Coffee the Elixir of the Gods

Why oh why does coffee have such a hold over me?  For the life of me I do not understand it.  I remember vividly how much I despised the stuff as a child.  Of course truth be told it was probably because of the way my dad use to drink it, two heaping spoonfuls of instant coffee, five heaping spoonfuls of sugar, and a dash of milk.  It was disgusting, repulsive, revolting, and nauseating.  It was also yucky.  For some reason the sweet tea he drank wasn’t nearly as gross to me so I was okay drinking that.  The irony of it is that because of my dad’s hot beverage preferences today I drink both without sugar.   

As I sit here typing and sipping on my coffee, which I can’t seem to get enough of, I contemplate why it has such a hold over me.  It is bitter, although not as much since I started using cream in it again, it makes a fidgety person even more fidgety, and anyone who knows me knows that I do not need help with my fidgetiness.  It makes me want to eat cake, or at least a good chocolate chip cookie or twelve.  And seeing as I managed to put on twenty one pounds while stress eating through my mom’s illness, and then death, I’m pretty sure that my cake and chocolate chip cookie days should be left well behind me.   

Yesterday I was sitting in the living room trying to warm up in front of the fireplace and playing a bubble game on my iPad when it occurred to me that I had been playing that insipid game for almost an hour and a half and was wasting valuable time.  My best friend had been down the month before for my mom’s memorial service and showed me the game. It looked like fun so I loaded it up.  Unfortunately I’ve been playing it almost non-stop since then, so I decided to stop myself.  I certainly don’t want to develop another bad habit, so I deleted the game from my machine.  Problem solved.   

This of course leads me to the thought that if I can be tough on myself with some things then why can’t I do it with others?  Such as coffee?  Even if it is the elixir of the gods.  Dam Flying Spaghetti Monster and his twisted sense of humour.  Obviously the answer is that I can.  According to Eckhart Tolle it is my ego that is trying to control me.  Dam ego; the insidious bastard!  So I have decided, starting tomorrow, I will once again be off the bean for two months.  I can’t start today because I just brewed this pot of coffee and I don’t want it to go to waste.  ;p

 

The Iron Bess Rules for Going Beanless

1.       Coffee will be permitted one day a week.

2.       On those days where Bess drinks coffee it will be limited to two cups (not pots).

3.       Tea will be an acceptable substitute for hot beverages. 

4.       Allow myself one regretful thought about not drinking coffee, but follow it up with five thoughts about how much better life is without it. 

5.        Rejoice in the fact that I control my ego not the other way around!!!!!!

Baby She's Cold Out There

It certainly got a bit chilly out there last night.  We didn't get any snow but the frost was thick on the ground.  I hate to say it, being the winter hating girl that I am, but it sure was purdy this morning being all sparkly like.  Typically I would be getting into the depressed, woe is me, winter is coming doldrums around this stage but some days I can't but help marvel at how beautiful the world can still be at all times of the year.  I'm sure I will get over that sentimentality once we have our first snowfall.  (And no you cannot point out to me when I wax poetic about how lovely the branches look with the snow on them how much of a hypocrite I am.)

Yesterday I put life and limb into jeopardy and took the hell hound for a walk in the afternoon.  We were all decked out in our fluorescent orange, hunters please don't shoot me because I am not a deer, outfits and wandered around for an hour but still sticking close to the house.  Most recently I've been taking Spanish lessons while going for my walks, but yesterday I spent the time working on a story I have brewing in my head.  So instead of sounding like a dork saying, "perdon senor entiende ingles?" out loud to the trees, and underbrush, I was saying things like, She stood shivering in the afternoon light, not from cold, but from fear and confusion...Hmmm...is she confused or just truly screwed up in the head because of what just happened to her?  Lucky for me I live in the sticks and there isn't anyone around to call the men with the funny jackets and padded trucks. 

Today the hubby is all gungho about going out and cutting up some trees.  "Come on," he says as he tries to get me motivated.  "It will use up some calories and get those flabby arms into shape."  Oh yeah that's motivating.  It motivates me to want to smack him up the side of the head with a neon orange glove, or kick his skinny hiney with a neon orange rubber boot. 

We have a saying here at the Old Shoes and Tea Society, "Don't piss old Iron Bess off before she had her morning coffee or you may not wake up again until next week." 

But putting my violent thoughts aside I will in fact pick up my trusty little chain saw and stealthily sneak up on a maple, or poplar, and pretend I am from Texas, but not until I've had another cup of coffee. 

How to Perform Phone Sex in One Easy Lesson

I just got off the phone after getting sucked into taking a survey about natural, organic, free range, vegan foods which have died naturally surrounded by singing angels in a loving environment and I'm feeling a bit violated.  You see typically I am not a fan of talking on the phone so normally when someone asks me to take a survey I quickly press the disconnect button. 

I will make exceptions for some people, but if I were to use my fingers to count those people I would not use all the digits up on one hand. 

The following is an example of conversations which I don't mind -

Me: Hi
Caller: Hi.  What time are we meeting for linedancingogratingballhoops?
Me: I booked townhall for twelvity clock.
Caller: Okay see you there.  Bye.
Me: Bye.

Short, to the point, and no long awkward pauses. 

On the other hand I hate feeling pressured into having to carry on conversations because if I didn't it would just end up with the two of us breathing at each other until our receivers got all steamy.  That's just plain old phone sex and frankly I've had all the phone sex I can take.

Of course there are even worse types of calls, people I don't know, but who think they know me. 

Me: Hi.
Schoolmate I haven't spoken to in thirty years: HI!  OMG I can't believe I finally got a hold of you on the phone.  I've been calling, and calling, and calling, and you've never picked up before. 
Me: Yeah my caller ID isn't working.  Who did you say it was?
Schoolmate: It's me silly, Jenna-Jean Pink-Pants-Backstabber, remember we used to sit in the same classroom in kindergarten.  I was the one who always showed off her underpants to the boys.
Me: No.
Schoolmate: Don't you remember we once wore the same colour pants on the same day?  My mom was so traumatized that she burned all my clothes.
Me: Um...no. 
Schoolmate: Anyway it's so great hearing your voice and I can't believe we get to catch up this way.  By the way I was wondering how much I could put you down for a donation to pay for my daughter's bible college...
Me: Click.
Schoolmate: Hello?  Hello? 

You see I used to work for a big company in Materials Management, first as a buyer, then as a Purchasing Agent and essentially being a buyer/agent means spending a LOT of time on the phone.  And when I say a LOT I mean A LOT!  I have spent more time than any human being should ever spend speaking to other human beings.  Five life times worth.  Karma will probably bring me back as a mute in the next lifetime and then deaf for the next after that.

Unfortunately almost all that time on the phone involved....salesmen. Yeech. (Karma will be bringing those guys back as cockroaches.)

Salesmen speak - You are so lucky we happen to have a sale on for the nosepickingenometer which you are calling about for 75% off but the sale ends today.

Real Meaning - Wow I can't believe someone is calling about this piece of crap that I was about to throw away, it's worth nothing but I will see if I can get her to pay me thousands of dollars by not giving her time to think about it. Plus she is a woman and consequently stupid. 

Salesman speak - Me love you long time so this offer is only exclusive to you my favourite of all favourite buyers who is pretty, and smart, and talented, and who I want to marry and have children with. 

Real Meaning - I will make sweet, sweet love to you over the phone therefore you will buy anything from me because you are a woman and not too bright.  And in no way, shape, or form will you feel violated after I am done with you.  Not until I actually am done with you that is and have taken bilked you out of a fortune.

These days most of my social activities involve email, or Facebook.  Those options are a joy to yours truly, Ms. Antisocial Introvert.  My favourite button these days is the, Ignore, when Jenna Pink-Pants or her ex husband Marvin Slimy-Toad sends me a friend request.  Although I do have to admit that I wasn't always this particular, in fact, when I first got onto Facebook I was somewhat naive and I happily allowed all and sundry through who wanted to be my friend, but after one too many - Click, Like, if you heart rainbow coloured bunnies who love Jesus and eat pink crayons - and I was done.  Now I am much more particular who I Friend.  (When did friend become a verb anyway?)

But to tell the truth I would still pick the pink crayon eating, Jesus loving, bunnies over most phone conversations because there is this other button that allows you to Block Updates...or better yet, Unfriend! 

I Axed You Where It Was

Hubby informs me that I have to write a little blurb in here saying that I could not find the small hatchet that I bought for chopping kindling, and he did.  He is feeling very vindicated, most especially after reading my post about him searching for his nudgemashtacator and how I was all about saying that he looks like a man then blames me so I will start looking for it.  The truth is that I did not find it.  The truth is that it was in fact in the closet where he said it would be.  The truth is that after looking and not seeing I went in search in other places.  But let me add a few more tidbits that also may come into play here.  1) It was in the closet, up on the top shelf, far in the corner.  2) The fact that he knew it was in the closet and I didn't may possibly mean that I was not the person who put it there.  3) He is six foot three, I am not.  He can see up in higher places a little easier than me. 4) Even if it all boils down to me being unable to find it that would mean that in the thirty some odd years we have been together torturing each other, Me - 2, Hubby - 44,671.  I rest my case. 

Hubby also indicated that he was against receiving a pirate name for these posts.  He doesn't like any of the ones I've come up with to date.  Hmmm, methinks that hubby is starting to get a little bit big for his non-pirate britches and starting to dictate a little too much of what I can, should, and can't be blogging about.  Maybe hubby should start his own blog, that way he can write whatever the hell he wants.  Maybe his name should be Meddling Marvin of the Seven Sticking Your Nose Into Places Where It Doesn't Belong Seas. 

So...sigh...today is drizzly and cold, gone are the plus 21 degree days.  Which means I will have to dress like a Nipper-Snipper today when I go for my walk.  Yesterday we cut some of the pine we have been letting dry all summer and it turned out to not be so dry.  It was a pretty big assed tree that got blowed down this spring and we figured that it would make great kindling.  But the chunks we had split it into obviously weren't small enough because when we put it in the splitter oozy stuff came out.  So we decided to split it up to smaller and smaller pieces then stack it in the basement where it will have a better chance of drying out, most especially now that it isn't raining inside but it is raining outside.  Good thing we did that yesterday cause today the rain would have washed away our hopes, and crashed our dreams on the shores of disappointment. 

I've decided to apply for a couple of on-line writing jobs so I will be spending the afternoon writing up my bio.  (Hahahahaha...the person who reads it may be able to use it as a sleeping aid unless I manage  to insert some humour into it.)  I also have to submit a couple of sample pieces, so I will be polishing up a few things I have kicking around.  I hope I can actually do that because typically when I polish stuff I get seriously caught up in the nuances which usually results in me eventually having to have a really strong rum and coke to settle my nerves.  So either we can raise a mug of grog together and celebrate, or we can raise a mug a grog together and commiserate.

Asshats and Other Hairy Beasts

Have I mentioned the fact that my cat is an asshat?  You see old Iron is a tiny, teeny bit not liking hairy, purring things hanging out on her bed.  (Thought I would throw in the purring part there just so you understand that it's not the hubby we are talking about here.  Not that he doesn't purr, he just doesn't do it in bed, usually it is reserved for occasions when the tractor is running particularly well, or if he finally got the goblabster working after friking for hours with the narkling crank chamber.) 

I figure I have enough hair to deal with the three times I have to sweep the floor because the short and furries haven't figured out that when it starts getting toward the fall/winter time of the year it would be best to hang onto their hair so they don't freeze their asses off.  But no.  Fall to them means that they have to start shedding even more.  Where was I?  Oh yeah furries in my bed.  Anyway I am not a fan of cats hanging out on, in, or near my bed. 

So let me show you exhibit A.  Methinks that perhaps some cat of the small, black, and furry kind may have left some clues that she is in fact an asshat. 

 

 

As I may have mentioned yesterday the temperatures were warm and I was loving it.  Today, well today was just crazy.  It wasn't warm, it was hot.  Like take off your jacket and run around in your bra hot.  Hot enough for me to say, "WTF?"

 

Me - Is it really this hot?

 

Hubby -  Yup.

 

Me - Did we somehow actually end up hibernating and sleep through the winter?  I know I've been threatening to do that, but really?

 

Hubby - It's hot. 

 

Me - But did we sleep through the winter?

 

Hubby - (sigh) Let's go make some kindling. 

 

Me - Seems kind of redundant now, what with it being summer and all.  

Holy Crap On A Cracker

I really, really, really hate starting these posts with a weather report but I can't help it today.  It got to 20 degrees of the Celsius kind here.  Like spring.  Like summer.  Like wow man.  Global warming of the best kind.  It was beautiful and warm and lovely and sunny and all kinds of other things related to warm weather in November. 

The poop brigade, the kidlet, two dogs, and me went for a stroll in the back forty.  Unfortunately the youngest didn't quite do that well seeing as all he wanted to do was nap.  The oldest was wired for sound, and the dogs were like crazy things screaming back and forth through the bush.  But hell, it was a nice day and even though short and whiny, and short and hairies were trying their best to put a damper on things it wasn't happening.  This kind of weather is a gift from the weather faerie at this time of year so a body has to take advantage of it when it comes along. 

Yesterday hubby and I were out with our trusty chainsaws and cutting up some trees.  Man I sure could have used some of this weather then.  You see I sweat no matter what the temperature is when I do any kind of activity at all, even rolling over in bed, which means that when I stop even for a short break I am soaking wet, and if it is chilly I immediately start freezing.  Not fun.  Plus my safety glasses were constantly steaming up.  How safe can it be when you are using a high powered contraption with a lethal rotating blade on it and you can barely make out what you are cutting?  "Oh sorry.  Didn't see your leg there.  Quit your whining you have another one."  So had we waited until today I could have chainsawed (chainsawn?) in a Tshirt and sweated buckets-o-water all over the back forty, but when I dropped from dehydration I wouldn't have gotten cold.  That's all I am saying. 

Also note worthy - even though my back and ass were hurtin units after bucking up a few trees yesterday, today I was actually moving around with very minimal amounts of discomfort.  The way I figure it that is either a good sign, or it means I am on the way out as I can no longer feel anything below the neck.  Either way it was a warm day in these here parts and I'm not adverse to admitting that I loved it. 

Read At Your Own Risk, Foul Language Resides Here

Hallelujah the lost has been found!  The fluxmegatron loobesque bean grinder is back in the flock and all is right with the world.  Hubby found it in the lake.  Don't ask, I didn't.  So he is once again well ensconced in his deer blind where no doubt he is fidgeting and dreaming of better hunting days.  (Thank dog for fraking spell check this morning!  For the life of me I couldn't spell fidget.  It must be a sign.)

As I've mentioned earlier in this blog, my mom, who used to be an avid reader of my posts, passed away in August, so I kind of feel like I no longer have "Big Brother" watching while I'm writing.  I just get this urge now and then to type in a couple of fucks just because I know I won't have to listen to the lecture afterward.  The funny thing is that while she was alive I did feel restricted the whole time I was writing my blog and always thought that maybe I should start a super, secret, radical blog and not tell her about it and then I could write whatever my little heart desired.  Funny thing that.  Now that she is no longer being the, content police, my style and content haven't changed.  Plus it looks like I don't have radical, crazy, foul things to write about.  So perhaps she wasn't really the content police after all, maybe all that was just in my head.  Although she did admonish me for my language on occasion.  So if you will bear with me here - fuck, fuck, fuck.  Ah, I feel so much better now.