On Memorial Day Weekend, I . . .

(1) ate good sushi with Hun. We also enjoyed the miracle innovation of air conditioning. The National Weather Service issued a "Stagnation Warning"--whatever that means. When I heard about it, I though it was a warning that people had to mill about, lest a cloud of CO2 accumulates around your head and suffocates you. Later, I realized it was a politically correct term to describe "muggier than Hell". (See my explanation of "wintry mix" vs. "icy shit".)

(2) surfed youtube while Hun took a post-gluttony nap. I decide I have found my new creative outlet. Although refinishing furniture is highly meditative and therapeutic, it takes a lot of noxious chemicals and a sheltered--yet well-ventilated--location. Something my Albany abode lacks. I also have an expensive video camera gathering dust in our bedroom. (While in grad school, I had visions of socially-provocative documentaries dancing in my head.)

(3) woke up early with great intentions of going to the laundromat. I have all our laundry sorted, and even intend to wash all my winter sweaters to put them into storage. The closest I get to the laundromat is placing all the bins and hampers by the door. I surf youtube instead.

(4) Hun has a mojo headache. He moans, takes a shower. I make him coffee and toast. Then I launch into him while he is vulnerable . . .

(4) I discuss with Hun the joys of buying a new computer and installing a hot-shot nonlinear editing system. He suggest getting something a little less pricey installed on our new computer. We go back and forth. I remind him of my strong need to get a new car and how I already compromised heavily to get it sent to the shop and have it revamped. I also mentioned to him he was willing for us to buy a new computer as a compromise. I was now cashing in. This debate turns into a State of the Union discussion. I tell him I want to quit my job after a year and become a secretary to invest more time in my new virtual career as a youtube superstar. He thinks it's fine to quite my job since I work with crazy people, and its worth the cut in pay and it would be nice knowing I wouldn't be driving so much and I would be happier overall. He then reminds me of the investment in potted plants sitting on our porch for the sheer purpose of putting a smile to my face. He also reminds me I am a bit flip in my decisions to devote my life/hobby/whatever in something. (Okay, so I'm flaky.) We talk about our future and how to best compromise with each other. We talk about how much we are glad to have each other in our lives. Hun still has a headache. I feel much better.

(5) Hun and I procrastinate. He procrastinates in his studies. I procrastinate in completing paperwork for my job. I continue to have youtube superstardom delusions. I decide we need to eat soon.

(6) I go to the supermarket and buy some veggies to grill kabobs. I come back and proceed to marinade and cut things while waiting for the coals to be ready. The end result: my kabobs aren't the greatest success. I believe I need to marinade the meat overnight.

(7) Hun studies. I still procrastinate. I notice someone has requested me as a friend in my facebook account. He lives in Brooklyn and is involved in a relationship. He wants to know what a NY newbie thinks of the place. He also mysteriously looks like a young George Clooney. I think to myself, "George wants to be my friend! Well, I'm pretty special!" Then I think, "Wait, he looks an awful lot like George Clooney--he is George Clooney!" I think about the desperate guy on the other end of the facebook account who puts and old picture of a celebrity to get points from the ladies. Perhaps he is a benign cyberfan who enjoys my notes, blogs, etc. I've attempted contact on other blogs before. (Please see "cyberstalking".) Perhaps he really looks a lot like George Clooney. I still change my privacy settings.

(9) I finally sit down and blog before launching into paperwork. Perhaps I need to learn how to be a blog-star before being a youtube guru. After all, story is everything.

Cheers,

Betty

A Beautimous Day

Hey, Gang:

I had a good day today! Things are blooming and children are playing. I've sat outside a few times on the patio, drinking alcoholic beverages and eating dinner. I have three plants outside, struggling to survive, since they got a bit frosty over the freak Nor'Easter a few weeks ago.

This is all a bonus since the last month has been sheer Heck at work. It was like all my FPs held a conference and decided they would brake NY State mandates for foster care and see if I would notice . . . just to keep me on my toes. Then, when I find out, I hyperventilate, call my boss, squeal, hyperventilate, and figure out how to proceed with recovery efforts the next day. EEEK!!

Well, thinks seem on an even keel this week, but it's only Tuesday. Who knows what kind of bomb tomorrow may bring. At the same time, I am taking the time out to enjoy a glass of wine and bask in the calm before another storm brews on the horizon, or unexpectedly dumps from the heavens.

If the weather keeps up, I'll definitely buy a shitload of plants to throw onto our deck. Wish me luck. I LOOOVE this weather!

Hellish Things in the North Country

I've discovered something more diabolical than New York drivers--New York State tax forms. I just spend an hour and a half filling out my state income tax (including the oh-so confusing "Clothing and Foot Apparel Tax Declaration" sub-form) to discover I get a whopping $12 return in state taxes. The only problem is, I need to file another income form because New York won't accept a W-2.

Fuck it.

Let the bureaucrats put me away in the joint.

There is something to be said about the Tabor Amendment.

Holy Cripes, I sound just like a Republican . . . shudder . . .

Since it is snowing "wintry mix" here, I thought I should mention that as well.

Betty

Not Much Green, Lots o' Blarney

Hey, y'all, and Happy St. Patty's Day!! This year, the state of New York is celebrating the Green Season with lots of white. Yup, you guessed it, a Nor'easter blew (pun intended) into town last night. It took me three hours to drive home, thus validating my fortitude in finding another job located in the Capital Region to decrease my commute and mileage on my car, Norma Jean.

Norma has seen better days. Currently she is parked on the street, buried in about two feet of "wintry mix" (we all know what that means), littered inside with McD bags, kid dirt, and UFOs (Unidentified Floor Objects). I put at least 100 miles per day on her, not including kid transports, etc.

A clarification on the previous post. Hun mentioned to me I made him look like a buffoon on my story about the raiding of the kitchen. I didn't want him to be perceived as a clodding doof, uncaring about my kitchen accoutrement. I wanted to demonstrate, through the subtle use of voice, that I was the clodding buffoon who was overly protective and controlling of her kitchen domain and Hun was a sensitive guy trying to lighten my load a bit and give me some evening R&R time. Hun is a sooper swell fella. He has been great lately, considering I've been trying to be less behind on work. 'Nuff said?

I'm excited about the Parental Units coming down in a few days. We will be spending a few days hanging in Albany and scooting out to the City on Saturday. More than anything, it will be great to see my folks.

Anything new to report? Not really. Like I said, I've been working a lot, not much of a life. Hun has been swell, although I have been going a bit batty with working about 60 hours a week, juggling crises and keeping cases on course.

I am missing the mountains and people who can drive in the snow. Adiose, amigos. Until next time . . .

Betty

Kitchendom Under Siege

Hun and I went on our monthly Sam's trek to stock up with all our food items of for the month. Hun recently became more invested in our diet, so pondered and calculated nutrition-information labels on the back of Cup o' Soups and instant macaroni boxes. He expressed great chagrin at the amount of sodium and sugar infused into precooked and over-processed products. I gently reminded him in order to have a low-sodium diet, it helped to process our own food--i.e. cook.

He also requested to buy more salmon, which I recently learned how to bake. This leads me to the second point. Every weekend or so, I like to cook mass quantities of food, such as green chili, red chili, spaghetti sauce, etc.--all easy to let simmer over the stove and to store in the freezer. That way, I don't get stuck cooking and chopping things at 8:30 at night after I come home from work. Luckily, the salmon is pretty easy to prepare. Other things, requested for the sake of more variety, are a bit more time intensive and not so convenient to cook and freeze on the weekends.

This leads me to my third point: yours truly not only the primary bacon provider in the household, she is the one usually frying it up in a pan. If I do not cook, we often will have a hearty meal of PB&J and cereal. I made mention of the fact that expanding our food repertoire and the drive to eat more healthy is good. However, the burden of cooking all these healthy meals often lands on me.

This leads me to my fourth point: be careful what you wish for. Hun acknowledged it was unfair to push for a more healthy diet without pitching in meal preps. As a result of being the Renaissance Alan Alda-type guy that he is, Hun rolled up his shirt sleeves this evening and started chopping and boiling. He wanted to make lasagna--in my Le Creuset pot. Hun went into all this thermodynamic stuff about why it would be a better dish to cook lasagna than the other five casserole dishes sitting in the cabinets. My thought was, Chip the porcelain coating on my Creuset, you won't live long enough to marry me in Jamaica this summer.

I used the big guns, I called my mom, asking her if he could actually cook a lasagna successfully in my pot. She said of course he could, but didn't we have a casserole dish? Hun went on about thermodynamics as I was on the phone with her and mom giggled in response. Not much help there.

He then proceeded to tell me how he would make the lasagna. I continued to squirm, that wouldn't be how I would do it. I asked him why he didn't do it my more superior way, and he asked for reasoning why my way was better. Although I did hammer a few points in, I didn't have any other reasons except that was just how things were done. He looked at me as if I were insane.

At that point, I made a tactical retreat to the living room to cover myself in my blanket, and pretend to watch Independence Day. All the while, I was obsessing about what the heck he was doing in my kitchen, with my pots and pans and my food.

CLANKATY-CLANKATY-CLANG . . .

. . . oops, he he, I guess you wonder if an elephant is cooking here. Don't worry, Betty, it might sound like I'm breaking all your dishes, but I'm not . . . he he!

I stew--no pun intended--in silence, trying to focus on alien invaders burning down New York City and D.C., rather than the domestic invader currently burning down my kitchen.

Hey Hun, (Yes, he calls me Hun, too.) I set the oven for about 350, right?

Damnit.

Yes, that's right.

Well, that was easy, the man has an M.S. in Chemistry for goodness sake. Any buffoon could have guessed 350. However, he did cook a damn fine lasagna in my dutch oven. Perhaps, one day, I'll forgive him for storming the kitchen. It will be nice to come home and stare at my toes a few nights a week instead of cooking dinner. He also can cook a mean spaghetti sauce. All I need for him to do now is learn how to cook brisket. But he better not dare attempt green chili--I get dibs.

It's a Blizzard at Procrastination Central

Well, Folks:

Mother Nature helped me with a whoppin' excuse for not imputing my paperwork on the NYS CONNX system, a database tracking families involved with DSS. She finally blessed us with one of her famed Nor'easter' storms. The Capital Region has been upgraded to a "Blizzard Warning" from a "Winter Storm Warning". This means, we will simply have snow and wind, as opposed to the "Wintry Mix" dumping south of Albany.

To those of you who never encountered the euphemistic term "Wintry Mix", it is the politically correct phrase for "icy shit". I guess icy shit--I mean, wintry mix--has feelings too. This is an odd phrase to me because, as a general rule, Upstaters and NYC urbanites aren't a politically correct bunch. Their driving is evidence they don't give a rat's ass what others might think of them or anything else.

I had a couple of phone calls today from foster folks, and I spent a couple of hours checking in with families yesterday via phone. I have a few work-related things to do today, but not much.

After completing this blog, my plans are: sweeping off the deck before it gets too deep and/or collapses, completing some paperwork poodoo, fixin' a pot of green chili, folding lotsa laundry, and--last but not least--sweeping the off the deck again before it gets too deep and/or collapses.

I LOVE snow days! It makes me feel a little less homesick. All I need is a cat to curl up in my lap, but I guess Hun's ball python will have to do.

Betty

Blargh!

I hate my job . . . well . . . I don't hate it. But I should be paid twice as much money for the work I do. Perhaps I can be a romance novelist . . . hmmm . . .