You're Doing It Wrong

Have you ever looked at the washing instruction labels in your clothes and found only little symbols? Did you wonder WTF do these things mean? I know that big X means I’m not supposed to do something, but what does a triangle mean? Well, here is a guide. Triangle means bleach — I don’t think that’s intuitive at all. My guess was dryer. Drying instructions are the square.

About a week ago we got a free promotional item in the mail, something called clothespin chopsticks which I had no idea what I was supposed to do with. Just now when I checked the website, I learned that they are “chopsticks with training wheels.” But they’re made out of cheap plastic and I can’t imagine using them for eating. I thought it was a super big clothespin and couldn’t imagine any scenario where I might use it. The website also says they are out of clear: probably because they mailed them to everyone in a 60 mile radius to invite them their “private preview party” for a store about to open in Bridgeport Village.

This is a store about storage and organization which is pretty much what I live for but I’m not going to drive 30 miles to go to a store. Especially a store in a giant complex of stores, restaurants and multiplex (isn’t that a mall?) which really means giant parking lot crowd scene from hell. And note I assume this is what Bridgeport Village is. Honestly I don’t know for sure since tracking retail developments is pretty much something I don’t live for.

If you’d like clear clothespin chopsticks, contact me now. Supply limited.

This morning we went and picked up Margaret and went to the Farmer’s Market. I bought too many things last week so I had to restrain myself. Just last night I finally cooked my beets. I have a beet soup recipe with ginger that I discussed on this site earlier but since the search function is worthless, I don’t know when and can’t link to it. The short version is that I made it with pickled beets and it was dreadful. I’ve been meaning to try it again. Too bad now I don’t have ginger.

We stocked up on berries and cherries. Also we ended up at a booth with all kinds of weird fruit I got some regular peaches plus some donut peaches and apriums (not to be confused with a pluot). We also got crab for tomorrow night’s dinner and I got apples to make a pie for a certain person who is having a birthday next week.

I checked the turnip guy but no turnips today. I asked him last week about turnip season because raw turnips are one of my favorite foods. Earlier this week on our way to the Portland downtown farmer’s market with the law clerk I mentioned this and she said, “You don’t hear that often.” Turnip guy told me he has turnips year round which is fantastic news. He just didn’t have them this week.

Another topic for discussion is this article from the paper yesterday about this baby boom in Florida, nine months after one of the hurricanes knocked out power for three days. Some guy was saying how, power is out, what else are you going to do? Well last time I checked, using birth control and having power are two completely independent operations. It’s not like, oh darn, the fridge is out and the birth control is ruined. We’ll just have to do without. Do these people normally never do it but with the power out, here was the perfect excuse? I don’t get it. And I would provide you with a link but the damn AP had popup ads and registration. What is up with every Tom, Dick and Harry on the Internet wanting you to register to look at their crap? I have a card by my computer with about 35 usernames and passwords (not the important ones like the bank) so I can keep them straight. Every time I try to adopt a permanent password then a site limits me to 6 characters, no 8 characters, no 6 but 1 has to be a number. And so forth. I generally either don’t visit the site, get a password from bugmenot.com or I make something up and use it only that once.

Here’s an article about the new male infantilism and I’m not sure I get it. Is it really a thing, just because someone says so? Excerpt:

Where a Scotch-sozzled Big Bruiser once ran onto the fire escape with a roar, rolling up his or her sleeves to challenge the whole U.S. of A. to step outside, now a smallish fellow in a knit cap and woolen sweater sits in the corner with a box of chocolate milk, giggling at his own inadvertent burps.

Finally, in honor of Bob, here’s a link to the Grateful Dead’s last show, 10 years ago today.

Priscilla got a new knee last week. The surgery was on Thursday.

On Sunday night we visited with her at the hospital until visiting hours were over. The nursing staff was changing over and we never saw the replacement.

Yesterday Priscilla told me that shortly after we left a nice young man with big brown eyes and curly brown hair came into her room and announced that he was her nurse. (I think the appropriate term is certified nursing assistant.) He told her he was 24.

About an hour later he returned and told her it was time for a bath. Priscilla said, “Oh no it’s not.”

I told her I would have demanded a bath.

She went home yesterday morning and Bob’s been the nurse (no bath). But he’s been helping get her meals and with her physical therapy exercises and stuff like that. Tomorrow Margaret arrives and will take over for awhile.

I had dinner over there tonight and was hoping Pris might do a pirouette or something but she’s not quite there yet.

After you’ve been super busy and you finally have time to do all these things you’ve been wanting to do, but you can’t seem to do anything except sit there and think about all these things?

That’s where I’m at this weekend.

My horoscope told me that I would have good news about finance today. I just found my bank statements and realized I hadn’t balanced my checkbook last month. If good news means finding a huge error to the tune of several hundred dollars not in my favor: then that horoscope was right on.

Fireworks were always illegal in the places I grew up and when I first got up here I thought it was fantastic all the cool stuff you could buy. Now, years later, when I’ve had time to grow older and crankier, I think fireworks should be banned everywhere except a special place where all the people who like the noise and mess can shoot them off at each other whenever they want, far away from civilization.

Also, random story from yesterday. On our way home we were behind a nondescript white Honda with a bright shiny bling bling gold chain linked license plate frame with an inscription: My Honda.

I said to Bob: Who would go through all the trouble to get that fancy thing and then put: My Honda.

He decided some 16 year old kid.

Back today from three back-to-back trips. All good. But tonight I’m ready for an early bedtime. It’s not the trip and traveling that’s hard. It’s not doing all the regular chores that makes it hard. (For example, we have 2 apples and canned goods and nothing else to eat in the house.) Also, I’m done packing and unpacking for awhile.

I’m looking forward to a few weekends close to home. I want to put some TLC into the yard among other projects.

I just posted book #24 and I should finish book #25 tonight — which means I am exactly on track for the 50 book challenge. I thought I was behind and was plotting to hammer through a couple of graphic novels or perhaps pick up a few YA books at the library.

Book #25 is a book Bob gave to me which is a collection of essays about Star Wars. There’s a 5000 word serious essay about why Boba Fett is cool. Pam Porn.

I have all six soundtracks on my ipod.

Hi Kids:

I’m home in the middle of 3 back-to-back trips. The fun part is super fun but all the packing and unpacking and coordinating real life with being away is tangled up and a bit of a strain at the moment.

San Francisco Story #1
As overheard in the San Francisco Apple Store:

Guy Walking into Apple Store Flashing New iPod Shuffle: Hey, I just got this. How do I get music on it?
Apple Store Employee: Do you have a computer?
Guy: No.

San Francisco Story #2
Bob and I are sitting at the counter at David’s (sadly, best URL I could find) eating our dinner. I’m to Bob’s left. And older couple sits at the counter to our left. When the man gets up to pay he comes over and stand in between us and tells us that his kids are leftys (me) and he always tells them that if a lefty marries a righty they can eat holding hands. I tell him that we sometimes do.

San Francisco Story #3
In the Airport on the way home I use the restroom. The automatic flushing toilet flushes once when I enter the stall, once when I sit down, once when I reach for toilet paper and once when I’m actually finished. Now that’s efficient.

San Francisco Story #4
We go to the Haight on bus route #7 to go to Amoeba. On the way home a woman alleges to be disabled and wants the driver to lower the step to get on the bus. The driver says it’s broken and she can’t do it. She tells the lady to buck up and drag herself on the bus. The lady complies, bitching and moaning the entire time. She hobbles to her seat and complains. A whole bunch of yelling goes back and forth until the rider screams, “That’s enough. Leave me alone.” The driver says more and she screams again, “Leave me alone.” The lady gets off at the next stop. A guy moves his seat and sucks up to the driver telling her how great she is and she whines how her bus is broken and it’s not her fault. (Well, yelling at the customers is.) At the next stop a lady claiming to be an advocate for the disabled gets in her two cents worth before exiting the bus. It’s an eventful ride.

—

Meanwhile, I have tons of crap piled all over my room and emails bursting out of the box and a “to do” list that stretches a page an a half. My bangs need to be trimmed. I have gifts to buy. I have a Father’s Day entry to get to. It’s all coming. Stay tuned.

Bob and I went to the Quinault Beach Resort on Tuesday night. Turns out we drove into a tsunami warning. (“You’re not actually going into an asteroid field?”)

We kind-of heard about it because we stopped at a gas station in Chehalis and the clerks said something about an earthquake and tsunami warning.

It never occured to me to feel worried about this. The news reports love to make everything as dramatic and frightening as they can:

“Your entire family at risk from breathing air. Tune it at 10pm and find out why and what you can do about it.”

By the time we arrived any danger that might have been was already passed. Apparently most of the staff had fled for the hills leaving about a dozen fearless gamblers ready to riot in the lobby as the gambling floor was closed off.

By the next day everything was full steam ahead.