I saw a disturbing sight on the way home from work yesterday in a pasture off K-10. On Wednesday, Jenn had looked over and commented/exclaimed that there were cute baby cows with matted hair/fur in the field. So yesterday, I happened to remember right as we were passing and looked over to see the little things. Instead of cute little cows, however, I was struck by the sight of an adult cow lying down. Unmoving. With a stiff leg in the air at an odd angle. And its head against the ground with its neck bent in a way that I have never seen a cow's neck bent. We both realize the cow's unfortunate state at the same time, and although I think I blacked out, I'm pretty sure I said something like, "Oh my gosh, that cow is dead! You never see dead cows! Why are cows dying before they have the opportunity to become food???" Both Jenn and I were aghast, me, I think, a bit more than Jenn, and because we didn't know what else to do or say, we just drove on, alternating between shock and hysterical laughter at the whole situation. It really bothered me though, and Jenn was stuck trying convince me that the cow lived a long, happy life the whole way home. I mean, seeing a crazy racoon on the side of the road, in full-out rigor mortis with its arms straight up in the air is one thing. But a poor cow? That's just wrong. I eat meat, but I don't want to see my cows dead in a field in the cold.
This also led me to wonder about birds and where they die. Because I'm pretty sure they don't just fall out of the sky. If anyone knows, please comment or e-mail.
Oh, and if you hear about a mad cow disease outbreak, just remember, you heard it here first.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
One love, one hate and one confession
Love
I love Arrested Development. I'm not sure why I never heard much about it while it was on TV, but I guess most of America was too busy watching American Idol* 4 days a week to commit any more time of its time to this other Fox show. Alan and I have gotten it on Netflix (I also heart Netflix) and have watched episode after episode...after episode. It is hilarious and has characters like no others you have ever come across, or will ever come across again. If you watch it and don't like it, I will be shocked. And I also might not be able to talk to you again.
Hate
Kids are cute. Kids are funny. Kids can make cute and funny commercials. But they don't always make cute and funny commercials, hence this entry. I just heard an optometrist's ad on the radio. The girl allegedly can't say "optometrist" so she tells us to go see the "optamatologist." Twice. Also, amazingly enough, she's able to perfectly pronounce all of the other words in the ad. This isn't precious, it's annoying. I'm sure if I were the parent I'd think it was the most adorable thing in the world. But at 5 o'clock on a Tuesday, when I'm on my way home from work, hungry, it's annoying. Use kids in commercials with caution because you just might make hungry people angry, and commercials shouldn't incite negative feelings.
Confession
Up until this point in time I've been a good apartment-dwelling dog owner. I've (tried) to keep Marti from barking at all hours, I've tried to be respectful, and I've picked up her "business." But I'm done. I'm really tired of picking up her "business." It's cold out, it's snowy and icy, I have gloves on. It's not convenient to pick up after her in these conditions. So I quit. I try to lead her to do her doo in areas that only a weirdo or fellow non-poo-picker-upper would manage to stumble upon.** Areas that people won't have to step over to get to their cars. I kick some snow over it and cover it up--especially when she jumps up into flower beds by the manager's office and poops up there. I know it's bad. But at least I don't let her poop on sidewalks like some people.***
That's all for now.
*Nothing against American Idol, I'm an on-again fan this season.
**Still, watch your step if you come visit.
***Alan.
I love Arrested Development. I'm not sure why I never heard much about it while it was on TV, but I guess most of America was too busy watching American Idol* 4 days a week to commit any more time of its time to this other Fox show. Alan and I have gotten it on Netflix (I also heart Netflix) and have watched episode after episode...after episode. It is hilarious and has characters like no others you have ever come across, or will ever come across again. If you watch it and don't like it, I will be shocked. And I also might not be able to talk to you again.
Hate
Kids are cute. Kids are funny. Kids can make cute and funny commercials. But they don't always make cute and funny commercials, hence this entry. I just heard an optometrist's ad on the radio. The girl allegedly can't say "optometrist" so she tells us to go see the "optamatologist." Twice. Also, amazingly enough, she's able to perfectly pronounce all of the other words in the ad. This isn't precious, it's annoying. I'm sure if I were the parent I'd think it was the most adorable thing in the world. But at 5 o'clock on a Tuesday, when I'm on my way home from work, hungry, it's annoying. Use kids in commercials with caution because you just might make hungry people angry, and commercials shouldn't incite negative feelings.
Confession
Up until this point in time I've been a good apartment-dwelling dog owner. I've (tried) to keep Marti from barking at all hours, I've tried to be respectful, and I've picked up her "business." But I'm done. I'm really tired of picking up her "business." It's cold out, it's snowy and icy, I have gloves on. It's not convenient to pick up after her in these conditions. So I quit. I try to lead her to do her doo in areas that only a weirdo or fellow non-poo-picker-upper would manage to stumble upon.** Areas that people won't have to step over to get to their cars. I kick some snow over it and cover it up--especially when she jumps up into flower beds by the manager's office and poops up there. I know it's bad. But at least I don't let her poop on sidewalks like some people.***
That's all for now.
*Nothing against American Idol, I'm an on-again fan this season.
**Still, watch your step if you come visit.
***Alan.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Cooking Basics
Cooking and I don't get along. That's not to say that I don't cook. Because, as you know, with the "no fast food" rule in full effect, I don't have any other choice. I can't eat out, and I can't eat raw food and/or peanut butter sandwiches every day. So, I cook. Begrudgingly, I cook.
I don't know why the cooking gene skipped over me, but it did. My grandparents owned a restaurant in Topeka for years, and both could cook up a storm. My mom doesn't loooove cooking by any stretch of the imagination, but she can in fact cook; I don't remember ever seeing a recipe book out, and we always managed to have something on the dinner table with few complaints from her. In fact, she gives me a hard time because I look things up on the Internet and follow recipes to a T. My older brother even makes the gravy at Thanksgiving dinner, a job he's now had for years.*
So, I cook. I follow recipes to the letter. I wish I could just throw stuff in and go. In fact, I've tried. And usually, things just taste off. Not bad, but just not as good as the recipe. Alan and I even coined a phrase that can be used to describe a tough situation or difficult task because of one of my kitchen foibles: "It's like pickin' corn out of chili." I did in fact think, "Chili? How about Tex-Mex style with corn?" and added a can of corn. Needless to say I regretted this addition, and therefore tried to pick it out, kernel by kernel. I swore Alan to secrecy, but it's too funny not to share.
I often laugh at myself when I'm doing something ridiculous in the kitchen. Usually I think things like, "It's a good thing no one's watching me" or "My mom would laugh at me for this." Tonight I made a tasty dish that involved adding bite-size pieces of chicken to an egg/flour/water mixture to coat. As I'm WHISKING the chicken to mix it, and chicken is getting stuck in the whisk, I thought, "I'm pretty sure this isn't how they would teach me to do this in cooking class." Oh, cooking class. My 6-week rotation in middle school was NOT enough to teach me how to cope in the real world. Making a Purple Cow (grape juice drink of some kind) and cookies do not a chef make.
Hopefully one day I will have children who love to cook. They'll get home from school, throw together something delicious, and dinner will be waiting for Alan and me when we get home from work. Now I more fully understand why my mom was so thrilled to have me get started on dinner for her when I was younger. Who wants to come home after a long day at work and have yet another huge task at hand? So I've decided that I'll quit trying to love cooking because, let's be honest, what's to like? You have to go to the store, haul groceries in, unload, slice, dice, saute, steam, bake, dish up, eat, and then once done, you've got a huge mess on your hands. Oooh, maybe one day Alan and I will have a child who is especially gifted at cleaning.....
*My younger brother, however, thinks if a meal has more than 2 steps it's too much work, so maybe I'm not doing so bad after all....
I don't know why the cooking gene skipped over me, but it did. My grandparents owned a restaurant in Topeka for years, and both could cook up a storm. My mom doesn't loooove cooking by any stretch of the imagination, but she can in fact cook; I don't remember ever seeing a recipe book out, and we always managed to have something on the dinner table with few complaints from her. In fact, she gives me a hard time because I look things up on the Internet and follow recipes to a T. My older brother even makes the gravy at Thanksgiving dinner, a job he's now had for years.*
So, I cook. I follow recipes to the letter. I wish I could just throw stuff in and go. In fact, I've tried. And usually, things just taste off. Not bad, but just not as good as the recipe. Alan and I even coined a phrase that can be used to describe a tough situation or difficult task because of one of my kitchen foibles: "It's like pickin' corn out of chili." I did in fact think, "Chili? How about Tex-Mex style with corn?" and added a can of corn. Needless to say I regretted this addition, and therefore tried to pick it out, kernel by kernel. I swore Alan to secrecy, but it's too funny not to share.
I often laugh at myself when I'm doing something ridiculous in the kitchen. Usually I think things like, "It's a good thing no one's watching me" or "My mom would laugh at me for this." Tonight I made a tasty dish that involved adding bite-size pieces of chicken to an egg/flour/water mixture to coat. As I'm WHISKING the chicken to mix it, and chicken is getting stuck in the whisk, I thought, "I'm pretty sure this isn't how they would teach me to do this in cooking class." Oh, cooking class. My 6-week rotation in middle school was NOT enough to teach me how to cope in the real world. Making a Purple Cow (grape juice drink of some kind) and cookies do not a chef make.
Hopefully one day I will have children who love to cook. They'll get home from school, throw together something delicious, and dinner will be waiting for Alan and me when we get home from work. Now I more fully understand why my mom was so thrilled to have me get started on dinner for her when I was younger. Who wants to come home after a long day at work and have yet another huge task at hand? So I've decided that I'll quit trying to love cooking because, let's be honest, what's to like? You have to go to the store, haul groceries in, unload, slice, dice, saute, steam, bake, dish up, eat, and then once done, you've got a huge mess on your hands. Oooh, maybe one day Alan and I will have a child who is especially gifted at cleaning.....
*My younger brother, however, thinks if a meal has more than 2 steps it's too much work, so maybe I'm not doing so bad after all....
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
My Computer has the Flu
I knew it wasn’t a good sign when my work computer’s pop-up blocker started blinking nonstop last week. But other than that ominous sign, my computer was still running and I was able to work. Until yesterday. I had no personal folders in my e-mail, wasn’t able to print anything, and didn’t have access to the M: drive. And since “M” stands for Magazine, and that’s what I work on, it’s a major problem. I did all I was able to do sans computer, and my wonderful boss took over sending pages for me.
Of any two days in the entire month for my computer to be down, these two days are the worst. We’re “on deadline,” as uber-important journalists like to say, meaning we ship the magazine to the printer by the end of the day today. It never fails; no matter how great we’re doing by ship day, something happens to slow us down. Be it computer problems or people problems, it seems to never get done until the last minute.
I called the Help Desk this morning, and because this is a company-wide problem, waited on hold for 30 minutes listening to an annoying “Please stay on the line” lady and elevator music. When I got connected with Kenneth, I found out that I’m a “lucky virus winner,” and should have an IT technician help me out sometime today.
Who creates viruses? Who are these vile people that work so hard to make it so hard for me to work? I imagine them as the serial killers of the computer world. People who stay up into the wee hours, plotting their attacks and sending the viruses to infect networks everywhere. What thrill do they get from this? Do they send it to their real jobs, thus interrupting their own days while they watch the IT people rush around trying to outwit them? Or are they the IT people themselves, who then have to try to outsmart their own virus? According to Wikipedia, viruses are written deliberately as research projects, pranks, vandalism, attacks on specific company products, and for financial gain via identity theft. Some virus writers consider their creations to be works of art, and see virus writing as a creative hobby, while some consider it an “intellectual challenge.” Whatever the reason, I wish the Virus-ites would just stop taking their inferiority complexes and childhood issues out on the rest of us.
P.S. Please don’t infect my blog. :)
Headin’ West
Alan and I have flights booked to head out to California February 11-13. We hope to be able to nail down an apartment and eat In-N-Out burgers for our Valentine’s Day celebration.
Of any two days in the entire month for my computer to be down, these two days are the worst. We’re “on deadline,” as uber-important journalists like to say, meaning we ship the magazine to the printer by the end of the day today. It never fails; no matter how great we’re doing by ship day, something happens to slow us down. Be it computer problems or people problems, it seems to never get done until the last minute.
I called the Help Desk this morning, and because this is a company-wide problem, waited on hold for 30 minutes listening to an annoying “Please stay on the line” lady and elevator music. When I got connected with Kenneth, I found out that I’m a “lucky virus winner,” and should have an IT technician help me out sometime today.
Who creates viruses? Who are these vile people that work so hard to make it so hard for me to work? I imagine them as the serial killers of the computer world. People who stay up into the wee hours, plotting their attacks and sending the viruses to infect networks everywhere. What thrill do they get from this? Do they send it to their real jobs, thus interrupting their own days while they watch the IT people rush around trying to outwit them? Or are they the IT people themselves, who then have to try to outsmart their own virus? According to Wikipedia, viruses are written deliberately as research projects, pranks, vandalism, attacks on specific company products, and for financial gain via identity theft. Some virus writers consider their creations to be works of art, and see virus writing as a creative hobby, while some consider it an “intellectual challenge.” Whatever the reason, I wish the Virus-ites would just stop taking their inferiority complexes and childhood issues out on the rest of us.
P.S. Please don’t infect my blog. :)
Headin’ West
Alan and I have flights booked to head out to California February 11-13. We hope to be able to nail down an apartment and eat In-N-Out burgers for our Valentine’s Day celebration.
Thursday, January 4, 2007
My D-List
Celebrities
I used to love the trashy weekly magazines like US Weekly and In Touch. It used to be my guilty pleasure to buy those magazines before flights. I enjoyed checking celebrity gossip websites. I used to watch E! News Live while making dinner every night. I don't know when it happened, but a couple of months ago I finally said "E!nough!" It was my pre-New Year's resolution to swear off the celebrity junk. It made me feel silly to spend so much time reading about these people's lives when I have a life of my own. While I will still click on a link on the rarest occasion, and only if it's on CNN, I've decided I have other things I'd rather be doing. And really, why should we care if Lindsey Lohan is getting her appendix taken out when there are much better things to be worrying about?
Doctors
Lesson learned over the past couple of years: When it comes to health care, take matters into your own hands, be proactive when you think something is wrong, and follow up. I'm not down on the medical profession just because my dad died of a heart attack prematurely and unnecessarily after doctors swore nothing was wrong with his heart. I've noticed myself that doctors just either don't care enough or are too busy to care enough about patients. I first noticed this problem when I went to see a dermatologist about my insanely itchy skin that I suffered from for a couple of years. I showed the doctor my legs, which had dry, red patches on them and bruises from scratching so much. He prescribed an allergy medication, which worked like a charm because I've only had a couple of flare-ups since. However, when I went in for a checkup a week or so later, he simply asked how I was and sent me on my way. No checking my legs out (haha) or making sure the skin was doing better. He's a SKIN doctor, wouldn't you think he'd do a quick check?
As I mentioned last week, I am having my thyroid checked. I gave blood on Thursday and should have been called last Friday. I finally called them on Tuesday afternoon, and they were supposed to call me back. Thursday evening at 7. Have I heard from them? No. Granted, it's not a life-threatening problem, but come on. Bottom line: You can't count on anyone besides yourself to care about your health so don't be afraid to get second opinions (lesson learned from our vet visit as well!) and keep calling until they talk to you.
And, on a lighter note, in a case of a picture being worth a thousand words:
I'm willing to sacrifice my dignity to show you exactly who the boss is in the household--at least when Alan's not around. Here I am (yes, about to fall asleep), studiously reading my Bible, when Marti comes and makes herself perfectly comfortable.
I used to love the trashy weekly magazines like US Weekly and In Touch. It used to be my guilty pleasure to buy those magazines before flights. I enjoyed checking celebrity gossip websites. I used to watch E! News Live while making dinner every night. I don't know when it happened, but a couple of months ago I finally said "E!nough!" It was my pre-New Year's resolution to swear off the celebrity junk. It made me feel silly to spend so much time reading about these people's lives when I have a life of my own. While I will still click on a link on the rarest occasion, and only if it's on CNN, I've decided I have other things I'd rather be doing. And really, why should we care if Lindsey Lohan is getting her appendix taken out when there are much better things to be worrying about?
Doctors
Lesson learned over the past couple of years: When it comes to health care, take matters into your own hands, be proactive when you think something is wrong, and follow up. I'm not down on the medical profession just because my dad died of a heart attack prematurely and unnecessarily after doctors swore nothing was wrong with his heart. I've noticed myself that doctors just either don't care enough or are too busy to care enough about patients. I first noticed this problem when I went to see a dermatologist about my insanely itchy skin that I suffered from for a couple of years. I showed the doctor my legs, which had dry, red patches on them and bruises from scratching so much. He prescribed an allergy medication, which worked like a charm because I've only had a couple of flare-ups since. However, when I went in for a checkup a week or so later, he simply asked how I was and sent me on my way. No checking my legs out (haha) or making sure the skin was doing better. He's a SKIN doctor, wouldn't you think he'd do a quick check?
As I mentioned last week, I am having my thyroid checked. I gave blood on Thursday and should have been called last Friday. I finally called them on Tuesday afternoon, and they were supposed to call me back. Thursday evening at 7. Have I heard from them? No. Granted, it's not a life-threatening problem, but come on. Bottom line: You can't count on anyone besides yourself to care about your health so don't be afraid to get second opinions (lesson learned from our vet visit as well!) and keep calling until they talk to you.
And, on a lighter note, in a case of a picture being worth a thousand words:
I'm willing to sacrifice my dignity to show you exactly who the boss is in the household--at least when Alan's not around. Here I am (yes, about to fall asleep), studiously reading my Bible, when Marti comes and makes herself perfectly comfortable.
Monday, January 1, 2007
Happy New Year!
Happy New Year to all! 2007 has a good ring to it, so I have a feeling it'll be a good year. As promised, here are my resolutions.
1. Read the Bible. It’s always been a goal of mine to read the good book, and this is the year I’ll do it. My grandma got Alan and me a great Bible for our wedding and I’ve finally cracked it open. It’s the Life Application Study Bible and this version contains additional explanations and gives background information on every page so it’s impossible to get lost. It has maps and gives character profiles of the people discussed. It definitely adds another dimension to the Bible and helps keep your attention. 2171 pages to go!
2. Find a job. And not at the Dairy Queen of my nightmares.
3. Find a home. Or a non-rat-infested apartment for less than $1,800 a month.
4. No eating fast food. I’ve only eaten once at Taco John’s and two bites of a McDonald’s cheeseburger since mid-October and I plan to keep it up.
5. Be a nicer, more patient person.
6. Keep up with the workouts. Now that I have my iPod, I should have no problem getting going on the elliptical. No excuses!
7. Keep Marti out of the puppy hospital. Easier said than done because I have no control over her intestines, but I’ll do what I can!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)