July 2006 Archives
July 31, 2006
Just as I promised, and only two weeks late!
While it really, really is great that I am not opposed to taking hundreds of photos, it really, really is a pain in the butt to go through all of them.
Every wedding should start off with fathers-in-law with guns. We shot a whole box of clay pigeons a few nights before the wedding as a nice and happy break from organza hell (and by "we" I, of course, mean "B's crazy Anchor Point family and the crazy family his sister just married into").
I held Lacey on my lap very, very tightly during all of the shooting. Not because she hated the sound of the shotgun, but because she loved the sound of the shotgun and wanted to jump off the cliff chasing the clay pigeons.
And every wedding should end with the bride and groom walking off into the sunset happily ever after, the bride freezing to death but who cares because she looks faboo, darling.
Hey! Look! There are more photos where those came from! But sadly, not one of my amazing sun-burnt cleavage.
Be thankful I'm not making you look at all 400 wedding shots.
July 26, 2006
Every time, every single time I build up enough savings that makes me think, "Yes, I am comfortable with this. This is a great start towards saving for a house," Something happens with one of the vehicles.
Like a declaration of "totalled." Or a blowed up engine.
And I knew I shouldn't have checked my bank account yesterday, but I needed to make sure I had the cash in my account to pay for a plane ticket to Perpetual Sunshine And Happiness, California (which, by the way: I am making Damon get me at the airport at FIVE AM. HA!).
Because the moment I saw those numbers and was very pleased with the amount, God laughed his evil laugh, shook his head, and dumped hellfire and damnation on my wee car.
Did you know? New transmissions are very expensive? And rebuilt transmissions only slightly less so?
So. Very. Sad.
July 24, 2006
Rachael and I packed up sunscreen, books, and the dog and headed to Chena Lake where nothing would stop us from being lazy and quite probably sunburnt.
Our first spot was noisy and crowded because everyone and their dog wants to go to Chena Lake when it's super sunny and hot. We left there, drove around too much and were unhappy with every other choice, lamenting the "wonderful" spot we had given up, then decided that we would try the other side of the lake. Which required walking right by a trail that had been closed due to bear sighting.
Rachael: You don't surely expect me to walk all the way over there? Where a bear could maul me and no one would even hear me scream?
Our new spot was very nice and sunny and quiet and we were only interrupted once when Lacey decided she had to kill a Retriever that came to say hi. I got her back by throwing her into the lake a few times.
My dog? Does not like to swim. At all. If I happen to be in the water with her she will splash over to me and then try to climb whatever part of my body is out of the water. Like my face. With her claws.
When I went into the water she feared for my safety. Did I not know of the demon boaters that would steal my soul? The Golden Retrievers who would rip out my jugular if she was not there to defend me?
Too bad she wasn't afraid of the leeches, because they are what finally did me in.
Rachael: Are you serious?
Valette: Yes. A leach just bit my leg.
Rachael: OHMIGAWD THERE'S ONE ON YOUR BUTT!
Valette: Get it for me.
Rachael: OH HELL NO.
Valette: I can't see it! Just pull it off!
Valette: Get it before it bites me, dammit!
Rachael: I cannot believe you made me touch a leech.
Rachael was sure these red alien spores would hatch and take us back to the mother ship for some good old-fashioned anal probing. Just so long as leeches weren't involved.
After an hour or so of not being thrown in or attacked by rogue dogs or evil boaters, she got very calm and even lied on the blanket with me a little bit. She was still alert and at attention for the evilness that abounds around recreation lake parks, but the sun and the water and the blanket was kind of nice, she supposed.
And did you know? The water is cool? And is good for cooling down black puppies who get hot in the sun? And is good for drinking while cooling down at the same time? Amazing.
I didn't want to leave.
July 23, 2006
So, uh, anyone want a Vox invitation?
July 23, 2006
Now I'm rethinking my pulling extended family into the blogosphere.
I want to go onto the record as stating that my family is just as scary as any other family out there. We may beat eagles with canes and blow eyes out of Irish Lords with firecrackers and sell "copper" on the side.
But at least we didn't come from Anchor Point.
July 21, 2006
While I was in Homer, my mother (once again) pointed out that I still had boxes of crap down in the closet of my room. (That room will always and forever be Valette's Room, even though every other sibling has slept in that room either before or after me. Don't worry, boys; it only means that Mom loves me more than she loves you.)
As I pawed through four boxes of stuff I had carefully and lovingly packed away, probably when I was packing for college, I was surprised at the amount of crap my 18-year-old self couldn't part with.
Most of the stuff held no memory or emotional attachment whatsoever. I wanted to bring those four boxes back through time and ask her, myself, 18-year-old Valette, why the hell I (she) thought one shelf full of stuffed animals needed to be saved.
A fanny pack filled with key chains? A metal chest thing all bent out of shape? A Strawberry Shortcake tin and candle set?
Okay, well, that's just cool.
I managed to condense everything into one small box, the majority of which was filled by my high school and junior high yearbooks as well as a few literary journals that get published to make kids' parents feel proud of Jimmy Junior's spell-checking abilities, one of which has something I wrote that includes the phrase, "Most of my friends would call me something of a feminist."
Yeah. This is why no one wants to remember what life was like at 14.
July 18, 2006
Just because I left the internet on vacation didn't mean that everyone had to leave. Only one comment on all of my blogs, and zero spam comments. I mean, I'm flattered and all with the If-Valette-Isn't-Here-Might-As-Well-Close-Down-Shop attitude, but I'm talking tumbleweeds, people.
The wedding went great even though we were still doing last-minute preparations ten minutes after the wedding was supposed to start. Then, instead of raining, it decided to get all sunny and I burned my cleavage.
Most of the guests left the reception an hour before the bride and groom (seriously, what?), and right after the happy couple ran out to the surprise limo my mother-in-law pulled me aside and whispered low into my ear, "Don't tell any of the church ladies, but I put a bottle of champagne in their room for tonight."
Your secret is safe with me and the Innernet, Mom.
But more importantly, I'm back to the Wonderful World of the Internets and it is a magnificent feeling.
Internet tubes are in short supply on the Kenai Peninsula, and downloading Windows and program updates over a 24.6k connection was more than enough to cure me from wanting to do any personal stuff.
Instead, I spent my time wading in the ocean and stapling organza and chiffon and breaking up Miniature Schnauzer fights and avoiding my mother-in-law.
Maybe I'll call in the rest of the week sick.
July 11, 2006
There's been a bunch of hullabaloo the past week or so about Extreme Makeover: Home Edition building a house here in North Pole (20 minutes from Fairbanks).
B was out there last night as the company he works for installed something like 45 windows in 4 hours*.
I had wanted to get out there and shoot a bunch of pictures, but I had better things to do. Like pack. And prepare myself to be away from civilization with it's stoplights and wonderful Broadband Internet Tubes.
My internet addiction aside, what am I looking forward to on this trip? The smell of the ocean. Long, rocky beaches where the dog can chase seagulls. All the many wonderful opportunities to embarrass B's family. Not thinking about work once except for how it woke me up in the middle of last night and the one phone call I had to make first thing this morning, but seriously, after that, NO MORE.
And here is where I would copy and paste the standard caveat that Squeegie is on auto pilot and I was a bit distracted while setting that up so... yeah.
Something might go wrong. And it might take me hours to notice that something went wrong, maybe days. (Hours and possibly days without the internet! How will I SURVIVE?)
If the horrible creatures who inbreed around Cantwell don't eat me alive, that is. Everybody cross their fingers and sacrifice a chicken for me.
* Not sure if I heard him say this or if I completely pulled these numbers from my butt, but they sure do sound good.
July 10, 2006
That is what I get for kicking puppies.
But at least my pedicure is color coordinated with all of the blood. The pedicure that was ruined by bandaid glue.
Lacey is just fine, thanks for asking about her before asking about me. She won't need a splint or anything; nothing that an extra cookie won't fix.
July 8, 2006
Those the jeans you bought while we were out last weekend?
They look great on you.
Thanks! I love the length, but am sad that the cuffs drag on the ground.
I don't think they make long-enough-to-drag-yet-it's-magic-they-don't-drag jeans.
It's a shame.
They would make a load of money off of that.
If I were in a movie they wouldn't drag.
Or in a commercial. God bless Hollywood.
So what I need is long jeans in a movie. That would be enough to satisfy me.
July 7, 2006
The sun has been hot and bright and summery in between our daily does of thunderstorms, thunderstorms with all of the rain causing sinkholes! As if our land has never seen this wet stuff before.
Summer! Grass! Dandelions! Bugs! Whee!
July 6, 2006
So! Yes! This internet thing!
It's not just trucks for you to dump on!
(Really, I'm very late with this, especially in internet time, but, you know, Uncle Ted may be very crazy and clueless, but the man knows how to get money for us and our stupid projects.)
/waves to the Internets and all its tubes
Work has been operating at madhouse levels of craziness, and I don't only mean my conversations with my stapler or my shortness with coworkers. Of which, admittedly, there has been much.
But in between craziness I have managed to find myself an awesome outfit for my sister-in-law's wedding that not only will make me slightly dressier than anyone else there (besides the bride) (and maybe the bridesmaids, but you know they will all look horrible and uncomfortable anyway, because why else have bridesmaids) but also makes me look curvy in all the right places.
Which is totally what I was going for. I plan on upstaging the bride with my cleavage. It will be a wonderful sight to behold.
I also made time to find some jewelry for the oufit.
Matching articles of clothing! Possibly with ruffles! And maybe some lace trim! And accessories! When did I turn into a girl?
I must remember to bring a copy of this wedding toast to the wedding so I can watch my mother-in-law FREAK OUT when I do a practice run at the rehearsal.
It's a wonder his family even enjoys having me around.
July 6, 2006
Is there ever a polite way to say, "No, I do not want to look at photos of your children/family/vacation because I have a ton of work to do and don't care much about your children/family/vacation so go away and leave me alone," without coming off sounding like an utter twat?
Because I've not been having much success at that lately.
But then I've not been having much success with "interpersonal relationships" lately, either. So maybe it's just me.
I cannot wait for my vacation to start next week. I'll take my mother-in-law starring as Mother Of The Bride over the crap and stress of work any day.
July 4, 2006
Gay Square Dancing Convention are the funniest four words in the entire English language.
And yet I have a morbid curiosity about it.
Are the squares of dancers made up of all one gender, or are there mixed male couples with female couples?
Are the outfits as ugly as normal square dancers, or as garish as gay pride parades?
And how in the world do the dance calls work?
"Swing the.. uh... person on your left, no not that left, you're the one who is supposed to be swung. By your partner."