Sunday, July 11, 2010

Pixie ponders cookies

A good thing to ponder in my book.

Newtons to be exact. I despise figs. All those gritty little seeds. Nabisco finally got a clue and invented raspberry Newtons. Yum.

Problem. Oh hell yes, there's always a problem. They've made this awesome opening in their cookie package. The top peels back to expose the lovely little cakey goodness beneath. It reseals too. Brill.

So? What's wrong with it? Well, look here.

The only way to get the first few cookies out is to reach into the tightly packed row and scrunch one out. It gets mangled. Design flaw? Oh yes I do believe! Same thing with the Oreo's.

This package has pissed me off since it's invention. Someone needs to go back to the drawing board. They've spent the time, the effort, the money to invent this and I still need to use scissors and Tupperware!


Saturday, July 10, 2010

Do you know where your Teflon tape is?

This is only for the women. You men, go find something else to do. Yes, even you! I'll wait while you leave the room.

OK girls, NOW, do you know where your Teflon tape is? Do you know WHAT Teflon tape is?

You should.

You should know the difference between a Phillips and a flat head screw and driver.

You should know what a grip wrench is.

You should have your own little stash of washers, screws, nails, and dare I say it? A tool box.

Yes, I know, you have a man. What happens if he's gone and you need something done? OK, so you'll wait until he gets home. What happens if he's off hunting for a week with the guys and your shower head springs a leak? What if the toilet handle breaks? What if the toilet flapper thing quits flapping? What if the doorknob falls off (and if a certain man is still in the room and reading this...shut it. Anyone could have a brain fart about putting a knob on the opposite way!)?

There are a lot of 'what ifs' in life, and with a little bit of knowledge, a bit of preparation, and some practice, you could be prepared.

I've got a man that just happens to not be handy. Oh, he can make a quiche that melts in your mouth, but give him a tool, and he's dangerous. My father was the same way. I learned from necessity and I've always been glad. It's come in handy so many times.

We're trying to fix this house up to move. Sold the washer and dryer and brought the old piece of shit set in from the garage. The plug was wrong for the dryer. Did we have to call a dryer guy? No, I wired in the correct plug. One of the screw holes seemed stripped. Did we call the dryer guy now? No, we (OK I) turned the air blue with curse words...put my freaking glasses on, took a closer look, found the problem and fixed it. Hubby's hands are too big to get the clampy thing on the dryer vent hose to tighten down over the little sticky outey thing at the back of the dryer it needs to clamp to. Ya, I didn't say you had to know the terminology, just know how to fix shit! So, again, air blue, right tools, no dryer guy, and presto, we have a dryer again.

We have hose type shower heads. I don't want to leave them here. Today, I removed the one from the shower we're using in the apartment. I retrieved the regular shower head that I've kept since the shower was installed (another handy tip, save stuff!), and popped it on. Squirted water all over the F'ing place. Now, I'm wet, I'm pissed. Did I call a plumber? No. I took the shower head off, looked at it, and went 'doh, forgot the Teflon tape. Got that, taped the threads, popped the shower head back on and tightened it. Water shot all over the F'ing place. Well shit. Now what? Took the shower head off again, pondered a bit more (which is what I'm best at) and thought hmmmmmm 'You took out the water restrictor (shhhh don't tell the water police). Perhaps if you put a washer in there, it will take up the gap the water restrictor filled before and you could have a tight seal'. So I did. I put the shower head back on, used my Robo Grip to tighten it down. No F'ing water spraying anywhere it shouldn't! I went and did the other shower. Got it on the first try. Perseverance and the right tools.

These are Robo Grips. I highly recommend them.

This is Teflon tape. It costs 79 cents. Spring for a roll. It'll last a lifetime.

While you're picking up the Teflon tape, get some electrical tape, some duct tape(I have hot pink), some WD40, and a good, multi purpose screw driver. I like Stanley. The kind that stores the bits in the end. Everyone should have a bunch of washers in different sizes. Screws are a necessity. I prefer the sharp ones (self tapping) that go into stuff easier. I have all different sizes. I prefer Phillips. I'm in the minority it seems. You need a hammer of course...if you can't fix something, you can beat the shit out of it with your hammer.

Start small. Fix something. Build from there. When you're ready, ask me about my Makita!


Sunday, July 4, 2010

Garage sales

Yep, that's right, I'm pondering garage sales.

I've had 2 this summer. They're a lot of hard work for not a lot of profit. You watch things you paid a lot of money for sell for pennies to the dollar.'s just stuff you don't want anymore.

I found it's where you separate the stuff from the treasures.

We're moving as I'm sure you know. We've been in this house for 23 years. I won't miss the house.

We've been in this town for 32 years. I won't miss this town.

I sold a lot of stuff today. I won't miss any of it.

I almost did. I almost made a mistake but thanks to some rude dipshit, I didn't.

I have a porch swing. It's got a painted black, metal frame. Kind of rusty around the springs. The seat is made of 1X2's painted brick red. The paint is chipped off in places, peeling in others, and just plain gone on some spots. Those 1X2's are fastened to the painted black metal frame with 2 inch machine screws. The screws stick way below the boards...will tear your skin if it comes in contact with them.

I put $25 on this swing.

I like it, it's comfy, I swing in it often. It just won't 'go' in Florida. It won't fit in with the decor.

A man. Oh, no, I have to elaborate. A fat, greasy haired, scraggly bearded, dirty man, with a big belly stretching his dirty tee shirt, hanging over the top of his dirty jeans, man, is the one that changed my mind.

I was sitting on the swing and he came up and first pissed me off by calling me 'Little Missy'. He said, and I do quote here, "I'm going to do you a favor and give you $5 for this piece of shit. Nobody else is going to buy it."

Now, I know I'm out to make money, but my ass was instantly chapped. I couldn't help it and instead of being polite, out of my mouth popped 'Don't do me any favors pardner.' He told me I'd be sorry, he told me I'd be begging someone to buy it. He left.

I re-evaluated my $25 price tag on the swing and I changed it. To $35.

I sat there and swang, and was very happy with my decision. I realized that I didn't really want to sell my swing. I changed the price to $45. I swang some more. I was so content swinging. I thought about the beginnings of this ugly swing.

Back in the day, and we're talking early 1970's, my mom bought a swing. It was a shiny framed swing with a bright yellow, mesh type seat. It sat under the 3 trunked maple in the front yard on Houghton Lake. I loved it. I sat in it and read. I met a man and we'd sit there at night, on that swing, and talk for hours. My mom would sit on that swing with me. My dad would sit on that swing with me. Eventually my children sat on that swing with me. The old yellow mesh seat finally gave way. It just fell apart and the old swing frame went into the garage.

Several years later my Dad pulled into my driveway with that swing hanging out of the trunk of his car. My Dad was not a handy man. He stripped the paint on the frame and painted it shiny black. He sawed 1X2's and painted them carefully with brick red paint. He drilled holes and screwed those boards onto that frame. He did it all for me as he knew I always loved that swing. He was so proud of himself when he brought that over. I've sat on it at my home for years. My Dad would sit on it right here on my porch before he died.

I sit in that swing and all the good memories of my Dad just flit in and out of my mind.

I almost screwed up and sold that swing. It is going to go perfectly in my home in Florida.

If any of you know who that asshat was that told me nobody would buy my swing....

Tell him he was right. It's not for sale. You can't sell memories.