Slice of Life: Apathy Division

Setting the scene: Matt’s upstairs working on putting the latch back on our bedroom door and I’m downstairs with a friend of mine playing along with Only Connect.*

Me: Did you just hear Matt?

E: I don’t think so? …Maybe he was calling for help because he broke his hand.

Me: But if he had a broken hand he could still come downstairs for help.

E: Maybe he broke his leg…. But then he could still at least crawl closer to the stairs and yell louder.

Both of us continue watching Only Connect.


A while later Matt comes down and joins us.

Matt: It turns out this lock has a “feature.” If you push this bit in… Demonstrates and shows that part of bolt will pop out, even if the knob was in the “unlocked” position. Well, I didn’t know this and I closed the door.

Me: And you locked yourself in the bedroom?

Matt: And I locked myself in the bedroom.

Me: Ah… were you yelling for me earlier?

Matt: Yes, I was hoping you’d be able to help me get out.

Me: I thought I heard something. We figured if you really needed something you’d keep yelling.


To be fair, I was snuggling a sleeping baby and didn’t want to disturb him and I didn’t think Matt was up to anything inherently dangerous.  I also didn’t realize that locking yourself into a room when the lock doesn’t even require a key was even an option. It was, however, our specific choice of lock that led to the problem in the first place.

The door originally had a deadbolt installed on it and it was just chunky and ugly.  “Low-profile” deadbolts apparently don’t exist (except some super-mod and silver varieties), but I did find a pocket-door lock in oil rubbed bronze that would fit the existing hole and blend into the new finish. Instead of a key you can unlock it from the other side with a screwdriver (high security was not a concern of ours for an interior door lock).  Because it’s designed for a pocket door however, part of it pops out so you can pull the door out of the pocket in the wall…. but if that bit’s extended it will act like a lock on a swinging door.




*Holy crap the puzzles are hard.  It’s even harder because there are a number British and European references that I’m not really exposed to in the US.


Slice of Life: Chekov Division

Matt’s starting calling Wesley “Wessels” so I came to obvious (seeming) conclusion that he was having a nerd moment.

Me: Nuclear wessels!

Matt: Nuclear…?

Me: Wessels!

Matt: *blank look*

Me: Nuclear wessels! … you do know the reference, right?

Matt: No…

Me: The Voyage Home! Star Trek!! THE ONE WITH THE WHALES!!!

Why yes, I did get progressively more hysterical as I tried to explain.  I’m pretty sure The One With the Whales is the official alternate title for The Voyage Home. I’m also sure I’m not the only one who would immediately think of this scene after hearing the word “wessels.”

And for the non-nerds out there, if you’re wondering why this is such a well known part of the movie, keep in mind that it came out in 1986.

During the cold war.

And there’s a Russian guy wandering around then-present-day San Francisco.*

Asking for nukes.


*Yes Star Trek is based in the future, they time-traveled because they needed whales, ok?






Slice of Life: Memorial Day Division

We had a bunch of family in town for my baby shower on Saturday and Matt’s mom was staying with us.  Sunday morning they decided to head to church together before the rest of the family came over for brunch.

Matt: You’re a veteran, maybe they’ll do something special for you for Memorial Day.

MIL: Matt, I’m not dead yet.

Matt: Oh….

I may not agree with our government’s choices, but anyone who signs up to fight for their country and anyone who has lost their life in the process, they are truly strong and courageous, and worthy of our respect and admiration.

We didn’t do anything for Memorial Day, but did have a fabulous weekend and got to see a bunch of family we don’t get to see much of.  All the parents trekked over from WI and both my sisters were able to make it (from KS and CA) which was absolutely amazing.  I had a fabulous shower hosted by (one of) my BFFs and I’m just feeling so special and loved and thrilled that this baby is going to have a truly awesome community of family and friends around him.  #PregnancySappiness

I’ve also hit Pregnancy Level: Hobbit Feet and had some seriously impressive swelling over the weekend.  My mom freaked out a bit and demanded my sister give her professional opinion.  Sister asked me if I was up to date on my rabies vaccine because she’s a veterinarian and not an MD. I picked up some sexy compression socks took it easy for the weekend and now my feet have shrunk to slightly puffy.

I still have this weird feeling of guilt when I take up the comfiest spot, don’t get up much when guests are over, and ask Matt to do simple things like get me some water because I just don’t feel like being on my feet anymore.  Matt, on the other hand, has been scolding me to take it easy since forever.  I’ve just been stubbornly resisting because I am not a fragile little flower… only now it kind of hurts to move and I’m tired so I’m giving in.  Stubbornness and pregnancy do not mix terrible well.

I’ve got a prenatal appointment on Friday and an onsite Nurse at work if anything seems concerning before that, but I was under the impression that crazy feet swelling was a fairly typical pregnancy symptom. Plus I’m still a bit scarred from the Doctor who insisted my Asthma flair up might be a pulmonary embolism and told me to get to an ER like, NOW.  Spoiler Alert: It wasn’t and the ER docs thought I was a little crazy.

Slice of Life: Bad Advice Division

Me: I don’t think [brother-in-law] is going to take my crappy parenting advice.  He was wondering what to do about an 8 year old who won’t stop asking questions, so I suggested “why don’t you turn it into the game of questions?”

Matt: What’s the game of questions?

Me: You mean you don’t know?

Matt: Should I?

Me: Do I need to look everything up for you?

Matt: Don’t you always?

Me: Aren’t you an adult?

Matt: …


Winner: Me,  Loser: Probably our kid

Slice of Life: Parenting Wins

I had my second prenatal visit about a week ago.  Kid still has a heartbeat which has got to make us parents of the year or something (don’t set the bar too high and you’ll always feel good about yourself!).

This past week one of the (male) cafeteria employees at work asked me if I was pregnant.  I debated for a split second about answering with “no, I’m just fat” but decided not to be a total asshole.  I’m growing as a person. Plus, this guy keeps me in french fries so it’s best to stay on his good side.  I still need to ask him what he would have done if I had said no…  It’s generally considered unwise to ask a women if she’s pregnant, but I suppose I was waiting there with my hand on my 4-month-belly looking like I was about to puke so the question wasn’t totally out of the blue.

Also this past week I had a major pregnancy epiphany.  Technically I’ve got 2 hearts at the moment–I’m a Time Lord!  er… Lady.  Now where’s my TARDIS?  I REALLY wish I had thought of this at my first appointment when we got to hear the heartbeat for the first time.  The midwife probably would have thought I was absolutely nuts (not that she would have been wrong…).

And finally… we were out at breakfast yesterday and there was a soccer game on that Matt was half paying attention to.

Matt (watching an “injury”): Magic spray!
Me: You’re going to use that on our kid, aren’t you? They bump their head–magic spray!
Matt: That’s brilliant!
Me: We’d really just need a little spray bottle filled with water… I’m not opposed to this.
Matt: No way, I want the official EPL** Magic Spray!
Me: Good lord, I’ll make a fancy label for the bottle.
*If you never watch soccer, pretty much any time there’s an “injury” (ie someone pretends they’ve suffered extreme bodily harm in the hopes that the other team gets a penalty) someone inevitably comes out and sprays the afflicted area with “magic spray.”  I think it’s Windex.
**English Premier League

Slice of Life: Political Hangover Division


Me: rattling off a grocery list… and we still have tonic so we’re set for election night

Matt: You should probably pick up more

Me: We have 4 cans, that’s 8 [gin+tonics]… how tanked do you plan on getting?

Matt: You better pick up more


As you can probably tell, we’re not too excited about the election here.  I think a lot of other people feel the same way.  This is the first election for me where I’m seriously considering voting for a 3rd party candidate.  Not because I think they have any chance of winning the presidency (heck, I’m 99% certain Hillary will win MN), but because I think that if the alternate parties get unusually high support this year (especially if they succeed in taking even a single state) that there will be significant changes coming in the future (because honestly I feel that both parties really need to have a Come-to-Jesus moment).

That’s my logic at least.  I can’t tell you how to vote, but I do encourage all Americans to vote.  Do your research (if you don’t know where to start you can check out I Side With*), don’t buy into every media shit-storm, and as long as you have a rational reason for your choice you can’t really go wrong.

Oh, and if you’re going to comment with political opinions, just play nice, k?  Respectful discussion is great, but referring the candidates  as “Killary” and “America’s Angriest Clementine” is probably best left to rants among like-minded friends.

Dang…. I’m going to have to pick up more limes too….


*I think I failed their quiz.  I got Jill Stein as #1 and Gary Johnson as #2… I’m either an anarchist hippie or I need to make my own party…. or I have no idea what’s going on in the world.  Who knows?








Slice of Life: Delivery Fail Division

We were supposed to get a new stove today.  This was seriously the highlight of my week!  Our existing stove is utter crap and we’ve lived with it for over a year before finally breaking down and getting a new one.

Matt worked from home today so he could be here for the delivery.  I got a text around noon saying that he had to send the the stove back because it was the wrong color AND the wrong model.


Then I get home and learn the oven is no longer working on our old stove (the pilot light refuses to relight).  We’re guessing something got bumped/shifted when they hauled it out and back in again (because why would you be super careful with an old craptastic stove?).


I then get on the phone with Home Depot and ask them what the hell is going on because we don’t even have a new delivery date for the CORRECT stove yet and are oven-less.* While waiting for the appliance guy to call me back with an update we had the following conversation.

Matt: We could do Caprese tonight
Me: Sure
Matt: The baguette you got isn’t take-and-bake is it?
Me: %@#%^&*##$%@#


UPDATE: We heard back from HD around 7 this evening and the company they contract with for appliance deliveries isn’t given them any useful info either, but they are going to try and get someone over here to get our oven working this weekend.


*I was actually much calmer than that on the phone.  Screaming at people is rarely effective… unless they’re your ISP in which case they are already the devil incarnate.

Slice of Life: Useless Pets Division

Around 1:30 this morning I woke up to strange sound in our bedroom.  One of the cats was running around like a lunatic and occasionally meowing.  This is a little bizarre for either of them at 1 am and I was only partially awake so I listened for a few minutes to try and figure out what the heck was going on.

Eventually I turned on the light and peered over the foot of the bed.  Schmutz was the one racing around the floor and she wasn’t after one of her toys.  Because I had already expected this from the earlier noise I stayed calm, sighed resignedly and said to Matt, who was at least somewhat awake now too, “Your damn cat found a mouse.”

We watched her for a couple minutes while caught the mouse, pranced around proudly, deliberately dropped it, chased it again, caught, pranced, dropped, repeat.  Spencer wandered in to see what the commotion was all about and would occasionally bat gently at the mouse with his paw if it came his way, but he clearly didn’t have any idea what to do with it.

Eventually it became clear that the mouse wasn’t going to be put out of it’s misery anytime soon so I decided to step in.

“Schmutz!  Get the mouse!”  And she did, but ran away with it as soon as I got off the bed.  I followed her into the dining room as she continued her game of chase-catch-prance-drop and grabbed a plastic tumbler and a large putty knife to attempt to catch the stupid thing myself.

Sometimes Schmutz and I would be working together and flanking the mouse, but I never managed to shoo it into the cup.  The 3 of us kept going around and around the dining table while Spencer watched from under a chair.  Occasionally the mouse would rear up or charge Schmutz. “I think it may have toxoplasmosis!” I shouted up to Matt.

After 10-15 minutes of this (and more random things shouted up to Matt who was staying in bed playing a game on his tablet) I finally managed to catch the damn thing.  Since it was nearly 2 in the morning, I just dumped it outside, so I’m sure it’s back in by now, but it was the middle of the night and I was all out of fucks to give.

I went back upstairs (Schmutz was still frantically searching for her new favorite toy) and Matt asked if I had given the cats a treat.

“A treat? Why?”

“Because my cat found a mouse.”

“But she didn’t kill it.”

“But she found it.”

And brought it into our bedroom!

Matt eventually went downstairs and gave both of them a treat.  What Spencer did to deserve it I have no idea since he was even a bigger failure.

Around 5:30 this morning Schmutz sat on my chest and yowled at me for her breakfast.

If you had just killed the damn mouse you wouldn’t be hungry right now.” I grumbled and then Matt kicked her out the room because she was being pesty and it was still way too early.

Screen Shot 2016-06-24 at 6.09.03 PM

So those are our cats in a nutshell.  Spencer thinks everything is a friend and Schmutz has currently brought us one well-dead mouse and one far-too-alive mouse.  At least this is the first sign we’ve had of rodents currently in the home so I don’t think we have an infestation on our hands.

Looking on the bright side, at least she didn’t drop it in our bed.


Slice of Life: Safety Division

We started painting our entryway/stairs yesterday!  We’re actually doing pretty good on the ground floor, but have all the upstairs landing to do yet (trim and walls).

Matt was champ dealing with the obnoxiously tall wall on the stair landing…which was good because I am really not a fan of ladders.  He managed to reach most of the wall just by having the ladder on our larger landing, and I came up next to him to point out spots it looked like he missed.*  Now, there was plenty of room on the landing for the ladder, but me standing next to it meant I was standing pretty close to the edge and being the genius that I am, took a step back to get a better view.

Bad move.

I immediately felt myself unbalancing as my foot connects with nothingness and flailed wildly for support.  My left hand grabbed at the railing and my right hand grabbed for the ladder.

The ladder that wasn’t actually solidly attached to anything.

The ladder Matt was sitting on.

I realized this was probably not a good idea a split second after I actually grabbed hold of the ladder.  Oops.

Luckily, my foot shortly connected with the stair tread, about 6″ past where I expected to feel floor, and I was able to regain my balance without pulling the ladder down the stairs after me.  Matt was looking a little horrified though, and I can’t say I blame him.

He made it out completely unscathed, but I managed to bang or twist or something my left wrist as I grabbed for the railing, so it was pretty sore. Luckily it’s my left wrist, but because I’m also prone to emphatic hand gestures and continuing to work on projects when I’m sore, I picked up a wrist brace to try and avoid twisting it further since certain movements do make it worse.

I really don’t think whatever I did to it is that bad.  I’ve sprained both a toe and a foot in the past and at worst this is probably just a very mild sprain, but the best thing for a sprain is to avoid stressing it, so wrist brace it is.

In 90 degree weather.  Fun times.


*Painting light gray over light cream is a beast since it’s almost impossible to tell if you’ve missed anything until it starts to dry.

Slice of Life: Cat Food Division

Our cats are very demanding about their food.  They’re both little furry alarm clocks that may go off as early as 5 am and start crying like they’re starving to death the second you get home from work… even if you only had a 1/2 day are home by noon.  They also know what our real alarm clocks mean so they get extra excited when those goes off in the morning.


This morning though…. silence.  Matt and I both looked at each knowing this was suspicious.  I went downstairs and found Schmutz waiting at the front door, hoping I would let her out onto the porch.  Not yowling, not scolding me, not racing to her food bowl, but waiting quietly.

HIGHLY suspicious.*

I turn into the dining room and find that the cat food bin was tipped over… which had popped the latch… which had opened the lid… which had spilled food all over the floor… which had allowed the cats to gorge themselves.  Spencer was still inhaling food off the floor.

The most disturbing thing about all of this?  They learn, like the raptors in Jurassic Park.  Our sealed food bin may never be safe again…

God help us when they figure out how to open doors.


UPDATE: They’ve learned how to open the latch on the food bin!  We noticed the latch was undone in the middle of the day and I know I had fully closed it in the morning.  Matt turned the bin around so the latch was against the wall and later we noticed Schmutz nosing at the hinges, searching for a weak spot apparently.  I don’t know how long we can continue to outsmart them….

UPDATE #2:  …apparently not for that long.  If the bin isn’t pushed all the way against the wall, Schmutz will squeeze her way into the gap so she can get to the latch and then get her snack on.  No wonder she’s turning into a bit of a pudge.


*Anyone who’s known Siamese knows it’s highly suspicious when they’re quiet about anything.  A year ago Schmutz was pretty sick and when we first took her to the vet we listed one of her (several) symptoms as “she’s being really quiet.”