Beach days are the best

I think I may have miscalculated my personal sunshine repellent factor today, and messed up by not applying any sunscreen. (No "I told you so," please, Andy!) My arms are feeling warm, and my neck and face are a bit red. It's not enough sun to call this all a sunburn, but it's definitely enough feelings to know that the UV rays were there today.
We went to an awesome little beach this afternoon, where we could sit in the sunshine and enjoy each other's company, as well as watch the girls play in the surf. And then, we wandered through the tide pools, checking out all the anemones, crabs, snails and mussels. I've never been to this particular beach, and we had a lovely time. It was a pretty fantastic reminder of how cool it is to live/hang out in California.

Oh, I don't know ... Just be happy!

Why is it, when asked to give advice to a new bride, that I freeze up? I mean, it should be pretty easy to come up with some kind of fail-safe advice for someone who hasn't been married. But when faced with that task today, I blanked. Sure, "Never go to sleep mad" is sound advice, but is it logical? Not after a while. Once you've been married for a while, going to sleep mad just means that you'll have a quiet night of sleep while your spouse is on the sofa. "Truly listen to each other," sounds good in practice, but eventually, what the other person is saying doesn't make any sense, so you're better off ignoring them.
Honestly, the best I could come up with was, Enjoy this adventure, because it's a grand one; and Nurture your sense of humor, because you'll need it. Both those have been my mantra for the last almost 13 years. I've always said that if Brian didn't make me laugh as much as he does, he would have been kicked to the curb years ago.
The best thing about marriage advice from your friends and family is that it is almost always inapplicable to your own specific situation. I guess that would be the best advice: Don't listen to everyone else's advice. Blaze your own way. Follow your own path. If he won't pay for a cleaning service, make him scrub his own toilet.

And then, we surprised Mom

Weather for my drive from the desert to the coast: one dust storm, two rain storms, windy conditions preceding and after each, warm sunshine, and fog upon arrival.
My daughter announced that she doesn't like McDonald's. I'm all, "GOOD!! I don't want you to like McDonald's!!"
Apparently, it's time for some new tires. The guys at the tire place told me I should probably get all four of them replaced, and that it probably should be done before I make any road trips out to California. I told him that getting tires today probably wouldn't happen; and that waiting until a later day for my road trip just wasn't a consideration. So, I made my entire drive today all stressed out about a blowout, or about sliding across the pavement in the rain. Obviously, we made it here fine, but the tire thing should probably be addressed soon.
Brian and I had a conversation about how much it would cost to drive out to California. I made three stops: $45 first, $28 second, and $24 last. My math is rusty, to say the least, so let's calculator this ... $97. About what I figured, and less than what Brian supposed, so I win.

"Monster? Or savior of our city?"

Godzilla is not a good movie.
In fact, this is the second Godzilla movie that I didn't like. I think I shall decree that I will no longer ever see a Godzilla movie. It's a bad sign when, after only 10 minutes or so, I feel as though I can easily and without guilt walk out of a theater. And even more amazing, was the actual conversation Brian and I had in the theater, during the film, about how cheesy and awful the movie is. I mean, it was made well, in that the special effects were good, and the actors did the best they could with the material they were given. But as plot lines go, and creatures in the movie, and the constant sullen look of the main scientist, were too much for me to handle. I was pleased to see it end, is what I'm saying.
And now, I'll never see another Godzilla movie ever.

I didn't vote at all, or care; he still won

I did something tonight that I hadn't done in a long while: I had interest in en episode of Dancing with the Stars. Of course, you'll remember that I used to blog about the show quite a bit. I cared too much about certain professionals; I had too many opinions about the "stars" on the show; and I put too much emotional investment in the results. You'll remember also that I pitched a fit when my fave pro, Maks, and his partner that season, Mel B, were completely and utterly robbed of their trophy all those years ago by Julianne Hough and Helio Castraneves.
Anyway, this season, Maks was partnered with a real dancer, Meryl Davis of Olympic fame. I paid very peripheral attention to the competition, nt even reading anything beyond a headline or a tweet. But as the finals arrived this week, and the final three couples were about to be situated into a winner and losers, I decided to have an interest. Maks may actually win the DWTS trophy for the first time ever.
I set the DVR. I went to watch the show later, only to discover that the only program I recorded was a "Road to the Finals" retrospective on the three couples competing for the trophy. The actual announcement of the winner was during the next hour of coverage. And I had missed that entirely.
So, to the web and Twitter I went. There, I happily discovered that Maks and Meryl had indeed won the trophy. I'm looking forward to watching the episode online tomorrow, so I can actually see the winning announcement. I feel like now I can say congratulations to Maks, who finally won a well-deserved championship, and then forget about the show entirely.

Is this really the beginning of my summer?

ITEM!: It's time to turn the To-Be-Read Pile into Summer Reading List 2014.
ITEM!: I had nothing to watch on television tonight once I got upstairs, so I ended up sitting through the last half of Casual Sex?, and then I got all concerned because I remembered how crazy Victoria Jackson has gotten and how she is insane on Twitter. I don't follow her, because I can't handle that level of crazy, but the movie reminded me that she's alive, and that she's crazy.
ITEM!: Today was Sydney's last Monday at school, and I realized that this also means that it's my last Monday with Sydney at school. All I can say right now is, thank goodness for summer camp. I think, if it was just her and I all summer, we'd go nuts and not be able to spend that much time together. But I decided to kind of celebrate this week as my last week of school too. But my obligations cut into my celebratory spirit. Sydney has a thing at school tomorrow morning = no movie. Brian is home from work on Wednesday = no alone time. We leave for California this weekend so I have to do laundry and pack on Thursday = no movie. Sydney has a half day on Friday = even less alone time. Friday will be here before I know it = time flies when you've got other people's stuff to occupy your time.
ITEM!: I picked up some kind of skin irritation yesterday. I think it may be a combination of the sun on my skin, and the dryness because of that. But it's a red patch of bumps that itches like the dickens, and while lotion seems to be working, it actually traveled down my arm, from my the back of my upper arm to my elbow last night. It is bugging me right now, so I'm off to get Sydney's skin ointment stuff, to see if that'll help better.

To check the farm, or not to check the farm

Something randomly interesting: I haven't played or tended to my farm on FarmVille in months. I haven't even clicked onto it in a whole lot of weeks. I find myself wondering if FarmVille will delete a farm, or player's progress on several farms, after a specific amount of time untended. That only bothers me because of the history and effort involved with those different farms. I mean, I've put a lot of time and effort into those ridiculously well-crafted and perfectly organized farming institutions.
I'm actually kind of nervous about clicking on the farms. What if they are gone? What if they're not? Do I really want to know either way? The farm is obsessive. I do not want to get sucked in again. I've pretty much accepted that I'm over it. But am I? Like really?

Dear "Diaries," what the hell?

I must be feeling better: I didn't have to take a nap today, and I got frustrated with the state of my home. So, I finally got a whole bunch of laundry done, got my kitchen kinda cleaned up, and did a few of my random errands. I really, really need a trip to the grocery store though. We're all out of a lot of stuff.
Of all the season finales, The Vampire Diaries' episode has put me in a snit more than any other. That show is so frickin' good, you guys. You have no idea. I can not wait until the new season begins. So many cool things will be happening. I'm sitting here right now rehashing the finale over and over in my head, trying to figure out the loopholes, hints and corners through and around which characters will be able to cheat their circumstances. Leave it to TVD to make me wish away my summer already.

Cold germs bedevil me

So, obviously, the sickness got the best of me this weekend, and I was forced to finally implore of Science, today on Facebook, that it get its shit together and realize the dream of a Cure for the Common Cold. Because I am so over this current run of icky. I'm eating my vitamins, taking my Airborne, and forcing the fluids. I am sleeping plenty, and resting, giving my aging and infirm body a chance to recuperate.
I did manage to have a decent Mother's Day yesterday, though. I felt like crap, and the family treated me well, even though I was probably more irritable than normal. I had lunch at one of my favorite places, and we had dessert somewhere to please Brian and Sydney. Other than that, I spent as much time outside in the cool breezy air as I could, which was a singularly excellent treat for Arizona in May.
It's that time of year, when television shows are cancelled as they end the current season. I already see that two of my shows will not be back in the fall, Revolution and Suburgatory. I've zapped them from my list to the left there already. I find myself mildly interested in seeing if I can enter into a new television season without replacing them. I've never not started a new show. How weird.
The blog post before this one, that I wrote last Thursday, was the 2,500th blog post to It's all about.... So amazing, when I realize the breadth of information, opinion and conjecture I have willingly put out there in cyberspace over the last several years.

Maybe a cupcake will make it go away

ITEM!: I'm having throat pain and icky issues tonight. This is annoying. I was suddenly afflicted this afternoon, about 1 p.m., with phlegmy grossness. And right now, I'm coughing more than I'd like, and I have a constant ball of nothing good sitting inside the base of my throat making me feel bad. This had better be a random thing that won't progress, is all I can say.
ITEM!: I ate TWO Rice Krispies treats today, and I did not feel guilty about it. Especially when I reminded myself that I made them, and that Mother's Day is this weekend.
ITEM!: I love watching the NFL Draft. It's a most ridiculous time suck. The segmented time chunks that roll from team to team, with nothing but speculation and analysis throughout, are fascinating. There's nothing like listening to people talk passionately about something that they know a whole lot about, and seeing how the whole machine works. And I'm all, "Yeah, but I need someone to catch a ball." And they're like, "... statistics, statistics, analysis, analysis, conclusions, conjecture ...." They understand the guts, and I'm all, "We just need to win, you know?"
ITEM!: There is no greater pain than crushing your little toe -- unprotected in flip flops, no less -- into the turning wheel of a shopping cart. My agony was realized this morning as I wandered through Safeway, and it has lingered all day. No kidding, the toe is red, and I swear the toenail is going to fall off in the night. I shall help the little toe's recovery though, with a pedicure tomorrow morning.
ITEM!: It bugs me when women I love refer to pedicures as "pampering." Such things are a necessary maintenance, and are required, especially during the summer. It's like going to the grocery store, or getting gas for the car. Get your pedicures, ladies.

They should be all mine

Ever since I had my baby girl, I've fought valiantly and relentlessly against my Only Child Syndrome. Every day is a struggle to share cool stuff, or to think first about someone else, or to want more for someone other than myself. With no siblings, I never really had to share much of anything, so preferred to not share when I can avoid it. But with a kid, well, all that cool selfish business sits in the backseat. I am more mom than only child now.
But sometimes, my goodness, I let that Only Child just roll. And tonight, my complete lack of desire to share anything is out of control.
There are some Rice Krispies treats in my fridge right now, and they are delicious. And since I'm a mom and a wife and all that, I have to share my stuff. Brian and Sydney have powered through half the tray already, and I've only been able to have one. And I made them.
I will WHINE about this. And I'm half considering making a second tray and hiding them somewhere in the refrigerator that no one will look, like in the vegetable drawer. And with that action, the Only Child will win.

The good and the not good

GOOD: It's been two days since I had a bug story. This is quite exciting for no good reason.
NOT GOOD: The book I just finished. Bleck.
GOOD: Tonight's television.
NOT GOOD: That I stayed up so late watching it all.
GOOD: The cool breezes that rolled through town today.
NOT GOOD: That the actual breezes aren't blowing through the house very well.
GOOD: Hostess coffee cakes.
NOT GOOD: Dried banana slices that have, against my strident opposition, taken a place in my pantry.
GOOD: Mother's Day pedicure on Thursday.
NOT GOOD: Picking up dog poop.
GOOD: Oliver cuddles.
NOT GOOD: This blog post.

"Today, I'm analyzing some dust. ... It's dusty."

In chronicling another of my random fascinations, I present to you a selfie of the Mars Rover. This little dude is amazing, and I follow his Martian exploits on Twitter and Instagram.
Also, in a tweak that's a ton more fun, I follow a satire Twitter account of the Rover, called Sarcastic Rover. He is, of course, sarcastic, but also surprisingly philosophical, unabashedly self-centered, and amusingly melancholy about his lonely life on Mars.
A couple examples:
"Mars: The planet where no one gets to take a shower because there's no water and also it boils your skin plus you suffocated to death."
"Hating people because of their skin color is stupid. You should only hate people for good reasons, like if they sent you to Mars."
"The big question on Mars is always 'Why is that thing like that?' So then I do a science, and I'm all, 'Because reasons?'"
"Okay, I've looked around and that plane is definitely NOT in this crater. Sorry."
I really only told you about all this so I could post that photo up there, which amuses me to no end.

Little black bugs, and not the cute kind

As of yesterday's post, I'm sure you're all, "Ew. That house is all infested with caterpillars that her dog likes to eat." And as of yesterday (aside from last year's scorpion debacle), I would agree that the caterpillars are pretty much the grossest things to have moving and grooving around in the house. But oh my god, the ick of today. Honestly, I'm so over these stories that tend to one up each other.
We've had issue with some little black bugs flying around inside the house. They seemed super similar to the random little black bugs that can invade your home when you bring in a new house plant from The Home Depot, so I took all my downstairs plants outside and sprayed them down with insecticidal soap. But then, after doing all that, I still was beset with the little fuckers flying around me on the sofa. In fact, I killed three of them within my personal space in only a couple minutes. We vacuumed out the sofa, and I was repulsed with the amount of pita chip crumbs under the cushions (thanks, Sydney).
Then, then, then, the trash can needed to be emptied. I pulled out the trash bag, and in so doing, about a trillion of these bugs flew up and around me. I immediately freaked out, but then my curiosity got the better of me. First order of business: pull that gross trash bag out of the house. Second, I spin and turn the bag so I can check out the contents. This was icky, but in my investigations, I discovered that the last of the strawberries, and the cantaloupe rinds, seemed to attract them.
Brian's guess is that the dudes hatched from the fruit. I am disgusted by that hypothesis, so refuse to think about it too much. Still, I like that we have a viable theory. But what else we have is the last few of the little bugs still flying around. What's the life span on those little guys? I'm hoping it's just a matter of hours, if a day. They won't leave us alone.

It's a caterpillar invasion

There is somewhere in my house and/or yard that is breeding caterpillars. Cooper has discovered this place though, and is bringing caterpillars into my house regularly over the last three days. Sometimes the caterpillars are alive, sometimes they're not. Sometimes we have to pull them out of his mouth, sometimes he leaves them on the floor for us to discover.
Tonight, I found a very active little caterpillar dude upstairs in my bedroom. Cooper brought my attention to it by jumping and bouncing around it. I picked it up with a tissue and took it downstairs, dropping it in the flower garden outside. I don't really mind caterpillars per se, but crawling things creep me out when they're in my house. I wonder where this treasure trove of caterpillars is. I wonder maybe if they're at the base of the fruit tree? Because that's the only place that Cooper can get into. The rose garden is fenced off so he can't get into it. But do caterpillars set up camp at the base of fruit trees? I guess I'll check that out tomorrow.

Twice a day, for several days

Since I have athlete's foot, I am, therefore, an athlete. I also currently own a spray can of Tinactin. I did my first foot cleaning, drying and medicinal spraying IN THE TARGET PARKING LOT this morning, right after buying the spray.
Did you know that after spraying Tinactin on your toes, white powder spray residue leaves an outline of your toes on the bottoms of your black (not-Sanuk) flip flops? Well, let me be the one to tell you something: IT DOES.
A nifty side effect? Paranoia about where the feet are. I couldn't put my feet anywhere and be comfortable with them. I had issues with spray residue that I have seen being left on the sofa, on the coffee table, or even on the floor.
And now that I know what the problem is, and probably because I'm treating it now, my toes are really bothering me. They aren't necessarily itching, as I've read they would be, but they are certainly making themselves known. They're like, kinda throbbing. Is that normal?
My issues are paramount, and I can't wait for this ridiculousness to be over.

Snit happens, and it's DirecTV's fault

I think very few things frustrate me more than television technology that does not work as it should. I sit here tonight, watching Elementary live, with commercials and everything, like an animal. I'm simply not cut out to watch television like this anymore.
The issue is that my DVR receiver upstairs is not connecting to the DVR recorder downstairs. I've restarted and reset the damn thing multiple times, but it won't come back online.
And I know The Vampire Diaries is just sitting down there right now, all interesting and awesome, currently accessible only to the one person in the house who doesn't care about it at all. And he's actually awake, so I can't even go down there and hijack the TV for the 45 minutes it'll take me to watch it. Ugh, and Grr. I had to wait until this morning to watch last night's Arrow downstairs for the same reason.
I will not live like this, people. Shit's gotta get fixed or I'm gonna cut someone.

This is unacceptable, as flip flops go

Okay, wait. So the nifty Sanuk flip flops I bought this year may be giving me athlete's foot? I mean, I totally noticed that the yoga mat bottoms were making my feet sweat more. And I noticed that my feet were sweating enough to make me notice them sweating. And now, there's a little sore underneath my baby toe on my left foot.

Me: "So, I've got the most bizarre wound."
Brian: "Yeah?"
Me, taking off my sock and bandage to show him: "Check it out. It's like a little wound here under my toe."
Brian: "Athlete's foot."
Me: "No way. It's something else."
Brian: "Athlete's foot."
Me: "Can I fix it with Neosporin?"
Brian: "No. Go get something for it."
Me: "Really? Not Neosporin?"
Brian: "No. Go get something for it."
Me: "Thanks, Doc. You're super helpful."

I didn't really expect him to go out immediately and get me some athlete's foot spray or anything, but a surprise like that would have been awesome.
But here's my concern, for reals: Those flip flops are super comfortable. I am not at all interested in ditching them, and having to get new Reefs, after having bought the Sanuks a matter of months ago. I'm at a crossroads, as only I can be. Comfort and cute versus sweaty and perhaps fungal.