Tomato Garden

Here's a joke from my sister:

Tomato Garden

An old Italian lived alone in New Jersey . He wanted to plant his annual tomato garden, but it was very difficult work, as the ground was hard.

His only son, Vincent, who used to help him, was in prison. The old ma n wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament: Dear Vincent,
I am feeling pretty sad, because it looks like I won't be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. I know if you were here my troubles would be over. I know you would be happy to dig the plot for me, like in the old days.
Love, Papa
A few days later he received a letter from his son.
Dear Pop,
Don't dig up that garden. That's where the bodies are buried.
Love, Vinnie
At 4 a.m. the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left.

That same day the old man received another letter from his son.
Dear Pop,
Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That's the best I could do under the circumstances.
Love you, Vinnie

Oh, Only 6 Days

I thought it had actually been longer than that since the last post.

Latest developments: we get to move into our friend's house. On August 28th. And from July 31 until then, we're essentially homeless. We are able to stay at a friend's apartment while she's gone, but we'll have to share the place with her roommate for a couple of weeks, which could be interesting considering I realized she had the hots for Wiley a couple of years ago...nothing too major...a small crush, but still. The cats unfortunately will need to board elsewhere, as our friend has allergies and is worried that the cat hair will forever be in the carpet.

In the meantime: I have little black bugs in the house. Bugs isn't quite the right word. They're the size of maggots, but they're black, not yellow. Do maggots come in another color? I don't smell anything out of the ordinary. Originally, when they were landing in my toilet, I wasn't too concerned because hey, it's the toilet. They fall from the bathroom vent into the toilet, which just leaves me to flush. But then I started noticing them coming out of the wall between my bedroom and the bathroom, and I got slightly freaked out. First, the cats could eat them. Second, just what are they? Third, why are they here? Roly polies I can deal with. Spiders I can even deal with - although since about the time I moved in here, at least once or twice a week as I'm falling asleep, I have a dream that I'm watching a spider descend from the ceiling. And we're talking giganto-spiders, like tarantula size. So I flip on my light and look around, only to realize I'm dreaming. In my linen closet, I ran into some kind of insect I'd never seen before...looked like a green cricket. I looked at him. He looked at me. I gave him the speech I give most of the bugs: "Outside, you're fine, inside, you're mine," squish. Earlier this week a friend told me that it's a carmel spider or something like that - it jumps, and I mean, jumps. My friend had one in his basement while I was doing a little paperwork for him and I decided for the day to name him Juan. Yesterday, when I went over, Juan was missing. I'm guessing Juan went the way of the dodo. Apparently, I'm not the only one with house rules for insects. Anyway, back to the black maggots...I can deal with them, but I really don't want to. Is this a lesson in control? That I've gone back to my ways of worrying about every little thing and by dealing with all of these critters I have to learn that I can't control everything? Bah.

The new job is going well. Today I got an ergonomic keyboard. I've named her Darth. She's all black and shiny and just a beastly thing. I hope it works better than my old keyboard. At least this one has no crumbs in it! And apparently I am liked - today my boss told me that no one could hire me away - "I will find them!" she said. It could have been helped by the fact that I brought in cupcakes, but this really was said before she tried them and exclaimed them to be the best cupcakes she'd ever tasted. Yep, I know my bakeries. My taste buds sing.

Bloomington is a little quieter now thanks to the students going home for summer vacation. But seriously people, we need to work on the 4-way stops. They go, then you go. Then they go, and you go. If you get there the same time as others, the person to the right has the right of way. (Right?) If someone doesn't want to go and the person who's facing you decides to go and you got there at the same time, it's ok to proceed as well. You don't get extra points for one car going at a time through an intersection.

On the other hand, I have got to hand it to the road crews. This morning, I drove on a road that was barren - all old asphalt taken off. Today, at lunchtime, all 4 lanes had been repaved. So there are some perks to living in a small town after all...

Rethinking.

As I drove through the hills of Indiana, and saw what might go on in the country, I decided that maybe living in the country wouldn't be a good thing after all. After living across the street from Cornhole Joe, I think that perhaps living in quiet solitude might be the nicest thing in the world. It is raining outside, lots of puddles big enough to swallow your car, and what is Cornhole Joe doing? Revving his truck engine and making us listen to some shit blasting out of it. On Tuesday he had a few people outside his house, one of them a very pregnant girl about ready to drop twins. I haven't figured out if he's got a girlfriend with kids or a baby momma, or maybe both.

I am so happy I'll be moving out of here soon.

Titles...

Many times, I don't know what to title my posts...Good Grief!? Oh, wait...done that one already. Speechless? Oh, yeah, done that one too. So maybe I'll just start numbering for something a bit different.

Wiley got accepted into a conference taking place in November in...drum roll, please...I SAID DRUM ROLL, PLEASE!!!....Amsterdam! Yeah, home of all things legal. Amsterdam was a place I'd visited 10 years ago for just one night. It was where I saw my first marijuana joint up close and personal - IN A STORE. I bought a painting from that store. I still have it. It's currently over the entryway into the kitchen.

Walking through the Red Light district was entertaining. There were lots of women, even more men, and quite a few of them in the leather getup typically seen in your Police Academy movies at the Blue Oyster bar. I was taken by the canal running through the middle of the city, the bustling nightlife, the heated towel bars, and I hoped that someday, I'd be back.

Wiley has emailed the Powers That Be to see if it's possible to take a spouse along (since by that time, I'll be a spouse!). While he's at a conference, I could be walking around the city, taking pictures galore. Keep your fingers crossed.

New Uses for Everyday Things

Courtesy of YouTube and Pangea Day:

Blowing off steam

Customer service is right out the window. I called a flower shop to see about getting a quote for some flowers for the wedding, and as soon as the woman heard October, she cut me off mid-sentence. "We're working Mother's Day," she snapped, like "Hello stupid, you call a flower shop the day before Mother's Day?" "Call me or come in next week and I'll be happy to talk to you about your wedding, but we're swamped right now and don't have time." You're a flower shop and it's Mother's Day weekend. Busy, why, yes, I understand that. But it's not like Mother's Day is a surprise. And lady, had you just given me a chance to spit out that I only wanted to know about a certain flower and what it was going to cost to get them from you, you could've been done with me in 5 minutes and had a sale. As it stands, you've pissed me off and I'm not going to do business with you. Disagree with me all you want, Dear Reader, but even when you're super busy and stressed, you do not take it out on the customer or make the customer feel like they're infringing on your time. Phrasing is everything. Perhaps say, "Ooh, that sounds wonderful! Tell you what - we are just swamped here today since we've got the holiday tomorrow. Is it possible that I give you a call back tonight if I have a little down-time or perhaps talk to you next week? I can't give you the time or the attention you need right now, and I want to be sure I get all the details." How hard would that have been?

Melted.

Irvine Robbins, of Baskin-Robbins fame, passed away today at the over-ripe age of 90.

In my day, Baskin-Robbins was the expensive ice cream. Consequently, I never ate it. And I never wanted it melting into my cake. Now, in my older age, I'm a big fan of ice cream, even with my cake, though it's still best when it's cheap (and I really love me some custard from Sheridan's). Bloomington's got some great ice cream stands; I can't wait to eat some.