Wednesday, October 31, 2007


Monday night over dinner I said to Chris, "We need to get a pumpkin, Halloween is on Wednesday"

"Oh, no we don't" he replied casually, "I've already got that taken care of."

In my head two potential scenarios simultaneously unfolded:

Scenario 1:
Chris had stopped on his way home and picked up a pumpkin already because he knew we needed one.

Scenario 2:
Chris had singlehandedly devised a bizarre plan for festive Halloween decorum that did not involve a pumpkin and knew I would say no way so he just didn't tell me about it.

After considering both scenarios I determined, with out a shadow of a doubt, that I was dealing with scenario #2. "Well if we aren't getting a pumpkin, how will we decorate?" I asked (secretly fearing the response). Chris grinned and cast a sidelong glance at the miniature seedless watermelon we purchased at the supermarket the day before. "No way" I shook my head vigorously, "How are you even going to hollow it out? This will never work."
Chris rolled his eyes dramatically and said "With an ice cream scoop! DUH! This is going to be so super cool."

Faced with the prospect of having to eat half pound melon balls for the remainder of the week I did what any reasonable person would have done, I hid the ice cream scoop. In fact, I can't actually remember where I put it.

Fast forward to Tuesday night after dinner. Chris says "it is time to carve the watermelon" immediately followed by "hey what happened to the ice cream scoop?"

Trying to appear occupied, I began to feverishly unload the dishwasher. "Gosh, it's not in here!"

"That's ok" Chris interrupted, "All you really need to to carve a watermelon Jack-O-Lantern is a good fillet knife." Then he began to carve

After he sliced it in half, he hollowed out the inside with the fillet knife. Next, he carved a face. When he was finished he started to root around furiously in the cabinet. With his head all the way inside the cupboard I heard his muffled voice say "It still needs a little something extra. You know?" Attempting to muffle my laughter, I nodded. "Ah Ha!" he cried as he emerged and opened his hand to reveal one of those tiny umbrella toothpicks for a tropical drink. "Now it will be perfect. This is going to be the best Halloween ever!"

Happy Halloween from Me, Chris & the Jack-O-Pumpkin-Water-Lantern-Melon!

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Seach Party

I recently discovered that there is a way to review the search keywords that have led people to my blog. Give the topics that I discuss, I figured there would be some pretty funny and/or weird stuff in there. I wasn't disappointed. The highlights include:

  • things that sink that you thought would float (I wonder what this guy dropped into a lake)
  • why doesn't it float in the air (because there is no helium?)
  • the world's best knock knock jokes (no doubt a direct link to my made-up knock knock joke)
  • the funnies knock knock joke ever told (ditto)
  • talking in my sleep and how to deal with this (this dude is most likely in big trouble and/or on the couch)
  • dog ate entire box of doughnuts (honestly, this could happen to anyone)
  • a funny thing happened while I was mowing the grass (maybe he found a 15 foot trampoline or one of my neighbors)
  • why blow on marshmallow to extinguish flame (because, evidently, waving it around is frowned upon)

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Attack Cactus

About 3 weeks ago at a native plant sale I found this little unassuming cactus in among the other plants. "This is native?" I asked the sales lady with a mixture of doubt and excitement. "But, it's a cactus."

"Oh yes!" she said, "it is a species of cactus that is native to Michigan and it is winter hearty! Isn't it wonderful? So unique!"

My thoughts immediately turned to my crazy neighbors who had landscaped their yard with desert cactus only to have them all die over the winter. I pictured them all huddled around the window that looks out over out garden next spring trying to figure out how our cactus survived. That was all it took. With unbridled enthusiasm, I scooped up the cactus in its cute little pot and took it to the check out where I paid three whole dollars for it. What the delightful sales woman forgot to mention was that this was no ordinary cactus. This was an attack cactus.

Upon arriving home I planted the cactus in the garden being careful to wear the thickest leather work gloves and a long sleeved shirt to protect my hands and arms. The needles on this thing were brutal. Menacingly orange, each one was the size of a splinter of wood forming small tufts all over the plant. They stuck to EVERYTHING. They poked through the gloves stabbing into my hands they somehow got all over the inside of my shirt sleeves. I was pulling them out for days. DAYS!

There were times when I was nowhere near the cactus and I would feel one of those fiery orange needles poke into my skin. It was as though the cactus was sending aerial attacks from the other side of the yard. There were even occasions when I was sitting inside on the couch and I would get one in my hand. "WHERE DID THIS COME FROM?" I would scream out. "The cactus is OUT-FRIGGIN-SIDE!" I had to start carrying tweezers to remove the cactus needles from my skin. I had to take them everywhere with me because I never really know when the cactus would attack. Evidently, I am no longer even safe inside.

Today was the final straw. I was at work, in another zip code mind you, when I felt a familiar poke. "FRIGGIN CACTUS!" I screamed out before I could stop myself. My coworker leaned out into the hall with eyebrows raised. "I've been attacked" I said trying to fish out the needle and then under my breath, "by a cactus" Co-workers eyebrows went up even further. "I know it sounds crazy, but I have this cactus at home and it keeps stabbing me with needles even when I am nowhere near it. I don't know what to do." I didn't even have my tweezers so I had to try and pull them out with my fingers. This continued all afternoon. In total, I pulled 14 attack cactus needles out of my hands and arms this afternoon. I hate that stupid cactus.

Here's the thing I don't dare dig it up. Can you even imagine? Attack cactus would go for the throat or worse yet, the bad eye. So, my faithful readers (and lurkers), I need your help. How do I bump off the attack cactus with out being showered in a deluge of fiery orange needles?

To be continued...

Monday, October 8, 2007

Garden Fencing

Fall has arrived. So naturally, most of the plants in our vegetable garden are done producing for the year. Each year we need to cut them all back so that they have time to compost into the soil before next spring when we replant. Chris typically does this.

It is at this point it feel it is pertinent to mention that my husband, and this is a direct quote, "has this awesome sword that almost never gets used!" So naturally what better time to remove it from the wall where it is displayed (yes, I realize I was somehow tricked into allowing him to hang it on the wall of our home as a "decoration") and use it to chop down the garden plants.

He never tells me when he is planning this he just does it. So inevitably, I will look out the window totally unprepared, and see my husband standing in the middle of the garden, fencing with an invisible opponent amongst a flurry of flying corn husks, zucchini vines and leafy greens. Garden Fencing, as I now refer to it, may or may not include the following activities:

  • Yelling "Yarrrrrgh!" (like a pirate)
  • Throwing pieces of vegetation into air and attempting to slice them in half with the sword on their way back down.
  • Shouting "En Garde!"
  • Batting practice
  • Swinging the sword from side to side vigorously so it makes that 'shwing shwing' noise
  • 'Knighting' the dog with the sword
  • Grinning mischievously
When he is done, the garden is gone with only piles of minced vegetation in his wake. The sword is cleaned and goes back into the sheath. And despite my best efforts, back onto the wall. Until next year, that is.

Friday, October 5, 2007

They got a dog

Last night, while I was counting the minutes until CSI, I suddenly heard loud hysterical wailing and yelping coming from next door. Yes, that next door. Chris and I exchanged worried glances and Warp began having a doggy meltdown complete with whining, gasping and rolling around on the floor because we wouldn't let him outside to investigate.

I seriously debated whether or not to even go look. "What on earth is that noise." I shouted to Chris. He responded by glancing incredulously at me over the tops of his glasses. "You aren't the least bit curious? I'm going to check it out." I said more to myself than to him. I had to see where all the noise was coming from without appearing to be interested or concerned. My biggest problem: I couldn't see what was happening from the window. I was going to have to go out there if I wanted to find out. Doing my absolute best to appear disinterested and nonchalant, I opened the back door and stepped out onto the porch. Warp of course raced out after me and I practically had to throw myself down the back steps to catch him before he streaked past. When I looked across the yard here is what I saw:

All the neighbor children, with their friends, were jumping on the 15 foot wide trampoline. Ascending from the center of the throng of children, a teeny tiny puppy dog. This little guy couldn't have weighed more than 5 lbs. They were all jumping in unison which caused the dog to repeatedly catapult skyward. Each time, he let out a series of terrified yelps and wails.

I completely forgot about appearing disinterested and nonchalant. I stood there clutching my wiggling, screaming dog with my mouth hanging open staring at this poor puppy. Suddenly, all the children, turned and started yelling and waving at us; calling for Warp to join in the fun. Uh, no. I went back inside, leaning against the door once it was closed behind me. Chris looked over at me. "Well?"

"They got a dog" I replied.

"Oh no" He whispered.