I get Misty

During the a-z challenge this past April, amidst my angsty 80's songfest, I started chatting online with fellow blogger, Misty, every night. Sometimes after the next day's song had been guessed, we would mess around trying to come up with other songs that fit the day or emotion. A few weeks ago I was trying to think of a song using her name (for no good reason, probably just avoiding housework or something). While we messaged back and forth, I was feverishly searching the interwebs for the song that was in my head. I should clarify, I did not have the pleasure of a complete earworm, just three words..."I get Misty".

I was not looking for Johnny Mathis, Ella Fitzgerald, or even Frank Sinatra, no matter how strongly the search engine wanted me to appreciate those results. It sounded like Natalie Merchant's melodious tones, but unclear as to whether she was with or without the Maniacs. I wasn't finding what I was looking for, and started to wonder if those were actually the Cranberries serenading me. "I get Misty." On and on it went for days...just those three words. I tried singing it loudly, softly...I was certain it came at the end of the song and decided my google searches were fruitless because the words were just sort of ad-libbed at the end.

Does it seem like I am taking a lot of time explaining my fragmented situation? I assure you it is nothing compared to the time I actually spent trying to figure this brain teaser out. I started to think that I could hear the beginning of whatever song followed this song's end, as I was putting all of my chords on Natalie by this point. I checked the cd's for what song preceeded the opening notes I had moved on to. Madness.

Finally, one afternoon as I drove around, a few more words sort of came to me. They were a bit misty, for lack of a better word, but I was getting somewhere. As I worked my way backwards through the song, I came to another part where I heard the word "Misty". I just couldn't get all the way to the beginning or to the chorus so that I would know exactly which song I seeked. As soon as I got home I grabbed all of our Maniacs and Natalie Merchant cds, and pulled out the lyric sheets. Laundry could wait, as my quest was coming to a close!

I had enough of the rhythm in my head to rule out many titles right off the bat. In My Tribe? Blind Man's Zoo? I had those albums memorized. However, Our Time In Eden? I just hadn't spent as much time studying I guess. Then I saw it...then I started humming. The song I had been trying to figure out was Circle Dream. I couldn't read through the lyrics fast enough. But wait, where was the word?  

The capital letters are the part of the song I had worked my way back to, convinced she said "I get Misty".

But at every turn, MY WAY WAS SEALED.

Excuse me? I had to read down to the end, where I was sure I would get misty...

I CAN'T REST HERE....

What? I can't rest here? How fitting, but at least the search was over.

Enjoy, and sing whatever words make you happy...

Trying to keep the random in order

Here is what's been happening in my head, or at least in one small portion. Believe me there is some reallllly important stuff going on in other lobes. I have been wanting to get back to blogging more often, so I ponder the day's events and take photos wherever I deem necessary. The glitch is the sitting down and writing something worth hitting the "post" button for. The random snippets seem to branch off and take on these lives of their own, in which they try to convince me that they are valid enough topics to stand as their own posts. "Plus, look how many pictures of us happening you took," they taunt. Basically, if I do not move quickly enough, thoughts that once resided in the "random fodder" portion of my mind start redecorating their own spaces. The problem is that those musings are harder to get out. At least this is my theory. There is of course the possibility that a lack of creepy monkey advertisements in the newspaper has just left me bereft. Seriously, this is what they're offering now? A shoe I can't even wear, albeit "inspired by fanciful artistry"...

And a bizarre means to "enchant Yankee fans"...

Well, let's see what else I have. Just a warning that we may be here for a bit while I try to shake some of this random free.

Oh yes, these will be mine someday!

Because this...

...was ineffective!

Ooooh, I can hardly wait!

I wonder if this was supposed to be the new look?

Fozzie remains unimpressed, but insisted I update that Hello Kitty pic with this fresh from the groomer "Cowboy Foz" look.

In reading Ricki Jill's post about banned books week, I realized that my mother of the year award may be held up once again. My daughter and I read the Perks of Being a Wallflower (okay, so maybe she read it first), I have Looking for Alaska in our Amazon cart because she loved The Fault in our Stars, and my son read The Absolutely True Diary a few years ago (after I thought the description on the back sounded fantastic). Just wanted to let Ricki Jill know that these are the only shades of grey in my bedroom as I try to decide on some paint!

Do not ask me how I managed to pass up this fabulous sale!

It didn't matter that the ladder was completely unnecessary.

 Look! Charlie Brown apple trees!

 Oh my gosh! Fritter time!

It's been a few weeks since I posted a picture of me eating fried delightful food...

Well I feel like the load has been lightened a bit...for now.

Stacy is back at her place, but I swear I can tell she is on the other side of the country now.

Tuesday? Is that you?

I was trying to figure out what the appropriate follow up to a slightly inappropriate blog post about tantric bee sex would be. At the risk of being too stumped to ever blog again, I offer you this solitary toad...

I had all of these visions about how much I was going to blog when the kids went back to school and the schedule I would be on. I forgot one very important piece of information. That being that I don't really like to be at the house when they first head back to school. If I am at home, I tend to putter around somewhat aimlessly, while hoping to give the illusion of productivity. As I was sifting through some photos I realized all of the post ideas I have yet to share. I mean, how come none of you have been clamoring to find out how that garage cleanup went?

Maybe I discovered Candy Crush? Maybe it is distracting? It does keep me out of the candy shack though...wait, this....

...totally doesn't count. I was doing a bit of a research piece on the evolution of the Clark bar through the years. They actually have changed the recipe a few times. This one had much more of a molasses flavor than the ones I remember. If I was truly being a candy hound there would be Butterfinger wrappers strewn about indicating a full blown taste-a-palooza! (Note to self: plan candy tasting for November first.)

Just a quick glimpse into why Fozzie hates me this week...

Apparently he is not one of those super cool guy dogs who can pull off a Hello Kitty hoodie. He is calling shenanigans on that whole "real men wear pink" thing (if that even still is a thing).

So I officially have a fifty-year old now. After much consultation with the kids, we went with fifty bags...

Fifty boxes of cereal, fifty bags of pretzels and fifty pieces of candy, all tied up with fifty index cards highlighting a special thought about the man.

This was his idea of picking his stuff up...

Yes, much better than when it was contained in those bags. Holy crap! I just remembered there are Butterfingers in there somewhere! (Strictly for research should they be torn open.)

I love this letter that came home from the junior high orchestra teacher. Check out the "Please Note" part regarding the color white.

I have been to enough concerts to know that she really did need to spell this one out to get her desired effect.

When my son sent me a text requesting cut out cookies for his friend's mom, well she is my friend too, I was inspired enough to make them...

...but not inspired enough to get fancy. It was too early for leaves, or at least that is the excuse I went with.

The hostess with the mostess has returned!!

Random fascination

Sometimes when you least expect it, something fascinating happens. Something so scintillating that five women managed to interrupt their conversation and uprooted themselves from the lawn chairs they were sitting in.

Was it a scramble to get the last piece of pretzel caramel bark with sea salt?

No, there was plenty to share. Was it to check out the spider?

Well, some of us did move to check her out, and some just plain old moved away, but no. Was it to get another delicious Crabbie's Ginger Beer?

No, but that was yummy. Is the suspense too much? Is it hard to BEE patient? You must think it was the BEE's knees. Perhaps a little something about the birds and the bees, but with a heavy emphasis on the bees? 

As we sat enjoying a chilly Sunday afternoon by the lake. A bumble of activity flew through the middle of our circle. A love triangle landed on the ground by the leg of my aunt's chair, and we were invited into the not-so-secret life of bees...

I took oh so many photos, and these lovers were not to be disturbed. We moved blades of grass for the best shots. We messed with our camera settings, finally ditching the zoom and holding our cameras mere inches from the action. We then tried another angle to see if the sun provided an even more romantic backdrop for the photo. This might have been about 20 minutes after the initial landing.

There was googling of "bee sex" and then discussion of whether honey bee habits would be shared amongst other bee species, and what species of bees these even were. (I voted bumble bees, very scientific I was told.) We were pretty much convinced that we saw parts I didn't even know bees had. We were reluctant to tear ourselves away from this show, mainly because we were waiting to see what would come next. I am not sure what we actually thought the possibilities were. (Note: I left at 5:00ish after about 45 minutes of the show. I got a text at 6:17 that top bee was gone and then another at 6:49 that the back bee was dead and lady bee was moving a bit...admit it, you sort of needed that update.)

Speaking of things you might need...someone was taking a video while the rest of us thought she was just snapping photos. For the sake of my blog, and the loyalty to my readers I am (or at least making a valiant effort) to include it. The only introduction it really needs is that one person was on the ground immediately (because she is easily fascinated perhaps) to check out what had landed and the video starts with another person explaining when they joined in...when the words "dry humping" were used. Maybe you can figure out which voice, if any, is mine...but it probably doesn't matter. I now present the bee movie (no not THAT Bee Movie, this one is PG-13)...

Stacy has made her way across the country, and brought her random with her!

My Muse

The year was 1990 when Deborah Tannen's book, You Just Don't Understand, found its way into my hands. I was an undergraduate psych major with more cardigans than necessary and a subscription to Psychology Today. To say that I thought I grasped the information would be an understatement. Each word was squeezed tightly enough to cram them all into the spaces in my mind. Someday I would manage all of my dealings with the opposite sex with an expertise known only to a select few who were intuitive enough to devour the knowledge like I did. The only chance the psychology community would have to further comprehend the communication between men and women resided in the book I intended to pen someday.

Instead of a book, I am offering this blog post outlining what a day in the married life of a communications major to a psychology major can look like, one incident at a time. (Bonus features showing the disintegration of my coping mechanisms included.)

• I invited my husband to the local farm stand to gather some pickling supplies. As we got ready to leave, he asked if I wanted him to bring the empty gas tank for the grill.

"To the market? Why would I want you to bring it there?"

"..."

"Are you asking me if I want to stop somewhere to get it exchanged?"

"Yes, they have them at Walgreen's."

"But I'm not going to Walgreen's."

"I know."

"Maybe you should ask me if I mind going to Walgreen's if you want to deal with that."

"..." (Tank put in car.)

My strategy was to offer, what I believed to be, an effective lesson in better communication. This interaction on its own got me thinking about the different ways people talk. It came to my attention that I need to find Deborah's book again. As the day carried on, I became aware that there is a chance that my husband defies logic, as opposed to my being inept at comprehending how his mind (and hearing) functions.

• I had seen a facebook post early in the afternoon that led me to think that the SU versus Penn State game was being played in Pennsylvania. A few hours later I saw another post that made me think the action was happening at the Dome here in Syracuse. My husband was watching the game, quite a bit behind, on the DVR.

"Hey, is the SU game today here in Syracuse?"
"Yes."
"Oh, because I saw something on facebook earlier that made me think it was away."
"So now you've possibly given away the outcome of the game?"
"What? I am talking about something I saw three hours ago when people posted a picture saying they thought they were in the minority as far as who they were routing for. Then I saw a different picture just now of somebody at the Dome. I don't know how anything I said indicated who won."
"High school games are at the Dome."
"Excuse me, what?"
"High school games are at the Dome today."
"Wait (grumble, grumble) you just told me the SU game was at the Dome."
"I wasn't paying attention to what you asked."

Maybe he was distracted by his growing concern over the diminishing supply of cereal in the pantry. With only four boxes left, he had been scurrying around looking for Kellogg's coupons to accompany the grocery store sale flier. (I tried to put a moratorium on his "stocking up" tendencies when I went to put my food processor in the back closet, only to be met with four extra bottles of laundry detergent in its spot.) There were sounds of shuffling newspaper and then the humming started. Seriously? And this apparent delight in getting ready to do some pre-hoarder style grocery grabbing brings me to our next exhibits...

• I had informed my husband that the brand new jug of iced tea on the counter had a crack in it, and leaked when moved. I used words like "be careful" and made sure to stand at a close enough distance that I would be difficult to ignore. So as he was leaving for the store...

 
"Hey, since you are going to the store, would you mind returning that thing of iced tea?""Sure, no problem."
"Here, let me put it in another bag so it doesn't leak all over the place."
(He lifts it into the bag and starts to walk away with it.)
"Now I also accidentally got diet, so I don't just want another bottle."
"So you're saying there might be an exchange."
"If it does not come in a non-diet version, do not get it."
"Okay."
"Wait, I should show you where the crack in the bottle is so you can show them. I think they hit it with a box cutter opening the case."
"What crack?"
"What do you mean 'What crack?' The one I told you about earlier to explain why it was sitting on the counter, and not to move it, and so on."
"I didn't hear any of that."
"BUT I WAS TALKING TO YOU!"

I thought talking loudly in a polite voice at this point would somehow help me hang on to a piece of sanity without squeezing iced tea all over him. As soon as he closed the door behind him, I went to my daughter and apologized for asking her this question, but feared I was losing my mind. She looked up from what she was doing and smiled before I could even get the rest of the words out of my mouth.

"Did I say all of those things about the iced tea earlier, as in to your father?"
"Yes."

Also prior to the store departure, the daughter and I were discussing the frozen yogurt, hot fudge and butterscotch we had purchased. We had neglected to get whipped cream. The super shopper asked our daughter if she needed him to buy some whipped cream. She told him she did not need it, but would like it. Armed with his coupons, he was ready.

• Later on, as we all landed in the family room for some nightly television watching, my husband piped up to ask if everyone had eaten their snack for the night yet. He was very pleased to announce that HE had bought some end of the summer treats that were in the freezer. The kids went running to find not one, not two, but THREE boxes of ice cream novelties.

"Are you kidding me?"
"..."
"You were in the conversation when we were talking about the treats we bought. Did you at least get the whipped cream?"
"No."
"So buying all of that ice cream stuff didn't trigger any sort of thought about the ice cream related thing?"
"Nope. It never crossed my mind."

This was the precise moment when any thought of coping with communication differences between men and women left me. I had no choice but to inform him that I was not going to try to talk to him any more for the rest of the day, as all previous attempts were failures. Despite my aggravation, I smiled, as I knew if I jotted some notes quickly I would have a swell blog post. My husband, my muse.

Fairly Random

Heigh ho! Come to the Fair! The Great New York State Fair! Actually, don't get in your car because you missed it for this year. Fear not though...for I was there, and brought some highlights for you!

We were still in the parking lot when I caught sight of a wardrobe curiosity. I was going to play it cool, figuring maybe I was the only one who found it odd. After both of my kids asked me what the heck she was wearing, I figured it was time to get the camera out...

Suffice to say, the front was no more fashionable.

She wasn't the only one wearing something unreasonable, as you can see from this poultry building spectacle...

"Oh the humiliation of being in the poultry building! I am a guinea pig!"

Let's move on to the Dairy Building. Twenty-five cents for a cup of milk from the Rainbow Milk Bar. (note: rainbow=two flavors)

I am still wondering how my husband manages to take our selfies from so far away. I swear his hands don't drag on the ground when he walks.

It wouldn't be a trip to the Dairy Building without a visit to the butter sculpture!

Sometimes I feel compelled to critique the annual sculpture, and then I remind myself..IT IS BUTTER!

If neither of our kids agrees to pose with a wandering cricket, we can just embarrass them by having them take ours.

I don't know what I imagined crickets talked like, but this guy decided on a super creepy high-pitched one.

On to the Center of Progress building where we fought the urge to buy a salsa maker, new bed, cone ice scraper,  super chamois, steam cleaner or gel shoe inserts, while making our way to the sand sculpture. 

Moving on to the Horticulture building to see what's new with maple syrup. This year it was maple lemonade.

I wasn't convinced it tasted a lot like maple, but also wasn't really sure I wanted it to.

As we made our way outside, there was an accident we couldn't quite look away from. A faux One-Direction castoff with back-up dancers wearing Hammer pants. It just kept getting "better".

I tried to turn away from the performance and saw this...

...at least I knew what to do if my daughter wanted to stay for a second song.

I am going to let these two sheep speak for themselves. One...

...and two...

I kept hearing mention of the "Cow birthing tent" they had this year. They claimed you could watch live cows giving birth from 10 a.m. until 10 p.m. I had these visions of huge vats of pitosin and a pen of pregnant cows. Really? What were the chances that you could just wander past the tent and catch a calf being born? Pretty damn good apparently. 

Super Calf!

This sign in the bathroom just made me want to tip the woman working even more, and I told her so when she asked me if I liked the sign, after I took the picture.

Are you getting hungry yet? Let's see what we can find you...

Yeah, here are the peanut butter cups...oh how I miss them...

After my son finished his Reese's (less the half of one he let my daughter and I split), he marched himself over for a Bacon Bomb...

That's Italian sausage wrapped in bacon, sprinkled with some bacon, cheddar cheese and hickory barbecue sauce on a roll.

I am so much more civilized than that and took myself over to Dr. Veggie!

Zucchini and mushrooms and cauliflower...OH MY!!!! Oh, and some broccoli. I gave away the onion ring, because been there, done that!

And my daughter found love in her chicken nuggets...

This is the space I was reserving for pictures of all the loot we won...apparently that was not necessary. However, a good time was had by all! 

For more Fair fun, go check out the one Misty went to!