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failed appliance of the week: the electric mixer
September 07, 2010
Dealing with a bit of the old demon this past week, but considering the circumstances, it is more of an externally fueled bout of depression.
My friend Bev died of the metastatic breast cancer that she had been dealing with for the past year. And she turned out to be one of those "No Funeral" people, which is no surprise, but still very hard on those of us who mourn her loss. For some reason, I seem to attract the NF types in my life--and then they die.
Another loss, that seems minor compared to the above (but isn't, really) is that of my friend, mentor, and always reliable Awesome Boss, who abandoned us for a more glittering future with E&Y. This is a tough one for me; he has long been my friend in reasonably high places. He taught me, championed me, kept me informed, and always shot straight with me. I'm going to miss him so much.
Spouse and I took it very easy this weekend. The weather was not at all summery, and we just vegged out, ran a few errands, cooked a lot, and did the minimom amount of housework required to keep life ticking along. (And I played a SHIT-load of FarmVille.)
We did run down to Trader Joe's on Friday. Hadn't been in a very long while, and I was pleased to stock up on old favorites, including several different kinds of coffee beans. Spouse found a couple of new things to try, as well--Swiss chocolate, and some cookies. And we did the usual Wal-Mart run, for my allergy and stomach meds, paper products, and such.
I confess, I ended up crashing for a three-hour nap after we got home. While I was snoozing, Spouse made dinner--he was having one of those "Jonesing for his childhood" moments, and made one of those nasty-bastard Jennie-O turkey rolls. Eeeeuucchh. Smelled and tasted like a pencil eraser cooked in gravy. I didn't want to criticize him, and he has the right to cook and eat what he wants...but I just kind of faked my way through. I pleaded indigestion to excuse my taking a very small portion, limited my intake to a bite or two when he was looking, and then fed it to the dog when he wasn't looking. Filled up on mashed potatoes and peas.
We went out to breakfast on Saturday; Spouse really liked the place he'd had lunch at the week before, and wanted to try their breakfasts. So we ran up to Spokes in Racine County and gave it a try. The place is a very nice biker bar, and the breakfast was fine, except my french toast was a bit on the cool side. The coffee was decent and cheap (10 cents a mug with breakfast--AND you get refills!), the bacon was freaking superb (thick-cut, lean, smoky, and cooked perfectly.) Clean, good service, and the entire tab for two full breakfasts with coffee was $9.97. We'll probably be back there soon.
We stopped at Wal-Mart in Sturtevant on the way home, to pick up one or two things we'd forgotten on Friday, and then went home. I foolishly announced that I was in for the day, kicked off my shoes, and went in the kitchen to bake a cake.
Where I found that the electric mixer (which was just fine the night before when Spouse made the mashed potatoes) was completely dead. Good thing I tried it BEFORE I put the wet ingredients in.
Shoes back on, and out the door to Menard's, where I found Surfing: this model for $17.96.
And home to finish my cake. And, once again, announce my intention of staying home.
Yeah, the cake wasn't even done baking before I decided I really needed to go to the library. So once it was cooking on the rack, I ran over to the local branch and checked out a few books--some old, some new--before running back home once more to start the pot roast I was making for dinner. I didn't jinx it that time, though. Kept my intentions to myself, and thus was able to remain where I wanted to be.
Sunday morning was Trader Joe's Indian Peaberry, ground and brewed fresh and bright, with Spouse's marvelous pancakes and bacon. And we didn't stir off the place for anything. I did laundry, including bedding and read. He puttered around on the computer. We watched some tv together, and played with the B. Altogether, a very relaxing and pleasant day. He made Bacon-Cheddar Burgers and fries for dinner, and I DVRed Mad Men in favor of an early bedtime.
Monday was similar to Sunday, with less laundry, and a quick trip to the store for supper fixings. And breakfast--I baked up the Trader Joe's mini-croissants I'd set out to proof the night before, and had those with my morning coffee, while Spouse had toast and Cap'n Crunch. When we got home from the store, I set a big pot of vegetable soup to simmer on the stove and resumed my own vegging. A suppertime, Spouse made a pan of cornbread to go with what turned out to be a dandy pot of soup. (Well, dandy-tasting, anyway. Unfortunately, there was a little too much onion for my digestion to take lying down.)
Then, once the dishes were done, B and I took our usual trip outside, to find that a raccoon had invaded our yard, and wasn't going to go quietly. B ran him off, but I didn't want the dog wrangiling with a wild animal, so I called him off and sent him in the house, and went back out. As soon as the dog was removed, the raccoon came back and sat 5 feet from me, hissing at me! I do not like wild animals who aren't afraid of me, so I booked in the house right quick. Spouse called Animal Control, but all they can do is drop off a live trap.
I had a miserable night. Indigestion, a throbbing toe (mangled hangnail), howling winds, that damned raccoon--a thorough assortment of things to get between me and a good night's sleep. I'm whipped today.
And naturally, the days when you are whipped are the ones that are full of BS at work. My immediate boss, with whom I work very closely, somehow neglected to let me know she was taking a week's vacation and leaving me with a boatload of shit to do and a short week in which to do it. Gee, thanks!
Reading: Hobby--"The Lady of the Basement Flat", by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey (1917) I really liked this! Quite an entertaining story, and I didn't even mind the great clot of CCC (Conveniently Contrived Coincidences). (Thanks to Melody at Redeeming Qualities for this one!)"Half a Dozen Girls", by Anna Chapin Ray (1891)
General--Jerry Weintraub's memoir "When I Stop Talking, You'll Know I'm Dead", and "Whose Little Boy Are You?", by Heywood Hale Broun
Surfing: The Doubletake.
Listening: The Pretenders (Happy Birthday, Chrissie Hynde), The Killers, Graham Nash
At Random:
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