Baby Schwillig arriving late November 2007.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Friday, April 06, 2007
damn you, luscious walnuts
. . . quoth Kelly while persuading an overabundance of walnuts to crowd into a paucity of jar.
We have learned a few things lately. But mostly we've just bought things. Household purchases of note include:
We have learned a few things lately. But mostly we've just bought things. Household purchases of note include:
- an electric clothes dryer (insert shout-out to Kenmore here) from our gently-used appliance pals in Inver Grove Heights (the appliances are gently-used, not the appliance dudes; those guys show signs of rougher handling);
- the time and expertise of a nice young man from Husky Electric Rescue to install a 220v outlet for the new dryer (that's TWICE the voltage at HALF the price);
- new wires and ignition coil for the Mighty Golf (installed by bloody-knuckled YT this afternoon in a Mississippi Gorge-fueled hurricane---to no avail, so something else must be broken, which is why the car is now in queue at Metric Auto awaiting professional diagnosis and care) after it died unexpectedly in a primo curbside parking spot at Jerabek's;
- large-breed-sized dog bed, aka The Fun Island;
- a pair of Keens with orange piping (sharp!);
- faux-Arts&Crafts bedroom set (tallboy dresser, shortgirl dresser, headboard, footboard, mirror) from the West St. Paul Antique Emporium;
- an attitude adjustment, mister.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
remodeling
In her own canine version of a home makeover show, the dog has been busy all winter remodeling the insides of our cars. Let's see. What does this backseat need? A bold layer of gray fur is a great way to stamp it with that special Weimaranery imprimatur. Spice up the view through those plain clear windows with a varnish of slobber. Nose prints are a quirky accent! And dab a few muddy pawprints throughout the space to lend an aura of lively action. And home viewers, you can only access this last sensory garnish if you're a SniffCast subscriber---we'll complete the experience with a spray of Eau de Hamstercage No. 7.
In other remodeling news:
We helped Venessa complete her move yesterday. She and Felix are now installed in a sunny corner apartment in downtown Minneapolis. Home at last. Many happy returns expected to Casa V+F.
NWA parachuted-dropped a series of large cardboard boxes into the blue skies over Westside late last week. Specially-trained, G-force-tolerant squirrel pilots wearing brown coveralls and crashproof helmets rode down with the packages, pulling lanyards and guywires, adjusting to minor fluctuations in windspeed, and finally landing gently in the snowdrifts on Jen's back deck. Touchdown. Jen ordered a breakfast nook from the Skymall catalog, and here it is:
Some assembly was required, but this was ably accomplished in next to no time by Jen and SteveO. Those squirrels booked it for the nearest Best Western lounge as soon as their little claws hit the ground. The nook fits perfectly. It is cozy. It beckons us for tea. It invites us to sit on its sturdy planks and discuss life's absurdities, like farmhouse breakfast nooks dropping out of the sky.
Four rubber washers are the only things that remain between us and the first test run of the newly-installed washing machine. Stay tuned.
In other remodeling news:
We helped Venessa complete her move yesterday. She and Felix are now installed in a sunny corner apartment in downtown Minneapolis. Home at last. Many happy returns expected to Casa V+F.
NWA parachuted-dropped a series of large cardboard boxes into the blue skies over Westside late last week. Specially-trained, G-force-tolerant squirrel pilots wearing brown coveralls and crashproof helmets rode down with the packages, pulling lanyards and guywires, adjusting to minor fluctuations in windspeed, and finally landing gently in the snowdrifts on Jen's back deck. Touchdown. Jen ordered a breakfast nook from the Skymall catalog, and here it is:
Some assembly was required, but this was ably accomplished in next to no time by Jen and SteveO. Those squirrels booked it for the nearest Best Western lounge as soon as their little claws hit the ground. The nook fits perfectly. It is cozy. It beckons us for tea. It invites us to sit on its sturdy planks and discuss life's absurdities, like farmhouse breakfast nooks dropping out of the sky.
Four rubber washers are the only things that remain between us and the first test run of the newly-installed washing machine. Stay tuned.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Friday, March 02, 2007
tower of power
The literal height of leisure is 11 inches. And since it was exactly at sea level, the elevation of leisure is also 11 inches.
The Tower of Power was constructed on Playa Marias in Rincon, Puerto Rico. Tower by Sweet Wifey DesignBuild LLC; artless time-lapse reconstruction by YT.
Dreaming of the Sun and Sand
It seems appropriate to write a post about our trip to Puerto Rico while lounging about on a snow day.
Two weeks ago we were waking up to sun-filled mornings and roosters crowing. Today we're snuggled under our down comforter using the 80lbs. dog as a giant hot-water bottle and wishing (at least I am) that we had a snow blower to remove the 12 inches of snow from our driveway.
Ah well...let's dream about Puerto Rico!
This was the view from our hotel balcony. The owner of the hotel (John, a lovely man from New Jersey) said that you can normally see the whales frolicking in the warm waters from our balcony. Unfortunately the frolicking whales had not yet arrived because it had been a warm winter along the East Coast of the US.
We stayed in Rincon, which is on the west coast of the island. People come to Rincon to surf, unless you're us, in which case you come to watch the surfers while laying on the beach.
The frustrating thing about Puerto Rico was the traffic. It's a populated little island and you must have a car to get around. We spent an unfortunate amount of time in the car stuck in traffic.
Scott was our trusty driver, deftly negotiating the narrow mountain roads filled with switchbacks and on-coming traffic.
While Jen was our chief navigator, trying to get us from point A to point B with less than helpful tourist maps (sometimes she would take a break from the map reading).
We were always very happy to arrive at our destinations. We traveled to Ponce and Arecibo.
Ponce had just kick-off their annual Carnival celebration which is similar to Mardi Gras, but without the flashing, drinking and beads. This year's theme was New York, New York.
Here masked creatures dance in front of the Manhattan skyline.
In Arecibo we visited the Arecibo Observatory, home of to the world's largest radio telescope. It was the one featured in the Jodi Foster movie Contact.
The bulk of our time was spent reading...
eating....
and drinking.
Good times... good times.
Two weeks ago we were waking up to sun-filled mornings and roosters crowing. Today we're snuggled under our down comforter using the 80lbs. dog as a giant hot-water bottle and wishing (at least I am) that we had a snow blower to remove the 12 inches of snow from our driveway.
Ah well...let's dream about Puerto Rico!
This was the view from our hotel balcony. The owner of the hotel (John, a lovely man from New Jersey) said that you can normally see the whales frolicking in the warm waters from our balcony. Unfortunately the frolicking whales had not yet arrived because it had been a warm winter along the East Coast of the US.
We stayed in Rincon, which is on the west coast of the island. People come to Rincon to surf, unless you're us, in which case you come to watch the surfers while laying on the beach.
The frustrating thing about Puerto Rico was the traffic. It's a populated little island and you must have a car to get around. We spent an unfortunate amount of time in the car stuck in traffic.
Scott was our trusty driver, deftly negotiating the narrow mountain roads filled with switchbacks and on-coming traffic.
While Jen was our chief navigator, trying to get us from point A to point B with less than helpful tourist maps (sometimes she would take a break from the map reading).
We were always very happy to arrive at our destinations. We traveled to Ponce and Arecibo.
Ponce had just kick-off their annual Carnival celebration which is similar to Mardi Gras, but without the flashing, drinking and beads. This year's theme was New York, New York.
Here masked creatures dance in front of the Manhattan skyline.
In Arecibo we visited the Arecibo Observatory, home of to the world's largest radio telescope. It was the one featured in the Jodi Foster movie Contact.
The bulk of our time was spent reading...
eating....
and drinking.
Good times... good times.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
pet risk
Since it's officially a snow day and long barren wastelands of unstructured time stretch before us, we're starting a game of RISK. And since there are only two humans in the house, we're spicing up the game by inviting the pets to play.
Tula and Dusty are teaming up to form the Mild Blue Armies of Submission. Their generals and commandantes gather in smoky war rooms and show each other their bellies. The strategic plan of Army Blue relies heavily on napping. But on rare occasions they may react with unbridled aggression.
Flea commands the Fierce Sharp-Clawed Black Armies of Doom. She always attacks, but she exercises subtle tactics. Watch out!
Kelly leads the Yellow Armies of Sweetness and Light. Her avowed goal is to beat the pants off her husband.
Scott's armies are the Red Hordes of Reasonable Dialogue.
We'll provide updates as play progresses through the evening. How exciting!
8:22: Three rounds in. Yellow wins laurels for aggressive play, with three cards conquered in three rounds, and a strong hold on Europe. Early indications are the Red is angling for SE Asia. Black is losing territory steadily, while Blue sleepwalks through conquering Africa.
8:44: Dusty and Tula awaken, cross the Mediterranean from Egypt and North Africa and embark on a bloodbath in Europe. It's looking good for Blue.
8:50: Kelly is shaken by heavy losses in Europe but wants Britain back. Her bid fails miserably. But hey, she still holds all of South America. She takes Afghanistan to quench her thirst for blood.
8:52: The humans are dismayed to realize they're losing to the pets.
8:57: Red turns in a set to finance his dreams of occupying North America. Not quite there yet.
8:59: Flea is on the verge of disappearing. But a new set breathes new life into the sweet little beastie. She takes back Western US and retires.
9:01: Tula & Dusty are a major power in S. Europe. But they sit and do nothing.
9:02: The world map is coalescing as world powers emerge. Red and Black are tangling over North America. Red and Yellow contest Asia. Red holds Australia; Yellow has South America. Blue hold Africa.
9:05: A brutal and fruitless skirmish at the Equator between Central America and Venezuela.
9:13: Kelly turns in the fourth set for 10 armies. In real life, the cats and dog are paying no attention to the high drama unfolding on the world stage. Yellow's on a mission to retake Europe from the dog and her crafty feline companion. Kelly's Scandinavian elites prevail over Britain.
9:20: Red plunks down 20 armies on India and sweeps through the Middle East and into Africa.
9:29: Flea puts down the sixth set and kicks Red out of North America in spectacular fashion. While she's at it, she keeps going and takes Greenland, Iceland, Scandinavia, and Britain from Kelly. Flushed with triumph, she demands wet food as tribute.
9:36: Tula and Dusty turn in the seventh set for 20 armies. But after a massive buildup of armies in Europe, they get sleepy and do nothing.
9:39: Minor skirmishing in Japan. Kelly's getting bored. Time for a beverage break.
9:42: More skirmishing in SE Asia. Red takes Japan and Ural; for once, the Big Red One is hitting on all cylinders. Kelly's reading the community paper. .
9:45: Flea takes a couple of half-hearted swipes at Venezuela.
9:49: More buildup and inaction from the cat/dog duo.
9:53: More random skirmishing. Flea asserts her presence in Europe, ignoring a treasure-trove of strategic interests in her South American neighborhood.
9:57: Armageddon looms as Kelly turns in the eighth set. She rolls the rare triple 3 as Yakutsk invades Irkutsk.
10:05: Flea tries again with Venezuela, but no luck.
10:07: Blue takes East Africa.
10:09: Yellow drives a wedge into Red's hold on the Indian Ocean seaboard.
10:11: It's time to take the dog for a walk. Flea is declared ruler of the world and game winner. None of us ever really doubted it would end this way.
Tula and Dusty are teaming up to form the Mild Blue Armies of Submission. Their generals and commandantes gather in smoky war rooms and show each other their bellies. The strategic plan of Army Blue relies heavily on napping. But on rare occasions they may react with unbridled aggression.
Flea commands the Fierce Sharp-Clawed Black Armies of Doom. She always attacks, but she exercises subtle tactics. Watch out!
Kelly leads the Yellow Armies of Sweetness and Light. Her avowed goal is to beat the pants off her husband.
Scott's armies are the Red Hordes of Reasonable Dialogue.
We'll provide updates as play progresses through the evening. How exciting!
8:22: Three rounds in. Yellow wins laurels for aggressive play, with three cards conquered in three rounds, and a strong hold on Europe. Early indications are the Red is angling for SE Asia. Black is losing territory steadily, while Blue sleepwalks through conquering Africa.
8:44: Dusty and Tula awaken, cross the Mediterranean from Egypt and North Africa and embark on a bloodbath in Europe. It's looking good for Blue.
8:50: Kelly is shaken by heavy losses in Europe but wants Britain back. Her bid fails miserably. But hey, she still holds all of South America. She takes Afghanistan to quench her thirst for blood.
8:52: The humans are dismayed to realize they're losing to the pets.
8:57: Red turns in a set to finance his dreams of occupying North America. Not quite there yet.
8:59: Flea is on the verge of disappearing. But a new set breathes new life into the sweet little beastie. She takes back Western US and retires.
9:01: Tula & Dusty are a major power in S. Europe. But they sit and do nothing.
9:02: The world map is coalescing as world powers emerge. Red and Black are tangling over North America. Red and Yellow contest Asia. Red holds Australia; Yellow has South America. Blue hold Africa.
9:05: A brutal and fruitless skirmish at the Equator between Central America and Venezuela.
9:13: Kelly turns in the fourth set for 10 armies. In real life, the cats and dog are paying no attention to the high drama unfolding on the world stage. Yellow's on a mission to retake Europe from the dog and her crafty feline companion. Kelly's Scandinavian elites prevail over Britain.
9:20: Red plunks down 20 armies on India and sweeps through the Middle East and into Africa.
9:29: Flea puts down the sixth set and kicks Red out of North America in spectacular fashion. While she's at it, she keeps going and takes Greenland, Iceland, Scandinavia, and Britain from Kelly. Flushed with triumph, she demands wet food as tribute.
9:36: Tula and Dusty turn in the seventh set for 20 armies. But after a massive buildup of armies in Europe, they get sleepy and do nothing.
9:39: Minor skirmishing in Japan. Kelly's getting bored. Time for a beverage break.
9:42: More skirmishing in SE Asia. Red takes Japan and Ural; for once, the Big Red One is hitting on all cylinders. Kelly's reading the community paper. .
9:45: Flea takes a couple of half-hearted swipes at Venezuela.
9:49: More buildup and inaction from the cat/dog duo.
9:53: More random skirmishing. Flea asserts her presence in Europe, ignoring a treasure-trove of strategic interests in her South American neighborhood.
9:57: Armageddon looms as Kelly turns in the eighth set. She rolls the rare triple 3 as Yakutsk invades Irkutsk.
10:05: Flea tries again with Venezuela, but no luck.
10:07: Blue takes East Africa.
10:09: Yellow drives a wedge into Red's hold on the Indian Ocean seaboard.
10:11: It's time to take the dog for a walk. Flea is declared ruler of the world and game winner. None of us ever really doubted it would end this way.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
soak
In the overnight settlement, I was awarded custody of the sheets. Sweet W has visitation rights.
Also noted for the record: When I do the dishes, I don't do them all the way. I stop at somewhere around 90% of completion. This is an acceptable percentage in our world----beautiful, even, in that leaving the task incomplete mirrors our imperfect humanity, like the intentional mistake, the marring thread designed into tapestries. Leaving the dishes slightly undone keeps us humble; a perfectly polished set of dishes and silverware would be sheer hubris, an affront to the divine. So I usually leave the silverware to soak in the sink overnight. The divine is okey-dokey with that plan, but Sweet W is NOT PLEASED to find a sink full of cold greasy water and dead suds in the morning.
I could say more, but I'll stop now and leave the remaining rhetorical knives and forks to soak overnight.
Also noted for the record: When I do the dishes, I don't do them all the way. I stop at somewhere around 90% of completion. This is an acceptable percentage in our world----beautiful, even, in that leaving the task incomplete mirrors our imperfect humanity, like the intentional mistake, the marring thread designed into tapestries. Leaving the dishes slightly undone keeps us humble; a perfectly polished set of dishes and silverware would be sheer hubris, an affront to the divine. So I usually leave the silverware to soak in the sink overnight. The divine is okey-dokey with that plan, but Sweet W is NOT PLEASED to find a sink full of cold greasy water and dead suds in the morning.
I could say more, but I'll stop now and leave the remaining rhetorical knives and forks to soak overnight.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
superthick, now with fortifying vitamins and minerals
We are huddled in our bubble of warmth on this frigid-ass day, making pancakes to ward off the cold. When the temperature drops far enough below freezing, it's an obligation to insert an exasperated "ass" into any descriptions of how freezing-ass cold it is.
This just in from the kitchen: Ohhhh. The first flip is always a bad flip.
But I have faith. Besides their standalone raison d'etre as a healthy, tasty breakfast food, the pancakes are integral to a larger plan. Apparently we need to go grocery shopping later today to restock the larder with syrup and other staples (the pancake/syrup dialectic is dizzying, and clearly too complex to get into right now), and the pancakes are baksheesh to persuade me to 1) come along, and 2) behave.
Kitchen report: Fruit toppings options are mixed berries or peaches.
Actually, I'd like brown sugar and raisons d'etre on mine.
It's not that bribery is necessary for my participation in errand-running. It's that I immediately go into a fugue state of uselessness and distraction as soon as the flourescent lighting hits my retinas. My psyche becomes a battleground where the spirit of Wild Bill Knowlan makes frenetic, splenetic war with Franz Kafka and Chuck Jones. My Sweet Wife's hope is that somehow the pancakes will keep me grounded. We shall see.
Meanwhile, inspired by MC's beautiful rant about Rachael Ray, that "perky foghorn" of the Food Network (yes, Mary, we too have been stunned into insensibility by her Marshall stacks of foodie rhetoric and her pit-bullish cheeriness), Sweet W is putting on a speculative cooking show of her own. She's in character as cigar-chomping, gravel-voiced Max Lindner: Shallots? Shallots?! What you need, kid, is a martini. Get over here. . . .
Those are some tasty-ass pancakes.
This just in from the kitchen: Ohhhh. The first flip is always a bad flip.
But I have faith. Besides their standalone raison d'etre as a healthy, tasty breakfast food, the pancakes are integral to a larger plan. Apparently we need to go grocery shopping later today to restock the larder with syrup and other staples (the pancake/syrup dialectic is dizzying, and clearly too complex to get into right now), and the pancakes are baksheesh to persuade me to 1) come along, and 2) behave.
Kitchen report: Fruit toppings options are mixed berries or peaches.
Actually, I'd like brown sugar and raisons d'etre on mine.
It's not that bribery is necessary for my participation in errand-running. It's that I immediately go into a fugue state of uselessness and distraction as soon as the flourescent lighting hits my retinas. My psyche becomes a battleground where the spirit of Wild Bill Knowlan makes frenetic, splenetic war with Franz Kafka and Chuck Jones. My Sweet Wife's hope is that somehow the pancakes will keep me grounded. We shall see.
Meanwhile, inspired by MC's beautiful rant about Rachael Ray, that "perky foghorn" of the Food Network (yes, Mary, we too have been stunned into insensibility by her Marshall stacks of foodie rhetoric and her pit-bullish cheeriness), Sweet W is putting on a speculative cooking show of her own. She's in character as cigar-chomping, gravel-voiced Max Lindner: Shallots? Shallots?! What you need, kid, is a martini. Get over here. . . .
Those are some tasty-ass pancakes.
Friday, February 02, 2007
no stop, drop, and roll
NOTE TO GENTLE READERS: The Toby we lovingly eulogized in last night's post is not the same "infamous chowhound" described in this horrifying tale from Lynchburg, VA, of a college snack gone wrong.
To Hudgins' surprise, the squirrel--described as an infamous chowhound named Toby--snatched a piece of the strawberry Nutri-Grain bar she was holding.
"I said to myself, 'That doesn't happen every day.' "
But when Toby went back for a second bite it locked on, and bit through Hudgins' right thumbnail.
At that point, the communications major said she tried to unlatch Toby by beating it against the bench.
"What else do you do in that situation?" she asked. "There's no stop, drop and roll."
After Hudgins shook Toby off, she sat in shock.
"He's looking at me, I'm looking at him," she said of the moment just before Toby grabbed the Nutri-Grain bar that she had dropped during the struggle and ran off.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
toblerone and the great leap forward
Leading through the meadow, down to the river;
eager for the trees from his highlander wayback.
Sandy paws on Rialto, that running leap
from leashed zone to free zone, clearing
creek with feet to spare, and kept going.
He was a good dog.
mht5 [Tula typed this part]
eager for the trees from his highlander wayback.
Sandy paws on Rialto, that running leap
from leashed zone to free zone, clearing
creek with feet to spare, and kept going.
He was a good dog.
mht5 [Tula typed this part]
Monday, January 15, 2007
if you want to get the dog's attention, whisper
Someone is in the next room ironing fancy clothes and watching television, getting ready for a big day tomorrow. I will take this opportunity to share her notable quotes from the weekend, brief but sweet moments of self-reflection.
I like toast.
It's true, she does. And in a profound way. There's something deeply comforting and steadying about the crunchiness of properly prepared toast: its forthright readiness to accept the burden of butter, jam, peanut butter, cinnamon & sugar, whatever you have to lay on it; its companionable buddying-up with a mug of hot cocoa; its miraculous transformation from simple bread to something much greater.
I have little feet.
Compared to some people, yes. Compared to others, no. It's all relative.
In other news, we learned that we've been doing Tula's ear-cleaning regimen ALL WRONG. Well, not all wrong, exactly, but only partly right. We took her to the vet on Saturday for general upkeep and maintenance, plus her annual rabies shot. Dr. Jeff peered into her ears with his otiscope and began a gentle third degree about our cleaning procedure. How many drops, how often, what kind of medicine, etc. He then drew a diagram to illustrate the anatomical challenges of the inner dog ear. You have the floppy flap of the outer ear. You have the visible canal of the inner ear. But then, impishly and unexpectedly, the inner ear canal makes a wicked 45 degree turn and dives out of sight. No wonder her ears still itch; we've literally been just scratching the surface for the past two years. We're now armed with state-of-the-art flushing technology: a bottle of apple-blossom scented Oti-Clean fluid. Our instructions are to fill up her ear like it's a furry teapot, rub the base of her ear to swoosh things around, and then swab up the ensuing mess. It's a tea party in the bathroom! But this is one apple-scented tea party we're happy to attend. Three flushes in, things are already looking better.
I like toast.
It's true, she does. And in a profound way. There's something deeply comforting and steadying about the crunchiness of properly prepared toast: its forthright readiness to accept the burden of butter, jam, peanut butter, cinnamon & sugar, whatever you have to lay on it; its companionable buddying-up with a mug of hot cocoa; its miraculous transformation from simple bread to something much greater.
I have little feet.
Compared to some people, yes. Compared to others, no. It's all relative.
In other news, we learned that we've been doing Tula's ear-cleaning regimen ALL WRONG. Well, not all wrong, exactly, but only partly right. We took her to the vet on Saturday for general upkeep and maintenance, plus her annual rabies shot. Dr. Jeff peered into her ears with his otiscope and began a gentle third degree about our cleaning procedure. How many drops, how often, what kind of medicine, etc. He then drew a diagram to illustrate the anatomical challenges of the inner dog ear. You have the floppy flap of the outer ear. You have the visible canal of the inner ear. But then, impishly and unexpectedly, the inner ear canal makes a wicked 45 degree turn and dives out of sight. No wonder her ears still itch; we've literally been just scratching the surface for the past two years. We're now armed with state-of-the-art flushing technology: a bottle of apple-blossom scented Oti-Clean fluid. Our instructions are to fill up her ear like it's a furry teapot, rub the base of her ear to swoosh things around, and then swab up the ensuing mess. It's a tea party in the bathroom! But this is one apple-scented tea party we're happy to attend. Three flushes in, things are already looking better.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Saturday, December 23, 2006
secular spectacular
[Note: We'll get around to posting more about NYC sometime in the next century. But first. . . ]
The closets have been cleared. The de-furring crews have come and gone with their pneumatic equipment, trenching muddy tracks on the lawn with their truck. The chilis are simmering on the stove. Random piles of 15-year-old clutter have been banished. White Christmas is cued up on the dvd player. Beer is cached in a sad little snowbank. The candles are lit, the Xmas lights are lit, the yule log is lit, the stove burners are lit, and the wines are uncorked, so we're well on our way to getting lit.
In other words, welcome to the first annual Schwillig Secular Spectacular Holiday Xmas Kickoff. It's been officially ON for 47 minutes, and no one has showed up yet. But no sweat. We still have 11 hours and 13 minutes to go until the big ball drops at 2:00am.
Waiting expectantly.
The closets have been cleared. The de-furring crews have come and gone with their pneumatic equipment, trenching muddy tracks on the lawn with their truck. The chilis are simmering on the stove. Random piles of 15-year-old clutter have been banished. White Christmas is cued up on the dvd player. Beer is cached in a sad little snowbank. The candles are lit, the Xmas lights are lit, the yule log is lit, the stove burners are lit, and the wines are uncorked, so we're well on our way to getting lit.
In other words, welcome to the first annual Schwillig Secular Spectacular Holiday Xmas Kickoff. It's been officially ON for 47 minutes, and no one has showed up yet. But no sweat. We still have 11 hours and 13 minutes to go until the big ball drops at 2:00am.
Waiting expectantly.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
schwilligs take manhattan
The Muppets did it first and better, but we nonetheless here boldly declare our intention to take Manhattan.
We're in New York for a top secret consulting contract involving maglev hovercraft technology, rappelling down the sides of buildings, and organics. We can't say more.
Tonight was the Macy's Tryptophantastic Pre-Parade Inflation Ceremony. During tomorrow's annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, Snoopy, Big Bird, Spongebob, Super Grover, and other giant-size cartoon creatures will soar godlike over the streets and into our hearts. But before their miraculous rising, they have to be pumped full of helium. The Inflation Ceremony is held under bright blitzkrieg lights in the cloudy outdoor cathedral of the American Museum of Natural History, Central Park West. The parade balloons are held in place during inflation by huge nets anchored by a sandbag perimeter. Stoic Macy's acolytes in orange jumpsuits diligently monitor the helium tanks, check hoses and fittings, and test the balloons for suppleness and lift. Throngs of supplicants file by whispering prayers, leaving burnt offerings, etc. Under the watchful eyes of Auxiliary NYPD, the crowds are funnelled through a series of barricades and then sent around the museum grounds on a one-way route that ensures happy traffic flow; the signs say "Enter here for inflation." We sure will, and did. Everything goes like clockwork.
We're in New York for a top secret consulting contract involving maglev hovercraft technology, rappelling down the sides of buildings, and organics. We can't say more.
Tonight was the Macy's Tryptophantastic Pre-Parade Inflation Ceremony. During tomorrow's annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, Snoopy, Big Bird, Spongebob, Super Grover, and other giant-size cartoon creatures will soar godlike over the streets and into our hearts. But before their miraculous rising, they have to be pumped full of helium. The Inflation Ceremony is held under bright blitzkrieg lights in the cloudy outdoor cathedral of the American Museum of Natural History, Central Park West. The parade balloons are held in place during inflation by huge nets anchored by a sandbag perimeter. Stoic Macy's acolytes in orange jumpsuits diligently monitor the helium tanks, check hoses and fittings, and test the balloons for suppleness and lift. Throngs of supplicants file by whispering prayers, leaving burnt offerings, etc. Under the watchful eyes of Auxiliary NYPD, the crowds are funnelled through a series of barricades and then sent around the museum grounds on a one-way route that ensures happy traffic flow; the signs say "Enter here for inflation." We sure will, and did. Everything goes like clockwork.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Never leave me unsupervised
Scott is off with the Bad Seeds this weekend to run the Edmund Fitzgerald Ultra Marathon. You can follow their adventures here.
So I'm home with the three other female household members. Being of the furry, four-legged variety, they provide excellent company but not much in terms of witty conversation. This means I spent my Friday evening watching bad tv. Really bad tv, like reruns of Everyone Loves Raymond bad.
In the brief time that Scott has been away I:
So I'm home with the three other female household members. Being of the furry, four-legged variety, they provide excellent company but not much in terms of witty conversation. This means I spent my Friday evening watching bad tv. Really bad tv, like reruns of Everyone Loves Raymond bad.
In the brief time that Scott has been away I:
- Managed to break the kitchen window. While looking for the dog last night through the kitchen window I decided it was really filthy. So seizing the moment I grabbed the windex and paper towls. Everything was fine until I tried to put the window back together (we have those kind where the windows pull out towards you so you can clean the outside from the inside). Anyway it won't go down all the way now. I have no idea what happen. I even tried pounding it down with a hammer. It's not open to the fridgid outside air, but the lock won't meet up so I can't lock it.
- Almost got into a car accident while going to the gym. I had attempted to go to the gym Friday night - twice! Both times there was absolutely no parking. Don't believe it when people tell you that there's nothing going on in downtown St. Paul. So after work today (yes, I had to work today, see #3), I thought I would try to make up for last night. Again I get downtown and there are no parking spots. I finally spied one across the street and went for it. However, I failed to check the oh-so-crucial blindspot. I almost side-swiped the car next to me. Luckily the other driver had good reflexes and brakes. Of course I was too ashamed and embarassed to do anything but flee the scene. So I still haven't made it to the gym! Maybe I'll walk there on Sunday.
- Decided that I hate my job and need a new one. Since I vowed I wouldn't discuss work on this site that's all I'll say, but if you hear of a job opening let me know. It needs to be something that's Mon-Fri 9-5 with no special events.
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