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Author Archives: Pamela
Day 4: Twelve Days of Christmas with the Rentz Girlsâ„¢

Already working the double chin.
Posted in doing it wrong, pamily
Tagged 12 Days of Christmas
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Day 3: Twelve Days of Christmas with the Rentz Girlsâ„¢

I look like I’m afraid I’m about to get eaten by a monster.
What I Wish I Was Doing Today
Summer: This is the match day ritual.
Last week I was reading some story online and the person was dealing with finances. One super bright and forward thinking commenter suggested getting another job such as newspaper delivery.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Who gets newspapers anymore?
Well, we do. But we’re the olds. Is there anyone under 30 who has newspaper delivery?
Historically, during the holidays our delivery person gives us a Holiday Greeting which is really information on how to send them a tip. We always send something. Last year the delivery family had a list of about 8 newspapers they were delivering. A couple months later we got a note from them that they’d lost the contract because someone underbid them.
I don’t think there’s a whole lot of opportunity in newspaper delivery.
I’m having insomnia issues this week and I wake up at 3am when the paper comes. The new guy stops the car, turns it off and then does who-knows-what for a few minutes. Then the car door opens, the paper hits the front door, and the car door closes. Then he restarts the car, drives next door and the whole thing starts all over again. This seems staggeringly inefficient. Plus, don’t car starters wear out? To add to my late night anxiety, I’m dreading the day the car won’t restart. What will he do? Does he have a cellphone? Is there someone who can drive out and help him at 3am? Will he wish he’d just thrown the paper out the window without stopping like the old paper delivery people did?
Posted in doing it wrong, sleepless in Vancouver
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Day 2: Twelve Days of Christmas with the Rentz Girlsâ„¢

Now there’s two of us. And that lamp!
Posted in doing it wrong, pamily
Tagged 12 Days of Christmas
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Still Doing It Wrong After All These Years

Guess where we were today?
The bean store. (The bean store is not doing it wrong.)
I can’t wait to see the look on Bob’s face (my Bob, not the Red Mill one) when he sees this giant bag of flour I bought.
As it is, I buy 10 lbs. at a time and I go through it pretty quick. I was thinking of working through some of my bread baking recipes this winter. I bet I’ll use it.
I also stocked up on a wide variety of legumes and other stuff. And I had a latte. I don’t drink coffee so right now I feel like my head is about to pop off.

Last week I did two shopping errands, each about 15 minutes, and already I hate Christmas shopping.
At one place the clerk was so worthless it was like it was her purpose to make sure I didn’t buy anything. I stomped out of the store empty-handed but now I still need to find a present.

We have a relatively new motion detector light out front. One of the bulbs burned out and I decided to deal with it right away instead of putting it off for the next three years.
I went to the good hardware store (remind me to write a post about hardware stores someday) and was directed to this item. She told me: You can’t touch the bulb with your fingers because the oil ruins the bulb.
Okay.
Of course the detector is installed up on a wall outside. So I needed a step ladder and I needed to lean at an awkward angle and I couldn’t see what I was doing and I had to cram my tiny girl hand into this little metal cylinder where the lightbulb lives. And you can’t touch the lightbulb so you have it wrapped in a little napkin.
Why would you even invent a system like this? There seriously is no better way to make a motion detector? It took me about a half hour and I said oodles of bad words and stomped in and out of the house trying to figure out what the problem was.
I even looked for online advice thinking there must be something I’m missing. One guy’s advice? “Turn the bulb into the socket in a clockwise direction.”
Wow, thanks Einstein. The world is so lucky to have you.
I finally got it all reassembled and tested it. Then I jogged up and down the driveway in a victory dance, like Rocky.
Day 1: Twelve Days of Christmas with the Rentz Girlsâ„¢

Hey, there’s that lamp again.
I know what you’re thinking. I keep talking about the Rentz girls but so far there is just one.
Don’t worry. On Day 2, there will be girls.
Posted in doing it wrong, pamily
Tagged 12 Days of Christmas
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Bad Bean

My Twelve days of Christmas with the Rentz Girls ™ isn’t going to be on consecutive days. I’m going to spread it out so you have something to look forward to the entire holiday season.
Here’s one of the things I was going to write about yesterday before the interruptions.
Tip: Bad hummus is really gross. Don’t eat it.
When my poor sweetheart was sick, he had no appetite so we had tons of food in the house and I wasn’t able to eat it all myself. There were some bowls of stuff that lingered.
I made some hummus and I swear it hadn’t been in there that long. I took a giant bite and Holy Satan’s Diaper. It wasn’t immediately gross, but came on exponentially. Now I’m ruined for hummus for a while which is a shame because it’s a handy snack that’s better for me than salt and cracked pepper potato chips.
Day Ø: Twelve Days of Christmas With The Rentz Girls™

Story of my life I got interrupted in the middle of this and now I’m in a big hurry.
I was born 5 days after Christmas so this is my first Christmas-ish. I wish we still had that chair and that lamp. That stocking still exists, it’s in bad shape and I’m not 100% sure where it is, but we still have it.
Day 30!

Email is starting to fill me with despair. It seems like it takes half the weekend to get through my home mailbox and half the weekdays to get through the work mailbox.
And I’m pretty good about keeping up and discarding or archiving as I go along. But there’s always something that needs attention.
My poor husband has had some sort of horrible disease this week. Every time he gets the tiniest bit rundown or stressed he complains that he has threshcold. I’m so used to hearing whining about threshcold, I barely listen. I say things like, Oh, did you drink some tea?
This week threshcold turned into fever and aches. And whining. I will resist the urge to make too much fun of him because if I go down with the horrible disease I can’t whine. But I will link to For God’s sake, woman, he’s a man, he’s got a man cold! for your entertainment.
Posted in doing it wrong
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Listen To Yourself Churn

This morning I was was reading yet another story about end of the world people who are stockpiling canned food and batteries and air filters for their underground bunker so they can be ready when the world ends.
So here’s my question.
They’re going to be sitting in a bunker rationing their survival cave food buckets and playing card games in candlelight, and then what?
Is that really a life, smugly enjoying being so smart to still be alive, all by themselves and waiting for the day when … what?
When they can all roam on the gray surface trying to avoid being eaten by the other survivors?
If everything does go to hell, I want to be a ghost (I plan on expiring in the first 15 minutes of the catastrophe, whatever it is) watching those people sitting across from each other reconstituting their beef stroganoff survival meals. I think that would be funny.

