The Office
Let's see, what happened last week that stopped me from blogging? Oh yeah, I had to work. And I had to use my brain. I've figured out that since hiring someone to help me in the office, it just means I have to use my brain more. I've given her all of the "trained monkey" stuff to do (not that she's a trained monkey, she's not even monkey-like) and this leaves me to do all the work that makes me actually use my brain. I'm having to THINK at work, people. What the fuck is up with that? It seems that I'm only allotted so many synapse firings per day and I've been having to use all of them at the office. So by the time I get home the most I can do is sit in a chair and slobber. Not very attractive, but I'm not the one who hands out the brain allotments, either. If you want to blame someone, blame THAT guy. Whoever he may be.
I hate you brain allotment guy.
What else happened at the office last week? Well, I had one of our vendors explain to me why I was so crabby. It seems that I'm crabby not because of being overloaded with work, but because I don't have the love of Jesus in my heart. Really vendor man? Is that how it works? Will that make everything sunshine and lollipops and cause me to have a looping soundtrack in my head of the Partridge Family singing C'mon Get Happy? Cause if so, I don't want it. I like being crabby. It suits me. So fuck off already.
Well, that's what I wanted to tell him. Instead I informed him that I didn't discuss religion. In fact, I had to inform him of this three times before he finally figured out that maybe I didn't want to talk about it.
Thomas thought I should have told him that even if I had the love of Jesus shoved up my ass, I still wouldn't be happy.
I'm not sure if Thomas was just giving me a comeback to the Jesus vendor or if he just thinks there's absolutely no hope for me being non-crabby.
Crazy Christians
The lovely Sharna sent me not one but two emails about crazy people. The first was about Fred Phelps and how he hates Sweden now. I think Freddy is a maggot-infested turdball. And he has major cooties. I also think he and Rush Limbaugh should be housed together somewhere in western Kansas. In a shack. Without heat. Or electricity. Or running water. Or food. And there should be rabid wolves somewhere in there, too.
She also sent this one which is about a guy who made a sculpture of Barack Obama and has him sporting "Saviour attire". In case you haven't heard, Savior attire is the latest rage. The artist was trying to get the point across that he felt that people looked at Barack as some kind of political saviour. But of course some of those crazy Christians got all goofy about it because they felt it was sacrilegious. I'm not going to voice my opinion on whether or not I think Barak is our political saviour or not, but I do think he's pretty.
Exploring
Last Sunday Thomas, his daughter and I went and explored a local spring. Tatum Spring. It's an old farm? I say it's an old farm, Thomas thinks there was more to it - he thinks it was some type of business. This place has rock work everywhere. Rock walls, steps and paths. There's also a barn, an outhouse and a spring house. You can even get water there- there's a pipe that hangs out over the road. You can back your truck up to it (should you own one) open the gate valve on the spring, and fill your water tank. Or just stand under it and take a shower. The most important thing is that I want the spring house for a potting shed. I just have to figure out a way to steal it.
Eggs
Finally - yes, I'm finally going to shut up- I decided this year that it would be fun to dye Easter eggs using natural dyes rather than store bought. I mean, doesn't it make more sense to spend twenty-five bucks on natural stuff rather than plunk down 2 dollars for the PAAS kit?
So, I used grape juice, cranberry juice, blueberries, coffee, turmeric, but the best was the parsley, spinach and grass mix. Boiling these three together makes for an interesting aroma.
Anyway, the dyes worked and I think I like them better than the other stuff.
I promise I will try to be more regular with my posts. Even if they're just a bunch of random words strung together that make less sense than a Bush speech.
Take Care,
Babs
Honey I'm confused. Lovely though they are, those are godless heathen eggs used for their original Pagan intent to celebrate the fertility of spring, right? 'Cause I just can't envision you suddenly going all Jesus-y with the whole co-opted symbolism raised from the dead god-myth thing going on.
ReplyDeleteHere comes Peter Cottontail, hopping down the hbkoaj...
It never would've occurred to me to use the "dyes" you did. Very creative, and they turned out beautifully. You pagan, you! :D
ReplyDeletePhelps hates Canada too?...Ah well who cares? Most of America, religious or not, seems to hate Mr.Phelps. What a knob.
ReplyDeleteCRAP, I can't catch a break from Fred the freak Phelps, I am Swedish. There is no place to hide, I am now doomed to hell and my Swedish King as well. Alas, (putting my wrist to my forehead)
ReplyDeleteExcellent post! Screw fluidity. And screw Freddie Phlegm-pies. Lovely eggs. Bravo on the organic methods.
ReplyDeletefujwv you, Freddie!
I love the eggs. How clever of you! I have some gorgeous merino wool from Greenfield Village which I want to dye naturally. I'm thinking of using tea. But the turmeric idea is making me think.
ReplyDeleteSharna - No worries. Those were probably the most pagan eggs in the state.
ReplyDeleteDiana - I love the colors the dyes produced. I think I'm going to have to try some on fabric now.
Crazy - Phelps hates everyone. What a coincidence! Everyone hates him, too.
Carla - You're so cute when you swoon.
Fwig - Aw. You're so sweet. Thanks!
Kathleen - I love the color the turmeric produces. A muted, soft mustardy yellow.