It Hit Me Like a Wrecking Ball

Yesterday I was on the beach at our Agua Hedionda Lagoon with a friend, taking photos just before sunset when the light was perfectperfectperfect.

It took me about ten minutes to walk home.

Without warning, I was shaking with chills, a headache, and a 101.5 temp.

Just like that.

It hit me like a wrecking ball.

I couldn’t get warm. I took a hot shower, drank scalding tea, and made miso soup.

Finally, five hours later, my teeth stopped chattering and I started burning up.

You want to know when I really miss my tugboat man?

It’s times like this, when I wish he were here to bring me Tylenol and a cold compress; toast and tea.

It’s these little things; the “in sickness and in health” kinds of things-that weave the fibers of a marriage.

Yup, I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself right about now.

Anyone want to bring me a cuppa?

 

 

 

 

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“Put on your yarmulke, it’s time for Chanukah!”

Happy Chanukah!

(In case you don’t know how to pronounce the word, if I spelled it like this, “Hannukah”, that’d give you a hint.)

Eight days of prezzies, what could be better?

I (really) am aware there’s another more serious reason for the celebration called Festival of Lights, but nothing compares to the sparkle of a diamond in the candleglow of a fully lit menorah.

AMMIRIGHT?

Have you heard the new version of Adam Sandler’s Chanukah song with references to Jared Fogle and Adam Levine?

Funny as always.

So enjoy your Kugel, already!

Click here for a link to my mom’s famous recipe, Not Kegel, But a Kugel-licious Recipe

And Hannukah Hairy Harry, let’s not forget THIS little guy…

Click here: Hairy Hanukkah Harry and The Story of Hanukkah 2012

Hannukah candles

And…it’s just possible that on the 8th day of Chanukah I’ll receive a HUGE gift in the form of a big old hairy sexy blue-eyed tugboat man!

Keep your fingers crossed for me and light your candles!

חנוכה שמחה


Don’t Be Sarah This Thanksgiving…

Saw this last night on Funny or Die and had to share.

thanksgivingfunny.png

I’ve been so busy working on the campaign to #savecarlsbad #nolagoonmall #notincarlsbad that I haven’t been paying enough attention to blogging. All the info is at http://www.citizensfornorthcounty.org if you’re interested in how a group of concerned neighbors are fighting to save our lagoon from bad city leaders and their outside billionaire developer friend.

Angel Boy and preggy DIL are here and I prepared a delicious Vegan Veggie Pot Pie for dinner last night; took pics and was gonna share the recipe, but it’ll have to wait until there’s a lull in the action around here.

A quote about the real meaning of Thanksgiving from my secret crush…Jon Stewart

“I celebrated Thanksgiving in an old-fashioned way. I invited everyone in my neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast, and then I killed them and took their land.”

Now I have to go, cos my famous Kugel noodle/fruit dish has been requested and it’s time to roll my sleeves up and get to work.
Not Kegel, But a KUGEL-icuos  Recipe for Thanksgiving
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

This is the life of a tugboat captain’s wife…

My tugboat man departed mid-September for what was supposed to be a six-week assignment.

In the world of the merchant mariner, that’s easy; a piece of cake.

He’s still not home and what’s today’s date?

November 22.

Will he be home for Thanksgiving?

Nope.

Will he be home the week after?

Hopefully, but no guarantees.

Am I complaining?

Only kinda, sorta, cos I’m pretty much used to this by now.

During the first fifteen years or so of our marriage, he worked in our local harbor as a tug captain and also as port captain of a tug company, and then with the downturn in the economy in 2008, he was offered an opportunity to return to his roots of long distance towing.

Not only is he a maritime academy (won’t tell which one) graduate and a high ticket tug captain, he’s a tow master.

Being a Master Towboatman is highly specialized and a difficult and often dangerous job.

Which is why if I don’t hear from him every day, I get a little (OK, a LOT) crazy.

Even though we do have limited satellite email, I haven’t actually SPOKEN to him in a few weeks, but tomorrow he’s going to bring one 800-foot-long barge into a port and exchange it for another one to take offshore and do whatever it is that he does (can’t tell you) and the highlight of my day is a PHONE CALL.

A TELEPHONE CALL.

Which makes me very, very happy!

So, in spite of my bestie not being here on this Sunday where Princess Rosebud (me) can make him his fave buckwheat pancakes, I am very thankful that I’ll be able to hear his voice tomorrow.

Gratitude…Take it wherEVER you can find it.

gratitudetexlagoon

 

WTF WordPress. Not AGAIN…

Have you noticed that I’ve been absent from the blogosphere for a few days?

2015-11-19 02.01.38-1

Were you wondering what’s happened to Princess Rosebud?

Did I go on a shopping spree that spiraled out of control?

Nope, no out-of-control purchases, although I did attend a Chanel trunk show and walked away empty handed, but only because the earrings I desired were clip on and not meant for my pierced ears.

Oh well.

The truth is that I was/am joining forces with other like minded community activists to FIGHT a mega mall development that would, if allowed, forever destroy our precious sensitive wetlands.

And more.

With help, I rescued a cat from a boarded up, condemned home.

I wanted to write a post about all of this, but when I opened WordPress, I was greeted with YET ANOTHER CHANGE TO WRITING, EDITING, PUBLISHING TOOLS.

WordPress, I simply cannot take these changes right now.

It’s not necessary to tweak the format.

HONEST.

And where’s the button to SAVE my work?  That teensy little word with the blue line under it isn’t USER FRIENDLY.

The whole format is NOT user friendly.

WTF, WordPress?____________________________________________________

P.S. To add insult to injury, tugboat man is again delayed; won’t be home until AFTER Thanksgiving. UGH.

 

To Pee or Not to Pee

bath5

The walls are NOT this shade of green lol ; they’re more of a ferny green, not so neon!

THAT’s the question.

(I’m so sorry, Mr. Shakespeare)

Here’s the story:

When tugboat man was still here and we were having our house re-roofed, one of the guys slipped and stuck his foot through the ceiling in our upstairs office.

I’m happy to say he wasn’t hurt at all.

Later on that day, the roofer’s drywall friend came over to do the repair.

Hub requested that I cover all the furniture and the rug in the vicinity of the hole to protect it from dust and stuff ‘cos he knows how freaky OCD I get about dirt, and the whole roofing experience triggered all THOSE issues.

After I found some old sheets and draped the area, I went downstairs to wash dishes while hub chatted with the repairman.

Hub came down to the kitchen to get a glass of ice water and my bat ears (that’s what I’m called cos I hear EVERYTHING) picked up the sound of the upstairs toilet flushing.

I looked at hub in horror.

“That wasn’t the drywall guy flushing the toilet, was it?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Do you mean that he USED OUR BATHROOM?”

“Yup, why?”

“Did he ask you if he could use our bathroom?”

“Yes, why?” As he’s looking at me quizzically.

“And did you say yes?”

(Now I hear the sound of running water.)

“Yes, why?”

I’m hyperventilating, my mind’s eye scanning each and every surface this person must have touched; the toilet seat, the flushing handle, the water faucet, a towel (a TOWEL!), and the light switch. Oh, and the door knob. Both of them.

I’m seeing germs, I’m seeing hoards of stranger germs (stranger danger STRANGER DANGER!) multiplying and spreading all over the bathroom and overflowing down the stairs to invade each and every corner of our house.

I’m thinking of the horror stories I’ve heard about stuff being stolen—or OMG WHAT IF HE WENT NUMBER TWO?

I’m not really a snob (I’m NOT!) but this was not someone we hired; it was a friend or acquaintance of our roofer and we didn’t know his name or anything about him.

What if he had some kind of disease?

I couldn’t even handle that.

Not even.

Whew.

In a very controlled voice, I asked…”Don’t you know that as a general practice, one never allows strangers to use our personal bathrooms?  I mean, we don’t even really have a guest powder room or anything. This is private.”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“Do you mean that in the twenty-five or so years that we’ve been together, you didn’t know that that was one of the things I just cannot abide?”

(Did I just hear him whisper to himself that right now It feels like 40 million years?)

“No really, I didn’t know that, but why not?”

“WHY NOT? Because it’s just not done, that’s why!”

“Well, what was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, what I say is either, I’d prefer that you didn’t, or It’s not something I’m comfortable with or maybe, I have a crazy wife, so you probably shouldn’t.”

I mean, here’s the thing…there are two kinds of people; those who don’t care if strangers use their toilets, and those who think it’s not appropriate for a stranger, especially one who’s there to do a job, to use the customer’s facilities.

Most contractors bring their own porta potty for jobs that take a few days, or they leave to use the restroom at a restaurant or anywhere else but here.

When he finished the small job of fixing the ceiling, I donned my ubiquitous yellow rubber gloves, a respirator mask (not really), and a gallon of bleach, and rushed into the now possibly-infected-with-stranger-danger-germs bathroom.

To add insult to injury, do you know what I found?

HE LEFT THE SEAT UP.

Yup. He left the seat UP.

I yelled that to hub, “HE LEFT THE SEAT UP!!”

I could hear hub muttering to himself; I don’t even want to know what he said.

Ick. Yuck. I spent the next hour totally disinfecting every surface.

Don’t think I’m like this when friends or family visit; of course not, not if I know them, their genetic makeup, their social security number, their address, their medical history…JUST KIDDING!

According to a discussion of this very topic on Angie’s List, here’s one contractor’s thoughts: David Webber, who owns David’s Home Cleaning in Raleigh, N.C., says he would never think of using a client’s bathroom except in a dire emergency, even though he can sometimes be on a job for eight hours.

“It’s like a personal, private space,” Webber says.

On long jobs, he’ll take a break to use a restroom off-site.

Kristopher Toth, owner of Toth Painting Solutions in Parma, Ohio, says he doesn’t expect to use his clients’ bathrooms.

“I think it’s a courtesy; I don’t think we can just assume we can use their bathroom,” Toth says.

What say YOU?

Do you let repairmen use your bathroom? What is YOUR criteria?

PS Had a date/publish issue with WP so I’m reposting.

To Pee or Not to Pee

bath5

The walls are NOT this shade of green lol ; they’re more of a ferny green, not so neon!

THAT’s the question.

(I’m so sorry, Mr. Shakespeare)

Here’s the story:

When tugboat man was still here and we were having our house re-roofed, one of the guys slipped and stuck his foot through the ceiling in our upstairs office.

I’m happy to say he wasn’t hurt at all.

Later on that day, the roofer’s drywall friend came over to do the repair.

Hub requested that I cover all the furniture and the rug in the vicinity of the hole to protect it from dust and stuff ‘cos he knows how freaky OCD I get about dirt, and the whole roofing experience triggered all THOSE issues.

After I found some old sheets and draped the area, I went downstairs to wash dishes while hub chatted with the repairman.

Hub came down to the kitchen to get a glass of ice water and my bat ears (that’s what I’m called cos I hear EVERYTHING) picked up the sound of the upstairs toilet flushing.

I looked at hub in horror.

“That wasn’t the drywall guy flushing the toilet, was it?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Do you mean that he USED OUR BATHROOM?”

“Yup, why?”

“Did he ask you if he could use our bathroom?”

“Yes, why?” As he’s looking at me quizzically.

“And did you say yes?”

(Now I hear the sound of running water.)

“Yes, why?”

I’m hyperventilating, my mind’s eye scanning each and every surface this person must have touched; the toilet seat, the flushing handle, the water faucet, a towel (a TOWEL!), and the light switch. Oh, and the door knob. Both of them.

I’m seeing germs, I’m seeing hoards of stranger germs (stranger danger STRANGER DANGER!) multiplying and spreading all over the bathroom and overflowing down the stairs to invade each and every corner of our house.

I’m thinking of the horror stories I’ve heard about stuff being stolen—or OMG WHAT IF HE WENT NUMBER TWO?

I’m not really a snob (I’m NOT!) but this was not someone we hired; it was a friend or acquaintenance of our roofer and we didn’t know his name or anything about him.

What if he had some kind of disease?

I couldn’t even handle that.

Not even.

Whew.

In a very controlled voice, I asked…”Don’t you know that as a general practice, one never allows strangers to use our personal bathrooms?  I mean, we don’t even really have a guest powder room or anything. This is private.”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“Do you mean that in the twenty-five or so years that we’ve been together, you didn’t know that that was one of the things I just cannot abide?”

(Did I just hear him whisper to himself that right now It feels like 40 million years?)

“No really, I didn’t know that, but why not?”

“WHY NOT? Because it’s just not done, that’s why!”

“Well, what was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, what I say is either, I’d prefer that you didn’t, or It’s not something I’m comfortable with or maybe, I have a crazy wife, so you probably shouldn’t.”

I mean, here’s the thing…there are two kinds of people; those who don’t care if strangers use their toilets, and those who think it’s not appropriate for a stranger, especially one who’s there to do a job, to use the customer’s facilities.

Most contractors bring their own porta potty for jobs that take a few days, or they leave to use the restroom at a restaurant or anywhere else but here.

When he finished the small job of fixing the ceiling, I donned my ubiquitous yellow rubber gloves, a respirator mask (not really) and a gallon of bleach and rushed into the inow possibly-infected-with-stranger-danger-germs bathroom.

To add insult to injury, do you know what I found?

HE LEFT THE SEAT UP.

Yup. He left the seat UP.

I yelled that to hub, “HE LEFT THE SEAT UP!!”

I could hear hub muttering to himself; I don’t even want to know what he said.

Ick. Yuck. I spent the next hour totally disinfecting every surface.

Don’t think I’m like this when friends or family visit; of course not, not if I know them, their genetic makeup, their social security number, their address, their medical history…JUST KIDDING!

According to a discussion of this very topic on Angie’s List, here’s one contractor’s thoughts: David Webber, who owns David’s Home Cleaning in Raleigh, N.C., says he would never think of using a client’s bathroom except in a dire emergency, even though he can sometimes be on a job for eight hours.

“It’s like a personal, private space,” Webber says.

On long jobs, he’ll take a break to use a restroom off-site.

Kristopher Toth, owner of Toth Painting Solutions in Parma, Ohio, says he doesn’t expect to use his clients’ bathrooms.

“I think it’s a courtesy; I don’t think we can just assume we can use their bathroom,” Toth says.

What say YOU?

Do you let repairmen use your bathroom? What is YOUR criteria?