Totally better than onions.

I drew a great assignment for tomorrow's potluck here at work.

Green Jello!

This could be fun. I think I'll make jigglers just for an excuse to use my new cookie cutters.

The cool part is that I don't think the green jello will have any side effects, such as convincing my neighbors I'm insane, like that whole onion incident. Wait, maybe that's the sad part. Maybe I'll use up the leftover halloween candy, all those gummy fingers and ears, throw those in the jello, and leave some for the neighbors. I have a reputation to maintain now.

But seriously. Anybody got ideas on how to jazz it up a bit?

Maybe make it with vodka and not warn anybody? Maybe bring it in a giant tub and see if anyone wants to wrestle?



I found this picture while looking for jello recipes, and it slays me.
But again, back to my point.
Any ideas on how to make it more St. Patrick's Day-ish?

It would make a great Twilight Zone Episode.

Every morning, as we pull out of our driveway, Nick and I see a group of older men taking their morning walk. It started with just two guys, but they've added a guy every week or two.

Sarah Smile - "They've been at five members for awhile now. Time to add a new guy, I think."

My Nick - "I wonder who they'll add."

Leader of the Grandpa Brigade - *does an odd summoning wave at Nick as we drive away*

Sarah Smile - "Did you just see that?"

My Nick - "I think I'm going wake up at five o'clock tomorrow morning with a strange urge to put on grey sweatpants and white sneakers, and go for a walk."

Sarah Smile - "And find you've grown a big grey beard overnight."

Within a couple of blocks.

I have this theory that there is far more fascinating things within a few blocks of one's house than one realizes, until you walk around it on foot.

Driving doesn't count.

You're never going to find flowers growing through cracks in the sidewalk while you're driving.

You're not going to talk to the fat old dog who seems so anxious to prove that he's still tough and intimidating that you reassure him that you'd never come in his yard, mostly just to soothe his feelings.

You're not as likely to wander down a sidestreet, following a yard sale sign on a whim, and finding a pair of gold(ish) elf slippers, which fit perfectly, for a mere $0.50.

Or to notice that plastic duck statues in the neighbor's yard are the size of labradors.

Or make the aquintaince of a nonsensical little blue that sprawls over the side of a hill with no rhyme or reason, just like houses in your dreams.

Or that half of the oranges on a neighbor's tree are plastic. What exactly are they trying to do? Show off?

Or that Luca is always happy when he recognizes home, but seems entirely turned around and confused that you're approaching the house from a different direction that whence you left. "How did the house get over HERE?"


What's within a couple blocks of your house?

"Don't worry if you see us chasing each other with guns. We don't need anybody calling the police again."

Not that I was going to, of course. I may be a bit of a hippie Californian, but I DO know the difference between a real gun and a paintgun. And besides, why ruin a perfectly good afternoon's entertainment (for me)?





I quit taking pictures when I realized I was giving away their hiding spots by aiming my camera at them, and it was probably taking all their restraint not to fire on me, although I'm certain they would have tipped their hats and said "Ma'am" as they did it.

Oops.

I think my neighbor is worried for my well-being.

Ok, so it happened like this. I was just sitting at home, chopping up a pile of onions, crying a river over the fumes, watching Scrubs, and there was a knock at the door.

As I opened the door, still weeping, it occurred to me that I prolly should have set my big chopping knife down.
My neighbor looked at me, and stepped back, eyes wide.

"Oh, oh no. I was just chopping onions."

The look on his face said he didn't believe me.
After a brief question about the trash pickup, he practically ran back to his house, no doubt to call county mental health.
Damn it.
This is as bad as the time that a small error in the school office led to my being called in for a suicide intervention.

I Love My New Neighbors.

Like, a lot. I wanna make that clear before I refer to them as 'rednecks,' which I often will because a.) they are, and b.) I don't mean it in an insulting way.
We're just very different, that's all.

Like, they drink cheap beer and I drink cheap wine. They always wear cowboy hats and speak in inexplicable southern accents and I don't, except for on rare occasion. They are amused for hours by riding a dirtbike back and forth across a ten foot yard, and I am amused for hours by watching them ride back and forth across a ten foot yard. They have two pickup trucks on average per person, which came in handy to haul all my boxes of books.

Yeah, they helped me move. And in my book, there is no higher class of human being than those who help me schlep my shit.