Haven't really lost much

Each Tuesday Craig and I get together to watch 'The Biggest Loser'. During the show we've become emotionally involved in the contestant's and their journeys and it's been a lot of fun to watch these people transform their lives. I won't lie, there's been a tear or two of joy shed.* Every week we also order pizza and I usually have a soda. A voice in my head says that's counterproductive but I can't be sure that's what I hear... the voice sounds a little muffled like perhaps it's trapped under a layer of cheese and crispy pepperoni.

Anyway, tonight was the finale so we went big and got not only a pizza, but a salad as well. We thought for sure that our 'year' of The Biggest Loser would be over and during one commercial break I even told Craig that I was looking forward to going back to the gym on Tuesday nights and getting a run in. And then it happened. They announced that the next season will be starting January 5th. We looked at each other, and down at our food, and decided that unless we want to be ON the show, we'd better change the menu. I'm thinking steamed chicken breasts, salad with no dressing, and water.  

*Don't tell Craig I told you that. He'd just die!

A warming trend

Tonight's low is going to be a balmy 17, with tomorrow's an even balmier 3, so I broke out the flannel sheets...

and the siamese foot warmer.*

*Also effective at 3:00am wake-up calls.

**Yes, there are 6 pillows on my bed. It helps me sleep like this. 

Excess

Just today I awoke from the turkey-induced coma that has had a hold of me since Thursday. I figured now that my body is done processing the trytophan (rhymes with 'tripped on a pan') I'd post my Thanksgiving thoughts. 

Craig and I headed west to spend the long weekend with my parents in the Sun Basin of central Washington. Unfortunately it was grey the day we got there. Apparently even the sun takes holidays off. 

Craig's sister lives a couple of hours from my parents so we took the opportunity on Wednesday night to stay there and complete our drive Thanksgiving morning...and by morning I mean up, showered, and out of the house by 6:30am, sneaking out so as to not wake the hosts or the dogs on the porch, leave no trace behind. I'm sure Tom and Nada thought they dreamt our visit. Aright, so Nada woke up and sent us off in her pajamas. They were a little tight on Craig.

Because we were so ambitious, and since I wasn't sure my parents would be expecting house guest to arrive by 8:15, we decided to hit the Perkin's in Ritzville. Heck, the day is all about eating so why not get a head start?

Not only was the food good and plentiful, the hour spent at Perkin's provided us with ample amusement. Take for example exhibit A.... the Thursday paper.

Craig likes to read while he eats (multi-tasker) and I don't like the burden of conversation* so he decided to grab the Spokesman on our way into the restaurant. He put his $1.00 in the paper machine and yanked on the handle. Nothing. The machine returned the money and he tried again. Nothing. This scene replayed itself a few more times and still nothing. We entered the restaurant both scavenging our minds for something to talk about since it was apparent we'd have to interact**. Craig buckled under the pressure*** and decided to give it one more try and left me in the booth. He was on a mission now. 

5 minutes went by and he wasn't back. I spent my time scanning the menu and trying to make a decision. 10 minutes went by and he wasn't back. I spent my time eavesdropping on the conversations around me (which wasn't too hard with the man 3 tables over on the bluetooth headset... good to know your buddy David is having a great Turkey Day sir!). 15 minutes went by and he wasn't back. I spent my time wondering if I'd seen the pickup go by the window and head east on the interstate. He finally returned with paper in hand after driving across town to a gas station that sells them. Turns out the holiday papers are $2.50, not the $1.00 advertised for the daily rate on the paper machine. Why is it that a paper that is 85% ads costs you more than twice as much?

We made it to my parents in time for the tail end of the Macy's parade and all of the football. Mom and I got to work on the meal while Craig and Dad enjoyed each other's company.

The day was spent in the kitchen with my mother where new recipes were tested, and tried and true ones were also used. Like any good Thanksgiving something went wrong and that something was in the form of forgetting to cook the stuffing. That's alright though, we had a Mt. Everest of mashed potatoes so we managed just fine.

Friday was spent shopping in downtown Ephrata with my mother while Craig and Dad did guy things like shoot guns and eat beef jerky.**** That afternoon, Craig and I took the opportunity to get a little exercise and work off Thursday's meal... at the arcade in the Super WalMart. You have to do what you can on the road to stay in shape.

We headed home on Saturday with an excess of food, both eaten and in the form of leftovers in a cooler, and family. It was definitely wonderful to spend Thanksgiving with you Mom and Dad.

*That's not true...I love to talk. I've got lots of words and I like to use them all.

**I say that in jest. We would have been alright until our breakfasts came... after that it's just impolite to talk with your mouth full.

***Again, in jest I say he buckled. He was on a mission and that's one thing I love about him... he finishes what he starts.  

****Really. I don't think they did the two simultaneously but one never knows.

Ministry

I signed up at church to help with one of our coffee bars and I'm beginning to think I actually signed up for some sort of 'strength ministry'. Who knew that pump pots of drip coffee would require so much upper arm strength? I kid you not when I say that my left arm feels like someone took a meat tenderizer to it and all my job consisted of was filling the cups with coffee. 

At one point a man in line, noticing my extreme discomfort and inability to get a measly stream of coffee out, suggested I try using my right arm. I politely rebuffed his suggestion pointing out that if he thought I was having problems with my dominant arm, there was sure to be a catastrophe if I enlisted the service of my right arm. I may practice my handwriting on a regular basis with my right hand* but I sure as heck haven't ever practiced proper pump pot form. 

I'm planning on hitting the gym tomorrow night and along with my miles on the dreadmill** I'll be adding some upper body conditioning... at least for my left arm.

*Somewhere in my childhood I decided I'd better be prepared should I ever lose the ability to write with my left hand so I started practicing with my right hand. It's not that pretty but it works and I think I could get by... as long as people don't mind reading severely slanted sentences. Like 45 degrees slanted.

**I don't really dread running on the treadmill all that much... I just like to say I do. It's my 'woe is me' moment. Please let me have it.

365 days

On the phone planning our first date I asked "Where should we go? What should we do?" and he said "Let's go get corn dogs at the gas station*..."

It's been an adventure ever since.

*He really did say that and I laughed, hoping he was only half-serious (but not really caring if he was completely serious) and then he said "Let's not plan anything, let's just be spontaneous." and I pretty much knew my life was about to change.

But it's on sale!

Sale items do funny things to me. I'll buy shoes that I don't need*, sweaters I probably won't wear, and justify any jewelry purchase** during a sale. I once ended up with a cupboard-full of garbonzo beans just because they were on sale. (Little side note here, I had a hard time remembering Almonzo's name from 'Little House On The Prairie' so in my head I always secretly called him Garbonzo. Half-Pint and Garbonzo... lots of protein there.)

Anyway, back to sales. I bring this subject up because I recently learned the power of a discounted item, albeit a 4,500 square foot discounted item. 

It kind of dwarfs the neighbors.

I'd seen this house a few times in the real estate section and wondered what in the world it was all about. 7 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms on 3 levels and it was CHEAP. Like, less than $200,000 cheap. That's a lot of house for not a lot of money. I sent an email to a family member/realtor letting her know that if she was ever in the neighborhood and wanted to check it out that I'd go along. She was game.

The address.

We went one evening after work and unfortunately, or fortunately because it let me dream for 24 hours, the power had been shut off. Since winter is rapidly approaching, daylight is a hard commodity to come by which meant we had approximately 12 minutes to run around the house and squint into the darkness to make out the shape of the rooms and the condition of the place. It was mah-ve-lous. (All pictures taken the following day).

The entry way and possible dining room we guessed.

The ceilings were high, the rooms were HUGE, and I started picking out paint colors, dreaming of wood floors, and deciding which wall the piano would go on. I envisioned family functions and family living with me... it does have 7 bedrooms after all. All of this in 12 minutes of dimly-lit exploration. We got really brave and headed to the third floor in the dark. Nothing like going into a 109-year old, vacant house and heading into the unknown. I did shout up to any squatters that might be residing there that we were on our way up and to please make themselves presentable.*** I hadn't even thought of the possibility that there may be ankle-biting vermin living up there or that maybe the floor wasn't in any condition to be walking on. I was busy dreaming!

One of the 4 booths on the third floor. There is also a bar on this floor....crazy prohibition parties were no doubt thrown here, or the squatters are very handy and into wood-working.

We called the selling agent to get a bit more information (semi short-sale house) and departed for the evening with a plan to meet the next day. I spent the rest of the night drawing the floor plan and trying to convince Craig that this would be a great investment with awesome returns in a few years.**** I laid awake far into the night calculating payments and how much plasma I'd have to donate to make it work. (5*)

The living room. I decided I'd put the Christmas tree in the front corner.

And then the morning came. I met Hilary at lunch with a thousand wheels in my head turning and the house was just as grand in the daylight but it was big... really big. Too big for a single-girl with cats, although it would give me room for more cats. Like a whole shelter-full. It would also, no doubt, give me the reputation as the crazy cat lady who lives alone in the biggest house on the block with her 43 cats. 

I'd be up to 3 the instant I moved in.

Kids would play 'Ding Dong Ditch' with my doorbell and claim they saw my silhouette in the third floor window. Not really the direction I'm looking to go in life. Moving on.

The doorbell.

In the daylight we also saw that this big old girl needed more than a few coats of paint and a ripping up of the old carpet to reveal the wood floors beneath. There was the question of the old furnace in the basement, the sloping of the kitchen floors, and the functionality of the goofy bathrooms. How much does it cost to heat 4500 square feet? Are those leaded windows very efficient? Most likely not. What happens if my cats get lost? Alright, enough cat talk. 

Like a slowly deflating balloon I saw just how much work it needed and just how much work I didn't want to put into it (not to mention the fact that I don't have THAT much plasma). For goodness sakes I hired my neighbor boy to mow my lawn this summer because I didn't want to do it. She's a beauty of a house and has been a part of our town's history since 1900. She's just not going to be a part of mine. Unless the price drops.

Detail of the little window in the front door. Perfect for spying on which hoodlums are ringing the doorbell and running away.

*Actually, this happens whether or not they're on sale.

**All jewelry purchases are justified as 'investments'.

***I also had a brief vision of someone hitting me in the face in the darkness of the attic but I think that comes from watching too many episodes of Law & Order.

****Or it could be a huge money pit but I'm more of an optimist.

5*That's not true, my parents wouldn't stand for it. They wouldn't go for it in college when I wanted a little extra spending money and no doubt their feelings haven't changed.

Opinions for sale

Early last week I got the surprise of a lifetime in my mailbox. Well, that's over-exaggerating because had I received the surprise of a lifetime people around the globe would have spent their days wondering how Gerard Butler made himself small enough to fit in a standard mailbox. Anway, it was mildly surprising only because I'd never been chosen before to participate in this well-known public survey... J.D. Power contacted me and wanted my opinion! They wanted my feedback on a car that I previously owned...

... back when I lived near the ocean, in a tropical location, and ran a party entertainment business out of my trunk.* I was the clown, Vera ran the music, and Rosemary made the balloon animals. It was a wildly-successful venture once Rosemary figured out how to retract her claws when working with the balloons. Until then it was just wild.

Truth be told, the survey was less about the custom-painted Toyota Camry** and more about the Audi A4 that I leased for 2 years. 

I answered the questions to the best of my knowledge but really, it's been a year since I had the car and my memory is foggy at best when it comes to the mileage the car had at the time of it's last oil change. I'm not sure I could tell you what my current car's mileage was at it's last oil change.

Anyway, the survey was 65 questions long and I hung in there for a good 13 of them. After that I started making designs with the fill-in circles. I hope the associates at J.D. Power take a good look at it when they get it back. It's very pretty.

You're probably wondering why I even completed the dang thing. I'll tell you why....folded up very nicely within the pages of it was an incredibly crisp $1 bill. I haven't seen bills this flat since I was 11 and spending my afternoons ironing the baby-sitting money*** that I kept stored in a Royal Dansk cookie tin.

*I have never run a business out of my trunk... not that I couldn't. Right now I could probably start a traveling bocce ball tournament that I announce with flyers printed out using an Epson printer. Really, I have those items in my trunk RIGHT NOW. Why? I don't know.

**That's because I've never owned a custom-painted Toyota Camry, as much as I've wanted to.

***It's 75% cotton you know. It irons very nicely on high.

Whoa! I just realized that this is my 200th post! What's even weirder is that my 100th post was also about the Audi. Hmmm.  I'm not quite sure what that means but I'm thinking I should get a subscription to Car & Driver if I'm writing about cars this much.