Ron suggested this as a Folk Thursday offering. Acoustic, yes, but even I couldn’t quite stretch the definition of “folk” far enough to make it apply to Aerosmith … so we’ll just have a gratuitous musical interlude on a Monday evening instead.
Would I be a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad, dreadful, wicked, evil, filthy, unrepentant, blazing scarlet Magdalene if I admitted that secretly, deep down, I’m sort of jealous of that harpsichord?
Emily
The popsicle in this picture is actually the second popsicle Scout sampled today. She grabbed the first one and pulled it out of my hand before Songdog got a turn.
I made her share the second one. She wasn’t too happy about it.
Pay special attention to Scout’s face in this image, because it’s the most pitiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Meanwhile, Song is the picture of contentment….
It still cracks me up that Scout knows what the ice-cream truck is all about. And lest you think I was playing favorites: I let Jason have the last bite of my ice-cream sandwich later, because he doesn’t like popsicles.
Emily
It’s chilly and grayish outside … good conditions for an afternoon when I’m basically chained to my desk. Before I go to bed tonight, I have to finish the last bits and pieces of the Trip Guide, print a proof, edit it, prepare a design consultation I’m doing tomorrow at lunch, create a stationery set for the office, clean the bathroom, clean the living room, clean the refrigerator, clean the bedroom, sweep the hall, and reorganize the kitchen. If time allows, I’d like to read Michael’s Lincoln Highway book, too, although I’m not sure I’ll get that done with so much else on my plate.
I’ll sleep when I’m dead….
Emily
Things were NUTS today at work. Lunch rush apparently started around 9 o’clock this morning, and it didn’t stop until 9 o’clock this evening. I came in at 2:30 p.m. and waited tables until closing time.
Today was the first time I’ve waited tables since … wow … 1994? 1995? It’s been a long time. I thought I did a pretty fine job of it, especially considering how rusty I am. Apparently the customers agreed, because we made better-than-average tips, and as far as I know, nobody got mad and left before their food arrived. (If they did, it wasn’t on my shift.)
I had fun, but my feet are tired, and I’m ready for a nap, so I think I’ll hit the shower and go to bed now.
Hope your Saturday was good, wherever you are.
Emily
So. I’d love to post something profound and brilliant tonight, but it’s been a long day — a good day, but a long day, starting with a 7:30 a.m. meeting and ending an hour and a half after a 10 p.m. dash to the office to retrieve a file from my laptop after I inadvertently overwrote a Web page I was trying to update from home — so I think I’ll just go to bed now.
Before I crash, I want to share my big accomplishment for today. Check out the redesigned RedFork Main Street Web site, and have a look at the cool Soundslides show I put on there (which is mainly cool because of the awesome historic photos we found online; click the “show captions” link to see all the details about them, and turn up your speakers so you can hear the music) and the interactive calendar, which I got for free from Localendar.com. (NOTE: Localendar’s main site has automatic sound effects, so turn down the speakers if you’re trying to look busy.)
It still cracks me up that I am being paid to do stuff for Route 66. And I thought my last job was low-stress….
Emily
Michael Martin Murphey is supposed to perform at the Old Armory in Chandler this weekend. I’d like to go, but I probably ought to stay here and work on the Trip Guide.
If you can’t guess the date of this video to within five years, you probably aren’t legal yet….
Emily
Yaaaaaaaaaay! My outdoor plumbing project worked!
I got tired of dealing with our poorly-designed, even-more-poorly-installed waterfall, which kept dribbling and splashing water out of the pond, causing the water level to drop, so I spent the past couple of days designing something that I hoped would work a little better.
I cut a small hole in the bottom of a plastic watering can, installed a hose fitting, sealed it on with silicone, and spraypainted the pitcher with a couple of coats of plastic primer and a coat of granite-textured, verdigris-colored paint. I put two filter pads, a layer of lava rock, and a layer of decorative gravel in the can to filter the water as it comes in. From there, it was a simple matter of arranging ornamental stones to hold the pitcher at the right angle over the pond, connecting the hose, and turning on the pump.
As you can see, it appears to be working well. Here are two more views of the finished product:
I checked a little while ago, and it seemed to be performing well. I hope the dogs will leave it alone and let it do its job….
Emily
All of these eggs came from my hens. The quarter gives you a sense of size: The three darker ones are pretty standard-sized. That lighter one, which I found in the nesting box last week, is roughly the size of a duck egg. Not surprisingly, it had two yolks — both of which were larger than average.
Double-yolk eggs are more common than you might imagine, but that one is the biggest I’ve ever seen. Poor hen … laying an egg that big can’t have been a comfortable job.
Incidentally, the girls are doing a magnificent job of smoothing out the garden where Ron spaded this weekend. They’ve broken up all the dirt clods and reduced the soil to fine powder, all while happily consuming all the bugs, grubs, and weed seeds they can find. Fine little gardeners, my girls….
On a totally unrelated note, I rode my bike home from work tonight for the first time in a couple of weeks. Despite the lag between rides, this one was easier than the last, even with the steep hill in the middle. (The train was blocking 33rd West Avenue, so I had to take the overpass behind Ollie’s, which involves a VERY steep grade.) The messenger bag worked out well, especially when Linda asked me to run by the post office for her on the way home.
Emily
If you think dogs aren’t susceptible to human marketing tactics, you’ve never had an excited rat terrier tear into your office and bark hysterically for a solid minute while you try to ignore the ice-cream truck that is two blocks over and slowly rolling your way.
Evidently Scout understands stimulus and response well enough to know that when the funny calliope music plays, Mommy is supposed to scurry out the door to get a popsicle for the dogs.
I was in Big Trouble last week when I came back with a Reese bar for Ron and a chocolate-chip sandwich cookie for myself but neglected to bring back a treat for Scout. Jason and Songdog are oblivious to the approach of the ice-cream truck, but Scout is keenly aware of the correct protocol, and my faux pas earned me the infamous Rat Terrier Glare.
I made it up to her this afternoon. After letting the truck pass once without a response, I gave in to Scout’s vociferous demands and chased it halfway down the block, catching up to it at the stop sign and panting, “I need — a popsicle — for my dog.” (The driver was amused to learn that said dog understands what that music means and is willing to throw a fit until I respond.)
Jason isn’t big on frozen treats, but Scout and Song happily shared a Bomb Pop Jr. — Song gleefully licking all the different flavors, and Scout gamely gnawing at the end. (Scout is very good at eating food off a stick — a skill she picked up at the Cozy Dog Drive-In on Route 66 in Springfield, Ill. I’ve never seen a dog eat a corn dog off a stick so fast in my life.) They even took turns without growling at each other, which I have never seen Scout do before.
Such is the magic of the ice-cream truck….
Emily
Eighty-eight pages. Ten and a half hours. Not bad. Now all I have to do is hunt down some missing photos, get an updated member list, and design a couple of house ads to fill odd-shaped holes, and I’ll be ready to proof and send.
Bonus: If I get to bed in the next six minutes, I can have three hours’ sleep before I have to get up for church.
Emily
Red Fork Hippie 