WanderingAmylessly 2.0

The city council recently set a curfew for youngsters in our town. It depends on your age how late you're allowed out, and whether your reason for being out has something to do with a school function. But I don't care what your age, you don't need to be shooting out car windows with a pellet gun at 3 a.m. That's the official story I heard from the cops this morning when I reported the back window of our Toyota Avalon had been shot three times with some sort of BB-type gun. It spiderwebbed but didn't actually break into three million pieces until I had to open the door to get the registration out of the glove box. Tim was out on a bike ride and hadn't noticed the damage before he left. H and I were on our way to Lowe's for more lighting fun when we spotted the heinous vandalism and reported it. Henry asked the cop, "Why would kids shoot out windows with a bb gun?" The cop's reply: "Because some kids think they don't have anything better

After all our woes trying to get the lights up, Tim made one last plea that I immediately noted would be posted on the Web for all to read. It was THAT kind of afternoon. "Now's the time to pray to the gods of Cheap Chinese Shit that these screws are where they're supposed to be."

We're taking a trip to Lowe's this a.m. to scout for new outdoor lighting for the front and back of our house. The lights the house came with must be the cheapest possible ones they could find. Because they're all rusted out and were generic and ugly from the start. Then there's the fact that one of the backyard lights lost its dome or bowl or whatever the glass part's called, thanks to the DirecTV guy. He was in a hurry to put up our dish, and it showed. I think he smacked it with a ladder or some sort of dish-installation paraphernalia. Anyway, it shattered in 412 pieces. It's been like that for a year. I think it's time to take care of business. We'll probably go for something mission-style. It won't match the architecture of our house (early '90s cookie cutter) but it will suit our tastes. I'll post pics once they're up. The dogs will be thrilled to better see their nighttime nemeses. Update: This little project has resulted in many n

I have attacked the garden spot with gusto. For the past week, I've taken out all the old tomato plant structures and assorted limbs from backyard trees, weeded, spread grass clippings, and had Tim help me re-rabbit-fence the garden area. I also dug three trenches and planted wildflower seeds. I'm hopeless with the vegetables, as I've proven every time I plant and subsequently get bored with tomatoes, peppers, squash, etc. My bounty always ends up rotting on the vines, surrounded by bundles of nefarious weeds. So I'm trying a different strategy. I figure, if wildflowers come up -- they're wild and, therefore, completely at home surrounded by weeds. So no weeding -- plus, the flowers will be colorful and fragrant. Now to wait three weeks to see whether they'll actually pop out of the ground. I have my doubts. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, at least for the next week or so, the area looks neat and tidy. What do you think will happen first -- the flower

OMFG! I just got a bajillion whiny emails saying I have not updated this since Paris Hilton was in jail... You would not believe the amount of people that are totally stalking me. Please don't abandon me! I am totally exhausted with setting fire to people wearing Crocs, soaking in the tub, just generally being a nuisance to my employer, my day seems to be packed from crawling out of bed at 6.30 to 11pm at which point I fall asleep on the couch. I am not complaining though. life is good. I won't promise anything to you but I will make more of an effort to blog more often until the nice men in the white coats come back. Peace! Until my paycheck dawneth.

I haven't been particularly lazy lately regarding my blog. However, I discovered an amusing bit of Web fluff this afternoon, killing a few minutes until I can leave for the long weekend. The Lazy Bloggers Post Generator I think I'll give it a go.

A friend of mine just found out this morning that someone had hacked into her gmail account. How'd she find out about this? She had at least 12 phone messages waiting for her when she arrived at work, from freaked-out friends and coworkers concerned for her well-being. After all, the e-mail they had gotten from her said she and her family had been robbed while visiting London and had all their money and credit cards taken. The e-mail said that they were stranded and needed help. Monetary help, that is. One of the recipients of this e-mail, who knew my friend was very much in Iowa and not in distress, chatted up the poseur via an instant messaging program for a solid 45 minutes to play along with the charade and try to mess with the crook's head. I read a "transcript" of the conversation, and it had me in stitches. Until I realized just how much it WASN'T a laughing matter. Can you imagine your family getting an e-mail from you, thinking you were in trouble? The sw

Rhythmic sing-song chants In my head Wordless whispers urging movement Progress Accomplishment Frantic lists of lists tick off What must be done What could Should Might Ought Must Must Must Thoughts jump from person to place to thing Like flies at the kitchen table for Sunday dinner. No swatter big enough to smack them down. My mind races marathons moment to moment Trapped in a speed three times too slow For me Ten times that too fast For anyone else. Wide-eyed, trembling hands, heart pounding, sticking, in my throat Pulse throbbing in my ears like impatient fingers Drumming a table top. Noon or nine or midnight, Wide awake. As if espresso via IV were my drug of choice. No speed for me. No heroine Or cocaine. No “E”. My ecstasy is fresh air and sunshine and Sleep deprivation and adrenaline And too much stimulation And lies I tell myself To make it OK When I leave the lithium in the bottle. And walk away. I need no manufactured elixir. No synthetic savior. I exist on a chemica

I don't think I possess the proper amount of testosterone for the job. But this afternoon, I'm going to purchase a lawn care power tool. It's an early father's day present for Tim, although I'm going to get him something else too, because I know how annoyed I'd be if he got me a kitchen appliance for mother's day. (However, I am not sure I would complain too loudly if a new fridge showed up at my front door.) Our purchase: a Craftsman gas-powered string trimmer, with a 4-cycle motor that doesn't require mixing of oil and gas (a huge PITA, according to Tim) and a hassle-free string replacement system. This will replace the two non-functioning Black and Decker electric weed choppers currently hanging in our garage, with their 4000-foot extension cords that get wrapped around everything and everybody, and their tendency to use an entire spool of string in one afternoon. The delivery truck arrives at the store at 2; I'm going to pick it up at 4. Nothing

That thing I just said. When I told you so boldly exactly what I would do and when and how and why, And I stood my ground, Daring to challenge your power and privilege. Daring to challenge you. That thing I just said. When I barreled through the moment without pause, rattled off reasons and righteousness, Lugging my pack of convictions on the chip on my shoulder. That thing I just said. When any thought of how it sounded or sliced deep or smacked hard stayed quiet in darkened corners of a mind shooting daggers and screaming protests. I listened. Not. So, that thing I just said? Nevermind.

As promised, I'm going to be more positive in today's post. These are five gadgets I can't live without. Or at least, five that make life a little more fun -- five that, now that I've experienced them, I wouldn't give them up without a fight. 1. Droid by Motorola -- My smart phone often makes me feel dumb. I frequently forget how to actually make a call because most of the time, the phone is used to send e-mail, text, play games, look at my work calendar, map a route via GPS, and listen to my music. I'm addicted to the ability to surf the web at any moment necessary. My one beef with the phone: battery life is painfully poor. If I do anything at all with my phone during the day, I really need to charge it every evening. Small price to pay, though, for a portable time-suck. 2. Keurig One-Cup Coffee Maker -- This isn't for everyone. If you have several members of the household who are java drinkers, you'll want to steer clear. But for me, the sole coffee c

Kicking off the covers because the heat stifles. Then shivering to sleep. Pushing back the wisp of hair that trails from the barrette. Again. And again. Itching in your own skin. When you find yourself in someone else's shoes. Wishing for something different, but all the magic wands and pixie dust and crossed fingers and avoiding-the-cracks in the world won't make it so. Search the horizon. For a new day. A new way. A new slice of time that tastes right, like honey and fresh air. Like lemon drops and laundry on the line. Until you find it? Keep moving forward. Breathing in. And out. And in again.

I'm not supposed to hate. I know that. But finding a leaky kitchen sink pipe that's dripping greasy, scuzzy water onto the basement carpet makes me seethe. See, I'm not hating just for hate's sake. I really, truly despise some things. I don't hate the sink. But it does lead me to a related thing I can't stand: doing the dishes. So here's my list of what really irks me, from a household standpoint. In no particular order: 1. Those dishes. Thank the stars we have a dishwasher, or I'd really be beside myself. The awful thing about dirty dishes is just when you get them clean, you dirty more. It's a neverending cycle. The only thing that's worse than having to do dishes is to not be able to do the dishes because the pipes beneath your sink are rotting and have holes that cause leaks that drip into your basement. Major grrrr. 2. Laundry. For much the same reason as dishes. They're all done for about 5 minutes and then you wear an outfit and it sta

Two days ago, it was 55 degrees and rainy during the day. Today, the mercury hit 90 with about 115 percent humidity. Sweltering. I love it. I really do. I enjoy the heat. The past couple summers have been unusually wet and cool, with one of those years culminating in a 500-year flood. The one thing I can't stomach: bugs. And it doesn't even have to be the kind that sting or bite or lay putred eggs in roadkill. I'm talking the worst of the worst -- gnats. They buzz and flit and fly in ears and clomp around on the scalp showing where my hair is parted. When I ride my bike, they lodge themselves in my teeth and tonsils, forcing me to ride with my mouth pursed shut. Which doesn't help anything because then they just get diverted and take a ride up my sinus cavity. I spend more time spitting and sputtering than actually breathing aerobically. We bought a citronella candle tonight. I lit it and sat outside on the deck, reading my Nook, and it did seem to keep most of the mosq

Tomorrow is the Iowa City Community Band's first practice of the season. I'm so excited! I've missed playing. I wasn't in town for the Christmas concert, so it's been a long time since I joined my musical comrades. My lips and jaw will hate me around 11:30 tomorrow morning. I'm going to miss a few of the concerts this year because of our vacation plans (which I'll outline as the time approaches -- think sun and sand and Henry's first experience with an ocean). But here's a list of the ones I'm planning to attend, in case you'd like to come listen. 2 p.m., Saturday, June 5 -- Iowa City Arts Festival, Ped Mall, Iowa City 6:30 p.m., Thursday, June 10 -- Coralville Music in the Park, Morrison Park, Coralville 7:30 p.m., Saturday, June 26 -- Saturday Night Movie, Downtown Iowa City 4 p.m., Sunday, June 27 -- Joint Concert with New Horizons, Upper City Park, Iowa City Depending on our holiday plans, I may play in the 4th of July parade and for the

It's amazing how things can change so much in one short year. Exactly 1 year ago today, I wrote this post about my failures in the healthy living department. Today, I had another health screening at work. The numbers were much better. In fact, my cholesterol had dropped nearly 30 points from last year, to an all-time-low-for-me of 190. I also officially dropped from the "obese" to "overweight" category for body mass index (BMI). My good cholesterol's high, my triglycerides are low, and I have perfect blood pressure. Life's good.

I'm curious. I think I lost my readership while I was away. If you are reading my blog, would you please write a comment, so I'll have some idea whether I'm writing to the sound of crickets chirping? I might write more racy, shocking things if I figured no one was out there to read them. Ahem. *grin*

I've been lamenting all morning about how there are so many things I'd rather be doing than what I am doing. What I am doing pays the bills. But it's unsatisfying, particularly on an 80-degree day in May when haven't worked out in weeks and my meds aren't doing what they should to keep me on the up end of the downward spiral. So I decided rather than whining about it, I'd just write them down. You know, all those things I'd rather be doing. Give me something to look forward to...at some point I'll get to do them. Just not sure when. 1. Ride my bike. I miss her, the fine piece of Specialized machinery, my Ruby Elite. My waistband of my pants misses her, too. Ugh, I've gotten out of shape in a short amount of time. 2. Knit. This is always near the top of my list. I'm on a roll lately. I just finished a dress and hat. The baby sweater's almost done. 3. Read. I'm in the middle of a really cheesy action adventure romance about military-trained

I'm in despair. Starbucks changed the formulation on the Frappuccino in an effort to give us more choices. Now I only have one choice: don't drink it because it's sincerely awful. It tastes gritty and chalky and not very sweet. The company touts the reformulated drink as an any-way-you-want-it Frappuccino. You can choose what kind of milk you have in it. You can choose what flavor and how much. You can choose how much coffee goes in your drink. You can choose to cut calories by making it light/no whip/etc. I get all that. I totally understand the joy in having such freedoms. But not at the expense of taste. I want my old fashioned grande no whip Java Chip Frappuccino light blended coffee. I know what you think. You think I don't like change. And that's true. But change that sacrifices quality serves no purpose except to send your customers to McDonald's for a Frappe. That'll be the day, when I go to the land of the Happy Meal for my morning java. Sad day in

Me: Bye Dad, bye doggies, bye Henry. (pause) Bye Henry. Have a good day. I love you. (silence) Uh, Henry, I love you. Henry: Uh, yeah, OK. Ouch.

I spent a bit of time this weekend knitting. Not as much as I'd like, but enough to really spark my interest and keep my hands busy. I finished a Harry Potter Gryffindor House scarf, similar to the one pictured, for Henry -- the now-obsessed-with-all-things-Potter 6-year-old. I also worked feverishly on the baby cardigan, similar to the one pictured here but in a color called "beanstalk," which is a little lighter than what I'd call "wasabi green." I don't know quite why I'm working feverishly, given I have no one in mind to give it to! It's a fun and easy pattern. I also got some self-striping FLORAL yarn to do a baby hat in pinks and greens to match, if it turns out the recipient is a girl. The Harry Potter pattern comes from Charmed Knits , a book that I find way too difficult for my skill level. But the pictures are fun and the ideas are clever. No, Henry, I'm not knitting you a wizard robe. The baby cardi pattern comes from the Lion Bran

I admit it. I've read all the Twilight saga books. I read them before they were movies, before Robert Pattinson was more famous than Edward Cullen, the vamp he portrays. I also admit I loved the books. I thought they were well written, really creative, and torturous in their Mormon-inspired innocence -- thanks to BYU grad and author Stephenie Meyer. But I actually think her NON Twilight book might just be one of my favorite books, ever. The Host, a story about worm-like aliens from another planet who take over Earth by inserting themselves into and taking over human bodies, had me staying up until all hours of the night several nights in a row. I could not put it down. I'm not usually a sci-fi fan. But this was more than just an alien invader body snatcher tale. There was a classic theme: good vs. evil with lots of gray area about exactly who were the good guys and bad guys. There were also some rather twisted, conflicted love stories. The best part about this book was I checke

At least for the moment. I miss the blog. We have a love/hate relationship, the old WanderingAmylessly and me. I feel obligated to write. I feel guilty when I don't. I feel neglectful when I stray from the blog to spend all my time at Facebook. Like I'm cheating on my faithful blog with that tramp of a social networking site. So here I am. Where am I in my head? Getting over a botched medical procedure, dealing with raging hormones thanks to meds I had to take as a result of said botched medical procedure, abandoning my quest for a half marathon this spring/summer, trying to get back on the weight loss wagon after some NOT constructive time away, knitting in a groove, reading The Host by Stephenie Meyer. That pretty much sums it up. I've also started reading Harry Potter to Henry. Of course, he's sooooo into it now that when he goes to bed, he sneaks off with the book and reads ahead. Little stinker. Little brilliant stinker. (A mom can brag. I think it's in my job