Diaper Update

Wiggles is now almost 11 months old. She weights 19 pounds and I've no clue how tall she is as I haven't gotten her to be still long enough to measure her. Her legs have finally chunked out a bit, but she is still long and skinny for a baby. Likely because she is NEVER still. Even when she's asleep she's not still.

We still battle for naps, still have issues sleeping through the night. But sometimes it does happen: sleeping through the night.

Only we had a problem: diaper overflow.

My beloved Luvs were no longer containing the outflows. In the past, when this occured, it was time to go to the next size up. While she was in the weight limit for the diapers in the past, her legs were usually a little too skinny for the next size, her her loads were ready so we just strapped her in and hoped for the best. This time, she is no where near the weight limit for the size 4. She is firmly in size three, yet they do not hold enough pee.

Pee is my enemy now, not poop. (Unless she pees and poops at the same time, then it is a disaster.) During the day, I can change her diaper every two hours. However, HUGE COMMA, at night, I am not waking her up to change her diaper. It ends in tears. Trust me. I woke her once at four to change her diaper because she hadn't woken at her usual time for a bottle. I'd hoped I could get the wet diaper off, put a dry on one, and put her back down.

Not so lucky.

So, the next day, I went to investigate diapers, just as I had when she was still in my belly. This time, though, I had more options. Did you know there are like two different versions of diapers for her size in Pampers? And Huggies? But Luvs only had one type of diapers and they simply do not hold enough pee to go all night long without a diaper change. But, they do make diapers that go that long. After spending a little too long staring at diapers, I picked up small packs of Pampers Cruisers and Huggies Snug and Dry. Both claimed they held 12 hours worth of wetness.

Pampers Cruisers were up first. I put it on her before her nap that day--which she actually took! It was two hours long. In the Luvs, I'd have a very heavy diaper after a two hour nap. With the PC diapers, I had a half full diaper of pee. Happy, I changed her diaper and put her in a Huggies one. Instantly, I hated the Huggies on. I don't like them-- plain and simple. They seem flimsy. At least her legs fit into the holes this time. She wore it for four hours while crawling around and no leaks. I've used the Huggies Snug and Dry at bedtime and so far, no leaks and no overly full diapers. Same with the Pampers.

She's slept through the night at least three times since I bought the new diapers and only one time did Pilot Boy put the wrong diaper on her at night. I had a damp baby come morning when she spent the entire night in the Luvs diaper (she usually wakes up when wet, but she's growing or something).

So, after we finish the Luvs, we're switching to Pampers Cruisers and I will forlornly stare at my empty pocket book but no longer have to change her pants every three or four hours.

An Ode to Shoes

I love shoes. I've loved shoes since I was 13 and realized I owned almost fifty pairs of them. I was awed and amazed to discover I had an obsession with shoes. Since that point in time, I've continued to hoard shoes, loving everything about them except one thing: wearing them.

I hate wearing shoes.

I walked around barefoot whenever I could get away with it. I took off my shoes as soon as it is feasible. I was that person who will take her shoes off on the plane and put my feet on the gross carpet. Why? Because due to the fact I hated wearing shoes, I had about ten inches of callouses on my feet. I could hardly feel anything.

Till I got my first pedicure.

It's been all downhill since that point in time because do you know what they do to your feet when you get a pedicure? They scrap your feet and remove the callouses.

I was horrified. Utterly, completely horrified. I wanted to rip my foot out of the tiny woman's grasp, as what the hell was she doing?

I didn't though and I regret it all the time. Why? Because up till that point, shoes, when I did deem to wear them, didn't bother me. I never got blisters. I never had to break shoes in.

Then, my years of work hardening my feet was taken away from me and suddenly my feet always hurt. Shoes gave me blisters on my heels, my big toes, between my toes when I wore flip flops for the first time in a season, and worst of all I had to break shoes in suddenly.

I'd never had to do that before.

Why the hell do people get pedicures? Seriously. I've gotten maybe four total in my life and each time they scrap away my callouses on my feet I think, well, maybe this time will be different.

It's not.

Yeah, my feet look pretty, but my shoes and I have a hard relationship after this point.

I haven't had a pedicure in seven years. I got one before I got married. Mostly because I was like, "What the heck? It's fifty degrees. I can wear flip flops." I mored when the polish finally began chipping and swore I'd get another one in the summer. Maybe keeping up with the whole foot scrapping would help?

Then, I never got another one.

I thought about it. Multiple times, but I've never gone. Even while I was pregnant. Mostly because I had no idea where to go to get it done other than the place by Walmart and I was like, "I don't want to go there by myself. It's alway awkward."

So, yeah. I've got seven years of callouses on my feet, but I still have to break in shoes.

That's where I am going with this: breaking in shoes.

I finally broke down and bought a pair of Tory Burch flats. I've only wanted a pair for seven years. The only reasons I didn't do it before now was because I had a minor heart attack each time I saw the price of a pair. Then, as discussed in a previous post, I discovered designer resale. And I know what you're thinking: used shoes. Ick. But, seriously, I'm not about to pay $400 dollars for a pair of heels I might wear twenty
times in the next seven years.

LK Bennett Sledge

Stuart Weitzman Corkswoon

But, oh, how I lusted after Kate Middleton's shoes. I love the Sledge by LK Bennett and the Corkswoon by Stuart Weitzman. I seriously wanted the Corkswoon, but I cannot pay $400 for a pair of 4 1/2 inch platforms I won't be able to walk in. Towering high heels and I are not friends after my pregnancy. About 3 1/2 inches is what I can get away with without a platform and four with, but that extra half inch is not doable. I cannot walk. And it breaks my heart, BUT, I found the perfect subs for the Corkswoon and they are super comfortable. Last spring, I was tooling around JC Factory's website and found a very similar pair. They were navy, wedges, but used rope rather than cork. However, I was never able to find a look-a-like pair for the Sledge within my low price point and in my size. I'd find the perfect pair, but they'd not have my size.

Tragic. On many levels.

Then one afternoon, I logged onto ThredUp and there they were: the LK Bennet Sledge. In the Right color.

I don't think I even really thought about it, I put it in the cart and checked out before I even realized what I was exactly doing: buying used shoes. I did not even care. All I could think: I was going to own a pair of $400 designer shoes! And I only paid $77 for them!

I was giddy by the time the shoes arrived and threw them on my feet as fast as possible.

They were a little tight in the shoe box, but I didn't care. I owned a pair of LK Bennett shoes! And the ones I'd lusted after for years! Also, as I wore them around the house to get used to them/break them in, I discovered if I put my foot in sides, my toes didn't get squished. (I know, does that make sense? No.) I also discovered, if I wore them with socks, I could wear them longer. The only issue was finding no show socks that were low enough cut not to shoe. (I've yet to find them.)

Anyways, so I had my first pair of high end designer shoes and I could not stop thinking about my next pair. (The same thing happened when I first bought a designer purse, I couldn't stop thinking about my next one.) I trolled the two resale sights I use and never came across what I really wanted: a pair of Tory Burch flats. Oh, sure, both sites have a lot of Tory Burch flats, just none in my size. I spent months waiting and hoping, but never did they show up.

Then one day, Pilot Boy said something that made me think: I could buy a pair of designer shoes at full price. (Then I shuddered.) So, I ventured out onto the retail sites online and began to research. I looked at Stuart Weitzman, read reviews. What I like about his wedges is the heel base is larger than on most wedges, making it easier to walk in. Yet, I still could not bring myself to pay for a pair of shoes I might not be able to walk in, so I turned my sites to Tory Burch.

I can walk in flats. I've always wanted a pair of Reva flats for seven years. I remember when I first saw them on PurseBlog (yeah, weird I know). The writer had just gotten a pair and loved them. That weekend, I was at Dillards (I think) and saw a pair on display. I grabbed it up, flipped it over, and promptly put it back down.

For newly wed and currently unemployed me, they were way too much money.

I didn't pick up another pair till we were in San Antonio and at an outlet mall. I went into the overly crowded Tory Burch outlet thinking maybe I could get a pair of flats. The store was a zoo, so I just waked around quickly looking for shoes. I found a pair, flipped it over, and promptly put it back.

The outlet shoes cost the same as the non-outlet shoes.

And that's the thing about outlet malls I've come to discover: their not any cheaper any longer. Retailers MAKE clothes for their outlet stores. Yeah, they have "sales" on them, but in reality its not any cheaper than going to the actual store if they had a sale.

So, before I had a panic attack in the overly crowded store, I left and decided I'd just buy the flats another day. (I'd just gotten a pair of Ray-Bans, so I figured the flats were out of the question for that trip.)

Fast forward two years and my current obsession with designer shoes.

I've wanted these shoes for seven years. Yes, they've changed over the years, but the Reva flat is still made, still comes in black and gold.

Only, I really hate gold.

And I really do hate labels. (Odd, I know.)

When I first began lusting after the Reva flat, no one knew who Tory Burch was, nor knew her logo. Now, they do. So, yeah. But, it was mostly the gold logo that turned me away from the Reva flats currently available. I was surfing around the Tory Burch site and found the flats for me: Mini Miller.

Mini Miller Flat in yellow

I am not sure what is mini about them, but they are the typical Tory Burch flat, but the logo is done in the same color, and in this case leather, as the shoe itself. After a few days of thinking about it, I bought them.

And like when I bought my first (and third) designer purse, I fretted about the purchase. Like my first designer purse, I cannot brag about not paying full price, as I did. Tragically. Why? Because each and every time Tory Bruch has a sale, the flats are never on sale in my size. NEVER. Everyone must wear an 8.5. Seriously. Anyways, so, the shoes showed up a few days ago. After the dog stopped barking (UPS delivered and he cannot stealthily deliver anything due to the noise his truck makes never mind his instance on ringing the bell), I unpacked the shoes and stared.

I've never had a designer shoe box before. The LK Bennett shoes didn't come in a box, they were simply wrapped in bubble wrap. Now, I know, why does it matter. Most people throw away shoe boxes. I used to, but now I keep my shoe boxes and store shoes in them. You know, so they don't get dusty. I started doing this in Alaska when I had a shelf to keep the boxes on. Now, I have a shelf for shoes to display them, so I keep the ones I wear often on there and the nicer ones all in boxes, sometimes doubled up if they don't have boxes due to being bought at TJ Maxx.

Anyways, so I spent a lot of time staring at the box. I also spent quite a bit of time looking at the wrappings, as that is one thing I just love about ordering designer things from the designer's website: the packaging. I'm pretty sure I only like this due to the fact I ran my own shop for four years and took pride in how I presented the handbag to it's new owner via it's wrappings. So, I spent quite a bit of time enjoying the shiny paper and shoe box before I actually took the rubber band (nice purple elastic thing) off and looked at the shoes.

Yup. Those were the shoes I ordered.

I put them on and stared at my feet. I almost expected something to happen, but nothing did other than Wiggles deciding she also like the trappings of my shoes and made the box explode of packaging.

Not knowing if I ought to keep them or not, I wore them around the house, realizing they were kind of uncomfortable. Now, I didn't expect them to be like my boat shoes, instantly comfortable. They are hard leather and need breaking in. And today, after three days of having these shoes I decided to "break them in" quickly by use of a hair dryer. I found it on Pinterest. So, I was like, eh, worth a shot. Especially after I am not sending them back. Between the fact I do really like them, Wiggles has drooled all over them a few times before decided, No. I do not like Tory Burch as much as LK Bennett (yes, she nawed on my LK Bennett shoes. She loves them.) So, I took my hair dryer, blasted the shoes for a total of 8 seconds each then put them one with a pair of SmartWool socks.

They are a lot more comfortable with the SmartWool socks on, even if I look like an idiot due to the fact I'm wearing designer flats, SmartWool socks in grey and blue, and exercise pants. (I'm dressed for working out this afternoon when Wiggles goes to sleep, not just because I didn't feel like putting proper pants on this morning.)

However, part of me knows that if I'd never gotten a pedicure all those years ago, I wouldn't be breaking shoes in at this moment and instead would be dancing around merrily not having any idea what blisters felt like.

So, it snowed....

It snowed.

The world ended because it snowed.

"What?????" you're asking, "The world ended?"

If you live in Oklahoma, yeah, the world had ended several times since winter began. I say the world ended, because they cease running normal programming and run constant....weather reporting. Oh, and random People driving around and telling you not to drive around. Stay home. Don't get into your car, mount a camera, and drive around aimlessly.

The first "snow storm" the state got (because if it snows anywhere in the state, it's the main news story, as there are only two TV markets in the state and we happen to live in the bigger one), the entire Sunday morning was spent watching some dude drive from Altus to OKC. (Instead of showing us the program Sunday Morning.)

Was it snowing where I was?

No.

Did it snow?

No.

This week, it was indeed snowing where I was located. But not on Sunday when they refused once again to show me Sunday Morning. And then when it was snowing here, I wasn't allowed to see any national news.

(You can watch regular programming on CBS if you either don't have cable or have Cox Cable, one one of the digital channels, but I've got a dish to watch football, so I'm trapped with no news when ever it snows here.)

It is annoying. Not EVERYONE NEEDS to see CONSTANT UPDATES FOR THREE HOURS STRAIGHT. You know that ticker thing you run at the bottom of the screen? That's FINE. You know that little graphic with the radar on it? Yeah, use that instead of showing me it's snowing on some highway where I AM NOT LOCATED, nor will I be located. (Nor will a large portion of the people watching your freaking channel.) You know what? You can interrupt to tell me something pressing, but doing the SAME FREAKING FORECAST FOR THREE HOURS IS NOT NEEDED. You see, in the THREE HOURS you are broadcasting random people driving around and some poor woman standing outside in the freezing cold, NOTHING HAS HAPPENED. It is still cold. Roads should still NOT be traveled and it is STILL snowing. I do not need to be told this for three straight hours instead of seeing whatever national news has for me in the mornings. You can tell me EVERYTHING you have been going on about for THREE HOURS in the thirty second forecasts you're given by the national channels. DID YOU KNOW THAT?

One day, when it was "supposed" to snow, they ran the "forecast" all freaking day. It hadn't even started snowing yet (anywhere really) and they were already showing people driving around the state highways and showing the radar. Seriously. It was on ALL DAY LONG.

We got less than an inch. You could still see the grass, but you weren't allowed to see regular programming.

I've lost track of the times this winter I woke up and wasn't able to see any news (I don't like news channels on cable as they make me mad). Though, what makes me REALLY mad is when they refuse to allow me to see Sunday Morning. It's on ONCE a week.

The only good thing about this last snow: it was enough to cover the grass and has hung around so Basil has snow to play in. It's been a year exactly since her last romp in the snow. She was so THRILLED to have snow to run around in. It was like the BEST DAY EVER as far as Basil was concerned.

Bubble Gum and Tape

Pilot Boy and I bought a house.

At the time, it sounded like a great idea-- own our own home, be able to paint, decorate, destroy, etc to our heart's content and not have to ask a landlord if we could. Also, no longer throwing money away on rent! Whooo!

Granted, if I had to choose a place to buy a house, the one where we did, I wouldn't have done it. BUT, there were like no places to rent, we need a house, and we'd spent three years saving for a downpayment. (Of course, we assumed we'd be going to either South Carolina or Washington, not middle of nowhere land...but WHATEVER.)

We found a house on the ONLY day we looked at houses. It was like we were in our own House Hunters episode. We had three houses lined up to look at and choose from (not going to count the last house we looked at, as it was a duplicate of the one we bought, only plastered with carpet). We picked third house, as it felt right and didn't require a lot of TLC. I liked everything about it except the paint. You can change paint.

Flash forward a month and here I am, sitting in MY house sweating to death because the A/C broke last night.

Yeah.

It broke. The motor that pushes the air through the house gave up it's battle to cool me down and went kaput.

I lived the last three years without A/C. Anchorage doesn't do A/C. What do you do in Anchorage when it gets too hot to exist in your house because while the weather man keeps telling you it's a lovely seventy degrees, he fails to tell you that in direct sunlight it's 110 and no breeze?

You go to Fred Meyer. (Seriously, it was the coldest place in town when it got "hot" out.)

I think the hottest it got in the house the three years without A/C was maybe seventy-five. And I was MISERABLE. (I managed to drag my trip to Fred Meyer out for two hours that day...)

It's seventy-seven in here right now.

And it's just gonna get hotter.

Brilliant.

After discovering the reason it was so overly warm in our bedroom, Pilot Boy tried to solve the problem. Upon discovering the issue, he called the so called several twenty-four hour, seven days a week maintenance places.

No one answered the phone.

Bloody brilliant.

So, the first weekend with furniture in our house, we're going to bake to death. (Along with Basil Bea, the black dog who sunbathes while outside then wonders why she's hot.)

I expected the house to have some minor issues...besides the whole let's paint the ceilings the same color as the walls, find the most annoying shade of gold and use it and some sort of strange paint effect, but whatever. Paint can be changed! (You keep telling yourself that, Ireland.)

Yeah, it was annoying the oven and fridge weren't cleaned. Yeah, I don't understand why the microwave sometimes turns itself back on to move the tray back and forth after use. It was annoying when the water dispenser in the fridge spewed out water without prompting the first few times we used it. (It finally stopped.) Sure, it was irritating that there was no dryer tube to connect the dryer to the wall. (Pilot Boy later found the one that came with the dryer inside the dryer with all the packing paper...he failed to look before buying a new one.) Yeah, it was maddening they took the shower rod for the guest bathroom. (Why do people take shower rods? Seriously, just leave it behind.) Sure, the fact the dishwasher makes a god awful noise each time you open it is kind of vexing. (It sounds like a dying animal.)

But, you know, it's the kind of stuff I kind of expected. (Well, not the dirty fridge. It wasn't even wiped out, people. It was seriously disgusting and if I was bothered, that's saying something.)

However, did I think the A/C would DIE literally seven days after we signed the papers?

No.

Was I all that surprised?

No.

Pilot Boy said this morning this place is simply held together with bubble gum and tape. I would have argued before, but I'm currently doing a slow bake within my own house, so I'm thinking yeah. Bubble gum and tape.

Where I Will Make Some Lists

Things I Miss About Texas:

1. HEB

*Now why would I miss a chain grocery store? Because. Unlike many things within the state of Texas I detest, I have ALWAYS for some unknown reason loved HEBs. When I lived in Del Rio, it was mostly because it was something familiar (a real grocery store, not a pretend one like they had on base or Walmart. I loath Walmarts for the most part.) They had good produce and I'd spend my Friday mornings buying fresh fruits and veggies. When we returned to Texas, we did all our shopping at HEB because once more, the base store failed at life. (Seriously, the only good base commissary we've seen was at in IL. Seriously. The one in AK was well stocked, but priced similar to Fred Meyer).

2. Four Zone Weather
*While they failed at life at predicting when it'd rain sometimes (Weather man: It will not rain today! Ireland Scott: *looks out window and wonders what the water falling from the sky is if it's not rain*) I like the fact they had Doppler and could somewhat tell me the various weather in the various sections.

*tries to think of other things besides Target she misses about Texas at the moment and fails.*

Thing I Do Not Miss About Texas:

1. Humidity.
2. Access roads along side the interstate.
3. Their inability to merge.
4. Heat.
5. Bugs.
6. Did I mention the access roads?
7. It's hot there. And it doesn't rain enough. But it's humid. (Didn't I say that already? I did. I guess my list on things I do not miss is short as well.)

Things I Miss About Alaska:

1. The weather (all times of year. I like it.)
2. Their lack of highways and access roads.
3. Their local news.
4. The weather man who never knew what was going on and it was adorable because there's no Dopplar up there so he kind was just guessing anyways. (Weather guy: It might be snowing. Or not. I'm not sure. We'll see! Ireland Scott: Looks out window and laughs because it's snowing. Quite a bit.)


Things I Do Not Miss:

1. The dirt and tiny rocks they used on the roads in the winter that never seemed to go away.

Things I like about OK at the moment...

1. Lack of humidity.
2. It's better than the Dirt Hole.
3. No access roads!
4. The town I'm located within doesn't even have an interstate, so duh, no access roads.
5. There is an Old Navy and Lowes. Woot.
6. There are plenty of Mexican restaurants to keep Pilot boy happy.


Things I Do Not Like:

1. MILK IS LIKE FIVE DOLLARS A GALLON. WTF?
2. The cheapest place to buy things is Walmart and there is no Target.
3. Seriously, who decides the price of food in this place? And why am I paying full sales tax of food? What is wrong with you OK, I thought you were a red state, don't you hate taxes? Or did I learn that wrong?
4. It's hot. (like 100 plus, but it's not humid. Or it wasn't. It MIGHT rain today, so it's humid.)
5. The way they pronounce ALTUS during their ENTIRE state WIDE weather forecast on the news. Seriously, they do the ENTIRE state in board strokes. While I understand this, they never talk about where I am. Just ALTUS. And they say it all WRONG.

So, all in all, I hate very minor things. Right?

Hazards of Driving

Well, it was that time of year again...or time of my life, rather.

I packed myself up, threw it all into the Monstrosity and headed back down the Alaskan Highway-- only I changed it up and instead of spending weeks on end (or so it seemed) mucking through Canada, I didn't bother trekking across the country and instead took a sharp dive southward and kept going till I hit...Texas.

I hate Texas. And not just because I spent a year living in a dirt hole. No, I just...dislike it strongly.

I'm currently suffering from culture shock. Not all that surprising considering where I came from. I always seem to suffer from culture shock, or rather reverse culture shock. Going back to where I came always throws me for a loop. When I get somewhere odd, the culture shock never really gets me. When I went to Scotland, I adjusted easily. It was when I came back that was hard. It took months for me to feel at ease again and not constantly thinking, "That's wrong..."

When I left the Dirt Hole all those moons ago and went back to Chicagoland, it was the same thing. I was overwhelmed by the cars, people, stop signs, speed limits and where I was. I grew up in the area. It's seared into my mind's eye to the point it's easy for me to call up areas and write stories about them without needing Google Maps. And yet, I drove around with my Texas plated car and got passed on suburban streets for going too slow (also known as the speed limit) and beeped at when I actually used stop signs.

You see, I forgot how the people of Chicagoland drove. While I loved them for their predictability  I'd forgotten their lack of use of speed limits and stop signs. After living in the dirt hole where it was cause for celebration when someone went the speed limite and you got a ticket when you failed to come to a stop for three seconds, it was jarring to realize I'd get run over if I ventured out onto the interstates of Illinois.

So, I didn't. I kept to the mean suburban streets and thanked God I had Texas plates.

When I arrived in Alaska, I don't remember finding things jarring. They were strange, but in a similar way Scotland was strange once I got over the jet lag. They drove fast during bad weather and slow during good weather. Generally speaking, Anchorage drivers were predictable and I never honestly feared for my life when I drove around the city. I drove around with ease and never one felt road rage or had the urge to announce I was a FIB, don't mess with me. (This happened often in the Dirt Hole...)

I honestly can't say that during the times we visited the Chicago area during our three years in Anchorage, I feared for my life whilst in the car. I even drove a few times...I never wanted to scream, never wanted to hide or close my eyes and pray.

San Antonio....oh, how I hate you and your love affair with highways/interstates/access roads.

One thing I learned during my few visits to SA during my tenure in the Dirt Hole was this: SA drivers are not predictable.

Honestly. You never have any idea what the hell they might do at any given point. They go slow for no reason, change lanes without warning, fail to look when they merge and kind of just...scare the living crap out of me. The lanes are also extremely...narrow. And while they know how to paint lines (something no one in Anchorage has gotten the hang of for unknown reasons), sometimes they just don't paint lines and the road is SUPER WIDE and you've got no idea how many lanes a road has.

And I have only drive through SA once in my life. In a small s40. And I only drove on the interstate and never had to get off.

You can't get anywhere without using the interstates and loops and access roads here. It is confusing, annoying and frankly frightening because you never know what someone is going to do. And most people have HUGE trucks.

Granted, I've got a huge truck like vehicle, but still.

I refuse to drive. Pilot Boy keeps mocking me, as I love civilization and hate being in the middle of nowhere, and yet I'm a hermit.

A well dressed hermit who loves hangers, but still a hermit. Even more so now that we've only got one car and I refuse to drive it.

Anywhere.

I'll drive when I get to where I'm actually going, which is in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma. Till then, I'll sit around a pine for Anchorage and the mean suburban streets of Chicagoland (which are way less scary than the road system of SA).

Hazards of Alaskan Living

Snow.

We've had snow on the ground since October.

We do not own a snow blower. We own a shovel. Actually, we don't own it. It came with the house. It's a very nice shovel. Except when you want to shovel. I hate it when I have to shovel.

Our driveway is a slight disaster for a wide array of reasons. Snow, ice, snow, ice, rain, melting snow, the fact we only use one side of it because Suzi hates Alaskan winters. We got a good couple inches these past few days, so I ventured out to shovel.

I thought I'd make the driveway better.

It's worst.

For one, the tire tracks left by the Monstrosity are a combination of frozen snow and ice. I can't shovel them up. They are also growing as the winter continues, so they are pretty much one half of the driveway. I struggled for almost two hours trying to get the driveway shoveled till I gave up. It looked like a disaster area where I attempted to shovel and you still couldn't see blacktop. Also, it was REALLY SLIPPRY.

At least it snowed last night. So now you can't tell I even shoveled. Well, except on the side of the driveway I didn't get to and began new snow piles, as the ones in our driveway are over eight feet high. I can't throw things that high. With the shovel.

In the past few weeks I've also seen people cleaning off their roofs. The guy next door has some sort of special motorized roof shovel to clean it off. No one told me I'd have to worry about shoveling the freaking roof. Pilot Boy thinks it is stupid to shovel the roof.

"Takes away insulation."

So, we still have snow on our roof. All of it. Every layer.

Do I think if I had a snow blower, my attempt to clean the driveway would have gone better?

No.

I can't use a snow blower. Ask my mother.

And So I Got a Flu Shot

I don't remember when I began to get flu shots. I think I was in college. Maybe. Or high school. I honestly do not remember. I do remember getting one while I in college. It was a big deal or something. I also remember being sent to the doctor's office to get a flu shot while I was in college when I'd come home for fall break.

The first fall after I graduated from college, I got a free one provided by my employer. I thought it was a wee bit odd to be stabbed with a needle by a woman who I worked for who was a pharmacist. Before this point in time, I had been unaware a pharmacist could give shots.

They can.

After I got married, I didn't get a flu shot, because I quit my job a week before they had the free clinic. So I just didn't get one. My husband did. He was chased around the office so they could spray it up his nose. (Husband is against flu shots. Or shots in general, which is hilarious, as he gets more shots then I have had in a lifetime.) The next fall, I didn't get one again, as I was based in the Dirt Hole and never left my house. I didn't see the need for me to get one, as I never went anywhere. Plus, at this point, I was fully integrated into the "military family" so I had to get one at the clinic on base. And they were only offering the flu mist, so it was rumored. While I am all for this, my nose isn't. Due to the fact it was always clogged with snot, I didn't think this form of flu vaccine would benefit me much. So I just didn't get one.

The next fall, the only reason I got one was because my mother and father made me. (And by made me I mean they bugged me till I drove myself to Walgreens and had a battle with the pharmacist who wanted to submit it to the insurance company, which due to the fact I'm "military," I didn't want them to do, because I was sure it wouldn't be covered, as I could get one at the clinic. Well, not really, as I was located a few thousand miles away from the clinic, but whatever. The pharmacist didn't want me to pay for it and I had to force her to let me pay.) However, since that point in time, I didn't get one. Why?

Mostly because I avoid the hospital/clinic at all costs. I'm not sure what it is about this place, but the hospital/clinic is always hopping. I have yet to go there when the parking lot isn't filled or almost full. (Even at 11 pm on a summer night, there was an alarming amount of cars still in the parking lot.) Usually, one spends more time driving around the parking lot than doing ones business in the hospital/clinic. So, I only go there when things are dire. And getting a flu shot isn't dire, as I am a hermit. (The best dressed one, too.)

However, the other day, during my search for an Alaskan Postcard and discovering, like bears, postcards hibernate I wound up getting a flu shot. I am serious about postcards going into hibernation. A few weeks ago, I swear to god, postcards were EVERYWHERE. Then, when I need one, they all vanish. So, I decided to go to the BX (think Target, but for only special people with magic cards) as the BX has a huge tourist section. Every BX I've ever been in has always has "local" postcard racks.

Well, the post cards all went into hibernation even in the BX, as the only postcard rack there was for postcard DVDs. Seriously? I just wanted a flipping postcard (well, two) and not a DVD. I also didn't want a card, which was all I was finding. Seriously.

Before I made this tragic discovery, though, I was stopped at the entry to the store by a guy in fatigues asking if I wanted a flu shot.

I noticed the random table in the front of the store the minute I entered the "mall" the shop is located in. It was a table filled with quite a few guys and girls in fatigues, sitting around looking rather bored with a huge red box on the table, but I couldn't read the sign on taped to the table due to the fact I was concentrating on walking. (I wore my Seychelles Romance Boots for the second day in a row and my feet were rebelling. For image of shoe, see banner.) So, I was walking putting one foot in front of the other and not falling over. As I walked into the store, though, one of the guys jumped up and looked excited.

And I thought, dear god, what the hell does he want?

"Ma'am?" he called over to me, as since becoming part of the military family I've become a 27 year old ma'am. Since I knew he was speaking to me, I paused in my careful walking. "Can I interest you in a flu shot?"

I stopped fully and stood in the Hollywood starlet pose in order to steady myself. (Legs crossed, stand up straight, hold your arms behind you.) I stared at the table and realized it was one of those bio boxes that was the red box. They also had tackle boxes full of flu shots. I am serious. Fish tackle boxes full of syringes.

Now, I know what y'all are thinking. Are you going to seriously get a shot in the front end of a store that is like Target? Located in a mall?

While I thought this was a wee bit odd, it wasn't all that odd at the same time. So I said, "Okay. Sure."

This caused a flurry of activity at the table. One guy leaped up and grabbed a handful of syringes and another woman grabbed a clipboard. She asked for the magic card, so I handed it to her. The other guy, the one who kept calling me ma'am and making me feel old (even though I wasn't dressed old, I was more than likely dressed too young for my age, but WHATEVER), asked me what kind of shot I wanted.

"We've got the mist and the traditional."

I looked at him finally and he looked really happy about this information. I was unaware they just simply offered the traditional sort to anyone, as for the past four years they've been chasing my husband down with the mist in hand. (And sometimes they seriously chased him.) I thought a moment, which one did I want? Well, I was not dressed for a shot. And by that I mean, I was not wearing a short sleeve or sleeve less top. I had a white dress shirt on, plus a blazer. And there was no way, I could roll my sleeve up to get a shot, so I said, "Mist."

This excited the guy yet again, so he handed me a plastic sheet and said, "Read this and if you answer NO to each question, we're good to go."

The girl who took the magic card handed it back to me, so I read the laminated sheet while stuffing my magic card into my bag. Since I had answered NO to each one, the guy grabbed a syringe and said, "Now, breathe like normal."

I tried not to laugh. As my nose was actually clear that day, thus I wasn't breathing like normal. Normally I breathe through a thick layer of mucus. (I bet you really wanted to know that.) So, I took a breath in and he shot some liquid into my right nostril. Then he repeated it in the other nostril. He then handed me a cheap, paper tissue and said, "For drippage. Don't blow your nose for 10 minutes."

To which I almost laughed again. As I don't usually blow my nose, but I almost always have the sniffles. Joys of allergies, people. So, taking my cheap tissue to press to my nose, I strutted off in my Romance Boots and found out the postcards at the BX were also in hibernation, so I'd have to buy a packet. So I bought a packet of postcards, strutted over to the clinque counter, got some eye makeup remover and eyelash primer and then left. (After getting my second Pumpkin Spice Latte of the seasons at the Starbucks down the way from the BX.)

So, that's how I got a flu shot. Because I wanted two postcards.

My Relationship with Irons

I like to iron. I have since I was a teenager and my mother handed me a stack of linen napkins after a major holiday and said, "IRON THESE AND GET OUT OF MY HAIR!"

OMG. I had so much fun!

When I was in 8th grade till my sophomore year, I ironed ALL MY CLOTHING. I am serious. The iron lived in my room. I ironed on the floor. I ironed shirts, tank tops, pants, skirts, and jeans. (Yes, I ironed my jeans....) This avid ironing lasted till I was 16. I was bad, sometimes I'd iron shirts and pants while I was wearing them. During the time I was 16, the mid-drift top was all the rage. All my tank tops were belly baring tops because that was the only length made. I had this white one, I remember it well. I hated wearing these tops, because at 16 I thought I was horridly fat down there. (Har har har.) Well, one spring morning, I was like, "I'm wearing my Gap outfit!" This outfit consisted of khaki pants, basic white tank top and a denim dress shirt that was short sleeved. After I was dressed and on my way out the door I noticed a huge wrinkle across the bottom of the tank top. I plugged the iron in, ironed out the wrinkled and left.

I barely noticed the fact my stomach hurt. It wasn't until gym 2nd hour did I realize what had happened. I was changing out of my gym suit and my friend Hilary asked, "What the hell is on your stomach?"

I looked down. There was a definite iron mark on my tummy. There were even holes. You could not mistake it for anything except an iron mark.

I had a scar there for years shaped like the edge of the iron.

After this, I stopped my relentless ironing of clothing. I don't remember why, other than I didn't have the time to do it...I also realized if you fold your clothes and put them away they don't get as wrinkled. And jeans...well, they unwrinkled themselves.

I did not have another disastrous run in with the iron until I began sewing when we lived in the Dirt Hole. Usually it was just small burns here and there on my hands. Then they started showing up on my arms. I have several light brown scars on my arms from where I whacked the iron with my bare arm. However, today, I did something really, really stupid.

I burned my whole left hand.

While holding a purse over the hand.

I don't know what the #@%^$ I was thinking. I guess it was like the days I'd iron my clothes while wearing them. But I held the purse on my hand, held up the iron, set the iron on it and steam came flying out of it and I yelped.

I burned my whole hand.

I ran to the bathroom, swearing up a storm and ran my hand under ice cold water till it was numb. Because it was my left hand, I was like MY RING WILL GET SWOLLEN ON MY FINGER! So, I spent ten minutes trying to pry it off. (It is all ready a bit too small. My finger is dis-formed from where its sat on my finger for the past two years unmoved....)

After I accomplished this task, I hurried downstairs and made myself an ice pack and have had it on and off my hand for the past.....six hours. My hand is still red, and some areas are beginning to swell, now that I've taken the cold pack off for the past 20 minutes or so to type this up. I figured since I have to drive somewhere tonight, I ought to get some use of my left hand before I leave. But this is pretty bad, you guys. My whole hand is still burning in pain. And my ring finger looks horrible. I'll have to wait till my hand heals to get my ring re-sized...but now that it's off, I know it needs to be re-sized.

In other news, I didn't get anything done because of my stellar relationship with irons.

I didn't even tell you about curling irons and me....we have an even more checkered past. And I mean checkered. My neck usually.

Developments in Sizing

So....

When I was in high school, I wore a lot of stuff from Abercrombie. I had to wear the x-small because I was...well, extra small. Everywhere. I had no boobs. I had a tiny little waist. I was basically a walking skeleton that did not enjoy buying extra small shirts and 00 pants. Because I thought it made me unhealthy. (Which is true, my doctor kept telling me to put some weight on me, but it took a good ten years to sink in.)

Anyways, the last thing I got from Abercrombie was when I was 21 and I ordered a sweater. I had boobs by this point and had about two inches more to my waist and some hips.

I am currently sitting in my house wearing a LARGE sweatshirt from Abercrombie.

It does not fit like a large. I expected to be slightly swimming in this thing, if I am honest with you. Because while I would not put myself into an extra small these days, I'd think I'd at least maybe need a medium. I read the size chart before I ordered it too. My chest is not 37-39 inches. Okay? It's 34. What the hell do people who actually have that size chest do? Because this sweatshirt would be way too tight on them. According to the size chart on the website, I need a small.

I do not need a small. I NEED A FREAKING LARGE.

Now, this has occured to me before, where I follow the size charts online only to discover they are WAY OFF.

During my skeleton phase, American Eagle claimed I needed a size 6. Yeah. Guess what happened when skeleton Ireland put those suckers on? During my time in the dirt hole, I had many battles with Victoria Secret. The website claimed I was a size 8/10. I was like, SERIOUSLY? Everywhere else, I was a 4/6. So I ignored the website and ordered my usual size. For most items, the things fit. The shorts that were a size 6 were swimming on me. The shirts that were smalls, sometimes were too tight in the chest, sometimes were fine. If it was a tank top, it was fine. If it had sleeves, it almost always had to go back for a medium. In swimsuits (which were a whole different size chart all together) I was a large top and a medium bottom. (I KNOW LARGE TOP? ARE YOU SERIOUS?) I ended up with a medium top (which was kind of small, I guess I did need a large...) and a large bottom (which was too big, go figure?) Moral of the VS website: their swimsuit guide is correct. Trust nothing else.

I am very average, okay? I have probably the most average measurements known to man, okay? I do not understand why things are sized so wildly. I mean, I don't CARE what size I wear. I don't care I am wearing a large sweatshirt. The thing that annoys me is I wanted it to be BIGGER. Large is the LARGEST size Abercrombie sells. And, well, so sue me, I like their sweatshirts. I guess if I want a nice comfy one, I'll have to get a dude's one. But....what does a person with big boobs do if they want to wear Abercormbie shirts? They can't wear a large....because I don't have big boobs. They are average.

Or am I just totally out of the loop? I mean, I shop at like two places: Target and Old Navy. In juniors lines at Target, I wear a M. In everything else, usually a S. Their sizing is very consistent. If I buy a large, it will be bigger on me. At Old Navy, it's usually a S or M, depending on the item (Old Navy is totally wild in sizing things. They have no consistency in the least...it's the only place in the world I try things on before I buy them.)

This is why I like shoes. I buy and 8 1/2 and it fits. And if its too big, I just stuff an insert in and wear heavy socks. BAM. It fits.  (I have average size feet too, it's almost impossible to find an 8 1/2 on the sale rack...and it's almost always the first size to run out online...)

Though, purses are the best. They have no size and they will always fit. Purse rock.

I Won't Hug Trees that Attack

It has been brought to my attention it is Earth Day.

Oh. Well, okay.

I've seen things about picking up litter, hugging trees, being green.

I'll do this: I'll try to remember to take my reusable bag to Target.

I won't pick up litter. It makes me mad. I don't want to pick up your trash, okay? If you want a clean place, THROW IT IN THE TRASH IN THE FIRST PLACE. I do not understand the attraction of dropping trash on the ground for the whole world to see. I don't even want to pick up the trash that is in my OWN FRONT YARD. I did not put it there. Why the hell did someone put a razor in my front yard?

I will not hug the trees in my front yard. They attack me. I do not know what it is about me, as they leave Pilot Boy alone, but they ATTACK me. I do not have good relationships with trees in the first place, as they make me sneeze, so the fact the two trees at our house insist on pulling my hair and dropping bugs on me when I mow the lawn....well, we hate one another, so I will not hug them.

On a different note: every day should be Earth Day and I wish Anchorage would recycle glass.  I understand how the whole recycle thing works, so I understand why the program is so limited, but it still makes me kind of mad.

*ends rant and goes to Target*

Loud and Clear Jeans, I HEAR YOU.

Hey. I have been here a year.

And once again, I'm ten pounds heavier.

So, all the weight I managed to shed this summer returned. Blast you winter hibernation.....

So, once again, I am standing here wondering why none of my jeans fit right. Damn jeans. Why can't you just grow along with me?

I do not want to buy  new jeans. I hate buying new jeans. Or anything for my bottom half. I like shirts. And shoes. Oh, those go on your bottom half. Well, I like shoes and socks, but anything between my waist and my ankles, I dislike buying things for. Hence why I have a billion shirts. And shoes.

Handbags always fit. That is why I make them. They always fit.

Anyways, since I hate the gym here with a flaming passion, I can't run to save my life (seriously, if I had to run to save my life, I'd die. Because I cannot run), and it is always cold and no one plows around here, I think I'll have to start doing those Walk Away The Pound DVDs my mom gave to me because she didn't like them. The only downside to them, the last time I religiously used them (Before I got married), my knees always hurt. Between walking two miles a day to the court hours (YAY CONRAD!) and then walking away the pounds at night, my knees were killing me. Then I bought new shoes that were too small (DAMN YOU NIKE!). Anyways, I have good shoes now...my knees haven't hurt when I do workout here, so I guess they still have some way to go...

Why am I telling you this? Because, I am going to try something new to maybe keep myself going. Every day I manage to work out, I'm totally going to post and tell you. If I fail to do this at least three times a week, please yell at me. Because while I hate gyms, if I work out with others, I am more apt to do it. (Like in college! E made me go. Someone was COUNTING on me. I think I was simply broken in the Dirt Hole when I managed to go to the gym three days a week.)  So, tomorrow, I plan to put my fancy work out clothes on and Walk Away The Pounds for one mile (20 minutes). We'll work up from there because....I....am....out...of...shape. But at least sometimes I can breathe.

Goals: Fit into Jeans Right. There that is my goal. No weight goal, just FIT INTO JEANS goal. Well, I can fit into them, I just can't breathe properly for the first hour they are on my butt. My goal is to fit into jeans. Or pants. I do wear other things other than jeans. My mini skirts are still fit...and might not be too big...I haven't worn them in awhile. IT IS COLD. It needs to be at least 30 to wear a mini skirt.

So GO! (You can workout too. And then tell me if you want. Or not. BUT I AM TELLING YOU.)

Quest for Sushi

On Thursday, I decided I wanted sushi for lunch. Strangely, Fred Meyer has okay sushi and I also needed milk. I opened the garage door and peeked in the garage to discover Suzi the Subaru was hanging out in the garage. Due to the fact it snowed, Pilot Boy took the Monstrosity to work.

I decided to do something really stupid at this point: I was going to take Suzi the Subaru out in the snow.

Why was this stupid? Aren't all Subaru's 4 wheel drive and made for racing through the snow?

Well, yeah, you'd think that, right? At one point in time Suzi did do such things.  See that picture above? Yeah, all Pilot Boy did was back up and drive off. When the car lived in the Midwest, Suzi the Subaru seemed to like the snow and cold.

Then we put her on a ferry and she went away for awhile. When we saw her again, she had a crack windshield and smelled strongly of gas when ever we turned her on. So we took her to fix her windshield and then found out she had been recalled for the cold weather/gas issue. So, we made the tragic mistake of taking her to...the...Subaru...dealer...in....town.

Suzi has never been the same since.

Things for Suzi went bad when we picked her up form the dealer. Five minutes of driving, the engine light came on. The next day the dealer called and told us because the car wasn't from Alaska, Subaru rejected the recall, so WE HAD TO PAY. We also discovered, the dealer had "fixed" other things. The seat was all whacked and the turbo gauge did not work. They wouldn't fix Suzi unless we brought her in and paid them MORE MONEY, so we took her to a independent Subaru shop. After two tries, the turbo finally worked and Suzi no longer was trying to kill us (her brakes didn't work right after the dealer was done with her either.)

However, after all this trauma, Suzi the Subaru decided she didn't like Alaska. Especially winter. She...won't work right. She flies. I am serious. I think Suzi the Subaru wants to be an airplane.

Pilot Boy thinks if we got snow tires all Suzi's problems would be solved. I think not. I think Suzi hates winter. I also think her brakes are still jacked up. But what do I know?

Anyways, all ready knowing that Suzi the Subaru doesn't like winter and refuses to stop, I took her out on Thursday. It has snowed overnight and Anchorage doesn't own snow plows. They own snow packers. But those hadn't been out yet. Anyways, I put myself into the car and backed out. Everything went fine till I went from our subdivision to the main road.

I wanted to go left.

I ended up facing the opposite direction I wanted to be heading and in the wrong lane.

Why?

Suzi the Subaru decided to spin in a circle. I moved in slow motion as I just kept turning after I made the left hand turned. I have never spun out in a car before. Ever. Even when I drove three hours to work in a snow storm in a car with two wheel drive. And no snow tires. But, there I was, turning around in a circle in the middle of the street. I came to a stop and decided I'd just to the way I was facing. Left hand turns in Suzi were dangerous. So, I laughed like a maniac and drove down the road and went the long way to Fred Meyer. I pretty much kept laughing like a maniac all day and was kind of off my rocker (which might explain why I made the adventure for sushi in the first place).

During this long trip to Fred Meyer, Suzi tried to go into the middle of the intersection on a very busy road (she refused to stop sliding down the road). On the way home, she tried to spin again on the same road, only I was making a right hand turn.(After the first spin, the whole trip was right hand turns, so I kept singing, "Just keep turning! Just keep turning!"

Let me tell you about Thursday.

1. It was not snowing.
2. The roads were pretty clear by the point I left the house.
3. It was not that cold, it was in the upper 20s.
4. THE CAR SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN HAVING THE TROUBLE IT WAS. Why? Because it was a star in the Midwest and Thursday was a very Midwestern sort of day, okay?

Conclusion: Suzi the Subaru was messed up by the dealer and now hates Alaska.

She also hates Alabama, but that is another story.

Start Your Day With a Laugh

I've taken to watching "Craig Ferguson" every morning since he had his "Doctor Who" special. Mostly because I remembered how funny he was and I did not have to sit up till his show was on because I have a DVR. So now I tape it and watch it in the morning instead of watching the morning news. Mostly because CBS replaced the morning team with a whole new crew of people and it kind of made me mad. And the "Today" show kind of makes me mad as well. Mostly because they annoy me. So now all morning shows annoy me, so I just watch late night TV in the dark in the morning.

I find Craig funny and he's Scottish, so its a win win for me. Well, except when I loose the clicker and I cannot fast forward through the commercials. 

I recently finished watching all Netflix has to offer for "Eureka." I love that show, but I started in the third season. Hence why I was so confused when Allison suddenly had this teenage kid named Kevin and she seemed to know him and everyone else seemed to think she had this teenage kid. But, now I am all caught up and Pilot Boy even kind of likes it! (When he actually likes a show, he can sleep through it. He cannot sleep through "Monarch of the Glen" and hates that show. Go figure.)

I have finished with the holidays. The cards are mailed out and the boxes of gifts are sitting in the freezing cold waiting for the post man to pick them up. I cannot carry all the boxes, so I decided to try the "pick up" at home the post office offers. Hopefully it will go well and Basil Bea Dog will not knock the tree over.

Our dog knocked the tree over yesterday.

I came home and she was NOT sitting at the door waiting. This means two things: 1) she's in her crate or 2) she did something wrong, like sitting on the couch, and is hiding in her crate. I walked in and called, "BASIL! I'm home! I brought Pilot Boy!"

Nothing. I walked in to see if she was sitting on the couch like a bad puppy, but all I saw was a mess of pillows. A mess of pillows meant she had a barking fit on the couch and messed them up. She is not supposed to be on the couch when the cover is on it and the pillows are on it. I put the pillows so she couldn't get on the couch, but she recently took to sitting ON the pillows.

Yesterday, though, she had messed the pillows up, knocked a few on the floor. As I walked further into the living room, I noticed the TREE was on the GROUND and the ornaments were ALL OVER THE PLACE.

I went up stairs, dragged Basil out of her crate and brought her downstairs and showed her the tree and couch and said "BAD DOG! YOU ARE A BAD DOG!"

She ran away from me crouching low to the ground and ran into Pilot Boy. He also told her she was a bad girl and then we went about trying to put the tree back together.

She got on the couch at this point and Pilot Boy took her down and she fell flat on her belly when he yelled "BAD DOG!" Her little heart broke when he called her a bad dog. She slunk away and went to give herself a time out in her crate.

We managed to get the tree back up (neither of us are sure how it is standing, as the stand is lame and after Basil knocked it over, its more lame). We cleaned the downstairs at this point because there were fake tree needles all over the place. Basil came down at the sound of the vacuum. She took one look at me, then ran back upstairs and hid for a while. The rest of the day, she looked pathetic when ever she looked at me. After Pilot Boy fed her dinner and we were watching TV, she tried several times to make up with me, but I refused to let her. We had been working hard to stay off the couch, but all the FUR I found on the couch when I cleaned it, told me that when we were gone, SHE WAS ON THE COUCH. There was two weeks worth of fur on the couch. So, now, tragically, Basil Dog doesn't get free roam of the house when we all leave. She will be crated like she was for the first two years of her life. Till she learns to stay off the couch again, she will be crated.

I am not sure when she decided she could sit on that couch, but her cute face got the better of me and I let her stay there for awhile. I've been working for about a month now to get her to stay off that couch (it is only one couch she gets on too). It is not going well. I thought we were getting somewhere, as every time I caught her on there, she jumped off right away. By the time our relatives got here, she was pretty much staying off. I only caught her twice, one time she wasn't on the couch, she was on the pillows. I no longer laugh or smile at her when I catch her. She gets a scolding. I would have simply scolded her if she hadn't KNOCKED THE TREE OVER.

To knock the tree over means she was 1) on the couch and then 2) saw something to bark at and 3) was making such a hissy fit at the window she knocked the tree over and then jumped on the tree to get a better view (that is the only way all the ornaments fell off, she had to knock them off, as they were on there good. Trust me.) Since it is FREEZING here, we keep the window closed except for the part in front of the tree, so she can't really see out too well, unless she is ON THE COUCH. For the last three months, I've been trying to keep her from looking out the window and barking at nothing.

Least to say, not going to well.

Today, she's been in her crate since I got up, except when I made coffee and she came down to see if Pilot Boy's dad had returned (she loves him). Pilot Boy's dad made coffee every morning and I'm pretty sure since I didn't ground coffee before he showed up, she associates that noise with him. He was her buddy while he was here. He fed her, took her outside, and pet her a lot. She LOVES him. She was super excited to see him when they walked into the house. (She is no longer allowed to go for rides with me alone, after trying to KILL ME when I went to get Pilot Boy at the air port at Thanksgiving. She climbed into the front seat and INTO MY LAP TWICE on the drive there and then when we got her seat belt out, she BROKE FREE and LEAPED AROUND THE BACK the whole ride home, barking the whole way. Basil is too big to sit in my lap while I drive. Plus she doesn't sit still, she moves the whole time, making driving hard. So, no more rides alone with me.)

Well, that is all. Hopefully Basil will be a good puppy today. I think she will be, as she knows I'm not her best friend at the moment. Hopefully we will make up and she will be my puppy again. It is now ten, and I ought to get ready to face the day. I figured I'd sew today. I have an itching to sew and make some new bags.

Your Face is on a Billboard

Oh  god. What the hell happened to Decemeber? I was so organized and early and ready for it and now its like 11 days till Christmas and I still have all my cards (in envelopes, ready to go...just lacking postage). I still have all the presents in their flat rate boxes, just not packed to ship anywhere.

AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I went to Fairbanks for a few days last week. Word of advice: Fairbanks is COLD. (Insert choice word) COLD. And kinda boring. I had heard from some people it was kinda lame in Fairbanks, but I figured I'd give it a chance, but it was pretty lame. Frozen, lame and kinda unfriendly. Pilot boy's parents are here and his step mom kept commenting she thought Alaskans were really unfriendly. I had not put much thought into it, as me myself am kinda unfriendly while out and about. But, I guess compared to what she is used to in the Midwest, us Alaskans are kinda unfriendly. (I say "us" because I'm an Alaskan with  brown eyes now.) I don't really notice when people are unfriendly verse friendly because when I'm out and about I'd rather be left alone in all honesty. But, the people of Fairbanks, were kinda not very friendly, especially at the post office. I think (with the exception of the lovely lady at the Midtown post office here) post office works are made cranky here in Alaska. I have yet to meet a friendly one (besides the Midtown lady, hence why I usually drive all the way up to Midtown to mail boxes and things that need postage.)

Well, I think that is it mostly. I haven't gotten anything done because my in laws have been here. I realized on Saturday when I attempted to keep up with Pilot boy's step mom while shopping, I wanted to scream because I suddenly realized how behind I had fallen. When they arrived at the start of December, I was a head. Now I am behind. I guess its okay that my holiday season has been so damn slow. I honestly thought by this point I'd be up to 50 sales. I'm only at 25. Blarg.

In other news, we've gone to either REI or the grocery store every day since the in-laws arrived. I am serious. I'm not sure why, but one of us has gone to one of those stores (or both) since December started. Our fridge is PACKED with left overs, which no one seems to be eating or willing to eat. I HATE leftovers. When I cook for myself, I almost never make enough for left overs because I hate left overs. They are just boring. The first night they were here, the step mom made the WHOLE BOX of newly opened angel hair pasta. No one, even she, could figure out why she did this. Then, we had stew, and Pilot boy's dad told him to mix it in with the left over pasta. And no one ate it. Its still in there. Then Pilot boy made brisket and no one ate the left overs from the night before.

I hate left overs.

Pilot boy did realize that his standards for eating out here are way too high as every place we've taken his parents, they have loved. He admitted his standards might be too high. I told him that was right. To hold all places to the standards of Charlie Gittos in St. Louis is just stupid.

Well, it is almost 10.30 and I have the whole house to myself the first time in....12 days!!!!!! Well, I have a dog with me, as no one took her with them this morning, but I am on my own! I am a total loner. Seriously. The step mom was surprised how well I do being left on my own while Pilot Boy flies around the world over and over. I told her I do not need much attention, which I do not. I've always been fine on my own for the most part. I was on my own as a child a lot (talking to myself constantly and playing with screw drivers) and as an adult, I've been on my own a lot (still talking to myself, but pretending I'm actually speaking to the dog).

Pilot Boy hates Christmas Carols. We do not get along at Christmas time because I LOVE CHRISTMAS MUSIC. Yesterday, he left the room because I was singing, "Basil Dog is coming to town." Over and Over. I add my own lyrics in. So sue me.

Oh, we had another earthquake the other day. It claimed it was only a 3 point something, but I swear it was a strong as the one we had over the summer.

I should be running...

Things that have happened since I last posted:

1. It snowed. A lot.
2. Basil threw up.
3. Pilot Boy smoked a turkey for Thanksgiving.
4. I saw Harry Potter and it was the best movie yet. They should have split all the movies in two.
5. They would make more money that way. I bet they didn't think of that till the end. They suck.
6. Pilot Boy helped me put the tree up the day after Thanksgiving. Or the day after our Thanksgiving. We celebrated at day late because he got lost.
7. I then went to Target on my own and have a Christmas decoration over load.
8. I can light my house inside by Christmas lights becasue I put them all inside and not outside.
9. Have you been outside? It is cold. I'm not hanging lights out there.
10. Basil ruined my Christmas sweater. She and I were no longer friends.
11. I can listen to Christmas music and no one can tell me its too early.
12. All my christmas presents are wrapped. Except one. Which I haven't bought yet.
13. Oh, wait, Pilot Boys presents are still at the store. Don't tell him that.
14. The windows are always forsty when I get up. Its kinda cool. Or cold.
15. I made another batch of Martha cookies. They still do not look like her cookies. I'm not sure how she gets her cookies so flat. Magic?
16. I had a custom order for a purse! It was totally awesome. Even though I had a fight with the purse. I won, btw.
17. Basil loves snow. She has carved out paths to walk in. And poop in. I'm pretty sure she's not clear on the concept of having one spot to poop in.
18. I watched the leak footage of Craig Ferguson's song to the original "Doctor Who" theme. It was AWESOME.
19. Relatives invade tomorrow. I have to clean the house today. For some unknown reason I thought it was Wednesday. Not sure why. Its not like I didn't turn the calender. I did find a clock I forgot to turn back. Hence why I didn't feed Basil or myself till way after seven. I thought it was only after six, people.
20. The sun doesn't fully rise till after 10 am here. Then it is i annoying. Super annoying.

The Wrath of Carpet

I hate carpet.

I am dead serious. Who ever thought carpet was a good idea should, well, be forced to vacuum it with a vacuum cleaner that 1) doesn't seem to pick up dog hair and 2) cuts out because the cord if frayed.

I think my husband has a deep mental connection to the vacuum cleaner we have. When it needs "help" he just ignores it and says its fine. When I first married him, he had an Orek vacuum cleaner. My mother has two Orek vacuums. She got one for her wedding and like it so much, she got another one. (I think after we moved into a two floor house? I don't remember. I was three.) They have lasted and I never hated using them. I thought it'd be fine with Pilot Boy's Orek.

Hell no. I couldn't PUSH THE THING. Our first apartment was all carpet. I was trying to be nice, since I had no job, and clean the joint. The vacuum and I DID NOT GET ALONG. It was very hard to push and I was pretty sure it was not picking anything up.

Pilot Boy just said I was weak. I yelled at him and said he could vacuum.

So he did. (This often happens. I announce I am no longer doing something and he can do it, and he just usually does it.)

When we lived in the Dirt Hole, my mother came to visit me. She had heard me complain about the vacuum and couldn't believe an Orek would suck. (And not in the way it should.) She took one look at it, flipped it over and proclaimed it needed a new rubber band thingy. (She used the right name.) Oddly, the vacuum cleaner came with this little slot to keep a spare, so she put it on, while chiding Pilot Boy. I think she also cleaned out the brush and said we needed a new one.

Pilot Boy said we did not need a new brush, so we never got one. I would look online, I would contemplate going to the Orek store in the Dirt Hole (so surprised there was a Orek Store in the Dirt Hole...) But I never got one. I never ordered one because the shipping cost more than the brush and most places that were not HEB or Walmart freaked me out in the Dirt Hole. (Well, actually HEB and Walmart freaked me out, but they were so big, I felt like if I vanished, someone might notice, or at least a CTV camera would catch it.)

So, then I went home and my mother yelled at me for not ordering one. She tired on several occasions to get me to order one, but I had all ready decided I was going to get a new vacuum cleaner when I got to Alaska. I dreamed of a day I would have a super sucker. I also wanted to get one that was also a hand held vacuum, as I did not have one and with Basil Bea, I figured it was time to get one to clean the couches she dearly loved.

I got to Alaska and got the old vacuum back. The first time Pilot Boy got it out and turned it on....it started on fire and blew up.

I was THRILLED. (Other than the rancid smell.)

However, after telling my mother it blew up and telling her the familiar smell of yucky vacuum had appeared, she informed me that Pilot Boy had just broken the belt or something and I could get it fixed. Unfortunatly, PIlot Boy saw this email, so he sent me to get a new brush and rubber band thing. I took the parts with me to the shop and the guy said, "Yeah, you have a dog dont' you?"

I  nodded.

"I bet you have long hair too?"

I nodded again.

"You're going to have to clean this brush out or its going to get stuck and blow up again," he told me. He then told me I should bring my vacuum in for a tune up.

Pilot Boy scoffed at the tune up. "Its a flipping vacuum cleaner."

Our whole house is carpet. I am surprised they did not carpet the kitchen, in all honesty. Our dog is a shedding wonder. I have mysterious allergies. Least to say, I am not a happy camper in this house in the winter when I can't go outside and sit there for two hours to wait out a sinus headache.

Today, I was vacuuming. Yesterday I vacuumed. It takes an hour to do the upstairs. It takes another hour to do the downstairs. It takes almost a half hour to get the stairs really done. I was doing the stairs today and realized the tiny hand held I had gotten from my grandpa for free (it had come with the new vaccum my Grandma had ordered and she had stashed it away even though she could have given it to me since she all ready had a hand held vac that worked...but I digress.) was no longer sucking up anything. I changed the bag. It was kinda full (not full, but kinda full). I put a new bag in and tried again. Still wasn't really picking up dog hair, but the stairs look clean(er). I vacuumed the downstairs and sat down to look at the floor. Still had dog hair.

I do not mess with the vacuum. Mostly because I tend to break things when I mess with them. I just sat up, looked at Basil and said, "We're getting a new one."

She still looked freaked out. She hates the vacuum, but still follows me around looking freaked out. At least she doesn't throw up in front of it any more like she used to.

But, this whole vacuum drama just makes me hate carpet a little bit more. I haven't like it since the Dirt Hole, but I knew I was in trouble when we walked into this house and it was ALL CARPET. I saw hours and hours of my life drowning in dust and hair while I fight with the vacuum. Recently, its been cutting out randomly and turning itself out because the cord is frayed at the top. I could tape it, but it just makes me mad that I have to put this stupid thing together all the time.

I just want a new one. I want one where I can just dump out the crap at the end of my time. I want one that will suck up the dog hair on the first go and I do not have to spend an hour vacuuming my home. (Well, two hours. But I never do both on the same day.)

I have dreams of Dysons. I am serious. I have dreams about vacuuming with Dysons. I also have dreams I have wood floors and just have to swiffer up the dog hair. Which would never take me an hour and I would not have a dog barking at me while I was doing it.

Why You Should Not Buy a 2010 or new 4Runner if you plan to drive in Weather.

I drove up to Eagle River the other day. It wasn't snowing, raining, or anything, but the highway was wet, so there was junk flying at the windshield and I had to use the wipers to see.

During my 20 minute trip, I remembered another reason to hate my 4Runner. Never mind that it is huge, bulky and drop dead ugly, you cannot for the life of you DRIVE THE THING IN THE WINTER. Why? Because, you cannot see out any pertinate windows except the front and passenger side. The back windshiled wipers only clears a TINY portion of the window and not even where YOU NEED TO LOOK. The dumb ass spoiler on the back also adds insult to injury because it just adds to amount of junk that gathers on the window. Currently, I cannot see anything worth while out the window and if the cars refuse to use their lights, there is no hope of me seeing them at any given point. And not just because the back window is so caked with grime, no, that isn't just the issues any more.

When we traveled up here, we learned that when traveling at speeds of 50 or higher while using the wipers, kicks back grime onto the driver side window. Since the back window has been uselsess since any rain/snow/sleet/dirt/wind has been going on, I've taken to using the mirror to see what's behind me and make sure I'm not going to run anyone over in the Monstrosity. Well, during my 20 minute highway drive, this became almost impossible to do because the window was caked in grime from the front windshield. This occurred on our drive up here and I had forgotten. This isn't an issue when it rains. Just snow and ice and grime. In the lower 48, where they salt the living daylights out of things, this is a BIG PROBLEM, as the salt just sticks and is hard to get off the window. So, basically, when we drove up here, daily cleaning of the window took place because we couldn't even SEE the back window due to our belongings. Once we got here, and cleared the car out, we were like, Dear God. There is like five inches of grime on the back window. More than the rest of the car.

So, Mr. Toyota Car Maker, you SUCK. And I HATE YOU. HOW THE HELL DID YOU MANAGE TO MAKE A CAR "BETTER" AND NOT TEST DRIVE IT IN WINTER CONDITIONS? YOUR REDESIGN OF THE 4RUNNER SUCKS AND YOU SHOULD ALL...WELL, BE FORCED TO DRIVE THE 4RUNNER IN ALASKA ALL WINTER AND NOT ALLOWED TO WASH IT. I GARANTEE YOU WILL CRASH AND DIE.

In other news, till I get a window washer thingy, I will have to risk my life in the Subaru, which has no winter tires (we thinks studded tires are lame and do not understand why the people of Alaska are holding on so hard to studded tires, they just ruin the roads. They make winter tires. The 4Runner has those. They work brilliantly).

That is all.

::steps off soap box ::

Dear GCI, I hate you

So, today, my brother came downstairs and informed me that GCI was moving to only capped plans and doing away with the unlimited plans. This upset me for various reasons, one being they never told me. I never got an email. I don't remember seeing anything in the bills they keep sending me even thought I signed up for paperless billing. So, basically, I hate them with a flaming passion. I can't even tell if they moved me to a capped plan and I can't get into my bill because the site doesn't work. I can't even log into see what useage I use because evidently the log in I use to pay my bill ISN'T WHAT YOU USE FOR THE MAIN WEBSITE. How lame is that. Even Time Warner wasn't that lame. So I tried to set up an account, but the website TIMED OUT. THIS IS SO LAME IT IS NOT EVEN FUNNY.

So, basically, what this boils down to is, I'm going to have to cancel Netflix. Why, you ask? Because I actually got Netflix to stream movies and TV shows. I didn't actually get it watch DVDs. Mostly because its kinda lame, as I only get one DVD at a time. But I thought, I can get unlimited downloads of what they offer online, this is worth the 8 bucks a month. On a daily basis, I usually watch around five or more TV episodes, and more if I am working. I watch less when Pilot Boy is home, but then we watch movies and stuff. Seeing I don't know what my cap it, but from what I've gathered tooling around Twitter and the Internet, I will no longer be able to stream what I usually do and NOT GO OVER this "new cap" they put me on. I have no idea what my usage is, and no way to figure it out because GCI is so lame. What will more than likely happen, is that I will cancel GCI, get a dish and slow ass internet and cancel Netflix. Dish is cheaper. Slow ass internet is cheaper. Netflix is only 8 bucks a month, but I won't be able to stream it in the least with slower internet. I mean, I have a pretty fast modem now and I still sometimes have issues with streaming stuff.

This was not a good way to start my day, so I strongly dislike you GCI. Before now you were the best internet/cable company I had dealt with, now, you suck.

Its Sunny in Fairbanks

Or so Pilot Boy says.

Its been oddly rainy and gloomy here for the past week or so. More so than usual. I decided to try to begin a new story that has been milling around my noggin for the past couple of days. It is not going too good. I remember now why I don't start new stories that I have been milling in my head: they don't turn out. The best ones are the ones I just kind of sit down and start and don't put a lot of thought into.

In other news, an airplane fell on my head last night.

Granted it was a wooden toy airplane, but it still hurt like my head was going to die and roll off. It hurt more than when I'd crack my head on those stupid trees. I hate those damn trees.

Almost as much as I hate that damn wood airplane made in 1997.

At least the Thai can of coke didn't fall on me. That would have hurt and been a sticky mess.