Tuesday, March 31, 2009
For me, as a nonprofit employee/executive it has meant a few things over the past year like unplugging toilets in the visitor's center, cleaning up vomit in the bathroom of aforementioned visitor center and most recently bailing out the office during the "big leak" of 2009.
Last Friday, by far, takes the cake. As the glacier covering the park where our office is located gently receded we started to notice a lot of trash strewn about the place. I don't know if people are really that stupid that they think by tossing their crap in the snow that it too, will melt and disappear, or if they are just assholes that don't know any better. I am going with the latter on this one.
Anyhoo, when the last of the snow finally disappeared (until this morning but that isssue will be added to my venting machine later) lots and lots of trash was left behind. I figured that since we are seeing more visitors we should probably go ahead and clean the place up. I grabbed some rubber gloves (thankfully) and a big orange garbage bag. The only thing missing? An orange vest with the word "inmate" on it.
Another gal from the office and I filled up a giant orange bag with garbage. Among the items recovered: a plastic paint bucket, enough cigarette butts to lay end to end around the freaking earth, empty potato chip packages, a sock, a rubber glove and my personal favorite: a used condom.
Yes folks, you heard that right: a used condom. I can kind of understand the cigarette butts (people with no brains throw them out of their windows all the time), and I suppose some of the other stuff like a sock (maybe they left it on the car roof or something) and the paint bucket could have fallen out of the back of the truck.
But I really cannot grasp why in the hell I would find a used condom on the side of the road along highway 95. I am trying reeeaaaaalllllyyyyyyy hard not to let my imagination get the best of me on this one. I wish there was a brain eraser that I could scrub my memory with. Then again, maybe Xanax and wine would do the trick. Anyone know where I can find some?
Monday, March 30, 2009
This moose was eyeing the remote and the basketball game on TV. Apparently it looked much more comfortable for him to be indoors in the comfort of the cushy leather chair than outdoors in the snow (that just doesn't seem to stop coming).
And I feel really sorry for the moose if watching the NCAA tourney is more appealing than scrounging for food in the frozen tundra of north Idaho.
It sure says something when even our wildlife have had it with winter.
Photo courtesy of Bruce Johnson
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Mind you, my boss isn't a jerk, but well, taxes do suck. What I would like to do, however, is load that venting machine up with some of my own things.
I am going to buy the following:
- 1 can of why the hell can't it be spring.
- 1 package of I don't understand why you can't drink red wine and take a Xanax? (ooops, I actually just typed whine!)
- 1 container of it's sunny and clear and I am stuck at work instead of skiing.
- 1 box of the fat on my ass is flattening from sitting at my desk too much.
- 1 serving of I hate that you can find sports on TV 365 days a year
Tell me world, what ELSE should be in the venting machine?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
You might think I could just go home and look it up on my laptop. But there's where you would be wrong. It got a virus, I took it to a shop and got it back Wednesday night (after it sat there done for two days without a call telling us it was done) then discovered yesterday while I was home sick that the computer itself is still sick and suffering from a virus. Called the repair shop and they can't get to it again until they have no idea when. God I love small town customer service.
So for now I'll hump along with T-Rex the Compaq Presario from 5 years ago and hope that eventually the service peeps can get to my laptop. Until then, you'll be able to hear me cussing for miles around.
Monday, March 16, 2009
For one thing, how is it possible that a two year old boy can crap his pants in a matter of seconds, but you put him on a toilet and it takes a half an hour? Gravity must be involved somehow. Or perhaps the cold toilet seat also affects a sphincter.
Another mystery is why March Madness is used to describe the NCAA Basketball Tournament. I can think of a couple of other uses for the term. For example, March Madness causes you to drive around a small town on a Sunday looking for some place that MIGHT be open for business before 12 noon, or even might be open on a Sunday at all. And the reason you are driving around is because it is raining/snowing and there is NOTHING to do with your small children who are driving you completely batty to where you consider posting them for sale on eBay.
Why isn't March Madness a term to describe your feelings about your husband who will forego bathing, eating, restroom breaks and anything else unless it can be fit in during the 15 second time-outs during one of the seemingly THOUSAND different basketball games on TV during the month.
I am also very curious as to why in God's name Mother Nature gives us a spring teaser every year, only to bombard us with more crappy weather for weeks on end until you are at the brink of total insanity.
Finally, back to the whole potty training thing. Why is it that a child who is perfectly capable of using the toilet, might even be fully potty trained, suddenly decides that they no longer enjoy the fun & freedom (and dry feeling) of wearing underpants?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
"Talking" to your children and "explaining" what they have done wrong is about as useful as the udders on the man-cows in the movie "Barnyard". Know what I'm sayin'?
So rather than explain OVER AND OVER to Kaylee that wiping her dirtly little mitts on her clothes while eating A) makes a mess, B) might stain her clothes and C) is kind of uncouth we figured that the quicker way to modify that behavior would be to institute a "Strip Dining" policy in our house.
Every time she wipes her hands on anything other than a napkin she has to remove an article of clothing. That was Tuesday night and she got down to her socks & undies. Last night? Didn't remove a stitch.
I should write a parenting book with tips and tricks like these. She'll write one someday about how not to parent, I'm pretty sure. Or she'll spend copious amounts of money on therapy. But hey, at least she's using a freaking napkin.
Monday, March 9, 2009
What a gorgeous day it was, sunny & warm at the top with a pile of fresh snow. Nicely groomed trails, a few choice black diamond runs to really challenge my ability and two friends to ski with. The only thing missing? Mark!
It was really breathtaking seeing the lake through the clouds, feeling the sun on my face and racing down the slopes on my new skis. And even though I fired him, thank God for my personal trainer, because without him I would surely have been brought down the mountain via ski patrol.
I do have a new love, Schweitzer and I can't wait until we meet again.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Okay, file this under "I can't believe someone actually did this", but this guy put this cat in that box and smoked weed to calm it down. The cat was rescued 2 months earlier from a home where it was abused. So this was better?
The cat does appear to be quite calm in the photo, but that isn't surprising.
What was surprising is the cat's refusal to then down a beef & bean burrito and its apparent aversion to the music of Ziggy Marley.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Last week was a very sad and very long week. On Friday morning February 20 we received the very sad news that Mark's Grandmother had passed away at the tender age of 94. We immediately went into planning mode and prepared for a road trip with the kids back to Boise to be with family and attend the services.
Mark's Grandmother was 94 years old, that seems so amazing to me. To think of the changes this woman experienced in her long and wonderful life is awe-inspiring. When asked what she thought the most amazing invention was during her lifetime, how do you think she responded? Computers? Telephone? Automobiles? Rubik's Cube? Her answer: indoor plumbing. An every day luxury we take for granted.
Someone who is 94 can remember a time when every meal was cooked from scratch, when milk was delivered by truck every day, when a ride to school meant in a buggy pulled by a horse down a very rough dirt road. They can remember black and white television and (gasp) having to get up to change the channel! They will tell you about their first telephones, and the party lines they used to have, kind of like 3-way calling only not on purpose back then.
Someone who is 94 can remember that hard work meant rolling up their sleeves and getting dirty, not sitting at a computer typing all day and going home "exhausted" from the day. They can remember the thrill of something as simple as flushing a toilet in their own home, or even having electricity and heating built INTO their home.
Someone who is 94 doesn't care about text messages or cell phones. They don't have a use for the computer. Emails just don't cut it. Good old fashioned mail with a stamp is their preferred means of communicating to loved ones far away. They can appreciate the special sweet-and-sour taste of a home made sourdough biscuit fresh from the oven, not the loaf you buy pre-made at the grocery store.
Oh how I wish we didn't take so much of our lives for granted. LaVern was the ultimate, quintessential working mother. She raised 7 children (including 2 sets of twins), cooked every meal from scratch, did everyone's laundry and never put herself first. First to rise, last to bed, she worked every day of her life for herself, her husband and her family.
When she was laid to rest last week it occurred to me that there wasn't anything bad you could say about her. She was a truly amazing woman, one that we all can aspire to be. When I am laid to rest, whenever that may be, I hope that the same things can be said of me: hard working, honest, a great mother, wonderful grandmother, generous, kind and loving. At the end of the day, isn't that what we all work for?