Insults are always much better when Shakespeared.

We're so cheap we come late to many fads, but that does not take away from our enjoyment thereof.

Yesterday, I gave Chris "Dungeon Keeper" and "Dungeon Keeper 2" for his birthday. In the afternoon, he, Phil and I sat mesmerized as he played with it for the first time. Last night after the cherubs returned to their father's, I played DK2 and Rob watched, as he'd been busy with a clearance rack game and missed the afternoon's excitement.

"Look! this is the Mistress and if there's no one else using the torture chamber, she tortures herself! Isn't that great?!"

Uh huh. :)

A trip along Highway 101, the Pacific Coast Highway. To celebrate the end of my summer quarter (and because he and I haven't done anything fun for months), Rob and I drove out to Highway 101 this past weekend.

We went to Port Townsend, which is a pretty community with shops filled with antiques and cool clothing (I bought a dress off the clearance rack). We had lunch at a place on the Sound, watching the boats on the water. We walked and walked, debated taking at whale watching tour, and ended the afternoon at an ice cream parlor where they make their own stuff. As it's a good long drive back, and all this walking exhausted us, we drove along to Port Angeles and found a hotel for the night.

The next day, we continued our touring along 101. Rob wanted to see the ocean again, although I reminded him that he was sorely disappointed the previous trip. The highway cruises through some magnificent towering forests; it really is a gorgeous drive. At Lake Crescent, Rob stopped the car so we could walk down and see how cold the water is. I took a picture of him standing on the pebbly shore beside the pristine blue water, framed by the mountains. He dabbled his fingertips into the lake and announced that it was much colder than it looked. We turned to head back when the pebbly shore contrived to trip Rob.

Picture in your mind (for most of you have met Rob), my husband standing on one tippy toe, hovering precariously over that icy water, his hands flailing at the wrists and his other foot sticking out as a counterbalance -- also flailing -- while he yelps, "Eeep! Eeep! Eeep!"

Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera at the ready. He managed to regain his balance and we laughed all the way back to the car. As we drove away from the lake, I pictured Rob flailing on the shore again and started snickering, which set us both off again. The sight is one I'll not soon forget. :D

The rest of the trip was uneventful. We attempted to drive up to the Hoh Rain Forest, but couldn't figure out how far along the forest road it was. As we didn't want to be driving home in the dark, we turned around and got back on Highway 101, where I finally found a booklet that gave the distance -- we'd turned back 9 miles from the entrance. Oh, well! We stopped at Ruby Beach and walked down to the sea. When we got to Aberdeen, we stopped for lunch and then drove the rest of the way home.

But when I look back on this weekend, do I see the deep, emerald forests or the waves pounding the surf at the beach? No, I see Rob at Lake Crescent saying, "Eeep!"

Chickens! on PBS! Aieeee! :>

You must watch this if it comes on in your area. It's (well) a hoot!

One of the stories is about "Valerie," whose owner found her having a near freezer-burn experience one winter's night. Valerie's owner performed mouth-to-beak CPR. The sight of the owner trying to stuff frozen Valerie into a shoebox had us in stitches. When Valerie recovers, the owner says the chicken was asking for its dinner. The dog, on the other hand, seemed to be cursing Valerie's revival as he'd obviously hoped to scarf down a few chicken bones after the owner went to bed for the night.

Later on, the owner consults an animal psychiatrist to find out if Valerie remembered anything of that night. Rob and I howled!

Rob: Did she see a bright light? Or Colonel Sanders?
Tracy: Maybe she saw one of them big red warming lamps? Dooon't go intoooo the liiiiight!

Catch this film if you can; it's great!

Yay, school is out and I have a real summer vacation!

Yesterday we gave PowerPoint presentations for our legal office procedures class. Our instructor let us choose any topic we wanted. Initially, my topic was the little game; a sort of shameless marketing ploy. Then when I started to work on it, I realized I wanted to do something completely different. None of this "My Hobby" or "My Pet" stuff; mine was going to be totally on a different level.

My presentation was on Diana, Princess of Wales. It had a musical background, .wavs of Diana speaking on things, and lots of photographs. Got three classmates to cry. Our teacher said she'd never had a class whose presentations were so full of fun (a lot of them were really cool) or that had moved them to tears. I wouldn't mind putting it up my website, either, if I can figure out where else all those photos came from. As I got closer to the deadline, I started copying some and now of course can't remember where they came from. :( I'd hate to be using someone else's stuff without permission...although in a lot of ways, all the photos of her are copywritten, aren't they, by some news or clip agency or other.

Anyway, math is over. I was so relieved I hugged the teacher. Who knows whether I'll remember this stuff next time I have to do math, but at the very least she was nice about my lack of abilities.

Cooking Disasters. :) Some sound familiar.

I also recommend clicking on the "to the index" button on this page to read other collections of humorous postings to various sites.

A cooking disaster of my own involved (there's a story just like it on the page) popping popcorn on the stovetop, using a bit of oil in the pan. These were the good old days before air poppers and microwave popcorn. My sister actually heated up the oil to make popcorn, then got on the telephone. I walked into the kitchen and lifted the lid as I noticed smoke coming out and that's when the flames shot out of the pan.

Not having the presence of mind to replace the cover, I turned off the heat and hollered for Barb, who came in, trailing the phone cord and looking appropriately alarmed and panicked. Did she hang up the phone? No. She started to shriek, "The kitchen's on fire!" Meanwhile, to be heard above her shrieking, I yelled, "Where's the salt? Put some on the pan to put it out!" I couldn't find the salt (which for some reason, this firefighting tip had stuck in my mind after I'd read it someplace), but I did find a tub of flour, which we figured would have the same oxygen removing properties as salt, and so we dumped in a large quantity of it.

The fire went out, she eventually hung up the phone, and we cleaned the kitchen so our mom wouldn't know what had happened. In fact, my mom never did learn about our adventure, although to this day, the cabinet handles above that burner are blackened from the flames.

Last night Rob bought me a graphing calculator. This morning I took it in to use during the exam and found that not only did I forget how to do most of the math problems, but I also forgot everything I'd figured out for using that stupid calculator.

I really am missing a math gene someplace. :(

However, I attempted all the problems, including the two extra credit questions so hopefully, I'll get a D and not an F. I spent the majority of my weekend doing math. Saturday, though, the cherubs and I went to the faire. There was a lot of traffic from highway 16 to the actual faire grounds, but the faire itself was large enough that it never really seemed crowded.

We watched a bit of jousting, snacked, looked at all the craft booths. Phil tried on some leather jerkins and coats and the boys admired some skulls and some swords. While browsing through a rack of dresses, we overheard:

"What do you think? Does this look good for a barbarian?" from a tall and broad youth trying on a fake-fur vest to his friend with the multiple ear piercings.

That's not something you encounter everyday, now, is it? :)

I am avoiding math and so I will write about Broos. The living Broos, not the spectre that haunts The Sims (which I haven't had time to play because of evil evil algebra. Argh)

A few years ago (wow, and it really is too!!), I dated a guy who asked me one night: if I could be reincarnated, what would I want to come back as? And after thinking a moment, I said, "Me!" He wanted to come back as a 6-foot-tall rastafarian reggae musician, which isn't why we eventually broke up but anyway...

At that moment in time, I was supremely happy with myself. Other than the usual concern about cash flow, I felt on top of the world. And really, even the money didn't bother me as I had enough coming in to cover whatever needed to go back out, with room for dinner at a teriyaki joint now and then. My body pleased me, my cherubs were adorable, and life was so good to me. Not perfect, but good for me.

Today, my answer would be a bit different. I'm not sure I'd want to be me, or wish my concerns and perplexities onto another person. Some things are still good, and then other things that didn't used to worry me have cropped up.

When I think of Original Broos, I guess I don't want him to reincarnate as someone else; I like the Broos I know (so far as I know him, which of course is only to thinly scratch the surface now and then). It pleases me to know that he doesn't hang out in strip clubs or party like a wild animal or do drugs. I appreciate that he wakes to NPR and likes a wide variety of music and can build shelves from glass blocks and cook a hamburger on the grill.

If I weren't already married to the most wonderfully annoying man in the world, I'd like to be annoyed by someone just like Broos. :)

I guess everyone goes through wondering about changing something. Maybe Broos should move to Seattle ;) That is a change worth considering. Bwahahahaha!

For me, when I reincarnate, I want to be less frantic and to enjoy the moments of my life more. I would like a half of a math gene more than I have now. I would like to not procrastinate. And I'd like to be size 8 again.

I am procrastinating. Algebra homework, and lots of it -- all in the form of two variable story problems. They are waiting for me, textbook and graph paper spread across the coffee table in anticipation.

Interview at Alaska went pretty well, even though once more I procrastinated filling out the forms they sent to me. Although that time the procrastination was due to other earlier algebra homework and a couple of legal homework papers and the school district interview. I've been unhappily busy and finals are next week. Aieeee!

I like the attorneys I interviewed with today; I would love this job even without flight benefits. They lit up like beacons when I described my various and sundry job skills and exchanged significant glances several times. Apparently, I am the sort of person they are looking for to help tidy up their act. I adore tidying up and said so. They beamed again and fell over themselves trying to make the job not sound too terrible and not too stellar ("we don't want you to raise hopes of moving from secretary to paralegal," one said. Well, okay. :>)

So now we wait. I don't know that the interview with the school district went as well for me. The thought of spending my days hunkered down and surrounded by high school students leaves me shuddering. I wouldn't mind working in the school district, but at a safe and clean distance like at the district office rather than smack in the middle of hormone high.

The school district called. They want me to interview for head secretary for one of their high schools.

Head secretary! ::howl:: All I can think of is that scene in "Grease" where the secretary plays the xylophone for the morning announcements. Hehehe! "If you can't be an athlete, be an athletic supporter."

Alas, dear departed Broos Goober, my first Sims cherub, who perished yesterday after I removed the doors to the bathroom that he'd wandered into in the new Goober Castle (which is available for download at The Sims Exchange! Search for the Goobers! ;>).

Ever since I installed Vacation, I've run into odd problems with the rest of the Sims. Most uncomfortable of the problems is the Crashing Kids. I noticed that in certain families, clicking on the kids would crash the game to the desktop. A quandry. I fretted. I decided that the only way to preserve game play was to remove the Crashing Kid.

Broos is not the only cherub to be in that eternal SimPlace in the Sky. :/ RIP Virgil Mashuga, who drowned in the family pool and RIP Paolo Frenz and Prince Maximus who were, like Broos, locked into a bathroom.

I'm really not sure why it happens. Occasionally, it's not the kid, it's a parent. RIP Danae and Cleo Frenz, who also perished in bathrooms. It must be true that that's the most dangerous room in the house. ;)

On the bright side, I learned that I am too tender hearted to do in Rob, which he should be real grateful to know. :) Even if he did wake me up this morning by blasting the mp3 of that darn Dead Skunk song.

Totally frustrating problem, the random crashing. And I agonized over doing in Broos because, well, he's named for someone I love. So, Real Broos, I'm sorry that I am the instrument of your namesake's demise.

Be comforted however that I didn't sell the tombstone like I did with the Durbans. At least, Broos is with the Goobers in spirit.

Next Wednesday, I interview for a position here.

It seems so odd to be in the middle of school and still interviewing for a job. I was very interested in the school assistant to the assistant superintendent position. I was semi-interested in working for Alaska Air because, well, they have travel benefits. hehehe!

They are skipping me past the HR process so next week, I will be meeting the attorneys and interviewing directly with them. I hope I lose five pounds so that I fit one of the suits Liz gave me.

Over time, I inherited what Jean and I refer to as "LizWear." These are clothes handed down from Liz. Previously, I inherited LizWear after Jean got them, so they were in their third owner when I received them. After Jean left AIG to work at home, I became the first heir for LizWear and Liz gave me two beautiful, tailored and fitted suits. They fit as though they'd been tailored for me and were so beautiful I never wore them.

Then I got married and gained weight and now they don't fit quite so nicely. :)

Well, even if the suits don't fit, I have other LizWear that does fit so I will look nice and professional. Gosh, I hope they don't expect me to wear nylons. Part of my summer rebellion includes not wearing nylons between May and October.

Unless they match my shoes. ;) Which since Rob isn't posting, I will mention that we went out to breakfast this past Sunday and after breakfast were going to go for a walk. I wore sandals to the restaurant and tossed a pair of sneakers into the car, laughing about how Rob was going to tease me for taking two pairs of shoes for a simple outing.

He has teased me but hasn't updated his journal to reflect that. Although he did send me the dead skunk song this morning. What's he trying to say?