Month: April 2007

Crankypantsing

Iron Skillets

Shelly

I hate non-stick cookware. Hate, hate, hate it. I’ve inherited a couple of nice iron skillets from my mom (three, if you count the cute little pie wedge cornbread skillet). If they are seasoned well, and you are careful, iron is virtually non-stick.

I’m not always careful, though. Sometimes I do stupid things, like add tomato sauce to my just sauteed veggies, while they are still in the pan. Oops. All is not lost, though! Reseasoning an iron skillet is easy peasy. One of my favorite methods is to make pancakes. No, seriously. The first pancake may turn out a little funky, but the rest should be fine, and by the time you have made 3-4 of them, you will have a beautifully reseasoned skillet. And pancakes. Mmmm.

Crankypantsing

Instant Review: Abraded Cornea

Shelly

Ow! Wow, is it ever a special kind of pain.

I went to (NotSo)PromptCare, and they gave me a prescription for antibiotic eye drops and pain killers. Thank the Invisible Pink Unicorn for insurance, because $23 worth of drugs would have been $100. I don’t even want to think what an office visit would have cost without insurance.

I just hope that I did not contract some form of plague during the two hours I sat in the waiting room. A girl a couple of seats down from me had some upper respiratory disease and could not breathe through her nose or swallow. That’s just what I need!

Crankypantsing, Photography

Happy National Library Workers’ Day

Shelly

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It’s National Library Workers’ Day, and as a token of appreciation, the dean’s office handed out sport bottles with the li-barry logo on them. As I was not expecting anything, I suppose I shouldn’t complain. However, somehow, I am underwhelmed. Maybe I’d be more impressed if the water here didn’t taste like it was filtered through an old gym shoe? It’s absolutely undrinkable, unless you add Emergen-C to it, to freshen it up.

I am also T-I-R-E-D. Mr. Upstairs woke me up at the ass crack of dawn yesterday, with his television blasting away. It was my one morning to sleep in, of course. I got up and got ready to take Harriet out. As I was sitting on the couch, putting on my shoes, I heard the upstairs sliding door open. When Harriet and I went outside, there was a big splat of liquid on my patio. The jackass had dumped something over the edge of his balcony again.

Grrr. It looks like I’ll need to call again to complain. And while I’m at it, I’m tempted to bitch about the hummense Cadillac that is always parked in the fire lane. I counted no fewer than 16 empty spots this morning, when I was out with the dog, so it’s not like the car’s owner is parking illegally because there are no available spots. He just likes to park in the fire lane. The problem is that A) that’s dangerous and B) everyone who parks perpendicular to the fire lane has trouble backing out. I had to do a three point turn just to back out this morning, and even then, I very nearly clipped his tail end. Fuckwit! And, parking there creates a bottleneck, so that two cars cannot pass each other.

I mentioned that I’m tired? There’s not enough caffeine in the world to keep me awake today, so I have a feeling that I’ll be doing sleep dips soon. Hrmf!

(Photo: Electric Pole 1 April 2007)

Pets, Photography

Happy Birthday Miss Brown

Shelly

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A day late, but that’s okay, because it’s not a real birthday. I just know she was born around this time.

It’s hard to believe, but Harriet is 8 years old. To celebrate, she had a special breakfast of scrambled egg with cheese and mushrooms on toast. No cake, alas, but I don’t think she minded. After an extra long walk, a game of Fetch-n-Kill the Ball, and some quality rawhide time, she was ready for her beauty sleep.

Crankypantsing, Photography

Signs, signs, everywhere a sign

Shelly

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At last count, there were sixteen signs in our tiny kitchenette. This is just a sample of the madness. Not shown are the two signs near the sink, telling folks to wash out their recyclables. Nor the twelfty signs instructing people not to brew more than two pots of coffee at the same time. Thankfully, the sign on the front of the microwave, telling us that some kinds of pigs are cute, but the kind that doesn’t clean up the microwave after using it isn’t one of them, has disappeared.

I sometimes get irritated by all the ridiculous signs–what are we, kindergarteners?–but I’m afraid that they are actually necessary. Unfortunately, the folks who need the signs are the ones who do not read them.

For example, we have an on-going problem with tripped circuits. If you turn on too many appliances at once, we lose power in the kitchen and will have to wait for maintenance folks to find time to reset the breaker for us. One of the offenders is the folks who insist on using the frigging tea kettle while the microwave is running. But it never fails that when I’m using the microwave, someone comes in and turns on the tea kettle. Instead of reaching over and turning the tea kettle off, I call them names (on the inside!) and turn off the microwave until they are finished. You’d think they’d get a clue at the precise moment that I turn off the microwave. You’d be wrong.

But wait! It gets better! The microwave is plugged into a power strip. This is to keep it from getting zapped in a power surge, only it’s a cheap-assed power strip, and they are not effective. Not to mention that it’s unsafe to put an appliance that pulls that sort of power on a flimsy power strip.