Always.
This Christmas, I have discovered a love for iTunes. Hubs had fiddled with it a bit before, but since we were running with a computer potentially older than the dinosaurs, it just didn't process things well. I mean, a few windows could be toggled at a time, but there were delays. Big delays.
Back to this past Christmas. Hubs bought me a lovely pile of mostly gently used music and I have replaced my Pinterest pin feeds of You Tube in the CDs of my choice with the actual CDs. I have no CD player in the bedroom, but Hubs has one with his clock. He's always weird when I use it, because I don't put his CD away where I don't know where it goes and it is always a rather large hassle. I have found that I could easily plunk the CD into the computer, load it into iTunes and listen to 13 PJ CDs on random rotation and life is good!
Laundry is folded.
E-mails are read.
Things are straightened.
The world is a good place.
Like I said, I'm generally a little late to the party, but I love that I can take the physical CDs that we buy, drop them in, pull up the album art and the world is a good sounding place.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have some laundry to fold and PJ to listen to. :)
Friday, January 3, 2014
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Don't buy Pantera at Walmart.
Hubs and I got on to talking about CDs this evening. As we were watching PJ 20 on VH1, I was telling her that Hubs thinks that Vitalogy was the first CD I ever purchased for myself.
"I think it is the only CD you have purchased for yourself."
"Nah! It's probably the only NEW CD. Oh wait! I have Natalie Imbruglia! I got that one new. I only got that new because I had to fight Walmart over you being dumb enough to buy a Pantera CD there."
You see, many years ago-- years well prior to K's existence-- Hubs got some wild hair and decided to purchase a Pantera CD at Walmart. Now you see, I love myself some Pantera but was a bit shocked that he bought Pantera there. The CD listed that it was "edited." Hubs thought it was shortened in some way.
It wasn't shortened. It was the absolute worst censoring we've ever heard. They left blank spots where all of the "bad words" were.
Blank spots.
They (not Walmart) didn't even try. They didn't try to blend them in like they are on the radio. I told Hubs that we would take it back. I went through several managers until I got to the store manager who agreed to return the CD, though it was open, for the exact same CD.
"Sir. I agree that perhaps my adult husband should not purchase music like Pantera here. I understand that your CD was labeled 'edited' but if you look 'edited' up in the dictionary, I believe that you will find that it would mean shortened. To edit something like a CD is not suggesting that there are huge blank spots throughout where any curse word would be."
I swore to him that if he would return that CD for something that was not edited, we would never buy music from Walmart again. He agreed and we have never ever purchased music from Walmart again.
And we won't. Frankly, we try not to really patronize the Wal anyhow.
But there you go. Lesson learned. If you need for some heavy metal with questionable lyrics, Walmart is not the place to purchase your music.
This PSA brought to you by the Bailey's Leaf family.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
The time that I ate a dumpster cookie from a homeless man.
We went up to Burke Lakefront Airport with a borrowed spotting scope to look at Snowy Owls. This is the first time that K and I have ever seen any, and I believe that it is the same for Hubs. It was delightful. We were able to find one near a runway, sitting in wait for a vole or another critter to cross so that it might have some lunch. After Burke, we decided to visit the Cleveland Museum of Art. We visit there a few times a year and generally stop by the same things. Today as we were going on our general roam through the contemporary art, Hubs said, "Hey K, ask Mom about that picnic that I took her on."
I laughed out loud.
"What Mom?"
"Well, Dad decided to take me on a romantic picnic here when we were dating. He packed up a lunch and took me to the lagoon out back. He pulled everything out and all was going well until Dad decided to pull out a map. Every homeless person within a 10 block radius popped up out of the bushes, but one got to us first. He got on to talking and telling us about the area. He talked for a good 10 minutes, then started in about his need for money. I offered no money, but I did offer the apple and the banana that we had. In exchange, he offered us some cookies. Dad declined, but I didn't want him to feel bad. I took the cookie. I had the intention of pitching it later, but he kept saying that I had to try it. He explained that he had gotten them from a dumpster after a wedding and that they were good and he wanted me to enjoy one. It was powder sugar coated and in hindsight, my fear of it being a cocaine-coated cookie was a little far fetched, but I had to eat the cookie."
K surprisingly asked, "You ate the cookie? A cookie that you knew came from a dumpster?"
Hubs replied with a laugh, "I was surprised that she did, but she did eat the cookie from the dumpster."
"Not only did I eat the cookie from the homeless man who said that he got it from the dumpster (it was in a ziploc bag), but I also prayed for God's protection because I didn't want to die from the cookie because I only ate it because I didn't want to make the man feel bad. Obviously, I survived."
You'd be glad to know that in those days, I hadn't developed my massive case of germophobia. It still makes me shake my head.
I ate a dumpster cookie.
I ate a dumpster cookie from a homeless man.
I ate a dumpster cookie from a homeless man who handed it to me and goodness only knows when either one of us cleaned our hands last. That alone should get me to let up a bit on the germophobia. We did laugh the rest of the way through the art museum. We all decided that a blog post was a must. I can't imagine the google searches I'm going to pop up on.
I laughed out loud.
"What Mom?"
"Well, Dad decided to take me on a romantic picnic here when we were dating. He packed up a lunch and took me to the lagoon out back. He pulled everything out and all was going well until Dad decided to pull out a map. Every homeless person within a 10 block radius popped up out of the bushes, but one got to us first. He got on to talking and telling us about the area. He talked for a good 10 minutes, then started in about his need for money. I offered no money, but I did offer the apple and the banana that we had. In exchange, he offered us some cookies. Dad declined, but I didn't want him to feel bad. I took the cookie. I had the intention of pitching it later, but he kept saying that I had to try it. He explained that he had gotten them from a dumpster after a wedding and that they were good and he wanted me to enjoy one. It was powder sugar coated and in hindsight, my fear of it being a cocaine-coated cookie was a little far fetched, but I had to eat the cookie."
K surprisingly asked, "You ate the cookie? A cookie that you knew came from a dumpster?"
Hubs replied with a laugh, "I was surprised that she did, but she did eat the cookie from the dumpster."
"Not only did I eat the cookie from the homeless man who said that he got it from the dumpster (it was in a ziploc bag), but I also prayed for God's protection because I didn't want to die from the cookie because I only ate it because I didn't want to make the man feel bad. Obviously, I survived."
You'd be glad to know that in those days, I hadn't developed my massive case of germophobia. It still makes me shake my head.
I ate a dumpster cookie.
I ate a dumpster cookie from a homeless man.
I ate a dumpster cookie from a homeless man who handed it to me and goodness only knows when either one of us cleaned our hands last. That alone should get me to let up a bit on the germophobia. We did laugh the rest of the way through the art museum. We all decided that a blog post was a must. I can't imagine the google searches I'm going to pop up on.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
A thoughtful substitute.
My mom buys my siblings the yearly Whitman's Sampler. We are not Whitman's Sampler people. Not only did she not buy us the sampler, but she substituted it out with paper towels! Hooray! We don't use many paper towels here, but definitely needed them. (I was down to the last roll.)
Lookie loo! No calories!
Lookie loo! No calories!
Friday, December 27, 2013
A crisp breeze will fix that!
My parents asked what we wanted for Christmas. I told my mom pillows. Hubs' pillows were different states of flat and mine held no form. I could bend that thing around like a pretzel. Mom went forth and purchased really good pillows. We were very thankful. At home, we pulled said pillows from their plastic bags and noticed that they had a lick of smoke smell.
Drat.
My dad smokes. He smokes a fair amount. My mom is a recreational smoker. Sometimes it is more than others, depending upon the stress that my siblings are heaping upon her at the time. She had the pillows upstairs in the living room, as opposed to under the tree. Still.
"What are we going to do?"
I told Hubs to hand them to me and I would hang them on the line.
"But it's snowing or raining or something."
"It's not. It is 17 F and has a little breeze. Whatever is in these pillows will blow out before I bring them in."
"How long do you plan to leave them outside?"
"Until bedtime."
"That's not until at least 10 PM."
"And I will trudge out into the snow and pull them from the line then."
I should add that this discussion occurred at 3:30 PM.
You know what? My solution worked. They aired out for a good 7 hours on the line, as well as the casserole carrier that my mom and dad had made for me. We slept well on the new pillows and neither one of us had any smoke issue. They smelled freshly laundered and the crisp, breezy air fixed what ailed them!
Hooray!
Drat.
My dad smokes. He smokes a fair amount. My mom is a recreational smoker. Sometimes it is more than others, depending upon the stress that my siblings are heaping upon her at the time. She had the pillows upstairs in the living room, as opposed to under the tree. Still.
"What are we going to do?"
I told Hubs to hand them to me and I would hang them on the line.
"But it's snowing or raining or something."
"It's not. It is 17 F and has a little breeze. Whatever is in these pillows will blow out before I bring them in."
"How long do you plan to leave them outside?"
"Until bedtime."
"That's not until at least 10 PM."
"And I will trudge out into the snow and pull them from the line then."
I should add that this discussion occurred at 3:30 PM.
You know what? My solution worked. They aired out for a good 7 hours on the line, as well as the casserole carrier that my mom and dad had made for me. We slept well on the new pillows and neither one of us had any smoke issue. They smelled freshly laundered and the crisp, breezy air fixed what ailed them!
Hooray!
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Another reason as to why my husband should be sainted and other tales of Christmas.
I've shared with you in the past that I do not have good CD etiquette. It has been a forever syndrome. It drives my husband absolutely batty because he is the exact, extreme opposite.
It should be noted that I'm not intentionally uncaring about the CDs. I don't put them on the dashboard to slide back and forth. I do, however, have them in all of the wrong cases. Sometimes they are not in cases, but in a stack. Sometimes the stack is really tall. Sometimes that stack gets referred to as the "leaning tower."
For Christmas, my husband did some rather lovely things for me. It was very Pearl Jam themed, which is my love. He bought me a stack of CDs from his favorite resale CD store including PJ Twenty (documentary and soundtrack), PJ Live on 2 Legs, PJ Live at the Garden, PJ Lightning Bolt (new for that one), Fugazi (The Argument), the Lumineers, The Raconteurs (Broken Boy Soldier), Rush (Retrospective), Linkin Park (Minutes to Midnight and yes-- a guilty pleasure), but the very best thing-- he spent two days cataloging all of my CDs into binders.
I had stacks in the bedroom.
I had stacks in the studio in the three CD organizing racks he has purchased for me and on the top of my long glass organizing bin.
I had them on the movie shelf in the living room.
I had them in a variety of places in my car including in the door pockets, the front of the center console, under my seat (in a binder!) with another binder tucked into a back seat pocket.
He said that he has reacquainted himself with my full library (rather extensive, but not nearly as bad as his) and there were practically no savable jewel cases from any of them. Some CDs come in the paperboard books like all of PJ except for Vs. and Ten, Cake and NIN. All others that he could, he included the interior paper "guts" to the accompanying CD pocket. He said that he now knows absolutely everything that I own in CDs. Since he is a bit of a Rain Man about it, I don't doubt that he knows it even better than me.
K said, "MOM! The entire bed was covered in CDs!" I don't doubt it.
He even included his copy of Temple of the Dog in my collection for me to have. That right there is a gift in itself. He doesn't share his CDs with anyone, much less his wife who has had a sad history of CD abuse. I've promised to keep up his organizational system. I still haven't lived down the Faith No More cassette incident of 1994. :(
I should also note that though we set a budget every Christmas, Hubs never stays within the budget because he says that I don't buy myself anything throughout the year. (He doesn't count general clothing, underwear, socks and shoes as frivolous.) He tried to be reasonable. Our budget was $50 each and though we didn't exactly stick to that, Santa and I were at about $65 each for K and for Hubs. I think Hubs topped out about about $100, thanks to sticking with mostly used CDs. My love for music produced by independent labels does hike the cost up a bit, but I'd rather feed the little guy.
As for the little guy, I bought Hubs' wish list from Nuclear Blast, an independent heavy-metal label. I even managed to find a Blu-Ray Stallone movie that he didn't own. (I earned extra credit for that.)
K's gifts supported the not-so-little guy. She received a sewing basket (a prettier print than this, though and a super Black Friday sale with extra off with a super early shopper coupon) and an AG sewing kit. Santa left a balloon bending kit and extra balloons. Her big gift was purchased by my in-law's (and K has promised to never tell Grandma and Santa the same gift again), but Santa was able to triumph with the entire movie collection of Harry Potter on Blu-Ray. (Black Friday sale.) Santa left some delightful items in her stocking, including a bin to gather up those blasted little rubber bands for the Rainbow Loom, yoga socks, an Angry Birds notebook that she longed for a while ago, more of the blasted rubber bands for the Rainbow Loom, sniffy erasers, puffy puppy stickers and letter stencils.
I made my in-law's a poster photo collage frame with a rubbing that we made when we visited the National Policeman's memorial. Uncle John's name is below with a collage of photos I took of Hubs, his sister and the girls. My BIL and I kind of hung back, but I did have one photo of each of us that I included. It was kind of a family project, with everyone hanging out and putting up with me as I turn into the tourist with a camera. (They know this by now and just press on as if I'm not there.)
My mom gave me a list of kitcheny kind of things she needed and I granted her wish. Sink mats, a set of "cheap" plastic bowls (I didn't buy cheap ones) and a silverware organizer is what she requested. Hubs bought a suet feeder and some energy cakes for it for my dad, as well as a jar of this corn salsa stuff that he loves that we get at Bass Pro.
We gave more games and craft kits to nieces, nephews and cousins. It was a great Christmas Eve with my cousins and their kids. The White Elephant netted us a farting butt bank and a big pack of AA batteries and a bag of "chocolate" coal. The White Elephant is as it is and unfortunately, my people thought that the bank was the greatest thing. I banished it to basement to exist for the rest of eternity in my house. It is to live on my husband's work bench. It was on my kitchen table and I gave a giant veto to that.
We're spending a quiet day at home. We didn't get out of our pajamas until noon. K, thanks to a bit of loss of self-control, lost screen time today. She is, however, having a grand time making a Barbie village in the basement. I'm all for that.
To a quiet day in the neighborhood. Ahh. We all needed it.
Have a great day!
It should be noted that I'm not intentionally uncaring about the CDs. I don't put them on the dashboard to slide back and forth. I do, however, have them in all of the wrong cases. Sometimes they are not in cases, but in a stack. Sometimes the stack is really tall. Sometimes that stack gets referred to as the "leaning tower."
For Christmas, my husband did some rather lovely things for me. It was very Pearl Jam themed, which is my love. He bought me a stack of CDs from his favorite resale CD store including PJ Twenty (documentary and soundtrack), PJ Live on 2 Legs, PJ Live at the Garden, PJ Lightning Bolt (new for that one), Fugazi (The Argument), the Lumineers, The Raconteurs (Broken Boy Soldier), Rush (Retrospective), Linkin Park (Minutes to Midnight and yes-- a guilty pleasure), but the very best thing-- he spent two days cataloging all of my CDs into binders.
I had stacks in the bedroom.
I had stacks in the studio in the three CD organizing racks he has purchased for me and on the top of my long glass organizing bin.
I had them on the movie shelf in the living room.
I had them in a variety of places in my car including in the door pockets, the front of the center console, under my seat (in a binder!) with another binder tucked into a back seat pocket.
He said that he has reacquainted himself with my full library (rather extensive, but not nearly as bad as his) and there were practically no savable jewel cases from any of them. Some CDs come in the paperboard books like all of PJ except for Vs. and Ten, Cake and NIN. All others that he could, he included the interior paper "guts" to the accompanying CD pocket. He said that he now knows absolutely everything that I own in CDs. Since he is a bit of a Rain Man about it, I don't doubt that he knows it even better than me.
K said, "MOM! The entire bed was covered in CDs!" I don't doubt it.
He even included his copy of Temple of the Dog in my collection for me to have. That right there is a gift in itself. He doesn't share his CDs with anyone, much less his wife who has had a sad history of CD abuse. I've promised to keep up his organizational system. I still haven't lived down the Faith No More cassette incident of 1994. :(
I should also note that though we set a budget every Christmas, Hubs never stays within the budget because he says that I don't buy myself anything throughout the year. (He doesn't count general clothing, underwear, socks and shoes as frivolous.) He tried to be reasonable. Our budget was $50 each and though we didn't exactly stick to that, Santa and I were at about $65 each for K and for Hubs. I think Hubs topped out about about $100, thanks to sticking with mostly used CDs. My love for music produced by independent labels does hike the cost up a bit, but I'd rather feed the little guy.
As for the little guy, I bought Hubs' wish list from Nuclear Blast, an independent heavy-metal label. I even managed to find a Blu-Ray Stallone movie that he didn't own. (I earned extra credit for that.)
K's gifts supported the not-so-little guy. She received a sewing basket (a prettier print than this, though and a super Black Friday sale with extra off with a super early shopper coupon) and an AG sewing kit. Santa left a balloon bending kit and extra balloons. Her big gift was purchased by my in-law's (and K has promised to never tell Grandma and Santa the same gift again), but Santa was able to triumph with the entire movie collection of Harry Potter on Blu-Ray. (Black Friday sale.) Santa left some delightful items in her stocking, including a bin to gather up those blasted little rubber bands for the Rainbow Loom, yoga socks, an Angry Birds notebook that she longed for a while ago, more of the blasted rubber bands for the Rainbow Loom, sniffy erasers, puffy puppy stickers and letter stencils.
I made my in-law's a poster photo collage frame with a rubbing that we made when we visited the National Policeman's memorial. Uncle John's name is below with a collage of photos I took of Hubs, his sister and the girls. My BIL and I kind of hung back, but I did have one photo of each of us that I included. It was kind of a family project, with everyone hanging out and putting up with me as I turn into the tourist with a camera. (They know this by now and just press on as if I'm not there.)
My mom gave me a list of kitcheny kind of things she needed and I granted her wish. Sink mats, a set of "cheap" plastic bowls (I didn't buy cheap ones) and a silverware organizer is what she requested. Hubs bought a suet feeder and some energy cakes for it for my dad, as well as a jar of this corn salsa stuff that he loves that we get at Bass Pro.
We gave more games and craft kits to nieces, nephews and cousins. It was a great Christmas Eve with my cousins and their kids. The White Elephant netted us a farting butt bank and a big pack of AA batteries and a bag of "chocolate" coal. The White Elephant is as it is and unfortunately, my people thought that the bank was the greatest thing. I banished it to basement to exist for the rest of eternity in my house. It is to live on my husband's work bench. It was on my kitchen table and I gave a giant veto to that.
We're spending a quiet day at home. We didn't get out of our pajamas until noon. K, thanks to a bit of loss of self-control, lost screen time today. She is, however, having a grand time making a Barbie village in the basement. I'm all for that.
To a quiet day in the neighborhood. Ahh. We all needed it.
Have a great day!
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
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