So mature...

I posted previously about my tiny bit of OCD when it comes to folding towels. Brit Boy read my post. He was less than amused. Well, he was slightly amused. Maybe. Possibly. I think there was a hint of a smile on his face when he told me where I could put my properly folded towels.

So in response to me basically saying that I didn't like the way he folded our towels, he responded in the most mature, well-reasoned, and thoughtful way anyone can.

By basically going "pbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbt!!!!"

Is there any question as to why I love him so?

But it's only wafer thin!

Everyone has fears. Some are logical and totally understandable. Others are rather irrational and, well, silly. Mine falls into this latter category.

Sidewalk grates. I'm afraid of sidewalk grates. You know, those flimsy pieces of metal that cover deep chasms of underground tunnels, pipes, and all the creepy-crawly things that live down there. Those flimsy pieces of metal that could snap at any moment, plunging the passerby deep below the surface of the Earth. I shudder every time I even think about walking over one. So I don't. Walk over them, that is. I avoid them at all costs.

Last night, however, was my worst nightmare. There's a particular stretch of roadway in downtown Austin that due to the construction on the street and the sidewalk that connects to the pedestrian/cycling bridge, I was forced onto the sidewalk in front of City Hall for half a block. This half of the block, however, contains a 20-something foot expanse of sidewalk grates. A 20-something foot expanse of sidewalk grates that I was forced to ride across as there were other people on the sidewalk. A 20-something foot expanse of sidewalk grates that threatened to buckled and fail as the tires of my bike rolled from one grate to the next. A 20-something foot expanse of sidewalk grates...

"Just keep pedaling, just keep pedaling, just keep pedaling..." I kept singing to myself. "What do we do, we pedal, we pedal... just keep pedaling..."

After what seemed like an eon... After what seemed like 600 miles of sidewalk grates... I finally got to the end and was able to make my way home. It took at least a mile or two for my apprehensiveness to subside.

Toweling Off

Brit Boy and I are entering our third month of cohabitation. All seems to be going swimmingly. We're goofy, silly, happy, cuddly, etc, etc. He's getting out and making friends and exploring Austin, and we seem to be settling in nicely. Except...

Towels. Now, there may not be too many things about which I am a stickler, but the way the towels in the linen closet are folded is one of them. I mean, when they're folded all nice and neat, it just looks so nice when you open the door to grab one. Well, apparently not everyone agrees with my philosophy.

I opened the linen closet the other day to grab a towel to take to the gym. This is what I found staring back at me.

Well, I just couldn't have any of this. Order had to be restored.

Much better, no?

Help, help! I'm being repressed!

My aunt and uncle have arrived to take over the care-taking of my mother while she recovers. It's nice to see them, as it's been... I couldn't even tell you how long it's been since I've spent some time with them.

However...

I am now in a house filled with McCain/Palin supporters who espouse the Republican Party's talking points on why McCain/Palin are the only ones that can handle the country and that Obama is a socialist and a terrorist. Yes, with one breath they are saying that he's a socialist working to build up the power of the state, and with the other they say he'll destroy the country. They've now gone so far as to turn on the McCain/Palin propoganda machine... Faux News.

"There's no place like home..." *click* "There's no place like home..." *click* "There's no place like home..." *click*

Recipe for a family.

One of the missions my brother charged me with while I'm up at mom's is to find our dad's chili recipe. This has been no easy task. Both yesterday and a good portion of today has been spent searching through cabinets, boxes, and trunks for old recipe books and boxes. And then proceeding to sift through these books page by page due to the fact that my family likes to simply stuff recipes into books just willy-nilly.

My mom and I were sitting at the dining room table earlier today doing just this when I commented on my own recipe organization. I print out recipes on their own 8 1/2" x 11" sheet of paper, insert it in a plastic sleeve and then keep these sleeves in 3-ring binders. I have different binders for different things. Sweets (which is my most full binder), entrees, specialty drinks, and so on. My mom seemed rather impressed by this.

"Well," she started, "since you're so organized with this is sounds like its time for you to start a family."

Ummm... What?!?!? So I pressed the issue. "Umm, how does me having good recipe organization equate to me needing to start a family?"

"Well, it just says that you're at a point in your life that you're ready for the next step."

"And the next step, of course, is for me to start a family?" I inquire.

"Yes," she said simply and continued sorting through recipe after recipe.

Ummm.... well.... ok...?

It's a good thing she's pretty.

My mom's cat is a bitch. A cute, loving, demanding little bitch.

When I arose this morning to make my mom her breakfast, it wasn't long until her loving little Hop-a-Long (the cat only has three legs) came to join me in the kitchen. At first she sat quietly by my feet as I cut up a cantaloupe. When I didn't realize that this meant she needed to be fed, she made her displeasure known rather loudly. Fine, alright. Cat's like to meow when they want something. No big deal.

After eating her fill (which was really only about two bites) she ran over to the basement door and started scratching to her hearts content. "I want to play in the basement," her eyes said to me. Fine. I'll open the basement door for you. She ran down the stairs and I could hear her just tearing around down there. For only having three legs, this little fireball sure does get around.

At some point, she quietly reentered the kitchen and went about trying to look out the floor length windows that overlooked the backyard. She was thwarted, however, by the fact that I had yet to raise the blinds. Determined, she let her intentions be known by pawing, head-butting, and then simply sticking her nose through the blinds. At first I was simply amused, but then the clanging of the blinds was too much. "Fine," I exclaimed. "I'll open the damn blinds."

Apparently this cat has a set routine and doesn't like for it to be changed.

Umm... did I just write a blog posting about a cat? Damn... I need to get home to Brit Boy soon.

You wanna put what where?

I'm at my mom's in Kansas City helping her recover from recent medical issues. This isn't the first time I've been to her house here (she only moved in a couple of years ago), but this is the first time I think I've really explored the place. It's funny the things you notice that would drive you absolutely crazy in the design and layout of an abode. I know I couldn't live here. Why?

The closets are WAY too small. I wouldn't even have room for my shoes!!

Some people really ought to know better!

While wandering near the UT campus this afternoon, I spotted a rather attractive, young undergrad striding toward me. From a distance he seemed like a nice candidate for some good eye candy. Tall. Short, dark hair. Broad shoulders. He even seemed to have a slight swagger to his walk. As he drew closer, however, I noticed that he was slouching. "No matter," I thought. "His backpack must be crammed full of books."

And then, just when he got close enough for me to determine whether he was a Monet or not, I noticed them. Those hideous... things... that so many people are wearing these days. Crocs. But not just any Crocs. Burnt Orange Crocs. With the Longhorn logo emblazened on the top of the "shoe."

Ugh...

So I had to come back to my office and find some real eye candy. Chad White.

Enjoy!!

I don't like being corrected.

I knew that when Brit Boy got here and we started getting settled as a couple there were definitely going to be some adjustments in how things functioned around the house. Compromises. Negotiations. When these things are being discussed, it is always important to approach it with care and sensitivity. It's important to be open to new ideas.

Well, Brit Boy stated that he thought it wise for us to reduce our electricity consumption by line-drying our laundry. "You see," he said, "In England, line-drying laundry is very common even though its raining three-fourths of the year. In Texas, with all the heat and sun you get, why don't you line-dry?"

"Ummm... well... uhhhh...." I stammered for a while as I tried to rationalize tumble-drying clothes for the past few decades. Cuz really, I have no excuse. It's a waste of energy to machine dry when we have the sun beating down on us so consistently. But I just like... um... *sigh*

He's totally right. I just hope he doesn't make a habit of this being right thing.

grumble, grumble... groan, grumble...

I'm at the office. It was a beautiful ride into work this morning with the sun rising slowly as I entered downtown. The kettle is on in preparation for my morning tea. I have "Addicted to Base" playing.

Yet, tired does not even begin to describe how I'm feeling this morning. I have to say, this early rising so that I can make it into the office at a decent hour is causing me to go to bed at a respectable time. I mean, I stayed up till 11pm to watch Project Runway (how the HELL did Kenley not go home last night?!?!?!?) and I'm paying the price for it now. Really? 11pm is too late for me?

*le sigh*