30 May 2014

I'm Considering Grandma's Percolator

Ever since pterodactylus were breakfasting on troglodytes and coffee bean bushes, coffee pot manufacturers designed spouts that invariably, faithfully, drippingly leak when coffee is poured.

Today mine did not. I think I broke the world.

The dilemma of Coffee Pot and newfangled Keurig reached new heights this week with a purchase of a second hand Keurig for $30 (score!). The reviews on Amazon, which I completely took as gospel truth, implied that these newish, single brew coffee makers are the cause of AIDS, tsunamis, and world hunger.

Translated: I had to buy one.

Rarely a day goes by without a cup of joe to start my day. I know, they all say it's bad for you to drink too much coffee. They also say it's good to "have a career" and "never shop on an empty stomach". What do they know? I went to school part-time for 5 years and have yet to embark on my career. I also had a $300 grocery bill last week, so there's that.

I contemplated buying a Keurig after using one at my optometrist's office. My eye doctor is very progressive regardless of continuing to offer eyeglass frames that went out of style back in 1976. Special order only because no one besides a death row inmate would wear them. Fashion aside, the receptionist told me how lovely her Keurig was and how much she saved by not throwing out leftover morning coffee every day.

Leftover coffee? I don't understand those words together.

Once I got the machine home, I realized that the K-cup coffee cartridges cost .50 a piece. Those little, disposable plastic containers are pre-filled with coffee and can get spendy. Further, if I wanted to save money and use my own coffee grounds instead of brewing gold dust, I needed to buy a reusable cartridge. Of course, back to Amazon I went to find they are about $10 and "break the needle gasket" or the sphincter valve causing a love for Neil Diamond songs on repeat and foster some overwhelming urges to donate to the endangered black-spotted yak fund at the grocery checkout. Amazon reviews don't lie.

I purchased a box of K-cups while shopping (hungry) at the grocery last week. I can see this is going over like a lead balloon which leads me back to my Mr Coffee drip coffee maker. The one with the spout that dribbles on the counter except when the planets are aligned and I break the world.

I just want an affordable cup of coffee that makes it in my mug. The pterodactylus' coffee bean bushes are looking like a viable option. (I bet he shopped at the Dino Grocery when he was hungry, too)

-Bee's best part of waking up is sleeping in
Listening to: Gravity by Trentemoller.

16 September 2013

Gastronomically Rended, And How Are You?


Okay, this means nothing but I got your attention...

A lot better than telling you tired and busy reasons for being tired and busy like every other tired and busy person on the tired and busy planet also doing tired and busy things. Plus, chocolate cake...YUM, right?

How often do we say, "I've been so busy."?

Is this a valid excuse anymore? Who isn't busy? Do we throw that out there because we really are tired and busy or because we are too lazy to make conversation? I suspect it's that we don't want to get to chatty with our neighbor dudes because then we can't pound on their door and tell them to quit parking like a beached whale or letting their dog pee in the stairwell. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

How different would our meet and greets go during the day if we answered something other than, "busy" or "tired". I think we should mix it up a bit. Answering an inquiring grocery checker or your neighbor with something new could really make good conversation. "Paradoxical", "Nefarious", or "Dichotomous" work for those wordy, nerdy types. "Gastronomically rended" or "Engorgingly happy" also works, especially on strangers.

Try it and get back to me. Try not to get slapped.

Aside from my alleged bowel pyrotechnics, I had a birthday last week. I had a lovely laid back day with a side of pedi/mani. For someone like me, a frugal soul who shoe shops under spousal threats or goes for a hair trim three times a year, I felt pretty pampered. I got a book (Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell) and Mr. Coffee took me to dinner. I asked for a bouncy castle and a cotton candy machine maker like last year. Then I remembered the bushes on that side of the yard are still reeling from the effects of untimely disgorgement and still sprouting funky colors. And it's not just the evergreens.

To add to my busy-ness, I start Fall semester in about a week. I'm still not full-time and that's why I've been in school since the Industrial Age. I hope to be finished and fully employed in a year and a half. I'm certainly not complaining. I love school and being at home with my kids but also having a plan with an end. End is good. End means a new beginning. And then on with a new plan before my kids graduate from college along side me.

I hope to write again this week despite my nefarious, dichotomous, paradoxical busy-ness. I may even bring chocolate cake. For reals.

-Bee likes her girly nails
Listening to: Where Is The Love by The Black Eyed Peas

07 January 2013

Stinkin' Sweet

Today is the first day of the new quarter. I'm excited, of course, but there is always a nagging voice in the back of my head that speaks evil things in my ear while the Evil Inner Me eats donuts.  Donuts are just to throw me off because in my head, Evil Me looks like I did when I was 21, natch, and reverts to acting like a cow sometimes. Insult to injury and all that...

While polishing off a fifth donut, Evil Me declares loudly that I will have to work too hard and will probably qualify for AARP before I graduate.  In contrast, Saintly Me, wants to put Evil Me in her place. Saintly Me wants to give Evil Me a black eye and waive a diploma in her donut stuffing face. It's a rousing fight in my head that would make even Chuck Palahniuk proud.

Saintly Me and Evil Me go rounds every first day back to school. Saintly Me always wins.

Today, I decided I would attempt a go at writing every day. I don't know why I'm announcing this. I probably wont blog again until next year.

In this winter break, I read a lot of books. One of which had only one redeeming merit that has inspired me to ease into my daily blogging with one yucky blucky thing and one good thing for the day we can be thankful for. It's a good way to acknowledge that yes, stink happens but we can end it on a sweet note. It's called Stink and Sweet.

Stink and Sweet Monday Edition:

Technically, the day isn't over but I'll be arranging my erasers by color and labeling my PeeChees tonight so I may not have the time.

STINK: Getting to the bottom of my laundry pile and finding a long lost couch blanket and the Thanksgiving tablecloth. Let's do the math.....GROSS...

I do laundry every day and have managed to put off the last remnants of my laundry until I can have a full load. If this makes me cheap, whatever. Who on God's green, tree-hugging, earth runs half a load of wash? I think everyone has something at the bottom of the laundry hamper, be it lego, a silk shirt that you are too cheap to dry clean, or some errant sock or glove. Besides, my mom taught me not to waste energy by running a half load. Peace, love, and recycle....and put off Thanksgiving linens for a whole month.

Didn't think my Stink would be so literal, did you?

SWEET: The thrill of sleeping in AND then going to school to learn about computers makes me stupid happy.

School advisory advised me to take a computer class to avoid taking another year of math. The funny part is this is an entry level computer class to keep from a math class.  I don't see how that computes but I won't complain.

-Bee thinks this is stinkin sweet.
Listening to: It's Time by Imagine Dragons

20 November 2012

School is Hard

Once upon a time, before the last moon, New Moon, full moon, or blue moon, I was born. It wasn’t such an exciting day. You’d think I’d remember it if it was.

September in So. California guaranteed that it was hot and muggy and really...my poor mother. Being pregnant in the summer is like swimming while wearing a bear skin rug after downing a bottle of ipecac.

I am a product of an idealistic mom and a carefree dad saying their “I do’s” in front of a preacher 9 months and one day prior to my birth. My entry in this world was scheduled. I like being organized. September baby. On par for the course. Hi, have you met me? I like organizing my organizing books.

That’s not to say that being born under a certain zodiac sign somehow shapes my future or by some cosmic way has predestined my life or character. I am more of the “environment shapes you”, kind of girl. And really, if a baby in utero is subject to the weather, sounds, and moods of the mother, then it only makes sense that a baby formed during sunshine and spring cleaning takes on common traits. In short, it shouldn’t be startling that we virgos are organizing, scheduling pseudo-OCD control freaks. Did I mention self-depreciating humor? Yes, that too.

Embracing this year with gusto, I find school dominates my every day. Talking about. Homeworking because. Driving to. Scheduling for. Talking about all of the above when people ask where I have disappeared to. School is some narcissistic way of declaring to the world that I’m smarter than you and I have a GPA to prove it.

Except for Doctors. They can go be smart college grads and make bank because if I ever get in a car crash, I don’t want Mr. Doyouwantfrieswiththat to do my surgery. Surgery best taught in the expensive halls of academia. However, no one tells you school is expensive. And school is haaard. I want to make sick people better. Or just make sure they aren't shafted by their insurance company. So, why do I need to know the head bone is connected to the neck bone? Now hear the word of the Lord.....

Do we consider the ramifications of an astronomical student loan that rivals the yearly income of the job we are seeking post-grad? Mixed messages come to us students via email "Congratulations On Your Financial Aid Award". An award I have to pay back. Gee, thanks.

I earn my bleary eyes and caffeine addictions couched between slam dunking a test and procrastination. I want the education and decent job. Truth be told, I go to school for an entirely different reason: the reassurance that I’m not an idiot. 

I fear the possibility of setting up camp in Idiotville, pop. 1. Being homeschooled had its advantages but it also never gave me the motivation and confidence to continue schooling back when my brain actually remembered things longer than 10 minutes.

Maybe I’m lazy? Undecided on a line of employment? As a teen, embarking on another four years living at home, building debt, and naively go on living forever didn’t appeal either. I know people don't really live forever but when you are 17, you truly, truly believe you will live forever. Add the violent denial that gravity will adversely affect your person in about ten years and you get exhibit A: Hey, lets skip school, get a big salary job because of my hot, young self and pass the Cheetos. Everyone looks good at 17.

With ever present certainty, I continue to plod along in school. I continue to fight gravity with push up bras, expanding waistlines with carrot sticks and brain exercises like long division. And that lipo acid vitamin C stuff that makes airbrushed models look awesome. I endure so that maybe, just maybe, I will find my dream job and won't feel like an idiot.

~Bee would not like fries with that.

Listening to: Madness by Muse