Parking Ethics

I came face to face with a bit of an ethical dilemma this weekend and I have yet to arrive at any comfortable conclusion. I was at a hardware store buying car soap and a bucket. I walked out to my car only to discover with dismay that the person who parked next to me did such a shoddy job that not only could I not get in my car from the driver’s side without significant calisthenics, I could not back straight out either without hitting his car with my side mirror.

What’s a girl to do? Wait, clarify that. What’s a girl who is short on patience and flush with revenge-seeking tendencies to do?

I debated waiting until the, umm, gentleman who parked in such an atrocious manner came back and moved his car. That would have necessitated waiting in the hot sun for an unknown quantity of time, though, so I quickly scratched that notion.

I briefly fantasized about storming into the store, grabbing the store’s PA microphone and making a very public announcement about the deplorable status of that person’s driving skills. That would likely have done nothing more than make the inconsiderate wretch blush alone in the plumbing aisle, though, so I discarded that notion of whimsy as well.

The solution I went with is where my ethical dilemma comes from. I opened my driver side door as far as it would go without hitting the car next to me and tried to get in. The door tapped the car next to me and smudged the dirt but didn’t scratch it. Therein lies my dilemma: Was it wrong to get into my car knowing that it would likely make contact with the car next to me?

I arrived at that course of action after reasoning that I was owed the ability to get freely into my car without having to climb over a gear shifter just to go home. Then again, this is using the assumption that I have rights as a parking citizen. Does the degenerate who parked next to me have the right to park like a blind person without worrying if his actions will result in a ding because the person next to him didn’t feel like vaulting over the parking brake?

I’m clearly torn. Where do you stand on this issue?

When the Cat’s Away…

I am a quasi-bachelorette this weekend. Wes left this morning to attend a family reunion in California and Doc and I have remained here to hold down the fort. I would have loved to go, but every time we leave Doc gets upset and eats something big and we’ve had quite enough of that, thank you so very much, so for the next couple days it’s just me and the pup.

In a way, I’ll admit I was excited to have the house to myself all weekend. I’ve been watching girlie shows non-stop and I haven’t had to close an errant closet door or fold a forgotten towel all day. I thought this would be a great time to just relax, get some work done, and stay low-key for a while.

It was a charming notion but the reality’s been a bit, umm, different. It turns out that without my man around, I’m a bit of a mess. For example, this afternoon I read an entire book for work and then decided to relax by reading a book for fun. Then I got antsy, so I took the dog to the dog park. When he was good and tired we went home and I sat down to read again.

After about five minutes I was antsy again so I gave the dog a bath. Once he was clean, I thought surely I’d be able to take it easy. Not really, because less than a chapter later I was in the kitchen making sugar cookies. Which I then ate for dinner.

Yes, in my almost three years of marriage I have apparently lost all will to feed myself. I’m going to have to force myself to prepare some kind of vegetable tomorrow night or Wes will come home to a scurvy-addled wife.

I forgot to mention earlier that at some point during the afternoon, I decided it was margarita time. I went to the kitchen and gathered the implements and then pondered: Exactly how much tequila does one put in a margarita?

So, I figured three was a good number and made a margarita with three ounces of tequila and an equal amount of margarita mix. It tasted right so I drank it happily, thinking that I could take care of myself just fine, thanks for asking.

Well, I’m apparently not suited to such a large drink because between the heat of the house (it was 79 degrees in our house for most of today) and my booze, I was asleep in about fifteen minutes. Yep, Wes had been gone less than four hours before I was passed out in the middle of the afternoon and eating cookies for dinner.

You may commence sympathy for him at any time.

Trouble Turns One

Today is a very special day. Exactly a year ago today, the world was introduced to four ounces of a new species of trouble: Doc Holliday.

We are super-excited to celebrate Doc’s birthday today because we honestly weren’t sure he was going to make it this far. Between the rocks, the hay, the pieces of carpet, and claw-clipping mishaps, it’s a bit of a miracle that he gets to celebrate the big 0-1.

Of course, if you ask him, it’s taken forever to get to this milestone. If you ask Wes or I, we’d swear that he was five pounds just last month. He still acts like a puppy in some regards (crashing his head against the sliding glass door while lunging for a fly, for example) but in others he’s a lot more relaxed and fun to be around.

So, please join us in wishing a very happy birthday to our precocious little toy-destroyer. If not for him, I would have a lot less to blog about!

The more things change…


…the more things stay the same!

Pretty Hard Work

I complain about yard work quite often on this blog, calling our garden a jungle and kvetching about how much work it is. What I don’t do is show you how awesome our yard looks as a result. We have almost 1/3 of an acre and the people who came before us landscaped virtually every square inch. We inherited a really cool garden and have worked hard to keep it up (during the summer we can guarantee at least four hours of every weekend to yard work.) The end result is, I hope you’ll agree, well worth it:

These are my beautiful pansies. I planted them for some color (as this flower box is visible from the kitchen) when we were trying to sell our house, but I’ve gotten very fond of seeing them outside in the morning. When it’s cloudy and gray outside they seem to brighten the very air around them.

In the Spring, there are about six daffodils that shoot up out of that middle spot there, but those have already gone back to sleep until next year.

These are just some of the roses we grow here. We have about eight different varieties, and these grow on a trellis that tops the fence by our deck. These roses are so neat, because every year they grow farther along the trellis. I’m hoping that someday they’ll cover the whole trellis and we’ll have a canopy of roses. Also, they smell amazing!

This is the walkway that we cleared out last weekend. The stones of the walkway are all very sparkly and this part of our yard has a very serene quality to it.

It’s right next to our deck and contains some of the biggest plants in our yard. In the far right corner, you can see the outline of our giant fleece flower. This beast grows over eight feet tall in about a month and is about four feet wide. It’s enormous!

Don’t you just wish you got to look out and see this every morning?

This is only a few highlights from our yard. We have a lot of flowers and plants that flourish at different times of the year, so our yard never looks the same from month to month.

Wes and I have given up on the idea of getting all the yard work done at once and have instead embraced a do-what-you-can perspective on the whole issue. Unless we hire a full-time gardener, there’s no way it’s all getting done! Still, even though it’s a ton of work and the dirt never really comes out from the farthest reaches of my fingernails, we enjoy taking care of our yard and love watching it flourish. Hard work is always better when it pays off in a pretty way.

Optimus Prime Mitchell, Anyone?

Why did no one tell me that Transformers are freaking awesome? I finally had the pleasure of meeting Optimus Prime in the new Transformers movie and I am in love.

Wes and I watched the movie on Friday and I just enjoyed the heck out of every minute of it. The movie itself was fun (though I’m still not sold on Shia LeBoeuf. He seems to play the same spluttery, spastic, slightly annoying kid in every movie. Though he does do “awkward teenager” well. That’s probably because he is one. OK, moving on…) but it was the Transformers themselves I was so intrigued by.

Much like with the movie Superman Returns, I ended up nudging Wes every few seconds to inquire as to the purpose of one thing or another and that was half the fun for me. It’s like all the childhood stories, Superman, Batman, Transformers, Iron Man, etc. are mythologies and it’s fascinating for me to learn about them. Wes, based on his extensive childhood experiences with these characters, is an excellent resource for me when I have questions during these movies.

I do wish I had known about Transformers as a kid, though. They’re just so cool, hiding in plain sight and then changing into these larger-than-life machinated wonders, and I think my childhood would have been wildly influenced by them. To be honest, my adulthood has been influenced. Just today, I was driving down the freeway and noticed that I was being followed by a large semi truck. I immediately conjured up an incredible scene wherein this truck (a Decepticon) waged an eipc battle with the Honda Civic next to me (an Autobot) and I was able to escape unscathed because my Kia is secretly an Autobot. It was fun and kept me entertained for about seven minutes..

Wes is a tad concerned about my newfound adoration for Transformers, however, because we may or may not have had a serious discussion about naming our firstborn child Optimus Prime. In this discussion, which may or may not have happened, it’s possible that I argued that Optimus would be the best name ever and Wes may have countered by saying that that name was apt to be the cause of much playground humiliation for said child.

This theoretical argument may be continuing unresolved to this day. Were this a real argument, where would you stand? Is Optimus Prime an acceptable name for a youngster?