Mario Kart: Real Life

Yesterday was a Mario Kart day.

As I drove to work, I ate a banana. When I finished the banana, I threw the peel out the window. As I did, I couldn't help but check the car behind me in my rearview, to make sure he didn't spin out on said banana peel. He did not.

Then, at the end of the day, my former roommate calls me to say that she also had a Mario Kart moment. She was walking to the post office, and as she walked past a guy's car, she heard the noise that signifies someone just used a mushroom and is about to get huge. (Nintendo fans, you know the sound I mean.)

She stopped. Looked around to make sure she was, in fact, in the real world, and then looked at the car. The car was empty.

We're not sure what sort of power it holds, but if you're in northern Indianapolis - be on the lookout. Cars could start growing at any moment.

Butterflies go bye-bye

Message to Kelly Reynen, the gifter of the Butterfly Sunglasses:

I am sad to report that the sunglasses you gifted to me in Ohio died tragically, Friday, July 23, around 3 p.m. CST. Cause of death: broken ear thingy(?). Reason: unknown. Burial: Tribune trash can, me presiding.

Though the Butterfly Sunglasses only shaded for a short while in S.D., they did their task with honor, reflecting rays, protecting an aspiring reporter's retinas, and making highway driving safer for at least 15 people.

Why these Butterflies, as they came to be known, chose to end so abruptly is unknown; though, their former owner surmises it could have been a desperate attempt to avoid further punishing times in the abyss known as "the purse." Upon the even more tragic and untimely death of the Sunglass Visor Clip fastened in previous owner's crappy white-trash car, Butterflies had nowhere else to go besides said purse, or to lie covered in a pile of papers on Owner's desk. Thus, it could have been an act of grief and desperation.

Or it could have been an accident, brought on by Owner's freakishly big head.

But all this is merely speculation. All we know is that the Butterflies performed their Sun-Shielding task with honor, and will be remembered fondly.

Their replacement was discovered on a cheapie rack in Valentine, Neb. Lacking the sentimental attachment of the previous pair, having been gifted by a favorite soulmate, these new glasses have large shades to fill. (Though they are a snazzy shade of grey).

R.I.P. Butterflies. R.I.P.

Seems shady

Third pair of sunglasses in about 4 months broke yesterday. Same as last time, they just kind of fell apart when I went to put them on my face. Kind of disconcerting when it happens.

Put down the weapon, please

An intoxicated hobo came into the office today, wanting to sell a knife. Now, the knife was actually kinda cool, but he kept unsheathing it and waving it around and then looking at me when I said I didn't have any money.

It makes me nervous when drunk people have weapons. Or fireworks. Or phones, for that matter (drunk dialing = no fun). I especially dislike it when unstable people can brandish weapons when I'm not doing what they want.

So then he decided to tell me a story. He made a point of telling me that his girlfriend lives in town. I must have been unable to hide my romantic interest.

Luckily, Rich got back and Hobo left. Just another day at the office.

Baking Banana Bread: Why Mom knows best

All I wanted to do was make banana bread. That's how it started.

So, I find a recipe and look through what it requires (thank you, Special Foods for teaching me to ALWAYS read through a recipe before actually starting anything).

List of things I do not have: flour, sugar, baking powder, shortening, etc. etc. etc.

More things I don't have: A mixer, and a bread pan.

I don't like grocery shopping, and having been "about to move" for 3 months now, I keep saying "I don't want to buy a bunch of stuff I'm just going to have to move." Well, finally I caved.

So I call my sister. I figure, "she's all domestic, she should have extra supplies floating around."

Success! She has extra bread pans, and she'll bring them to me when we hang out the weekend before my birthday (which would be the Weekend of the Sunburn, for those keeping track). Not only does she bring me a big pan and a little pan, but - ah ha, how did you know??? - a hand mixer. Of my very own.

So, two weeks later, I'm finally back in baking mode. I go grocery shopping. It's the most I've spent grocery shopping in several months (which was still not much).

Get home, start mixing, only to discover that I forgot the baking powder. So I just decide to go put gas in my car and get the baking powder at the same time.

Apparently, 7 p.m. is when EVERYONE decides to put gas in, because there were lines almost back to the pop cooler. Takes 1/2 an hour to get my car's tank filled.

BUT, I figure, not a total loss - they had baking powder. And as I'm looking at the shelf, I see baking soda and shortening right next to it. I say to myself, "Hey, I don't have that stuff, maybe I should get it." Then I think, "Nah, I'm not buying anything I don't need."

Turns out, I needed it. Get back home, have stuff halfway mixed, realize that shortening was in fact part of the recipe. How I missed that the first 3 times, I don't know (proof reading skills had shut down for the day, I guess). Rather than go back to the store, again, I do what any smart girl does to problem solve: call Mom.

After several dropped calls and my phone shutting off in the middle of my sentence (fun feature of the LG), I finally get to the heart of my problem:

"Mom! All I want to do is bake banana bread but I keep not having the right ingredients and I don't want to go back to the store!"

"What don't you have?"

"Shortening."

"Ok, you can use ...."

And she lists of several substitutes. She also critiqued my recipe and gave me hers, which is now written in the margins of my cookbook.

This led to a lengthy discussion on the disproportionate change in the amount of sugar used between her recipe and mine (3/4 c. vs. 1 1/2 c., for anyone interested).

So, Mom and I came up with an experimental combination of the two recipes. We split the difference and used 1 c. of sugar, and kinda played around with some of the other stuff.

I figure now I'm in the clear. Now I can bake in peace.

False.

It took almost 2 hours for the dumb thing to bake. I followed the recipe, so I don't know if it's just my oven or what, but...I made French toast, ate French toast, cleaned up the dishes from French toast, cleaned the kitchen, changed a light bulb (which is an obnoxious process with the light fixtures in my house in and of itself), re-organized my cupboards, and had a good chat with Gramma while waiting for the bread to bake. It was almost 10 p.m. by the time I finally wrapped the bread up (literally).

You might be thinking, "What a ridiculously long blog just about her baking bread. Jeez." Um, yeah. That's how I felt.

Like I said, all I wanted to do was make banana bread. Nothing is ever simple for me.

*Note: Despite the ridiculous process, it ended up quite tasty. My coworker said he now expects zucchini bread on Monday. We'll see.

Lowering my 'level' of respect...

"Time" magazine sent me a laser level/tape measure as a "thank you gift" for subscribing. Just what I always wanted.

I mean, really, "Time"??? A level? I subscribed to your magazine because it provides in-depth, global news coverage. Had I been in the market for a lasered level, I would have subscribed to "Fine Woodworking" or even "Better Homes and Gardens."

And I can't even pretend to use the laser as a weapon, because my new laser level (that is only even remotely cool because of the laser) did not come with batteries. So the only part I was interested in, does not work, and because I did not want/need it in the first place, I am not inclined to go purchase batteries for it.

My message is this: Know. Your. Audience. I already had a tape measure with a level, which I have used maybe 10 times in 5 years. One is sufficient for all my handyman needs. Thus, having two of them - laser or not - seems excessive.

If you want to get me a gift, "Time," send me some free 'time.' Literal or metaphorical, I'm ok with either.

Pony Express, I guess

This time, TWO people on horseback rode past the office.

(My office is located just off of S.D. State Highway 18, one of the busier through-roads in the area. It is not normal to see horseback riders on the sidewalk. Or at least, it probably shouldn't be.)

Sunburn Saga: Part 3

I was under the impression that once I shed my extra, sun-scorched skin, the itching and uncomfortable-ness would cease and desist.

It has not. I am NOT happy.

AND, I'm fairly certain that I have permanently tanned/burned my back...cuz it's still a pretty shade of pink...

Whoops!

Epic fail, SPF 50! EPIC FAIL!

Sunburn Saga: Part 2

Sunday, July 11 - Back hurts a lot. Must go back to the rodeo. Wearing lots of clothes and sunscreen, which does not alleviate the extreme pain.

Monday, July 12 - Happy Birthday! You have a sunburn all over. This one will not fade into a tan, this will blister and peel. Dang it.

Tuesday, July 12 - Coworker pokes sunburnt shoulder. I inform him how unkind that is. He stops.

Wednesday, July 14 - Blisters are now forming.

Thursday, July 15 - Tight, uncomfortable skin. Still can't sleep on my back. Leaning back in my char works.

Friday, July 16 - And the peeling has started. My entire back. It's real gross.

Saturday, July 17 - Sooooooooo, you know what is disgusting? Looking at your back in the mirror and having it be covered with molting skin. Then waking up and seeing little bits of skin in the sheets. So ready for this to be over. Sat in the hot tub for a while - LOVE.

Sunday, July 18 - So most of the skin is finally gone. I do believe I'm going to have scars. And my back still itches like crazy.

Sunburn Saga, part 1

Saturday, July 10 - I have been commissioned to cover the 4-H rodeo. But this wasn't just any 4-H rodeo. This was also the Lil' Wranglers/Little Britches Rodeo. My mission, since I chose to accept it, was to find out who the Todd County/Mellette County/Bennett County 4-Hers were and take photos of them.

This required me to sit outside allllllll day. I'm pasty white naturally. I thought that, if I applied my SPF 50 suntan lotion (supplied by my also-pasty white sister, Amy), this would be a good chance to get a tan.

I was wrong.

Six hours later, my back was the shade of raw meat. And it hurts.

I also have a beautiful assortment of other sunburnt body parts, including both knees, the right side of my right leg, my right arm, my nose, my right foot, and my scalp.

*sigh*

The best part of my Fourth of July experience? Was it the lovely weather? The chance to be with family? The spectacular fireworks display by the river? No. It was the drunk man wandering around the hill yelling, "America! This is America!" Astute observation.

He wandered in front of people, looking for them to whoop in appreciation of his chant. When he got to the older generation, who just sort of stared at him, he got closer and said louder, "America! We are Americans!" still no response. "We can do anything if we put our minds to it!" I think at this point he received a polite nod, so he stumbled off.

I will say that he was not drunk enough to bother me or my mother, I'm guessing because he saw my dad and said, "oh he's a big fella!"