are so new, they haven't set their extended hours yet. No biggie.

I do hope this town accepts the new coffee addition. Its such a small village, and its a bit off the interstate, and sign is smaller than it should be, not recognizable to the untrained eye. This town may not be willing to pay the prices either.

This town needs a privately owned, hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, someplace where you can sit and read, gather on a Friday night, buy coffee for a buck and a latte for a little more, maybe even a sandwich, with soft lighting, dark wooden floors, and an eclectic blend of music. Not a Starbucks. A hidden spot on the quaint square. After I left the store, I went driving to find SOMEWHERE else to go. Nothing. There is nothing here. I can't go to "O" - not enough time to drive to and from. I ended up parking at the square, and propping my journal up on the center console and writing there. Uncomfortable, but "something" I suppose.

(Sigh) I hope I don't drown here. There's a purpose for everything. We're in such a better place. Its true. But now what.....?

Cotton Harvest Season

Its cotton harvest season in this southern state. Check out the enormous cotton bails. Believe it or not, the cotton used to be more prevalent here than now. This year, about 75 percent (or a figure close to that) of cotton fields are now corn fields. Farmers have had to reroute their strategies and invest in new equipment to grow corn, while most of America's cotton crop has been assigned to foreign countries such as Vietnam. The corn in this state is going toward catfish farms, and of course, ethanol. When we moved here, being from Iowa, I felt right at home. Although corn is becoming more of a profitable crop than before, I'm not exactly sure how the true cotton farmers feel about it down here. I guess they are glad that they don't wear corn underwear.

Testing the email-to-blog feature

If you see this message, then this experiment worked and I have a heck of a memory of the the email address to use for blogging from email. Woo hoo!

Joey Uh Ohhhh

Joey has been saying the famous "uh oh" phrase. The funny thing about it is, the dogs know this phrase to be the "oh s***, I did something wrong and I'm about to be punished" phrase. The first few times Joey said Uh Oh, they hit the deck. They are used to it now, but its still cute....

Kroger bathroom

I've been doing a little cooking lately. Last night I made Szechuan Chicken from my Sandra Lee's 20 Minute Semi-homemade Meals book. I didn't do too badly (but I must say that this DID take longer than 20 minutes - ah hem). Joe left me alone in the kitchen to prepare the meal, and I know it was killing him. He finally came in to fix brown rice. His curiosity was killing him, and he's always made it known that the kitchen was his turf, not mine. I'm not much of a chef, and Joe tends to think that the kitchen is no place for me. I prove him wrong every now and again, but he does teach me a thing or two.

The meal turned out fabulous, I thought. Anything I make with chicken tend to be as dry as the Sahara, but I didn't ruin it tonight. I think this is something that I'll make again. Joe was worried that it was too much trouble, but it honestly wasn't more trouble than anything else.

The day before, I threw together a Chinese Chicken Salad that was amazing. We ate on it for 2 days, and honestly I could eat it every day of my life. EVERY DAY.

(See, I can brag on doing well in the kitchen because its not an every day occurance - let me gloat a little!)

So, I spent an interesting afternoon in the grocery store the other day. My goal upon entering: get the basic needs for survival (i.e. eggs, produce, flank steak, baby food, etc) as well as ingredients for Chinese Chicken Salad and Szechuan Chicken. What made it so interesting was the fact that I had to go to the bathroom - badly - within 20 minutes of entering the store. "Damn," I thought, "Why me?" This was actually the second time I've had an emergency need to use the restroom in a Kroger in two weeks. Last time was in town, and I had Joey with me, and didn't know what to do with him while I used the facilities - and Joe was close enough to leave work and jet over to help me. This time - not so much luck. I was with Joey, and a semi-full cart of food, but no Joe. We were in a neighboring town, 30 min away - and I was on my own. Uggggghhhhh.... that meant I had to carry him into the filthy bathroom and figure out how to juggle him and using the bathroom at the same time without getting his little hands on everything.

I wheeled my cart toward the bathroom. I asked the pharmacy next to the bathroom if I could leave my cart there while I used the restroom. "Yeah, of course." I really wanted to ask if I could take my cart into the bathroom with me, but I knew they wouldn't let me, plus, what's worse - juggling Joey, or knowing that my cart of groceries was in a nasty bathroom. I decided groceries in the bathroom much more gagging, and that I can always wash JOey's hands, if need be.

I pulled Joey out of the cart, grabbed my purse (another thing to juggle - thank goodness I could put that on the hook - hopefully it wasn't one of those stalls that the hook had been ripped down), and went in.

I found the handicapped stall. That way if Joey decided to get touchy feely, the walls were spaced a little farther apart. I thought about strapping him into the diaper changer but it was outside the stalls, and it was nasty, so no. Joey was just going to have to stay in my arms while I did everything else one-handed.

FOr my first trick - untying the draw string on my pants. Should be easy. right? Especially one handed. WRONG. The dad gum thing knotted up as I pulled one side of the string. I laughed out loud. "Really?? You're kidding," I said. "Where's the camera?" Joey was actually pretty calm through all this - just sucking his little thumb and glancing around the stall. But when I laughed, he giggled too and grabbed my face, thinking I was laughing at him. This made me laugh even more. The whole situation was just funny.

Finally, I was able to untie the knot and unbutton my pants. Next trick, pulling them down each side a few inches at a time. I finally managed, and sat down. Hovering was not an option this time with Joey in one arm. Yick.

The toilet paper dispenser was junk. Plenty of paper (for once) but the dispenser was next to being as dirty as the toilet bowl itself and it was broken - which meant that it the access panel kept coming unlatched and falling on us. After several frustrating attempts to snap it back on I finally gave it one last shove, and it made a noise so loud, Joey cringed and almost cried. "I'm so sorry, buddy. This stupid thing is broken." He regained his little composure, popped his thumb back in his mouth, and continued to observe. The dispenser again, fell on us. He tried to help me put it back up, but I was adamently pulling his hands away so he wouldn't touch it.

By that time, I didn't have to go anymore. I had held it enough that my body was in "survival" mode. I decided to try to do "business" anyway, and quickly, and be on our way.

Done. I next had to figure out how to redo all my tricks from before, only backwards. Pull up the pants. Button with one hand (much more difficult that it sounds...). Draw string - that was going to wait. As long as i could get everything else done, I could finish the string later.

Shifting Joey into my other arm (my left arm biceps were bulging and cramped at this point from carrying him), we exited the bathroom stall to head toward the faucets. Another lady had entered the bathroom and looked at us. "How you doin'?" I asked, and proceeded to turn on the faucet and wash each hand separately. She dove into a stall not saying a word, and Joey and I exited the bathroom. Once outside the door, I shivered a "GAWD that was NASTY" sort of twinge and put Joey back in the cart, tied my drawstring. I only prayed I didn't have to go again before we left... I had a lot more shopping to do. I'm still shocked that Joey was SO good through that whole ordeal. Didn't touch hardly ANYTHING! I'm not going to be so lucky when he's just a little older, I'm sure.

Was this post inappropriate? :) Hush, mom. :)

Baby Steps

This is me these days (uh...as the big carrot), photo courtesy of BENT OBJECTS blog that I truly ADORE. ((This man's imagination and artwork is AMAZING!)

Joey is learning how to walk. He's climbing all over me these days. We've removed the one piece of furniture that keeps me up late at night worrying that he'll bust open his little head, and let me tell ya, life is good, now. He has free reign of the living room with no big heavy coffee tables in his way with sharp corners. And yes, now he's pulling up on the couch like a madman, and then reaching for my hands to help him take "baby steps" across the floor. He's a cocky little fella and thinks he can almost run and jump and bounce. Not so, little man. Take your time. You have NOTHING BUT TIME. He can stand on his own now for about 30 + seconds at a time. I've been practicing taking one hand away from his to see if he can learn to support himself by just holding on to one of my hands. He's almost there. I'm thinking he may have this down by the end of the weekend.

Coffee and Effe - turkish delights

I'm listening to Sanders Bohlke tonight.... so chill.

Joe had a long day, and he's already made it to bed. My kitchen table's a wreck. I've cluttered it up with eBay items-to-sell. I have a few things up, but nothing is selling. I keep plugging along.... I have to straighten up this table before I go to bed. Straightening up anything before I go to bed is a sickness of mine. The pillows on the couch have to be straight before I go to bed, even though Rudy will demolish them in the morning when he decides he doesn't wish to sleep cramped under the bed any longer. The dishes have to be done or else I can't sleep. I think I do this because if I don't, then tomorrow is just an even longer day, and most likely I won't have time to "fix up" my area until the next evening. Also, clutter confuses me. It makes me take more effort to think about things, as if I have a thousand people in the room all talking in loud voices, all at one time. Joe isn't like that at all. He can hear a quiet TV when 30 bombs are detonating in chair next to him if he wanted to. I'm jealous. I don't know how this is - maybe its because we were raised in different volume-leveled households ... or maybe its the fact that he's a man and I'm a woman (I doubt this to be the fact of all facts, but it may contribute...) I don't know.

I'm up late tonight - and for once I'm "awake." I don't really understand why, but I can think of a million things to do, but I'm not going to do them. Joe had some work to do tonight analyzing a potential purchase for their company and I put my college skills to work analyzing and comparing income statements (see mom ... I'm still using my degree). I still have more energy (which is good because the dishes aren't done yet...)

Joe joked that maybe it was my Turkish Sultan Coffee that I brewed at 8 this morning. I had one cup at 8, and it was AWESOME. (Hey...the history of coffee is very interesting.....check it out). He bought me a can for my birthday last week. VERY creative gift. I was in Turkey a few years ago for a short stint and have been interested in it since. Anyway, the coffee was not like Folger's as you can imagine. It had more of real coco consistency. And the smell.....Ohhhh the smell. Delicious. The taste, just as amazing. The taste seemed to be a familiar one - maybe similar to the taste that I experience while visiting - I can't believe that I would remember such a taste, but maybe.

My turkish experience was a very interesting one indeed. I was with a motley mixture of 6 very different individuals. I'll never forget the afternoon we arrived in Izmir. We dropped our luggages at our hotel, and proceeded to venture out into the city in search of food. I was rooming with Jeff as he was a close friend, and we didn't worry about the "awkwardness" of sharing a room as there was an odd number of women and men. The other two women were - well, they were what they were - both carrying their own luggage of insecurities and female caddiness, and I simply didn't care to room with either one of them. We found a place to eat, and throughout, the leader of the band casually spouted rude and abnoxious orders at the wait staff. I wanted to sink under the table and I kept flashing apologetic looks to each one. I even grabbed one by the elbow on my way to the ladies room and gave my best "i'm so sorry" and apologetic gesture, although he probably couldn't understand me, he could read my eyes.

After we left the restaurant we started back toward the hotel. The two women and one of the guys were walking a head of Jeff, Howie (another one of the guys that I bonded with) and I. We made sure we spaced ourselves well, as the "leader" of the band was red-headed and LOUD, spouting to every person that walked by that she had to pee, and she needed to pee NOW and where could she find a bathroom (believe it or not, this woman was 38 years old). The other woman was proudly wearing a bandana that sported the print of an American flag, along with a denim jacket with the same print. The guy - well, he was just slightly tall, slightly anorexic-looking with middle-of-the-back length scraggily hair, with round glasses, and was half lit (of which he stayed mostly lit the whole trip). Jeff, Howie and I kept increasing our distance behind these 3 as we headed toward the hotel. Thank God all 3 of us had dark hair, dark eyes, and kept our mouths SHUT. (THe general opinion of Americans in that area of the world isnt' really of the kindness of thoughts, and we knew that, and decided it was best for us to remain silent.)

The "leader" finally was able to tag two young men in their 20's and asked them where she could relieve their bladder. They gave her a sideways look, and pointed her in a direction that looked quite sketchy. As they walked by, we said "Thank you for helping her. We're sorry she's such a nuisance." They smiled kindly and stopped to talk to us further. "You are American?" "Yes," we answered, cautiously. "Wow! This is great. We are studying Western Culture in college. Do you mind if we speak with you a while?"

We let the crazy 3 go on to the hotel, as we hung out with these two. I can remember my caution antenna was WAY up, and my intuition radar was going about 500 mph. They seemed like decent people, very sincere. They asked why we were in Turkey. We cautiously mentioned that we were a traveling band, here to sing for the U.S Airforce Base at Incirlik. They thought that was a very noble cause, but also mentioned to us that it was smart for us to kind of keep that under wraps. We agreed. They made mention that we all mixed well with the Turkish culture. Dark hair and dark eyes.

Next thing I remember, what seemed to be a riot broke out down the street. We all turned to see what was going on. A wave of caution and fear rushed over me as I watched people chanting and marching in the streets with signs held high. Cars and trucks driving fast in parade-like fashion around the roundabouts and through the streets. The two gentlemen walked on ahead to find out what was going on. They returned a few moments later to tell us that the people were celebrating in the streets as their soccer team had just won a regional cup and was on their way to finals for the World Cup. (How exciting that was because a few years back, I had a chance to be in Austria when France won the World Cup in 1998. I was awoken at 3 am to parading and yelling of celebration in the streets. Why don't we do more of that here in the U.S.??)

We watched for a short while, making small talk, and then the two gentlemen decided it would be a treat to take us for an Effe, a turkish beer. "Sure, why not," we said. We were EXHAUSTED but we were only going to be there for a short time - we HAD to stay up.

The rest of the night was slightly blurry for me after that. Whoa, Effe. What a strong beer. And to think, they tried to force another one after I STRUGGLED to get the first one down. It was sooo thick. A real beer drinker's dream. I'm more into wine, so a beer is such an occasional occurance for me (even though my husband is now in the beer business.... how ironic!). About 1:30am, we decided to head back (or in my case, stumble back) to the hotel. My little body was HURTING from that one beer, and instantaneously. I crawled in bed around 2:15, praying that I wouldn't have a worse headache when I rose the next morning that I did when I finally fell asleep.

The next thing I remember - I'm wide awake. Its 4:45 am and my window is wide open, and streaming in is a frightening sound - the morning Islamic call to worship, prayers over the city's loud speaker. "What the hell....?" I think to myself, as I try to pull myself out of my Effe fog. I'm half awake, half asleep. Jeff is snoring. Now - to one who has never heard these morning prayers over a muslim country's loud speaker - its a bit unnerving, especially when you've had a heavy alcoholic beverage not 3 hours before. My mind started reeling (and my head was already hurting) - and paranoid visions of masked, yet stealth and undercover al qaeda members crashing down our hotel room door, and jumping through the window to kill us for being American. I suddenly panicked for telling the two gentlemen the night before about why we were in the country. THe prayers over the loud speaker only grew more intense as the 20 or 30 minutes passed. I contemplated waking Jeff, but was petrified. Finally, the loud speaker went off. I somehow fell back asleep. Thirty minutes later, I was awakened by my alarm. Time to get up and head towards the base.

The most memorable part of the day at Incirlik wasn't necessarily our performance - as it was our first together as a band (we had one lame practice - and when I say "lame" I really mean it) so we had some very rough edges - but the most memorable part of the day was when I rode my very first camel. Yes. And he stunk. And he was mean. And the man giving the camel rides hadn't showered in close to 2 years and was equally as mean, and maybe his name was Saddam Heussein (or he was his long lost twin brother?), I don't know. And the camel's name ...... Effe.

I'll try to dig up the photo.