WanderingAmylessly 2.0

Magnificent creature, isn't it? Yeah, maybe. In a zoo. How about in residential areas of cities, near schools and businesses? Or along your favorite walking trails? In the past week or so, there have been three mountain lion or cougar sightings in town. The first two caused a lockdown at some area elementary schools, and children were not allowed outside for recess. The third sighting was along a trail near our grocery store. Should I start a freakout? I scoffed at the first sightings, thinking someone saw an overweight Maine Coon. But this third sighting has me fearful. We have wooded trails near our house. These are trails I run on several times a week. And Tim shares a bit of info with me. "If you see one, don't run. Act really big and make roaring noises." Well...what if I'm already running and come upon one? Turn the bend and...HELLO, CAT. Don't RUN AWAY? That goes against every ounce of self-preservation I have. From the Internet: As with many predators,...

I've spent the morning trying to stay awake. And/or engaged in my work. YOU try being engaged in my work. My job is to make sure words are spelled correctly, in the right order, and surrounded by the appropriate punctuation. Still awake? Yeah, I thought so. Your face started to imprint itself with the textured pattern of your shirt. And that, right there, might be a hint of drool... It's Friday. It's beautiful outside. I've been listening to my favorite music and radio talk shows. So why am I in such a funk? 9/11. That must be it. I have a strange, seemingly misplaced feeling of dread washing over me. I cannot help but feel as though something is about to happen. Something bad. Something even worse than Obama's toilet-tanking approval rating or the putrid economy that's joining it. Odd how I had no such feeling just moments before I turned on my car radio to listen to NPR on the way to the newsroom at the Ogden Standard-Examiner that pre-fall morning. That's...

Who decided to put an egg on a hamburger and call it gourmet? Maybe I'm missing out, but I've started to see this dismal delicacy pop up on menus at trendy restaurants and just cannot wrap my mouth around it. I've never tried it, so perhaps I shouldn't knock it. Maybe I need more information. Is it a scrambled egg, all crispy on the edges? Or is it sunny-side up, with yellow yoke oozing out between the burger and bun? Or how about hard boiled and chopped into egg salad, then spread atop the meat? None of that sounds like anything but a bucket of yuck. Add the egg-on-beef to the growing list of food oddities that I could do without. Frickles (fried pickles). Chocolate-covered bacon. Ben & Jerry's Late Night Snack flavor ice cream with giant chunks of fudge-covered potato chips. New diet idea! Serve me these. I'll pass, thanks.

Every time I think about organized sports, I begin to feel ill. I remember that time in first grade when I went out for T-ball and hated every single moment of it. I made myself sick worrying that I would strike out. Or get called out. Or fall on my face. Or not be able to propel my chubby, unathletic body around the bases. I cried before every practice and every game, fearful of failure and embarrassment and pathetic ineptitude. Once that season ended, I put any notion of athletics out of my head and settled in to a life of flabby bookworm nerdiness. Picked last in P.E. Never able to do more than hang on the climbing rope for (barely) the required time. Fast forward to junior high, when my P.E. teacher -- in an effort, I think, to boost my confidence and get my fatness in check -- encouraged me to try out for volleyball. I showed promise, she insisted. After the first practice, I couldn't move for several days. And I quit. Ever since, I've done my share of aerobics classes, bi...

On the way home from swim practice last night, H shares: H: Mom, guess what?! I have purified vision!! Me: Purified vision? What's that? H: Purified vision. I can see out the corner of my eye! Me: Oh...you mean peripheral vision? H: Oh. Yeah! That!!

Tim and I have both declared our June vacation to the Outer Banks of North Carolina to be the best vacation we'd ever been on. We loved the ocean. We adored our little cottage, Sea Spray Cottage #3, with its pink adirondack chairs, pink and green trim, and two-block distance from the Atlantic. A mere 2 months later, and we're waiting to hear word as to whether Hurricane Irene will rip our vacay destination to shreds, chew it up, and spit it out, then cover it in a 30-foot storm surge. Nags Head, NC, is expected to take a direct hit by the massive storm, which is due to make landfall there sometime tomorrow. Tim and I recall several conversations we had while on our trip, commenting on the designated "Hurricane Evacuation Route" signs posted all up and down the ONE WAY OUT of the barrier islands by car. The traffic was hideous on a normal day. I cannot imagine what it might be like during a real evac. The Sea Spray Cottages were built in the 1940s or '50s...

The Lucy Jane Roth Medical Fund has been established today (8/19/11) with Bank of the West. Stop by your local branch or send checks to help with Lucy's medical expenses. If you do not have a Bank of the West near you, you can still donate by doing the following: Make check payable to: Lucy Jane Roth Medical Fund Endorse the back of the check with: For Deposit Only Lucy Jane Roth Medical Fund NOTE: It is important to endorse the back of the check if you are mailing! Mail check to: Bank of the West 301 South Clinton St. Iowa City, IA 52240 319-338-9751

Yo-yo dieting is that all-too-familiar phenomenon of losing weight on a diet, going off the diet, gaining the weight back, going on another diet, and so on. Been there, done that, ate the doughnut. But what does it say about me that I was on a diet the past few months and did one helluva yo-yo while I was still on the diet the entire time . It was getting slightly ridiculous. I couldn't string two consecutive successful weeks together -- after having lost more than 30 pounds from December to May. Up 2, down 1, up .5, stay the same, E.T.C. I credit my med changes and my mood for part of the problem. Mostly, I missed my Jenny Craig consultant, Amberly, who took a leave of absence around the same time my weight loss efforts skipped town. However, she's back now, and today was the end of week 2 back on the wagon! I lost 1.2 last week and 2.6 this week. I'm less than 7 pounds from my halfway goal. She made a deal with me: when I hit halfway, we go for manicures!! Woo...

Little Lucy from yesterday's post survived 12+ hours of brain surgery and most of the tumor was removed. She's still in a critical time, but her mom says the love and support they received yesterday meant so much to them. We continue to hold them in our hearts and minds.

Everyone in our house started the day excited: first day of second grade for Henry! We had delivered his supplies to his room on Tuesday night at the annual back-to-school ice cream social. He met his teacher. We visited his classroom. He slung on his new big-kid backpack (sleek black and red with NO cartoons), grabbed his Super Mario lunch pail, and walked to school with Dad with a spring in his size-1 step. I couldn't wait to see pictures, since I had to zip off to work early. Then I arrived to work to learn simply horrible news. A former coworker's 2ish-year-old daughter, Lucy, has been diagnosed with a massive malignant brain tumor. She went in at 7 a.m. today for a 12-hour surgery to remove as much as they can of the tumor. Once recovered from surgery, she will undergo chemo treatments. I don't know much more than that, except that I haven't been able to think of anything else since. I cannot begin to imagine what they must be going through or what they wil...

I arrived at work Monday morning to find the following in my e-mail inbox. From Facilities: The birds were all dead by the time the pest control company arrived. There was no chirping. They were not able to determine how the birds were getting in, but they will be back over the weekend to follow up on the issue. So let's break this down sentence by sentence. The birds were all dead. That is, birds, plural, and all, indicating quite a few (more than just two or three). So we had a mass grave up there above the ceiling tiles. Lovely. There was no chirping. Not to be picky, but this is a bit of redundant information. Since ALL the BIRDS were DEAD. They were not able to determine how the birds were getting in. Yeah, here's how that went: Thing 1 on a ladder: How do you suppose they're getting in? Thing 2 looking up at Thing 1: Dunno. Can you see anything up there? Thing 1 on a ladder: Nope. Don't see holes or nuthin'. Thing 2 looking up a...

Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. All day at work, I hear it. You'd think a melodic tune from a songbird would be a welcome diversion from the work day. Think again, when it is the final tweettweets of a bird trapped in the duct work of my office building. It can't get out. It hasn't eaten for days. There it is, just chirp chirping away. Help me, help me, help me... I brought it to the attention of the office manager, who called the facilities folks. Yesterday, a guy with a ladder came around, lifting the ceiling tiles and poking around, looking for the critter. He found it. But he couldn't reach it. So he said he'd be back again today. I thought, "Ah, he'll figure out a way to rescue the birdy and let it loose outside to fly away home to its friends." Again, think again. His solution? "I think I'll spray it with wasp pesticide. That'll kill it." Whoawhoawhoa! If I'd wanted it dead, I would've kept my mouth shut and let it go into the peac...

Henry made a discovery on his recent trip to Colorado. Mountains? Hiking? S'mores by the campfire? Been there, done that. No, his discovery was made in the car on the way to and way back from his destination. License plate game, you ask? The Alphabet game, maybe? Guess again. He fell in love...with The Lion King. This movie we'd tried several times to watch with him when he was younger yet failed to finish because, let's face it, that Scar is SCARy. Totally freaked him out before. Not this time. Tim said he watched it over. And over. And over. And that is evident by the sheer amount of dialogue he can recite, complete with Nathan Lane's and Ernie Sabella's East Coast accents, only to be outdone by the fits of singing he bursts into in the shower, in bed, on the toilet, while eating dinner. Pumbaa: Hey, Timon, ever wonder what those sparkly dots are up there? Timon: Pumbaa, I don't wonder; I know. Pumbaa: Oh. What are they? Timon: They're fireflies. Firef...

Geez-o-pete. The heat index is an unbearably sweltering 116. Not a typo. 1-1-6. It's physically impossible to breathe air that thick. We're going to drown in the atmosphere. Honestly. There's slight hope on the horizon. I hear we may get a thunderstorm tonight, during which time the temps will lower a bit, but the humidity will soar from 55 percent (now) to 88 percent (9 p.m.). Six/half dozen. Yes. I'm moaning about the weather. It seems Congress got their act in gear regarding the debt crisis so I have nothing else of interest to moan about. If you have suggestions, feel free to throw 'em out here. Here, I'll give YOU something to moan about. Knock Knock Who's there? Doris. Doris who? Doris locked, that's why I'm knocking.

I just discovered a rather horrible web site. So horrible I couldn't look away. I had to search. I couldn't help myself. www.famoushookups.com In case you ever wondered, Jennifer Aniston has been in 14 celebrity relationships averaging approximately 1.3 years each. At least according to this web site. Exactly what this site bases its information on is a bit suspect. One of her "hookups," it claims, is David Spade. When you were married for five years to BRAD, you'd think you could do better than David Spade, sarcastic SNL has been and real-star hanger-on-er. Really. I spent more time than I'd ever care to admit thinking up my favorite stars and searching for their tawdry tidbits. I'm fairly disgusted by the fact that two of my favorite leading men, Gerard Butler and Colin Farrell, have both been linked romantically, er, horizontally, with Lindsey Lohan. Colin also has Paris Hilton, Denise Richards, and Carmen Electra as notches on his cyberspace bedpost. G...

When my dogs speak, I listen. I also pull off an amazing feat of canine ventriloquism. I initiate conversations with my dogs and, in grand style, respond as I believe they would if they could move their mouths in cgi-enhanced fashion. What are you looking at? What are you pointing at? You do it too. You know you do. My real question is: what do your dogs sound like? Mine have the same voice, really -- a high-pitched fast chatter, not unlike The Chipmunks, waffling between sarcasm and dimwittedness, depending on the moment. I'm nutty, but I'm not going to spend the time it would take to master the art of pup-speak and discern between the two. And I'm certainly not going to bother perfecting a raspy Scottish brogue, although wouldn't that be adorable to have a Scottish Terrier and a West Highland Terrier bantering in the backyard like Sean Connery visiting Shrek in the swamp. Just think what kind of a road show we'd have if they'd wear kilts and play the bagpipes?...

It's taking every ounce of effort not to fake an illness and take the day off. My boss is gone. The weather's hot and sunny and perfect. I can barely keep my eyes open. And so far, I have absolutely nothing on my plate, workwise. The lack of work may change. In fact, I'm certain it will. Maybe I should get out while the getting's good. Contemplating playing hooky from work is kind of like imagining what you'd do with a boatload of lottery winnings. In this case, actually quitting my job isn't really an option. I'll have to settle for daydreaming about spending the day soaking up rays, sipping lemonade, snuggling with the pooches, maybe catching a flick at the cinema. Anyone up for Horrible Bosses ?

Streaming video. 24 hours a day. My husband and kid have left for their trip. Netflix is my babysitter. I'm enjoying a day-long movie bender, watching while I clean house and do laundry. Light on the folding and cleaning, heavy on the vegetating in front of the TV. Here's what guilty pleasures I've enjoyed so far. Quantum of Solace Sweet November Maid in Manhattan Four Weddings and a Funeral Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back I think tonight's going to be a marathon of The Tudors. Truly pathetic. Yes. You don't have to point it out. Edited to note: I love Kevin Smith. But that Jay and Silent Bob business? No thanks. I ditched it after 20 minutes.

The Iowa State Fair just announced its newest fair foods being introduced at next month's fair. Doncha wish you lived here? Are you now planning a road trip? Fried Butter on a Stick The ultimate Butter Cow tribute, butter dipped in a honey flavored batter and fried golden brown on a stick. Chocolate Covered Fried Ice Cream on a Stick Found at Oasis Concessions at the Pioneer Livestock Pavilion. Peanut Butter and Jelly on a Stick A tasty skewered version of this childhood favorite. Found at Salad Bowl on the upper balcony of John Deere Agriculture Building. And it's not on a stick, but it's worth a mention: Red Velvet Funnel Cake A chocolate-flavored version of a Fair favorite, complete with a cream cheese glaze. The Best Around located at the Triangle. What building's the Pepto Bismol-on-a-stick in? Where's the location of the nearest portaJohns? I'm waiting for the follow-up news story...

Info no one really needs to know. Taken straight from the Internets: What's up with Rob Pattinson's hair? (People magazine) Sci-fi women more than hot babes (CNN) Accused penis cutter poisoned husband's soup (KSEE) Love it or hate it, self-checkout is here to stay (MSNBC) Man allegedly force-fed iPhone to girlfriend (MSNBC) Help! I accidentally killed my crazy neighbor's cat (Slate.com)