I usually love a 3-day weekend, but as I am really not working right now this is as exciting as a gift of a coach-class plane ticket, destination Des Moines, to a flight attendant.
And, no mail. I love mail.
I miss you, mail.
Yeah, yeah, I know how fortunate I am with the whole "time off" thing. I get it.
Indulge this tiny minuscule smidgen of whining, please. I ask for so little...
Highlights of the weekend:
I am currently experimenting, Dr. Bunsen Honeydew style, with various "wild yeast" types of sourdough starter. They involve organic grapes, flour, water and the natural yeasts that are present in/on the grapes. It's actually a very interesting process.
I'm on day two of one of them (they take 3-4 days minimum) and already you can see the yeasts working. It's a bubbly, sour, wonderfully sticky mess.
Right now it is the consistency of that mucus you get after drinking milk.
It smells amazing.
I can't wait to see how the bread turns out.
Hello, my name is Whiskeymarie and I am a baking nerd.
I spent a good deal of time cleaning our garage yesterday. Apparently I am the reason it is in such a state of disarray in the first place. I guess my "bag it and hurl it" method of storage is not working, or at least that's what I've been told by Captain Neatypants of the garage police.
Just give me the damn ticket and let me go on my way, officer. Sheesh.
Along with the $4,789 .99 ticket, I got community service- to be served here at 1313 Whiskeymarie Lane.
Sad part is...
this is the AFTER shot.
No, I'm not lying.
The stuff on the right is stuff I priced & bagged up that is waiting to go to Blondie's for our yearly garage sale. Yes indeed, between TWO people we accumulate enough shit to have a sale every year. It's sad, actually.
Tomorrow I am enrolling myself in the "Organize or Die Trying!" lecture series from the prominent Dr. O. C. Dee at the University of Neatniks. Wish me luck.
The rest of the junk? Well, I just decided I had done enough and would deal with it at a later date, to be decided by my parole officer.
This was about 4 hours of work. I'm kicking myself for not taking a "before" picture. This really is a huge improvement- really. I was starting to consider the possibility of just burning it down & building a new garage altogether. Come on over, see the bonfire & let's make s'mores.
Isn't there a "fixer upper" reality show that can deal with this and organize everything with some sort of $20,000 "retail-value" California Closets type of stuff?
Someone give TLC a call. Nominate me. This is a cry for help, folks. It's intervention time.
(This goes along with #2, sort of)
While going through old clothes & pricing them for the sale I came across two things as interesting as they are deeply disturbing.
My Mr. and I have a soft spot for vintage clothing. Everyone who knows us knows this, so very often we are the tremendously lucky, or, on occasion- frighteningly UNlucky recipients of old clothes.
Long, long ago his parents had given us a bunch of their old clothes that neither had even considered wearing since 1975. I got a few amazing winter coats from his Mom, he got a bin of clothes from his Dad.
There were a lot of cool things in the bin: a 7-11 softball jersey from the late 70's, cool old 60's mens short-sleeved mock-neck Munsingwear-esque sweaters, some cool trousers (yes, I said trousers. I like the way it sounds- trrrroooooouuuusers. Much better than slacks- ick.), a few jackets, a 70's green velour shortie robe and a bunch of other things. Not all of it fit, and some of it was way too "much" for even Mr. WM, who will wear a lot of things most of your average guys won't. Think plaid pants, a red sport coat, saddle shoes and a Fleet Farm stocking cap.
God I love that about him.
Anyways, long story long, I was going through some of this unwanted stuff and pricing it for the sale. Suddenly something falls from a pocket.
Two somethings, actually.
Note the small print. (feel free to click on the pic for a better view.)
I'm guessing the "for the prevention of disease only" disclaimer kept the Catholic church happy.
I'm not really sure what to do with these.
They are kind of cool, but having them around makes me feel more than a little, well...icky.
If anyone is interested in possessing this interesting piece of Americana (with the promise that you will under no terms try to use them, even as a joke, cause' that's just plain ol' wrong), I will mail them to you.
Seriously, I will.
I would frame them & put them on the wall if I could look at the without thinking about...well, you know.
#3), #4), #5), #6...)
Grilled chicken sausages from the co-op last night, organized the "closet room", got a little bit schnockered for no good reason Friday night, went on many walks, made rhubarb-raspberry crisp, gardened, plucked my eyebrows which were starting to look like this, vacuumed, dusted, swept, cleaned the front porch, watched "Brick" and "The Squid and the Whale" (both really good) and decided against shaving my legs today, even though I'm wearing shorts.
Exciting? Not so much.
But not so bad overall, if things like a clean house, good food, good movies, cocktails and marginally decent personal hygiene are important to you.
This weekend, for me anyways, they were.