Baby Boom

Everyone's all excited that more baby panda bears have been born in the last few months than...ever. Just a little rant here, folks. Why is China spending all this money to try to preserve the Panda population when clearly, Pandas are WAY TOO STUPID to survive on their own? Whatever happened to survival of the fittest?
It seems like a waste of money to me. I mean, I though people were starving over there.

I See Dead People...

This weekend I went to the Science Museum of Minnesota with my in-laws to see Bodyworks. I had a great time with the fam--I learned a lot about bodies just from Brenda alone, and of course, I always have fun with Bob and Mandi (That's my sister!!!).
I was really nervous at the time to go, because I've been a bit weak-stomached lately, and I thought for sure that I wouldn't be able to take it, but that wasn't the case. My nervousness went so far, in fact, that when the Senior Volunteer taking our tickets warned us not to touch the "Plasticenes" (sp?), I guffawed. Like I'm gonna be tempted to reach out and touch a dead guy.
I was not, in the end, tempted. Believe it or not.
I've been trying for two days now to figure out how to blog about the exhibit, and to be honest, I am still at a loss for words. So, here are my general impressions. I'm not about to mince words, so consider yourself warned.
1. Brenda and I determined afterward that the whole thing was about one thing. The Penis. There were a lot of them--penises, that is. (Which begs the question; what is the plural form of the word, penis? Peni? Penii? Penises? Somebody help here.) Dissected penises were EVERYWHERE.
They weren't as upsetting, though, as the Human Tongue Display, which is not what it was called, though it was the only display case that I had to walk away from. It went like this:
Brenda: Hey, look at that big tongue.
Erin: Where?
Brenda: There! You can see the taste buds and everything.
Erin. Oh. [Walking away.]
2. How interesting / sick / weird that a man has spent his life dissecting human bodies, plasticizing them, and putting them on display.
3. Everywhere I look now, I see dead people. I saw a lady in a car yesterday, and we made eye contact briefly, and for a moment, I could see her--dead. Thanks, Science Museum.
In short, the exhibit sort of messed me up. It was really interesting, and sure, worth $20, but I can't say I'd go again. If you go, DO make sure to see the baby/fetus room. It was AWESOME. A little girl ralphed while Mandi was in there, though, so it might be a little hard to take for your TEN-YEAR-OLD. Yeah, people. Don't take your kids. It's a 10+ activity. Really.

I see dead people.
They're everywhere I look now.
Too many Penii.

Just Can't Wait to get on the Road Again...

On my way in to St. Paul today, I saw an accident between a car marked "Student Driver," and a Menards truck. Guess who won. I said outloud, "Ohhh...that poor kid." Until I saw that it was actually a grown man--the instructor, perhaps? Either way, how embarassing.
THEN, I pulled into Davanni's (my latest guilty lunch pleasure--their lasagna is to. die. for.), and was almost run down by a Ford F350 with a trailer completely filled with cat-scratch posts, cat houses, and cat jungle-gyms (Apostrophe? Yes? No? I don't think so...). It was a giant, looming, lattice that swayed precariously, made entirely of carpet-covered 2x4's.
I had to laugh that I was almost run down by something so cute, cuddly, and generally not offensive in any way.
Of all the weird things I've ever seen on the highway, my experience the other day, however, takes the cake.
I was on Highway 36, heading home--talking on the phone, of course--when I saw a Port-a-Potty tipped over on the side of the road. My car read that it was 100 degrees outside. Bleck. Enough said.
Then, a couple of miles and a different phone call later, I saw another one. Then another. Finally, almost ten miles later, I saw a truck pulled over with a flat bed loaded up with more Port-a-Potties than I have ever seen in one place outside of the State Fair(probably 15). He had lost 3 before he realized it between Oakdale and North St. Paul. I'd say he was a little over-loaded, and probably kicking his own ass for not planning well enough. (Strong language? Maybe--but how would you feel??)
I do NOT envy that guy. I still think about him sometimes. He always makes whatever is wrong at my job seem a little more bearable.



Potties on the road--
hot and sticky day outside
my job's not so bad...

Haiku--Touching Every Corner of the Globe

[Clutching clasped hands to chest]
I am proud and honored to know that I have been able to touch so many lives...
[Looking down, humbly]
I have been truly blessed with a great talent. I am hugely talented.
And clearly I have inspired many, who in turn encourage others to pursue greatness through the art of the Haiku.
[Lifting hands and looking East--toward Wausau, Wisconsin]
Thank you, Dad. Thank. You.
As you can see below, my love of Haiku has touched more people than I ever imagined possible.
[Lowering hands to sides, and standing tall, triumphant as I begin to read aloud...]

Dear Boss,
Seriously, you oughta think about haiku. A cadence of 5, 7 & 5 syllables and a passing reference to something in nature. I think you're a diamond in the rough. I see poetry readings at the local bookstore with your minions lined up for an autograph on the flyleaf of your new book, Haiku for the New Millenium--It's Not Just for Feudal Japanese Anymore (which you will freely donate, of course) as a cost savings measure for the remainder of the year.
ry,
cmd




I am brilliant as
the shining sun or fair moon.
I just can't help it.

Through the Night

For those of you who were worried, Pedro did fine through his surgery. So well, in fact, that they called and said we could bring him home early. (Richard said he could hear Pedro barking in the background...)
He is lathargic and sore, though, and I feel even more terrible than I did before the surgery. He actually seems...sad.
Is it possible that I'm asserting my neuroses on my dog? And that he was simply sleepy and sore from a rough day? Nah...not possible.
Whatever. That's what blogging is about, right? Embracing and flaunting our strange quirks and individual neuroses.

The Chop

Pedro has to be at Dr. Blair's office tomorrow morning by 8:30a for "The Chop."
In short, I feel terrible. I can't even talk about it without crying. I am SO going to be one of those moms...The kind who cries over everything (not a whole lot different than now--let's be honest), and keeps weird shit...like locks of hair and teeth.
I kept Pedro's first collar. I admit it. I'm that mom.
The trouble that I'm having is that he trusts me. He thinks I would never hurt him. (As we discussed in an earlier blog, he knows I didn't mean to hurt him when I kicked him off the deck...Something about reasoning skills. I don't know--the whole thing is fuzzy for me now.) But the truth is, he won't know where he's going, he won't know why he has to stay over night--he'll be scared and confused, and I hate the idea of purposely putting him in that situation.
And then, when he finally gets to come home, he'll weigh less (a LOT less, if you asked me--wink, wink), and have to suffer the humiliation of wearing a plastic cone on his head. By the time the cone will come off, he'll have forgotten his testicles completely. RIGHT???
Hopefully, along with the memory of the testicles, he'll forget that I was the one who did this to him.
Perhaps this is a good lesson for me, before I become a mom. That you have to let your kids suffer a little in order to grow up.
I just don't think I'll be able to keep dog balls as a souvenir.
Call me crazy.

Pedro, your testes
are about to disappear
that's just how it is.

Mac N Don's Supper Club

I've been feeling sorry for myself today--not for any reason that I care to blog about where Big Brother could be watching--so I decided to treat myself to McDonald's for lunch.
Now my gut is feeling sorry for itself.

I love McDonald's,
it does not love me back--my
tummy doth protest.

Nutrition

Wouldn't you like to be the guy (or gal) from the caramel apple company who landed the deal with McDonald's for their Happy Meals? Two things, though. The apples are peeled, and then fortified with calcium. (How do they do that?) And then they are served with a "low-fat caramel dipping sauce." Surely these are more nutritious than french fries, but I can't really see how.
And this is all I have to blog about. Pathetic.
I need kids or something. Kids make the funniest blogs.
Oh, also, for your reference, Tide to Go stain sticks remove the caramel dipping sauce that you spilled on your pants like magic.

My blogs are getting
stale*; Not much compares to Big
McClain's fire* picture.

*Sure, stale and fire are
a stretch as one syllable.
Like I said, I'm stale.

Stuck in a blog rut--
no peacocks or ruined shoes
to report of late.

I'm sure something fun
or funny, sad, or rad is
coming up soon. Right?



Know how I know today's blog sucks?
NONE of you are going to comment. Watch.
You'll all read it and think, "Hunh. That wasn't very good."
And not write anything.

BUSTING with Pride

LOOK AT MY BABY BROTHER!

This is a link from the Missoulian--a newspaper from Missoula, Montana, highlighting what the Forest Service Rangers are doing to stop the forest fires in the Western US. I don't know how long this link will take you to McClain's story, so if it only takes you to the online newspaper, do a quick search either for "McClain Duffert" or "Gash Creek Fire."

I couldn't be more proud. I really couldn't. I've been trying to think of a way or day that I could be more proud, but honestly, none come to mind. He'll get married some day, yes, he'll have babies eventually, true.

But for now, this moment--here is my brother, a hero.

God is so good.

On the Fritz

I went outside tonight long after I should have to collect the laundry from the line. I stood between the lines, trying not to think about how creepy it is to be out taking laundry down after dark. That's when I realized how un-dark it was. It made me wonder if it was a full moon. (Anyone?) Which is also when I realized that it's nights like this that the werewolves are out.
Thank you Harry Potter.
Imagine my surprise, then, when Satan himself approached me in the moonlight between the first and second lines of my clothesline.
"Erin," he said, sounding not unlike Jack Sparrow, and looking predictably almost as handsome as Johnny Depp. "I'll fix yer air condish'ner if yeh sell me yer soul. The heat be near...argh." He leaned in and I could smell his sweet, cool breath. His icy blue eyes flashed in the night under his pale skin and hair.
I admit, brethren, I considered it. I thought about going back inside--strangely lighter--and crawling in-between cool, crisp sheets next to a dry husband. I thought about getting a full night's sleep, and not waking up in a puddle. I thought about all the rooms in our home being one uniform temperature...
"Forever?" I asked.
"Well, no. That'll cost yeh 1000 galleons," he said, taking a leather stachel off his back.
"GET THEE BEHIND ME, SATAN!" I cried. "I wouldn't spend an eternity in hell for one night of comfort or anything else!"
Satan smiled a crooked smile and put his satchel back over his shoulder, "Oh, darlin'. Yer already there."

Boom Boom

We dog-sat this weekend for our friend's yellow lab, Lucy. She is so well-behaved that it's like having a baby-sitter for our little monster while she's at our house. Only one problem--she's about the size of a horse. The cat was very terrorized by this, and spent most of the weekend under the bed. Oh well.
We got to see the Twins play yesterday, which, if you missed it, was AWESOME. The score was 3-0 Tigers, until after the 7th inning stretch, when the Tiger's pitcher balked while the bases were loaded, and walked one man home. THEN, they committed two errors, and we won the game 6-4. What a fun game!
We came home to find Lucy and Pedro looking very sheepish indeed.
I'm sorry to say that we had a little pre-marital boom boom in our basement between the dogs while we were gone. Ewww...
At least one of them is fixed so we won't have any Lab-Westie puppies running around.
Imagine the semantics of it, though. Lucy's got about 100lbs and 3 feet on Pedro.
Hm...

Doggie boom-boom--ew!
How could that have worked for them?
Hope it was worth it...

Fitting Joke for the Day

Jokes.
By Brian Beatty
- - - -
Not Bright.
My goal in life is to be like a ray of sunshine—so radioactive that I kill idiots who get too close.

Today Rules

So, pollen stains.
It stains your second outfit of the day. It doesn't care if you're having a rough day, or if you've already been home to change once today.
It just stains your crisp, white shirt that you haven't been able to get on in over a year until recently when you finally lost a few pounds...
Stupid pollen.
Today rules.

Rough Morning?

Imagine, if you will, my frustration as I watched the slow-motion waterfall of mixed-berry yogurt smoothie, tumble (literally tumble--think, Niagara Falls) down my chest, onto my stomach, and pool in my lap.
Frustration because I made it to work on time today, I had a new outfit on, and I had to "take my lunch" at 8 this morning to go home and change clothes, which, took almost an hour and a half, thanks to traffic BOTH WAYS on the way home.
I returned to my chair to find MJ* waiting for me. He asked me yesterday (with a big smile) if I would set up some speed dial numbers for him. Yeah, try 65 speed dial numbers...or more. I lost count. Not exactly my job, folks. Anyhow, he was waiting for me this morning, to tell me that the speed dial numbers didn't work, and that he wanted me to fix them. Keep in mind, I spent the best part of yesterday setting up these 65 speed dial numbers.
I politely replied, "Actually, I have the instructions right here so you can do it now. It's really easy."
"Well...I'm going out of town."
Awkward, irritating--no--infuriating pause.
"OH, well. I guess I'll just do it, then."
"Thanks, Erin. You're the best." Big smile.
Yeh. Sure.
As I was on my way home and back again before all of this happened (but after the yogurt incident), I was thinking. When did I become the kind of woman who drinks yogurt smoothies? When did I become the kind of woman who selects earrings to go with her outfit, which she neatly ironed the night before? When did I become the kind of woman who watches her weight, maintains random gray hairs, and goes to bed at 10:30?
I think it was around the same time that I developed enough self-respect to bristle at being spoken to like the little woman of the office.
I am thankful for the job that God so clearly provided for me and my family, but that doesn't mean that I enjoy being talked down to.
And it doesn't mean that being a grown up sucks any less.

You know what kills me most about the yogurt smoothie?
I went BACK into the house for it.

*Names have been changed to protect the privacy of the characters (in my life).

I don't have a haiku for you today. I'm too cranky.

WHAT?!?

I know I'm the only one who checks this blog who would care about this, but I just can't believe it!

It's foolish, I know,
To care so much about Lance--
I just feel so used...

New Job

I toured the Commercial Care Division (my new dept) Labs today, and learned a lot about what we produce. My division sells cleaners and scrubbers, and cleaning chemicals to hospitals and restaurants. We make really cool stuff. I was pretty impressed. It's cool to spend time with people who get excited about what they do.
Conversely, I must be a real drag to hang out with.

PMS--Polar Mood Swings

The other night, Richard asked, "Do you have PMS?"
I thought about denying it, as usual, but conceded defeat, "Yes."
He said, "Ugh. Not again."

My thoughts exactly, my darling husband.


That time of the month
I'll be moody as hell, dear
Just don't bring it up.

I'm warning you, creep...
Mount Vesuvius doesn't
Compare to what's next

Now here come the tears
Don't say I didn't warn you
Well, now I'm just pissed.

Pictures of Peacocks

So, from the end of our driveway, around the lake and back is almost exactly 3 miles. When I feel up to it (i.e. when I'm not falling-down exhausted at the end of the day), Pedro and I like to walk. We are very popular at the park that surrounds the lake. Mostly because Pedro is so cute--he's seriously a babe magnet. Or...an old lady magnet. They just love him.
Last night, Pedro and I walked around the lake. It was pretty uneventful--Pedro ate some sticks, tried to hump a little Toto dog (Cairn Terrier?), and completely missed two juicy bunnies right in his path. Go figure.
One time, however, we had a very eventful walk. It was the beginning of spring--we had only been in the new house for a month or so, so it would have been about the end of March. We deviated from our usual route, just to see what was at the end of a particular street. Being new to the neighborhood, I didn't know what to expect.
I sure didn't think I'd find a peacock. I kid you not. There, at the end of someone's driveway, was a real-live peacock, just hanging out. It was awesome. It was like a little piece of the orient right here in my neighborhood! I tried to take a picture on my phone, but it didn't turn out. It's sort of like I saw the Loch Ness Moster or something. I've never seen it there since, though I did see a very, very large cat in the front yard, with strange ears--like a lynx. Every once in a while, I still walk out of my way to check out the peacock house to see if there's anything there. There never is.
For good measure, here's the picture I took. It's a female peacock, so don't look for the tail, but she's there...if you look hard enough. She's in the ray of light going across the garage door, near the back door of the house. See it? I tried to circle it in red, but it doesn't seem to help much.


You gotta believe me!



Peacock in suburbs
Your harem is missing you
You don't belong here!

Rage Against the Animals

UGRarghrhhrh!
Remember Pedro? Who(m?) I loooove so much? The little puppy over whom I cried and cried when he fell off the deck? Well, I wish I HAD kicked him!
He chewed up my favorite pair of sandals that I got in Hawaii the last time we were there--the last Duffert family vacation! Now that's all gone forever.
And the cat is sitting beside me, grooming a CHAIR.
I live in a freaking menagerie.

Too mad for haiku.
I need out of this barnyard!
I want my shoes back!

Jenna

It seems like as we get older, we find ourselves saying goodbye more often than we may want to. I know I have. My best friend left yesterday to spend about 3 months in Turkey, and then a year or so (give or take...you can never be sure with those overly-organized Fulbright folks...) in Austria. She was awarded a Fulbright research scholarship to go teach English in Turkey, and then to study linguistics in Austria. She's pretty smart, though, ironically, has trouble finding her way out of the Tamarack Village Parking Lot...go figure. Anyway, this is not the first time she's left. Jenna has traveled much of Europe, drinking and carousing mostly, but this time, it's to do good. Just kidding. I only know a handful of people--wait three people--that can pick up a language so quickly and throroughly in such a short time, and love it. But it was harder this time to see her go--mainly because I am so proud. So, Jenna, we send you off with our love and prayers. I miss you, friend.

My sad heart will long
For your laughter and friendship
Until your return.

Go take on the world
I'll be here praying for you
You are a dear friend.

Don't forget me here
in Roseville, Rose of all 'burbs
You "just can't sit still!"