Jan. 10: Questions of the day

What makes a person put an empty coffee pot back on the burner? You do realize what happens when you do that, don’t you? And you know that the smell of scorched coffee hangs in the air long after the coffee has completely burned away? Yes, it might remind me of my Grandma Saltmarsh’s house—she was Queen of Putting the Empty Coffee Pot Back on the Burner—but I STILL hate the smell of burning coffee.

Are you quite finished, PSY? Please say yes. Pretty sure we’ve had enough.

Why are some people are so threatened by the term “gun control”? They scare me. They scare me very much.

Sometimes I think I’m invisible when I’m driving. That’s the only reason people would pull into the street and make me slam on my brakes, right? Or go 15mph on a 40mph street? Or back out of a parking space without looking? I never think I’m invisible when it really benefits me, though, and that is downright unfair.

Fleas. Why they gotta keep coming to my house? I have made it a very unwelcome environment for them.

Do we really have to spend the next 6+ months hearing Kim Kardashian talk about being pregnant as though she’s the first person on earth who’s gone through the experience? Remember, if we ignore these worthless reality stars, they’ll go away…

The trash collectors in my neighborhood are jackholes. I know that isn’t a question.

Why WHY WHY can’t my breakfast be made of Powerberries?

If Victor hadn’t left the empty coffee pot on the burner this morning, this post might never have been written. You are invited to thank him when you see him next by doing something incredibly annoying. Please.

Sep. 24: Currently

In an effort to get back in the habit of blogging regularly, I present the following very boring post.

I am currently:

Listening

…to the original Broadway cast recording of Les Miz. It’s just about the only thing I’ve listened to for the past two weeks—I’m absolutely in love with this soundtrack. And after the disaster that was Shrek The Musical last week (ugh—terrible!), it’s good to listen to music that doesn’t make me wanna shove icepicks into both ears.

Eating

…nothing at the moment. I had pizza for breakfast.

Drinking

…water. An iced coffee is sounding good though…

Wearing

…the clothes I slept in. I’m gonna do my darndest to stay in them all day. (You might want to call before you come over.)

Feeling

…good. Better. Long talks with Mom and a couple of friends yesterday helped. I really overdid it this week—I had a bazillion things to do and was terrible about asking others for help; I let myself get totally stressed. I’m a moron. I shall work on that.

Wanting

…iced coffee. And a maid. And a butler. And a vacation. And another vacation. And maybe one more just for fun. And a puppy.

Needing

…to ignore assholes. They’re just assholes. They think they matter, but they don’t.

…to get organized. My desk is piled with papers and projects. That’s my goal for today—I want to see the top of my desk, even if it means shoving everything onto the floor. I’ll do it, I will. Don’t tempt me.

Thinking

…about that iced coffee…

Enjoying

…the support of friends and family, the goodness and generosity of people who ask for nothing in return, and the gorgeous blue sky outside my window. Life can be a lovely thing. Today, for sure, mine certainly is.

I hope you’re feeling the same. Unless you’re an asshole—then I hope you trip into a piranha-filled pond. Twice.

Finally, I leave you with this little giggle I found at When Parents Text:

May 16: Art, all coffee-like

I was kinda artsy this weekend. Kinda. I finally tackled two projects I’ve been wanting to get to for a long time. It wasn’t that I had a sudden burst of energy, but they were both fun (mostly) and that’s what got my butt in gear.

One project was spiffing up an old, ugly bulletin board to use in our kitchen. I’m not a big fan of the cluttery bulletin board look, but I’ve also gotten tired of looking for important papers the kids insist they put on my desk last week. We’ve been needing a gathering place for those things. I primed and painted the plain wood frame, and then used spray adhesive to cover the cork board with this fabric, which we’ve used in several other places in our kitchen:

I have one small thing left to do before this is finished—I need to glue ribbon or cord to the inside edge to cover up the raw edges of the fabric where they didn’t quite get under the edge of the frame, dammit. Actually, this will make it look a little fancier (if a bulletin board can ever look “fancy”) so it’s not such a bad thing.

Alright, so I probably wouldn’t even bother mentioning this project if not for the other one I worked on, because the bulletin board is kinda lame and not all that impressive. But the other one was a lot more work and it’s kinda like, um, super cute.

I’ve had these coffee art transfer thingies for years and haven’t known the best place to put them. I finally chose a spot and set of colors and got to work.

Step 1: Use a popsicle stick to transfer the outline of the image onto the wall. This is tricky when your walls are heavily textured like ours, and also when the transfers are many, many years old. Victor and I cursed a little over this step, but here’s what it looked like when we finished:

I don’t know why our walls look that taupe-y color in the pictures. They’re actually a nice, creamy coffee color.

Step 2: Paint the center image. I used the colors that are in our kitchen rug: navy, dark red, dark olive, light olive, off-white, and brown. There are nine images total (three of each of the above).

Step 3: Use a popsicle stick to transfer the accent layer to the painted images. Again with the swearing! I ended up doing a lot of touch-up with white and black paint to fill in the spots where the accent transfer wouldn’t transfer. Here’s how three of the images looked when the project was complete:

And this is the whole set:

The place I chose for this art is up high and necessitated the use of a ladder. Anyone who’s been paying attention knows this formula: Jen + high places = certain injury. I only ALMOST fell three times, and have just one blister and three raw knuckles. But no broken bones! No trips to the emergency room! Very few tears! Just lots and lots of cursing!

May 4: Kinda gamma-y

I’m like Spiderman. Or Godzilla. They were radioactive, right? Now I am too!

I even got a certificate that says so in case I have to go through security at the airport today. It’s only good for a day, though, and it clearly states that the amount of radiation in me poses no danger to the public, so really, what good does it do me at all? Pffft.

This is all because I had my CT/PET scan today to see what our next move will be in my cancer treatment. I’ve had several CT scans, but today was my first PET scan. Although the procedure was similar to a CT, the information a PET gives us is very different (here’s an idiot’s guide to a PET scan, if you’re interested)—I’m eager to see the pictures.

One of the strangest things about the procedure today was all the nuclear symbols around the machines. There were a lot more than what you see in x-ray or CT areas. Disposal containers were thick, lead, and kept sealed tightly. The syringe that held the radioactive tracer thingie they injected into me was encased in lead. Even the cotton balls were, um, well, okay, they were just regular cotton balls. But everything else was veeery nuclear power plant.

What I hated most about the PET scan was having to follow a high protein/low carb diet for 24 hours beforehand. It was not fun. I’ve eaten like that for weeks at a time, actually, but wasn’t prepared for it this time and hadn’t stocked up on bacon in a while. It made me grouchy, all that not eating bacon. But even worse was not getting coffee this morning. As soon as my scan was finished this morning, Victor and I went out for a lovely breakfast in which we drank coffee and drank coffee and ate potatoes and drank more coffee.

The weird thing is that the 24 hours leading up to becoming radioactive were way more inconvenient than all the hours since then.

Results of the PET scan will be shared as soon as we can get our hands on ‘em.

Apr. 21: Super Terrific Happy Thing #13

Here’s a new blog post type I’m gonna try once in a while because I need to remind myself more frequently of the joyous parts of life. I’ve decided to call it “Super Terrific Happy Thing” in honor of the Japanese show in which Jerry Seinfeld appeared for one second. He earned 12¢ royalty checks… so I’m starting at #13 (#1 was just too darn easy).

When I first pour my coffee in the morning and the mug is so heavy I have to hold it with both hands; it’s like holding a guaranteed 20 minutes of warm, life-giving contentment.

Pure super terrific happiness.

 

Jan. 28: Worst. Wife. Ever.

Victor’s been working an early shift this week. Every morning that he’s out the door before I even get up, he gets the coffee maker all ready so when I come downstairs I only need to push START and guess what? Fresh coffee for Jen.

He’s a nice guy.

Yesterday morning I came downstairs and pushed START on the coffee maker and nothing happened. Now, if you read my post last night, you know that I was grouchy yesterday morning. So when I pushed START on the coffee maker and nothing happened, I opened the top of the coffee maker to see that Victor had NOT prepared my coffee for the day. And do you know what I did?

I cursed. I actually cursed. Worse, I cursed Victor. I cursed him for not preparing my coffee for the day.

I am not a nice guy.

I went ahead and made my own coffee, grumbling all the way, and then completely forgot about how angry I was at him. Completely forgot, that is, until this morning when I went to get coffee and thought I should check inside the coffee maker before I pushed START. And there I saw a clean, dry filter with just enough grounds for my 20-ounce mug (with room for French vanilla creamer, obvy). I pushed START and am now enjoying a cup of coffee that has NOT been sitting in the carafe for two hours.

And I’m feeling huge guilt for cursing Victor yesterday. It was uncalled for. It was mean. I’d like to think he brought it upon himself for getting me used to only having to push START every morning, but that wouldn’t be very appreciative of me, would it? And I do appreciate his efforts, even if he occasionally fails.

I should probably count on my coffee being at least half Vic-spit from now until I remember to apologize to his face.

Dec. 8: The new “normal”

Compared to recent days, today was kind of a busy one. It’s not that I’ve been lazy and sticking around the house lately, but today I had a few early appointments; I couldn’t get up and drink my coffee leisurely, catch up on Facebook and emails, and browse through my Google Reader feeds like I do most mornings. In fact, I didn’t even turn on my computer until 4:00 this afternoon (I did check everything on my iPhone, though—I’m not totally uncivilized).

This morning there was a PTO board meeting at Peet’s, and I really wanted to be there. My fellow board members are a great group of people, and even though I see most of them outside of school activities, it’s fun when we get together as a PTO to discuss upcoming events, make plans, assign doodies, etc. Today’s meeting was the first one I had to miss because of cancer-related crap; I had my echocardiogram scheduled for this morning. Even though I couldn’t stay for the whole meeting, I needed to at least drop by to hand over a DVD we’ll be showing at this weekend’s Movie Night. Figgered while I was in Peet’s, I might as well get some coffee too.

When I got there I ran in and knew immediately that I had not dressed warmly enough for today. It was, like, a hundred degrees below zero today. I am almost not kidding. But all my PTO girls were inside, warm and toasty with their hot beverages, and it made me happy to see them, but also very, very sad. I wanted to hang with them too.

When I went back out to start my car again, it made a little ding sound I’d never heard before and a weird symbol lit up on the dash. The symbol looked like a thermometer in a puddle of water. It also kind of looked like a puppy because Germans can’t draw. But the snowflake light was blinking, and I’m no dummy—I know that one means “watch for ice.” So even my car was bitching about how cold it was this morning. I sat there, letting the car run for a few minutes before I took off again.

And while I sat there, thinking about how cold it was, how much I wished I could be warming up in Peet’s wit’ my PTO peeps, that I should probably run home and grab a heavier coat before going to the hospital, and how DAMMIT I had forgotten to buy coffee, I suddenly got super-duper bummed out.

I missed “normal.”

“Normal” for me is a balance of work, fun, home, PTO, blogging, reading, family, and friends. This time of year, it also includes lots of shopping and planning, preparing our annual Christmas CD and writing our very silly Christmas letter. There is no room for cancer and pain and short hair and echocardiograms and missing meetings and non-silly Christmas letters in my normal. But apparently I’m not in charge of my normal, and can I just be honest with y’all for a sec? I don’t like that one bit.

Mar. 23: Coffee? Tea? Me?

• Quick, what’ll it be: coffee or tea?
  Coffee in the morning, definitely. Tea the rest of the day, preferably iced.
• How many “hits” a week that you would say that you take?
  I drink a large cup of coffee every morning. I’m not quite as addicted to tea, although I drink it often. I can stop anytime, really. :)
• If there was to be a coffee or tea drink named after you on the menu board at Starbucks, what would it be?
  “Jen’s Mystery Mocha”—a regular mocha with a shot of something surprising and kinda nasty, like mustard or Comet. Oh come on, you know you’d order one.
• Do you drink coffee when it’s hot out?
  I love iced mochas, but they’re not exactly quenching; I prefer iced tea in hot weather.
• How do you feel about Starbucks Frappuccinos?
  The ones they blend in Starbucks are okay. I don’t order them often. The ones they sell in bottles in the grocery store? Blech.
• Where in the world would you most like to sit down and order a coffee or tea?
  I know this is so typically “stupid American,” but one of my favorite memories of our trip to Europe is relaxing in a big comfy chair in a London Starbucks. I actually fell asleep—I was still dealing with jet lag, was five months pregnant and had a broken foot. I think my impromptu nap was excusable, considering. My favorite place to sit and drink coffee would have to be Paris, though—just because it’s the most beautiful and romantic city to which I’ve been and I’d love to go there again. Amsterdam would be good too.
• Were your parents coffee drinkers? Tea drinkers?
  My dad drank coffee like his daughters like their men: black. I don’t remember him drinking tea except in Chinese restaurants. Mom wasn’t much of a coffee drinker when I was young, but she likes it now.
• Would you prefer coffee or tea in a shop or at home?
  I love the coffee shop atmosphere and it’s almost always  cleaner than my home.
• Would you ever wear jewelry made out of coffee beans or earrings shaped like coffee cups?
  Only if it was subtle, like a sterling silver coffee bean charm. That would keep people guessing. “Is she wearing a coffee bean around her neck? An egg? A silver nugget? A turd?”
• What is the absolute most perfect pastry to be taken alongside a coffee or tea?
  Mmmmm… banana bread.

Your turn…

Feb. 12: You’re lucky I love you

I know I make fun of Victor a lot in my blog, and he’d be the first one to tell you it’s well-deserved. But I don’t very often mention his better qualities, and that kind of talk is just as well-deserved. So here, dear, is a my-husband’s-super-great post.

I typically get up after he does in the morning, but if we’re up at the same time, he makes coffee and brings me a cup. It’s always perfectly (lightly) sweetened and the right shade of tan. We drink our coffee out of 20-ounce Starbucks city mugs, and when we drink it at the same time he tries to choose mugs from two cities that are near-ish to each other, as though we’re on vacation there together. He doesn’t do this because he’s sweet and thoughtful; he does it because if he gives me London and uses Manila for himself, I accuse him of wanting to be far away from me. And if he chooses Hawaii and gives me Tacoma, I accuse him of being totally unfair that he’s in paradise and I’m in, well, Tacoma. I mean, Tacoma? Come on!

Goodness. I think I’m getting off track here. Where was I?

When I get up later than he does—like a month ago, when I was recuperating from surgery, or a couple weeks ago, when I was recuperating from dehydration and the headache from hell, or this week, while I’ve been fighting something else of a mysterious and sinister nature, or other days when I just don’t feel like getting out of bed—I can’t remember where I was going with this but I’m suddenly really tired.

Ah, I know. When I get up after Victor’s been up for a while or left for work, he doesn’t leave me coffee in the carafe (which, by the way, does not keep the coffee hot for very long and let me just offer this piece of advice: if you need a good carafe that actually keeps coffee hot, you will not find it in the $4 SKAFFA you bought at IKEA, dummy). No, what he does—and this is the part where I admit he’s awesome—is make up an entirely new pot of coffee, with just the right amount to fill a 20-ounce mug and still have room for creamer. All I have to do is walk over to the coffeemaker and push the ON button. Voilà! In a few minutes there’s nice, fresh, hot coffee for Jen.

Of course, when he says, “Coffee’s ready to go; you just have to push the button,” on his way out the door, I shriek, “GEEZ! I have to do everything!” and then he shakes his head and gets that faraway look that I think means, “I’m so lucky, my wife is so amusing!” but more likely means “Why didn’t I marry that girl who wasn’t so lazy and occasionally did the laundry and the dishes and the cooking instead of this one, whose coffee I spit in every day?”

(Sometimes Vic has to be reminded that I totally do my share around here—the TiVo won’t program itself, you know. Well, actually, I guess it does. But who cleans the bathrooms? That’s right. Occasionally it’s me.)

There. I’ve (kinda) bragged on my husband and (mostly) managed to make myself look lazier and more pathetic than ever. Really, Victor’s awfully good to me, even when I so obviously don’t deserve it.

We now return to our regular programming of mocking and jeering and griping, oh my.

Oct. 30: Halloween meme

Yet another meme stolen from mommablogsalot.

1. Would you let your children go trick-or-treating at Michael Jackson’s house? Certainly not by themselves! He’d probably have good candy, though, so I’d totally take them.
   
2. Did you eat paste and/or glue as a child? I tasted it, sure. But I don’t think I ate it on a regular basis or anything. Only the weird kids did that.
   
3. Look at the wall to your right, what is on it? Nothing. But there’s a large bookcase, a tall lamp, and a TV so hanging anything on the wall would be kinda superfluous.
   
4. Do you put butter and/or salt on your popcorn? I like my popcorn in extremes—love movie theater popcorn (without the Valvoline, thank you) but also love air-popped popcorn with nothing on it. Debi got me hooked on Kettle Corn a while back and if I do the microwave stuff, nowadays that’s my preference.
   
5. What does your favorite coffee cup look like? We have a large collection of Starbucks City Mugs. Most of the time I just grab whichever one is in front, but occasionally I’ll seek out a specific one. Most have been gifts so we have them from all over the world. When Vic brings me coffee, I always look at the city he hands me and compare it to the city he took for himself—invariably they’re on opposite sides of the world—and accuse him of wanting to be far away from me, etc. It’s super-fun!
   
6. What was your favorite Halloween costume? I was Holly Hobbie lots of times. It wasn’t my favorite, but I was never all that proud of my costumes. Mom never really got into Halloween and my kids are totally reaping the benefits from my resentment of that. Probably the best costume I’ve ever seen, though, was on our friend Michael—a few years ago he wore one of those air blown sumo wrestler costumes. Hilarious!
   
7. Toilet paper - hard, soft, extra soft? Whatever’s near.
   
8. Have you ever rescued/taken in a stray animal? Casey, our rat terrier, was a stray that Michael and Kristine brought to us. We looked for her owners but didn’t find them, and ended up being pretty glad about that because she’s a sweetie. Millie, our new kitten, was a pound rescue.
   
9. Name three things you want your kids to learn before they grow up (if you don’t have kids, feel free to skip this one or add your own twist to the question). First, I want them to learn that they are free to be the person they are; that they need to follow their hearts and dreams. Second, I’d like them to learn how important it is to be open to other people’s ideas (not sure who they’re going to learn this from; certainly not me). Lastly, I want them to take opportunities to see the world, where they’ll learn things they’d never learn any other way.

Your turn...

Aug. 30: My blood type is coffee

Last night during our semi-regular AA meeting in the Castañedas’ driveway, Rob told us about his disgusting coffee habit. That is not to say coffee is disgusting. Coffee is liquid manna. But the way Rob drinks it is just vile: he brews a pot, drinks some, and then finishes the rest over the next few days. He re-heats it and adds a bunch of stuff each day.

Cristina suggested that he probably drank icky coffee in the military. Rob didn’t respond because he was too busy defending himself.


This morning as I sipped my fresh cup of energy, I thought about it again. What exactly is so disgusting about day-old coffee? I couldn’t figure it out on my own, so I consulted the omnipotent Google for some answers. Well, maybe not answers so much as opinions. Here’s what I found:

• Old coffee turns bitter (has something to do with the tannins it releases as it sits)
  
• If left out (unrefrigerated) coffee absorbs odors
  
• Old coffee goes stale. It won’t hurt you, but it will not taste good.

I was a little disappointed in these Google results. I thought for sure I’d find evidence that day-old coffee causes hangnails or genital warts. Stupid Google.

Whether old coffee should be tossed or not is debatable, but the general consensus is that old coffee is yucky, ‘specially if it’s got floaters.

My mom, who considers coffee a vehicle for French vanilla creamer, also does not care too much about how old her coffee is or how much water she has to add to it to dilute the coffee flavor. My mom is clearly cuckoo-for-cocoa-puffs.

And lest ye conclude that I am a coffee snob, I offer this story:

Victor and I used to buy fresh coffee beans and grind them each morning. They were a good brand (expensive) and we considered ourselves coffee snobs—not connoisseurs, just choosy. Eventually we started buying the beans already ground because it saved time in the mornings. And then we started buying store brand coffee—still (supposedly) better quality than Folgers, but cheaper than Seattle’s Best or Starbucks. We started feeling less snobbish. One day we decided to just try Folgers, and surprise, surprise: it tasted just fine, dammit. This was very distressing to both of us, because we had to consider ourselves the opposite of coffee snobs at that point. Now we drink pretty much anything, but I draw the line at old coffee. Sorry, Rob, but that’s just... it’s just bleah. I don’t know why. It just is.

Apr. 20: Crimes and punishments

Did you see The Office this last week? Jim and Pam were lightheartedly discussing living together, getting engaged, etc. Then Jim showed the camera the ring he bought for Pam. And I totally got goose bumps, like he was showing the camera the ring he bought for ME. When we’re watching The Office and there are tender moments between Jim and Pam, Vic looks at my reaction because he knows that I’m getting goose bumps, crying happy tears, or texting Alisa about it.

Later that night I dreamt that Pam finally broke it off with Roy and she was free to date Jim (yes, like two seasons ago—evidently my dreams have been affected by the writer’s strike too). But Pam waited too long, and Jim had already hooked up with me. Gee, that’s a shame, Pam. I win, you lose. Neeners!

But then things really fell apart. Like, Jim and I were holed up in a high-rise hotel in Scranton and a SWAT team was called in and Angela was giving us her sanctimonious stare from the parking lot. It made me feel bad, so I told Jim he should be with Pam and I turned myself in. I’m so generous. Well, since I was already married to Vic it wasn’t so much generosity as it was guilt from the adultery. Heh heh.

When I woke up it took a while to shake the dreadful feeling that I had been so cruel to Pam, especially after she and I had always been such good friends. I was not, apparently, feeling so bad about cheating on Vic. I’m gonna pretend there could not possibly be an underlying reason for that and investigate it no further.

Jim was the star of my REM sleep again Friday night, when he made me a smiley-face pancake. Unfortunately, that is not a euphemism for anything.

Usually I don’t describe my weird dreams to Vic because it just confirms the tenuous grasp I have on my sanity. But yesterday morning he slept later than I did and I HAD TO MAKE MY OWN COFFEE. I know! I can’t believe how abusive he is. So, to punish him, I told him all about my two Jim dreams. He didn’t seem to mind that I hooked up with Jim. He also said I should make my own coffee more often.

Oh, yeah, I’ll make the coffee. And I’ll go back to spitting in his commuter mug every morning. “Hyock-too... ♫ Have a lovely day, dear! ♫”

July 27: What coffee drink are you?

I guess coffee is the subject of the day again. Here's a highly scientific test to determine what kind of coffee drink you are, if you were indeed a coffee drink, which is highly unlikely, but you never really know, do you?

Jennifer, your coffee drink is sweet
A kind and caring soul like you is as warm and comforting as a hot cup of sweet coffee. From parties to book-club meetings to backyard barbecues, you're friendly and welcoming no matter if you're playing host, mingling with guests, or just chilling out with good friends. You've got a big heart, and you're not afraid to share your feelings and let others know how much they mean to you. People know your friendly smile and fun personality can brighten up any occasion. Sound sweet? A dash of sugar is just your style.

What Kind of Coffee Drink Are You?
Brought to you by Tickle

Don't forget to share your results.

—Jen

July 26: The Way I See It #230

This morning when Vic woke me to say good-bye he said he hadn't made coffee because we were out of creamer. And then he ran out the door so's not to suffer the consequences.

I hate when we run out of creamer. I especially hate when we run out of creamer when I'm finally on the verge of getting rid of a severe headache I've had for four days. Caffeine sometimes eases my headaches a bit. Not having caffeine is guaranteed to make them much worse. So I was left with no choice but to go to Starbucks this morning.

You might be thinking, "But Jen, you could have dranken the coffee without creamer..."

And I would respond, "Dranken is not a word, you dummy. And I like my coffee beige, like my men."

Venti nonfat mocha, please. Thank you.

The quote printed on my cup this morning, courtesy of Joel Stein, a columnist for the Los Angeles Times, made me chuckle: Heaven is totally overrated. It seems boring. Clouds, listening to people play the harp. It should be somewhere you can't wait to go, like a luxury hotel. Maybe blue skies and soft music were enough to keep people in line in the 17th century, but Heaven has to step it up a bit. They're basically getting by because they only have to be better than Hell.

And that is all I really felt like saying this morning because I'm still a little pissed about the creamer status in our house and it better be different tomorrow morning.


--Jen