You Should Know Better

I have a brother who is 3½ years older than me.  Not 4 and not 3.  3½.

As in Mom yelling, "David, you are 3½ years older than your sister.  You should know better."

My brother and I always seemed to be at odds about the little things back then.  I thought he was the coolest, and he thought I was a pest (which if we're being honest, may have been slightly true).

My mother drove an old Ford Escort when we were young (I was around 4, David 7½).  We called it the Dodo Bus for reasons I can't remember but probably had something to do with the movie Follow That Bird.  Because David and I loved to bicker over the little things on even days he got to sit in the coveted front seat and on odd days, shotgun was all mine.  Mind you, this is before little kids were always to sit in the backseat.

So it was an even-numbered day when we took the trip through the McDonald's drive-through.  David  basking in the front and I was stuck in the backseat of the Dodo Bus.  Though we loved to squabble, every once in a while the planets would align and we would team up against my mom.  2 against 1.

In the short time it took from Mom ordering the happy meals to paying at the first window, a plan was hatched.  David had the idea that I should tell the worker at the window that they were fired.  So because David was giggling and absolutely giddy about his plan, when we got to the window I yelled to the young man, "You're fired!"

The apathetic teenager at the window just sort of shook his head and maybe there was a slight eye roll.  Mom was trying not to be embarrassed and also trying not to give any laugh of encouragement but it was too late.  David was in stitches.  That was all the encouragement I needed, I now had a crowd.

"Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!"

I shouted as loud as I could over and over and over.  We were off to window number 2 to pick up the order with my mom trying to shush me.  The teen at window 2 was good-humored and started to chuckle at a 4 year old telling him he was fired.  More fuel.

"Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!  Your fired!"

Mom was mortified as she grabbed the happy meals with a defeated smile, David giggled, and I shouted "You're fired, you're fired!" all the way home.





Afterword:  I learned the F-word on Easter a year previous to this incident under similar encouragement from the one who should know better. 
 

December 13

Today's blog-a-thon prompt is to share a first.

I got my first job (besides babysitting) when I was 17 at the mall.  The store I got hired on at was Northern Reflections which I thought had totally disappeared by now but I guess it still exists up in Canada.  I made $8.00 an hour and told women that their sweaters were sleek and the boot-cut jeans really elongated their legs.

It is here where I note that my fashion sense (or lack of) has always been a lot more function than fashion and I have never been too particular about things matching.  I had no business telling other women what looked good on them.

This is what the store looked like:

When I wasn't doling out compliments and flattery, I was following the customers around right before closing time and refolding all of the sweaters.

I only worked there for six months before I moved on to becoming the smoothie girl at Mervyn's California, another mall staple that eventually met its demise.

What was your first job?

America

A couple of years ago, Bobaloo and I went to a small blues jam in Greeley, Colorado that takes place every June.  On our way into town we stopped at a liquor store to stock up on some beer.  We were tailgating in the dusty dirt parking lot when we opened the case of Budweiser to find a new and awesome patriotic beer can design.  Maybe a little over the top design-wise?

I don't know why this can struck us so funny.  Maybe because we were going to a blues festival in a cow-town.  Maybe it was Bobaloo's patriotic farmer tan (red arms, white body, blue jeans).  Maybe a combination of all of this.  Whatever it was, we got the giggles and somewhere I have a picture of Bobaloo tailgating that day that he will be very happy I didn't put on the internet.  Here's a different picture of him:

Back to the beer can.  Ever since then, I have found myself starting quite a collection of very American can koozies.

"Land of the free, courtesy of the brave"

Who Knew?

So, Bobaloo has told me about this thing he did when he was a kid and apparently it's a normal adolescent thing.

 

Do you remember being at a school assembly or a program put on by a different grade and wanting to be the last person who clapped?

 

I have never heard of this.

 

Oh my gosh, I just googled.  It's a thing.

 

According to Urban Dictionary:

	Last-clap contest
	When you're at a performance or assembly and the applaud is just ending, this is the contest when two people both try to get the last clap. Usually lasts about 20 seconds before both people give up.   Cathy: I loved how during the assembly today, there was a last-clap contest between Jeff and Matt.   There's even a Facebook page!   Who knew?  Have you ever heard of this?!

July 14

I have three tattoos.  The first one I had done in a teensy weensy parlor in a teensy weensy town in Minnesota.  It was my eighteenth birthday and Friday the thirteenth and the idea was to go get inked and then head to the casino to play bingo.  Looking back, those are some weird birthday plans.

My mother was none too pleased with me and said something along the lines of, "why on Earth would you want to do that to your body?!"  At the time I thought it would be a way to remember my ideals or whatever.  Ready for the picture?

Really accentuates the pipes, eh?

 

 

 

 July Challenge

This and That

What's been going on?

Bobaloo made a trip to Minnesota last Friday and got back into town yesterday.  Whenever he leaves I make a big proclamation about the keggers and raves I am going to throw and the stripper pole I am going to have installed.

In reality, I sit on the couch with my afghan and watch a lot of movies.  And I eat a lot of salad and triscuits because the idea of making a meal just for myself seems rather motivated.

I did get out and about a couple of the days.

On Friday night I went over to my neighbor's house and we solved all of the world's problems.

On Saturday I painted fingernails, Raspberry Rush seemed to be the color of the day.

And on Sunday I put on my fancy kicks and went "dancing" with some girlfriends.  And by "dancing" I mean I sat on the patio and drank a lot of beer.

Nik kept me company and amused me with her goofy dog-face.

I am still trying to shake off the summer bummers by being positive and trying to keep busy.  Positivity is a lot of work sometimes, but I'm holding it together.  Well, let's be honest.  There were some tears this morning, but mornings are hard.  Things always look sunnier after lunch.  Speaking of things sunny, Sonny and company (Widespread Panic) are happening on Thursday. And it is impossible to be bummed at a Panic show, at Red Rocks, while hangin' out with my favorite dude.  Good things.

Oh, I also turned my hair and interesting shade of orange over the weekend.  Obligatory pic...

I look like a psychotic cartoon character, too funny not to share.

Friday

Bobaloo and I both were able to leave work early on Friday so we headed to the tavern and met up with some friends to kick off the long weekend.  This evening also turned into a reminder of why I don't drink whiskey.

 

 

Saturday

I spent Saturday morning cleaning and finishing up the second bedroom project while Bobaloo volunteered at Red Rocks.  Later, we had some friends over in the afternoon for some beer, tunes, grilling, bubbles, and general tomfoolery.  Our neighbor got chickens last week and he invited me over to feed them. So cute!  It ended up being a pretty late night.

 

Bubbles, Nik the HomeDawg, and the rock band.

Sunday

See Saturday's description.  More of the same.  A lot of goofiness.  Plus I watched one of my fave flicks:

 

"I just like to smile, smilin's my favorite"
 

Monday

We checked out the annual duck races in Morrison.

 

 

 

All in all, a good weekend was had.  And I killed some brain cells.

 

 

May 17

 

Thank goodness today's topic is easy because it's Friday and my brain hurts.  Today's topic is a favorite photo of yourself and why.  Let's do this.

 

 

 

Sometimes when first meeting people I come across a little quiet and reserved.  Little do they know this is the real me.  My buddy named this alter ego of mine Lightning Oops.  I like it.

 

Happy Friday to you all and a Happy Syttende Mai to all you crazy Norwegians...

 

 

May 2

 

Today is day dos of the above challenge to Blog Every Day in May. Ambitious I know, but there are topics posted for every day. Go check it out. Today's topic is Educate us on something you know a lot about or are good at.

 

Hmm..  Something I know a lot about?  I know a little about a lot, but not the other way around.  I don't think I have any secret talents either.  Well maybe I do but they're still a secret from me, who knows?

 

You may not know this about me but I am saving my rubles to buy a homestead and on my homestead I want to raise...

 

Alpacas!

 



  

Seriously, I want to be able to wake up and hug my alpacas everyday.  If you buy me one, I will name it after you.  Any takers?

 

Bobaloo and I have gone to a couple of alpaca shows around town, in fact the big Great Western Alpaca Show is coming up this weekend.  Ready Bobaloo?  The shows are fun and you get to pet the alpacas and talk to the exhibitors.  So, I guess I know more than the average bear about alpacas.

 

Jill’s top 5 alpaca facts:

1)  Alpacas live for around twenty years.

2)  You can keep up to five alpacas per acre.

 

3)  Alpacas produce 5-8 pounds of wool per year, the wool is hypoallergenic.

 

4)  Alpacas weren’t imported to the US until 1984.

 

5)  Alpacas come in 16 different tones.

 

P.S. Here's a link to an alpaca webcam in Loveland, CO.  It's time for babies!

in the can

Bobaloo doesn’t have the greatest luck.  I don’t know if it’s so much luck as weird stuff happens to him on the regular.  When we were dating he used to tell me stories of the strange everyday occurrences that would happen to him, I of course, thought he was exaggerating.

When we moved in together we always worked wonky schedules so here and there I would notice goofy interactions or the world messing with him.  It wasn’t until we got married, had similar work schedules, and started only using one car that I noticed all the weird crap that happens to him on a semi-daily basis.  Honestly there are times I dread pulling into the 7-11 because there is going to be some kind of tomfoolery happening that is going to make a 2 minute stop stretch to 10.  It seems to be that all of these weird little things add up to the microcosm of his life.  It’s hard to explain, so here are a few examples:

*He constantly gets strange change back (half dollars, two-dollar bills, Sacajawea coins).  The change isn’t from just one establishment either, this happens all around town.

*I joke that we can get anywhere 15 minutes faster if I drive because he will hit every.single.red.light.

*He always gets the wobbly bar stool.

*His food order always gets mixed up or has missing items.

*This post would take days if I went on with the list.

Usually his weird destiny doesn’t throw my stuff off but every once in a while, I am there to not only witness it, but participate (unwillingly).

A recent experience was a trip to Wal-Mart to buy a trashcan for the kitchen.  We made our way to the home section and they had an entire aisle of garbage cans in different materials, colors, etc.

We weren’t looking for anything too fancy, maybe just a $20 Rubbermaid with a lid.  Did you know they sell garbage cans for $80?  Well, we were sticking to the frugal choice.  Find a can, find a lid, and get out of there. 

We found a few that we liked but were unable to find one with a lid that fit.  Now, there were a lot of garbage cans and a lot of lids, what are the odds that not one thing would fit another in the entire aisle?  It dawned on me that I was shopping with Bobaloo and this was about turn into one of his weird things that happen only to him.  That saying, “no matter how crooked the pot, there’s always a lid that fits” certainly did not apply.  They even had labels with letters on them to help match a set up.  Bobaloo would pull out Cans J, C, and T and I would only find lids for G, P, and H.

We just wanted a garbage can.  After about ten minutes of maddening amusement we gave up and left with no trashcan.

 

Friday

 

Friday was the day that would not end at work.  I was very happy when 4:30 rolled around and I was able to happy hour with Bobaloo and my friend Sam.  Later, we all went back to our place to do some grilling, beer drinking, and music listening.  We moved into a house recently, it's great to have more space to have folks over.  I also started reading Sarah Silverman's The Bedwetter, so far so good.

 

 

Saturday

   

Nik & Bobaloo at the new pad

Oy vey.  This is where the weekend got a little out of hand!  We got our tickets for Widespread Panic at Red Rocks and decided to celebrate with bloody marys (which were delicious, by the way).  The snow blew in and we made a decision to just hang at home.  It turns out some of our friends were bored too so they came over for some good old fashioned day drinking.  Snowladies were made, hotdish was eaten, laughs were had, and goofy songs were written.  I capped the night off by losing my iPhone during a liquor store trip which is why there aren't a whole lot of pics in this post.  Genius.  By the way, if you haven't had tatertot hotdish yet this winter I highly recommend this stick-to-the ribs goodness. Here's one recipe, though you can pretty much use up whatever is in your cupboard.

 

Sunday

 

I woke up, had some coffee, and shook the cobwebs so we could head up to Nederland for Frozen Dead Guy Days.  FDGD is an awesome festival that celebrates Grandpa who is frozen in a Tuff Shed.  Bobaloo, a friend, and I made the trek and enjoyed some good music, had some beers, and witnessed the goofiness.  By the time we got home, I was pretty well beat so I capped the weekend off with some frozen pizza and Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

 

 

You're still here? It's over. Go home. Go.

 

 

Painting Posse

I am not a very fancy gal.  I own a lot of hats.  I wear many hats, only in the physical sense though, not in the turn of phrase sense.  Getting gussied up in the morning is my least favorite thing to do.  If I leave the house wearing matching tops and bottoms I consider it a triumph.  Socks don’t count.  I let go of trying to match my socks up a couple of years ago.  It’s been a beneficial experience.  No one really checks for matching socks anyway.  Sock it to me.

I started volunteering at a senior living home in December.  I told the volunteer coordinator I was up to help wherever she needed it, juice cart duties, organizing the library, etc.  She had something else in mind though.  She emailed me with my post after I passed my TB test, I was going to hang out on Saturday mornings once in a while and paint fingernails.

This was slightly unsettling for a few reasons.  One, I have never painted someone else’s nails before.  Two, physical nearness to strangers has never really been my thing.  Three, I am not super great at small talk.  I was nervous as my first Saturday approached.

When I arrived the first Saturday I only had one customer.  She was delightful and didn’t seem to be too bothered with me coloring outside of the lines a little bit.  Conversation came easy and I was eager to come back the next time.  When that day came, I had a half a dozen women waiting for me when I arrived.  It was cute because some of them thought I was practicing for beauty school. 

My posse has grown to about eight regulars who I am excited to see.  I am much more confident in my painting skills and am happy to suggest colors that will match outfits they have planned out for the week.  They make conversation with each other while they’re waiting for paint or drying.   It’s nice for me because I can do nails and listen to the conversations.   The experience has been an absolute pleasure from the get go and I am happy I let myself be open to it so I could meet these women.

10 Days

Summer has kicked off gloriously thus far (aside from all the fiery fire nastiness going on).  The goal for this summer was to get on out and do life stuff.  I have been trying to get out every day to enjoy a walk and get some of that good old D3.  It seems to help, plus there’s an area near us where the folks have horses.  So awesome.

Greek Fest in Denver was fun.  Delicious food was had and the cathedral dome is a stunning shade of blue.  This was the second year we went and it doesn’t disappoint.

For the first time, Bobaloo and I headed to Pride Fest We missed the parade but had fun hanging out.  There were a ton of people which was cool.

Last Friday we were up to Red Rocks to see Wilco.  It was a good show.  I am looking forward to Cake and Neil Young later in the season.

It's been in the hundreds around here lately so last Saturday we briefly di some gold-panning to cool off.  No nuggets found, I'm left getting rich the old-fashioned way.

Jennifer at Chronicles of Consciousness has gotten me interested in the 10 Day You Challenge.  Her blog is one of my absolute favorites.  Go ahead, check out the link to her blog above.

*I just moved the 10 Day Challenge a tab at the top.

Liquid Superpowers

I carry a teensy weensy notebook around with me wherever I go in case I have a genius idea or thought. Genius thoughts usually do not happen. I want to be ready though, in case the big one hits.

I tend to be a mastermind when I have had a few cocktails. Who does not get liquid superpowers?

I was out on Saturday afternoon listening to music on a bar patio when I had another one of my “genius” thoughts. I quickly wrote down a few words, knowing that I would remember the significance of it all later.

old people

new people

old people were once new too

can’t get old, until you meet a few new

So, now it’s Monday morning and I have no idea what kind of note I was trying to write myself in a haze of fun.

Song lyrics, perhaps?

Does this ever happen to you?

Dumped!

I got dumped. I met him on Craigslist and he only charged twenty-five bucks an hour, which may seem cheap but he’s a college kid just getting by. My husband said go ahead, try to hook up before I get done with work so I can pick you up on the way home. I thought it’d work out with him and my life would be so much easier.

I called him and arranged to meet at four o’clock on Tuesday. We would meet at the library for one hour. It started well, and we met up every Tuesday for a few weeks. I thought everything was going swimmingly.

Then, I got burned.

Math. He was my math tutor. And he dumped me. He stood me up. No text message, no phone call, not even an email.

How mortifying? It is hard enough sometimes to admit you need help and to reach out, and for this to happen? I am so embarrassed. My tutor quit me. And now I am left here to pick up the fragile bits and pieces of my arithmetic and algebra.

With the school year beginning again, I am faced with a problem. Do I spend a lot of money and time on remedial math courses to get to the one I need to move on? Or do I hire a tutor so I can test out, take the one math course, and move on? It all really comes down to time and money. Kind of a lot of money. A lot of money for courses that don’t “count.”

But on the other hand, we all know how the tutoring worked out. Am I that frustrating to teach? Probably. I don’t like to do stuff I am not good at, which is not one of my more endearing qualities.

To be fair, I haven’t taken a math class in more than ten years.

I am not great teaching myself math out of a book. Khan Academy is pretty cool.

Maybe there is a solution I am not thinking of.

Any suggestions?

Right on Target

MapQuest is made for people like me. I love it and do not feel comfortable going somewhere I have never been without having directions printed out. Also, I do not have a phone with internet or a GPS navigator so directions are a necessity. I can manage okay when people tell me “ go right” or “take a left at the stop sign,” but when people start throwing around words like “West” or “North” I freak out a bit because my sense of direction is pretty poor. This is especially frustrating in Colorado where every Smart-Alec feels the need to remind you that the mountains are always West.

This simple little reminder makes my blood boil for three reasons:

1. You cannot see the mountains at night.

2. Some of the roads go diagonally.

3. You cannot see the mountains in the city.

4. This “friendly” reminder is always said with a bit of condescension.

Also, I have just noticed that when Bobaloo is driving I always look out the passenger-side window when riding in the car; I never look forward and never pay attention to where the car is headed. Therefore, I never really know where I am or how I got there (insert life metaphor here).

This is where Target comes in.

He left and I was alone in a new city for the first time left to my own devices and sensibilities (or lack thereof). The one place I knew how to get to? Target. I took a drive to Target and was able to find Subway and the hardware store from there. From that point forward all I had to do was remember where things were in relation to Target. Why this was easier than finding things from home, I have no idea.

After a year we moved to the City of Golden. Do you know what makes Golden awesome? The Target is attached to the mall! Same story, different town. Again Target was located in such a location that it was easy for me to remember which highways or major roads were by if they were heading towards Target or away.

Maybe I should just get a compass.

As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly.

Happy Thanksgiving all!

There are many things I am pretty darn thankful for this year. At the top of the list, I am thankful that my older brother made it home safe and sound to his wife and kids from Afghanistan earlier this week. It is also his birthday today and it makes me so happy that he came home just in time for his birthday and the holidays.

Bobaloo and I are still trying to create traditions for ourselves out here because it is just the two of us for the holidays. For a few years running now we have gone to a wonderful buffet on Thanksgiving at the Table Mountain Inn. We are going back again today, solidifying its place in our traditions. No cooking, no cleaning, no leftovers. That's my kind of Thanksgiving.

One of Bobaloo's favorite TV shows is WKRP in Cincinnati. I never watched it until a couple of years ago. Here's a clip of a WKRP Thanksgiving episode. Funniest thing ever. It's a little long, the best parts are at 2:oo and 5:30.

WKRP Turkey Drop - Watch more Videos at Vodpod.

I hope everyone's tables are bountiful with food, love, and laughter this year.

Educating the Masses

My dad was visiting Bobaloo and I last weekend and on Sunday we found ourselves at Wrigley’s watching the Bears beat the Vikings. We indulged in the breakfast buffet and of course, threw back some Bloody Marys.

When the waitress brought my dad his Bloody, he looked down and wondered where the snit was. This is funny because Bobaloo and I had been discussing the regional differences of Bloody Marys a few weeks ago. We noted that here in Colorado the Bloody is served sans snit and a little spicier than in Minnesota.

What is a snit you ask? It’s kind of like a beer chaser that gets served in a lowball glass with your Bloody. You sip on the beer while drinking your Bloody Mary.

After much research, I have concluded the snit is something that is only served in bars in the Midwest, more specifically Minnesota and Wisconsin. I have to say that I am a fan of this element of drinking. It kind of takes the edge of the Bloody.

More research revealed that a snit is:

a U.S. unit of volume for liquor equal to 2 jiggers, 3 U.S. fluid ounces, or 88.7 milliliters. The origin of this unit is unknown.

Fascinating.

Do they serve snits in your state?

P.S. To learn what a Morning Margarita is check out A.B.’s blog The A-List

Lady Astor to Winston Churchill: "If you were my husband I'd give you poison." Churchill to Lady Astor: "If you were my wife, I'd drink it."

Back at it

My time away from here has been great. I still keep up with all of your blogs, you know. I currently am reading them through Google Reader though because they have blocked Blogger at work. Bo-ring! I think I’ll change it up though and do the blogging on the weekend so I can blog about town as I please.

So, where did I leave off? Oh yes, impending summertime. Summer was fantastic! There were graduations, weddings, concerts, trips, and many visitors. It buzzed by breakneck speed as usual. It was very special to me to be able to spend so much time with my little brother before he left for college. I am pretty psyched for all of the experiences ahead of him. Remember what it’s like to be nineteen? Fun stuff. Like, really fun stuff!

There were a couple of funerals over the summer too. One was a dear family friend whom I have known since childhood, the other a friend from the local watering hole. One had been there for most of the important events in my life and at one time was even my employer. The final time I saw him was last Christmas. I think of him and his wife and his kids often and think about how iniquitous life can be. The other had a small memorial at the tavern I knew him from. Although I didn’t know him very long, I think of his smile and wish I had known he was into karaoke while I had the chance to hear him sing. It was really strange to have gotten to know him better as a result of his passing.

September rolled around and I was a bridesmaid for my best friend’s wedding. It was a happy day. A week later Bobaloo and I were back in Minnesota to celebrate his parent’s fiftieth wedding anniversary. A couple of days after that, Bobaloo and I celebrated our own two-year wedding anniversary. A lot of love going on. I like it.

A ton of more awesome and less than awesome stuff went down as well. It was hard to get back into the blog swing of this because I just kept thinking, where do I start?

In the last six months or so I have sat down to start writing, to start explaining. I could never figure out where to begin so it has been easier to not start in at all.

When things have a habit of not working out for a long time, trying really hard and not trying at all becomes a very fine line.

It’s not much of an explanation I guess. That okay though, I suppose.

Anyway, this marks the return of me and my regular Jillie Side Up self. Thanks for sticking with me!

“For her own breakfast she’ll project a scheme, Nor take her tea without a stratagem” -Edward Young

Liquid Goodness

There has been an awesome new addition to our household. A lot of our stuff is still in storage in California which makes buying things a little difficult. I don’t want to buy a bunch of stuff for the place and then have all of old belongings come back and have no room for them. This makes trips to Target a little hard on me. Target is my place of sanctuary. I can spend hours there. Anyway, back to the new addition.

As I was walking down the grocery aisles I came to the coffee section. The fragrance of coffee stirred a longing for caffeinated delight in me. I decided then and there that if I could find a coffeemaker for around ten bucks I would purchase one. I walked hurriedly to the kitchen appliances aisle and was thrilled to have found a $9.99 ChefMate coffeemaker. I quickly procured the coffeemaker and some filters and tossed it into the cart.

I promenaded proudly back to the coffee aisle and picked out a container of Folgers of the French Vanilla variety and some decaf for Bobaloo. As I checked out I could hardly contain my anticipation as the cashier scanned my items.

Once at home, I placed the coffeemaker in a hallowed corner of the counter where it could be admired from all corners of the kitchen. It was brilliant and shiny and new. I immediately half-read the instructions and started to brew my first pot of liquid goodness. I poured the russet liquid into a travel mug along with some French Vanilla creamer. I went out to the patio, lit a cigarette, and enjoyed the coffee. It was bliss.