farcebook is a great way to loosely keep track of friends and family, but...

...one wearies of its attendant baloney.

For the thousandth time, I do not want to play Lucky Slots.  I don't play slot machines in real life and I have no plan to start.  Yet about once a week, I enter FB and get a message that says "So and So wants you to play Lucky Slots."  Is So and So inviting their entire friends list once a week, or did they tell it to invite their Friends list and Lucky Slots just won't take the hint? Or is So and So telling it to invite me once a week?

I've had about enough of that. 

That's the great thing about blogs: if I go to Tam's blog, it's the Tam Show.  No fillers.  No greasy kidstuff.  No offers to help me with the pesky plague of hairloss.  Just Tam that goes to 11. 

I don't know about this Facebook thing, though.  One tires.

Sposta register for Microbiology at 9am today.

Will be a matter of clockwork and getting in under the wire and the wired. Registration opens at 9 and my connection can be slow. Praying I get the section I want. Fingers crossed.

UPDATE: I didn't make it into the first summer session, but I DID make it into the second one. *whew*.  That's going to be a difficult 5 weeks, but at least I get a rest before then.  Spring semester is over Thursday for Chemistry, and then I'm off until the second week of July. *whew*

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: Chooch is on the case!

A new crop of baby bunnies is on the hoof, and Chuy will be ready if any should stray into the back yard. Unknown if he has ingested any this year, but he's pretty stealthy about his meal supplements, too.

What's a'blooming

Catmint is putting on a little display with its variegated fruity little beards and beaming faces on display. The plum colored salvia is a real survivor, as I neglected it much of last year and all of the last 6 months.
Here's to heat- and drought- hardy perennials!!!

Today's shoe choice:

Wheeee!

I need to can turnips and I was just planning to buy a pressure cooker.

I'd better hurry and get one while they are still legal.

I'd give this creator credit if I knew who they were. Beautiful job of succinct ramming home of a point:

I had lunch yesterday with a beautiful musician friend from my university days who is from South Africa.  We talked fashion and gossip about friends and who we know that's making it in the classical music world (she is, but we talked primarily about other people and boyfriends, et al) and who has shot themselves in the foot and who is selling mattresses in Abilene now.  It was very interesting.  One thing we did not talk about was politics.  Early on in my musical training, I learned to step daintily through the minefield of politics when around my creative cohorts, because often emotion reigned supreme and "George W Bush is an idiot, right?" was tacit in pretty much every discussion.

I posted the above poster on my Facebook page and my musician friend sent me a message that surprised and delighted me:

"love love love your post about the dingbats' background check!!! I've been saying this to people for DAYS -- and all these idiots are screaming "background check"
PUH-lease...
It won't make a damn difference...
The CraZies will still get their guns, rifles and pressure cookers somewhere else.
Amen.

She continued:

In SAfr we have pretty strict gun-rules, restrictions, background bla bla bla and yeehaw, honey ----- we're No 1 in the WORLD with homicide gun deaths!  Purposeless.

Wow. I knew she was whip-smart, but, again, I learned take the high road and not judge my creative colleagues for their political views, and to try to have a charitable opinion of them.  Nice to see that one of them gets it.  The sad thing is it sounds like she probably thinks it's Americans who monolithically think gun control is the answer.  In the creative community, it may be. 

At music school in classes and rehearsals and after-parties, the brilliant teachers would lob the occasional depth charges to give everyone the correct, cynical view on whatever was going on in the world so we could all be on the same page.  I mean, we all agree, right?  Right?

I chose my battles.  I chose them elsewhere, because in addition to the pressure to stand on stage and sing like an angel, I didn't have the reserves to fight like a demon backstage for a cause.  My friend, though, gets it, and apparently her intelligence is simply too insulted not to go loggerheads with them.  Plus she's actually lived in a much more violent and stratified culture. I love her for her outspokenness.   Maybe I'd have gone farther with my singing if I'd actually dug in my heels and duked it out with those folks.

I think I need to open my mouth earlier and more often, even if it means I won't get the role I wanted.  Why am I here, anyway?  Common sense will not be common again until more people say it and let more people hear it.

Gunbloggerpalooza

There's going to be several gatherings outside of the NRA convention coming up next week.  One is going to be a group of Pro-2A bloggers on Friday night.   Post a message here if you want me to contact you with the information.  We'd love to see you!

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: Nosie!

The terrible beauty of chemistry

When certain chemicals are on fire, spraying them with water makes them explode. :(

Worried about the folks in West, Texas.

Good, clean fun.

Is it just me or is it fun to see some people looking like they are trying with all their might to suppress the most enormous, pressure-packed fart in the history of

the world?





Yeah. I think so, too.

From the file of premature overconfidence:

After one quick tutor session with my professor, I have four words for you, Stoichiometry*: screen, door, wind and storm.

*I hope I spelled that correctly

I would fain deny that restrooms are places where olfactory offenses occur...

But that cinnamon-spritzing air freshener ain't helping.

Now it smells like cinnamony poo in there.

Matter of fact, can we just avoid food flavors for bathroom air treatment all together??? Why is this not common sense?

Phlegmmy's Lazy Sunday Cheater Beans

Ingredients:

1 halfrack brisket from local BBQ place
1/2 c BBQ sauce from local BBQ place
2 cans garbanzo beans
1 can black beans
1 can kidney beans
1 can navy beans
1 can Ro-Tel
1 can chopped Hatch chiles

Dump canned stuff in crock pot with BBQ sauce. Tear up rib rack and throw it all in the pot, including the bones and gristle. DO NOT throw away the fat. Throw fat in the pot. You're a dullard if you try to un-fat this pot and probably not worthy. Add water so nothing is dry-docked. Vary bean types and can numbers as you prefer, but I will disavow your cheater beans' authenticity if you unfat it. That's cheating for real and I can't be having none of that.

Turn crockpot on High until desired hotness is achieved.

Nom with pups looking on balefully. Give cartilage to pups. Nibble for several days. Contemplate the glory of the elegant interplay of canned beans and pre-cooked meat.
Pet pups and be happy.

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: we help Mommy study. Unless we don't.

Fragrance du jour: Gunpowder Rose by Union

Gunpowder Rose is marvelous. I've only been wearing this about ten minutes, so I'll have to report later on the heart and drydown of the fragrance, but the top notes are marvelous.

From the Bendel site:

The English Rose, celebrated in art and literature for centuries, has finally been captured in this hymn to high summer. Rose oils and extracts from Lincolnshire and the Stour Valley distil the scented velvet-softness of the petals and zesty-green stems of this romantic and exalted bloom. In a dramatic twist, the delicate flowers dance over spicy embers of charcoal and the piquant fizz of sulfur - the thunderstorm notes of gunpowder! The approaching torrent is tempered by a heart of Lovage, harvested in Hampshire, Meadowsweet and Violet Leaf from Herefordshire and juicy Blackcurrant from Kent, which balance fresh summer greenness with energizing bite. Finally, Union's own Oak Moss from Dorset and Oak Bark from Nottinghamshire provide the earthy forest floor on which this highly charged fragrance rests. Explosive.

 I can typically smell the classic rose scent as "rose", but I'm not getting that here. I'm smelling tuberose, actually, but in a very subtle way-- tuberose is often overpowering. Maybe I should have taken more time to smell roses there whilst visiting England.  Anyhoo.

Since my first trip to the range with JPG and Hols, I have said that if they could bottle the sublime scent of smoke gently wafting off a boiling barrel, well, I'd totally buy that stuff.  I'll have to report back on the heart and drydown, but so far, I'd purchase this bottle based on the top notes and the name alone.  Time to save pennies and pimp out some puppies, I suppose. I'm awaiting a sulfuric/charcoal emergence that makes me feel smokin'!


This fragrance in full bottles is sold exclusively in the US by Henri Bendel.  Bought my sample of Gunpowder Rose for about $10 on Surrender to Chance.  Surrender to Chance is a great way to try expensive fragrances without the inherent risk of the huge outlay of cash.  I do strongly recommend you opt for the 2ml spray of any sample you order, as I feel I get a better idea of the scent with a spritz than with the little plastic dauber.  STC ships incredibly quickly, and if you "like" them on Facebook, you can go to their FB page to get codes for savings and weekly special information. 

Yes. I'm a perfume addict. I can't quit anytime that I want to.

UPDATE - The heart blossomed into a gorgeous, straightforward rose.  There was something else emerging but I took a shower and put on another fragrance for my goof off day. I'll try Gunpowder Rose for a full day one day this week and report with the base notes.

 Apparently, the entire Union line of fragrances is based entirely on accords found only in the British Isles.  There's even apparently a marmite/hops element to the one called Celtic Fire. Apparently that really makes a person smell like a bonfire (see the link!).  Sounds like it would smell good to me. I love the smell of peat.

Looking for clues.

Loved Back In Love Again by LTD in the 1970s even though I was just a kid. Seeing the video of their 1978ish Soul Train appearance, Mom would DEFINITELY not have approved. Still like the song anyway, and this is one juicy time capsule. Remind me again why we left the 1970s?




On second thought: no need to remind me.

I used to know someone who'd order the relish and mustard and all that crap on their hotdogs and then would scrape it all off and eat the 'dog with the remnants of all that muck and goo. I asked "why do you order that stuff if you don't want to eat it?" He said "I just like knowing it used to be there."

I like knowing the 70s used to be here.

...so I always figured Robert Palmer grafted a hopped-up version of the groove from the above song on 1981's Looking For Clues.



I think I was right, and nicely done, at that.

Perhaps the best indicator that I came of age in the 80s is the fact that I'm less embarrassed by the 80s than I am by the 70s. It's all a mess.

Anyway, I really liked Robert Palmer, loved his style. Classically male and never even remotely douchey. Tres tres cool. Timelessly chic. Oozing cool. Thanks for being unembarrassing, Robert.

See? The 80s weren't all bad!

I really like my Chemistry professor.

Actual quote from class last Thursday:

For those who have been on a car trip with siblings, you already know that gas expands to fill its container.

I was the only one who laughed.

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: first glimpse of pups today

My wee dogs very graciously let me sleep late this morning. I needed it! They've been very cuddly all weekend. Now we are on the recliner and they are snuggled up and napping while I read my chemistry book. Sweet little houndies!

A sartorical question: should I take the red pill or the blue pill?

I polled my posse this morning, and I know what they think, but I'm curious what you think:

On the mend.

While I don't feel fantastic, I'm much improved from how I felt just 24 hours ago. More stuff has come out of my nose in the last 4 days than the entirety of my post-surgery for the deviated septum and all that stuff, so that's sort of saying something. It's been pretty unpleasant. I'm sure you're so glad you just read this paragraph.

I stayed home from work yesterday and today. If tomorrow is half as bad as today, I still won't be able to talk on the phone all day at work, but I'm going to do my best to make it in there. Instead, I'll do other maintenance type things on accounts, but it will be good to be out of the house. Scratch that-- it will be good to FEEL like being out of the house.

Speaking of the house, today I was working on studying chemistry when all three pups went into a tizzy. I knew something was on the porch. It was a cold and wet day-- around 40 degrees, and out on the porch was a skinny pit bull bitch and a maybe 3 or 4 month old pup. It was heartbreaking. She seemed to think this was her house, and she tried to make a nest for herself and the pup on the porch, and my dogs were going bananas. She had that beaten-down look of a dog who has had to cower, poor thing, and they looked desperately hungry and cold. I wanted to give them some food and dry them off, but I knew there was just nothing I could do, and even for a short while I couldn't expose my pups to them. I called the animal control guy and he came over and took them away. The mother had a leash looking strap hooked to her collar, but the animal control fellow said it looked like it had been cut and not chewed off. We discussed it and sort of concluded these poor dogs had been dumped. I mean to follow up on that and see if I can help with them in any way at the shelter. Some people should not be allowed to have pets OR children. That episode put a sour damper on the day. I vow to rescue every dog I can reasonably rescue in this lifetime, but 3 at a time is a handful so I'm flush for pups. My friend Dianne says dogs are like martinis-- 2 is not enough, and 3 is too many. Actually, I'd like 4 or 5 martinis, but, I digress. Point is that my 3 little dogs are a handful. I'll do what I can, but that doesn't mean I'm not bothered by all the ones I can't save.

So. Chemistry. Bloody difficult. I've been doing fairly well up until now, but I'm at a sticky wicket with stoichiometry. See how defeated I am? I can't even be bothered to look that up and see if I've misspelled it. Anyway. I'm trying to sort through the mess, but it's painfully difficult. I realize there is a formulaic aspect to it and I just need to work through the steps until it becomes rote, but the homework system we have doesn't really have a way of telling you anything except it's all right or all wrong. All-or-nothing equations bug the stuffing out of me. I get absolutely no credit just for showing up in cute shoes. That's clearly unreasonable.

In general, the past few weeks I'm getting back on my feet and my head is clearing a little. My surgery was meant to be 4 hours, but it actually took 7. I didn't realize this, but Old_NFO told me that a rule of thumb is about a month recovery time for each hour you are under general anaesthesia. Holy crap. So, I suppose I'll be foggy for a few more months. I'm happy to be doing better in general, though. I'll try to get back on track with blogging in baby steps. The braces off the top teeth have been nice, and flossing feels SOOOO good. At least I have that to enjoy every day, whether or not I am snotty. When I chose the sobriquet of Phlegmfatale, I didn't actually intend to live up to the name, but apparently I'm an overachiever.

In bed, sick.

Chicken soup.
Mochi helps with cleanup. Sweet pup.