Yesterday I bribed Andy into bra shopping at Walmart (I told him we could get some soda). He has a good eye for finding the nursing bras in amongst all the racks and racks of other bras. I guess that’s another talent of his to list on his resume along with having freakish catching reflexes and being a fount of useless trivia.

Alas, not even Walmart with its billions of items at everyday low prices had the right sized nursing bra. Well, that’s not quite true. They had one. One that was the right size. But it was a super-lacy underwire, and even though I know I could probably take the wire out, I didn’t want to. Plus that lacy stuff looked itchy. (That sort of kills the drama of me bemoaning the lack of bras in my size, doesn’t it? Oh well.)

Andy asked me what size I was looking for (I’ll tell you, I’ll let the secret out! I’ve been hunting the mysterious 42D!), and when I told him he paused thoughtfully.

“How about a 42DD?”

I glared at him and said something about how the bra would be all flappy and sure maybe I could keep my wallet in there plus a pack of crackers and a few grapes, but no.

“How about a 40C?”

I can’t wear that even now, Andy.

“Hrmm…,” searches the bras for some more options. “I’ve got it! How about a 40DD!!”

I bought a pair of sports bras. (Get Two for One Low Low Price!) I am happy to note that when I took them home and tried one on, not only did it fit around, but it also had enough room for extra bosom without being so roomy as to need packing peanuts to take up the slack. This will do for now, I think.

The wind here is insane and seems to have blown in chaos and mayhem.

Shortly after I got to work this morning, we got a campus-wide email telling us there had been a shooting in one of the dorms and instructing us to stay put. Our building manager sent a message telling us the outer doors had been locked.

Not so good.

But, most of us weren’t too worried because we’d just done this about six months ago when an escaped criminal was loose in the area. I figured it was probably some enraged boyfriend who went after his girlfriend, which is bad but didn’t seem real scary to those of us on the other side of campus.

I took TempGirl (who will be filling in for me during my leave and who started today) around the building for a tour, and by the time we got back half an hour later, one shooting and one victim and one shooter had turned into multiple shootings, multiple vicitims, and probably multiple shooters. A guy down the hall was getting emails from someone listening to a police scanner who heard 31 dead. Another guy’s relative at the local hospital said they were packed with incoming patients. Another person’s friend at a hospital a bit aways said they were sending ambulances to help out.

It’s weird. Being in the middle of something horrible as it unfolds. I was reminded of 9-11 and how even though I was sitting watching the towers fall, it didn’t seem real. A bunch of us kept reconvening in the hall to share the latest rumors, and it just didn’t feel like across campus people were dying. In the background, all the researchers seemed to keep going about their day as if nothing unusual was happening.

We were all hungry as lunch time approached. My group was supposed to take TempGirl to lunch, so I didn’t have much to eat. Coworker P. had a stash of oatmeal and applesauce; R. had two cheese sticks; I had some grapes; and S. had a few bagels. There was a sort of playful mood as we all contemplated how we would divvy up these things to keep the building fed.

Finally around noon an email went out telling us to start evacuating. After the last event (escaped criminal) when things were a bit hectic and we had gotten mixed information about whether we should leave or stay, many people were a bit hesitant to go outside this time. Even when we got the official word, some people didn’t seem to be interested in leaving. Some because they didn’t trust the news and others because they had work to do.

As I waited in line to exit campus, I looked around for sinister-looking men hiding in the trees and realized things must be under control if they let us go. Still, seeing the state police directing traffic while carrying machine guns, I had to peek around in the trees a few more times. On my way out of town I heard on NPR that the shooter was indeed dead.

Hopefully this wind will calm down soon.

Today was my fun-and-exciting weekly doctor’s appointment. I brought a book along to read, but this time entertainment was provided by a young couple (maybe 18-20?).

The couple arrived to the main waiting room a bit after I did. I didn’t notice the guy walk over and sit down, but he was already there when the girl bounced over and gleefully told him, “I circled Yes! I asked the lady and I told her, ‘Well, my BOYFRIEND has cats,’ and she told me to circle Yes, so I circled Yes!” The guy didn’t really say anything. I kept reading my book. Then, I heard some rather loud smoochy sounds from their direction. This older guy (60s? 70s?) says something like, “Hey, now. I don’t want to see that!” (In a fun way.) The bouncy girl giggled (teehee!) and said, “Yup, this here is TRUE LOVE you are looking at!” The old guy says, “Nah, this (he gestured to him and his wife) is true love. Fifty years and going strong.” I looked up and his wife was smiling and I smiled at her and we were all thinking, “Kids.”

I was called back to get my doctory fun started and left the two behind. A bit later, I was sitting in one of the smaller waiting rooms when the couple bounced around the corner and took some seats. They had just been to see the doctor and were, I think, waiting to get an ultrasound done to determine date of conception / due date.

As the girl flopped into her seat she gushed, “I can’t believe next time he’s going to put his fingers in me! EW!” The boyfriend just sorta sits there reading something. Then the girl says in a bit of a loud whisper, “I’ve never had that done before!” (Meaning she’s never had a pap or a physical, I think. Maybe she was giving her boyfriend hints for the next time they got it on. Who can say.) There is a bit of a quiet pause as the girl starts reading the pamphlet the doctor gives out on what to do and not do when pregnant. The girl suddently gets all worked up, “They can’t take my hot dogs away!” The guy sorta grunts. “Why, taking hot dogs away from me is like taking cake away from a fat kid! You just can’t do that. It’d be like taking peanut butter away from you!!” Still no words from the guy. The girl keeps reading, “Oh, Phew! I can eat them. See it says here, ‘hot dogs and deli meat must be heated to steaming before eating.’ So, I can eat them, I just have to burn my mouth to do it! YAY!”

I got called on to my next adventure and left them behind for the last time. I would love to have heard what the girl had to say when she got to the ultrasound room — expecting an abdominal scan like they always do on tv — and the ultrasound tech told her to drop her pants for an internal scan. “You’re going to put that thing WHERE?”

Shortly after I got my laptop, Sana decided the powercord would be fun to chew. She didn’t get all the way through the cord, and we continued to use it. We were (sorta) careful not to leave the computer/cord plugged in unattended or to let the cord get covered with a blanket or other flammable-type materials. Things were good for about a year. Sure, occasionally someone would get a small shock or see a leetle blue spark, but there was no damage. Also, sometimes the cord would get finnicky and have to be wiggled or unplugged/replugged to work. About a week and a half ago the cord stopped working and the usual measures didn’t bring it back to life. Andy seemed sure he could get the cord to work with just the right wiggle and kept messing with the cord. Until he got one dooze of a shock and I saw a huge blue spark.

We ordered a new cord and shelled out the extra $10 for fast delivery, and we waited for Friday when the cord should have arrived. We came home from work and there was a friendly little note hanging on the door from Fedex saying, “Sorry Charlie. No signature, no power cord.” Back in AA this would not have been a problem. We could have just bopped over to the Fedex place and picked the cord up. Here, we’d have to make an-almost-two-hour round trip to get the cord, and our weekend errands were in the other direction. So, no cord until Monday.

And that is the saga that led to no posts for a long, long time.

Okay, yeah, we do have another computer. So…I guess we could have posted from that computer, but…umm…it’s so far away you know? Like, all the way in the other room behind a door and everything. Plus, one time I tried to use that computer and Andy went “AIEIEIEIEIE!” I think he was scared I’d find his secret stash of llama porn. So why didn’t Andy post? Good question. Probably because he’s a big poopy head.

And, well, yes, we did get the cord on Monday and it’s Wednesday. So…I guess we could have posted from this computer sooner. But, um, there were pictures to upload and that takes time! And, the recycle center isn’t finished yet and why post about an unfinished recycle center when soon it will be finished? And then there was that whole daylight savings time thing that really messed everything up.

Stupid daylight savings time.

Who says nothing exciting ever happens out in the boonies? Yesterday was the grand opening of the Cburg Habitat ReStore!

We planned to wake up bright and early to get there when the doors opened, but … come on… it was Saturday. We got there around 11:00 and the place was still hopping. The parking lot was packed, and there was a radio station bus and a soda company truck-type thing out front. The soda truck was bumping and bouncing to some tunes, and inside the radio station had set up more music. There were people EVERYWHERE.

The store had a lot of really nice outdoor furniture and some building stuff (and a racecar bed that I could tell Andy really wanted!)…but the place was getting close to bare even though I’m pretty sure it was packed full o’ stuff when it opened that morning. We talked to the volunteer who checked us out, and she said when she got there at 8:30 (store opened at 9:00) people were lined up to get in. They were just emptying those shelves like crazy. Fantastic!

We weren’t looking for anything in particular, but we did find a really nice faucet to go with the vanity and tiles we bought at the Roanoke Habitat ReStore a few months ago. Our bathroom is gonna be a Habitat-furnished room!

We saw the same faucet at HD for almost twice what we paid, so YAY! We also bought a pair of rubbery gloves because they were pretty…and rubbery.

After we paid and headed outside, we saw a line forming and we smelled food! There were free burgers, chips, and drinks! WHEE! And who was cooking up the burgers but none other than Mr. Kenney! (Admittedly, before that moment we didn’t know who Mr. Kenney was.) He was having a blast cooking up burgers with a speed to be envied by any barbecuer. Flames shot up as he flipped and turned burgers left and right. Yum yum!

We had a few more errands to run before heading home, but it was all pretty anticlimatic after the Habitat opening.

We have a signed contract for the purchase of our old house!!!! Keep your fingers crossed that everything goes smoothly.

As long as I can remember my parents have had one of those domed popcorn poppers where you add the oil and kernels and the little thingy spins around and mixes it all up. After the corn is popped, my Dad dumps the corn into a paper grocery bag, adds some salt, folds over the top of the bag, and shakes. This way, the salt gets all over and well…that’s just how you do it, ya know?

I had an air popper for a while, but it met an untimely death at the bladders of the cats. Or maybe Andy killed it because he does not like air popped corn. Either way, we’ve been without a popper for at least a year, and lately I’ve really been wanting popcorn. Andy likes the microwave stuff, which is nice, but it’s not the same. And it’s expensive. And I’m cheap.

We were in walmart the other day and I saw a popper there and almost bought it but decided to wait. A few weeks later, Andy was browsing around on Amazon (he likes to web window shop) and saw a popper for a decent price. He ordered it and we waited. For some reason they wouldn’t ship it. And we waited. And waited. ARG. WHERE IS MY POPPER??

Finally, one day we came home from work and there was a nice happy box on the porch. YAY! We’d bought a bag of corn on our last shopping trip so we’d be ready. What a very good idea because if that popper arrived and we hadn’t had corn, I probably would have tried to pop something else. Like sunflower seeds. Or pepper corns. Or cotton balls.

After digging the popper out of its box and setting it up on the counter and adding the oil and the kernels and putting the top on and plugging it in, I waited patiently. (Okay, there may have been some bouncing involved.) This is what I saw:

Did you know, they’ve made innovations in popcorn poppers in the last ten years or so? It seems like such a basic device to me that I never thought there’d be popper engineers sitting around trying to make a better popper. But, I guess there have been.

As the little spinner thing spun, I started to get hypnotized. Then it happened. the spinner thing stopped.

“Aie! It’s broken! Annnddddddddy!”

Andy came in and we stared at the popper and the spinner thing. The spinner thing spun some more. Then stopped again. Then it spun in the other direction!! Whoa. Popcorn popper evolution.

A few minutes later…light, fluffy success. And a cat.

Now all we need are a few paper grocery bags, and we’ll be set.

This evening, since we don’t really care about the Super Bowl, we decided to watch Little Miss Sunshine. Now, I know when you’re pregnant organs and such get, um, compromised by the watermelon growing in your stomach….and it was a funny movie, with a hilarious climatic scene that had us in tears…

…but I’m not sure I wanted to hear, afterwards, “I think I just peed myself a little.”

The bunnies are shedding again. Maybe the weather is confusing them? I can’t think of any other good reason to shed in the middle of winter. Every morning for the last week or two, I’ve been spending five minutes or so brushing Hop and Wibble. In the morning, when they are totally distracted by their kibble, is the only time I can get these two to stand still to be brushed. Carla, however, lets me brush her much more easily, so I usually go after her in the evening. Right now, Wibble is the worst. If you blow a puff of air at him, a cloud floats up off his back and flies away. Hop seems to have started her shedding up by her shoulders and is working her way back. It looks like she is wearing an inverted saddle because she is shorter where the fur has already left.

Carla is still definitely the most friendly of our bunnies, and when it’s her turn to be out and about she often hops up on the couch for a snuggle. Recently she got to snuggle with Larry, who seemed a bit confused.

In other furry creature news, Buddy and Little Kitty seem to be doing better since we moved to the new place. They don’t fight nearly as much, LK doesn’t hide anymore, and the pee presents have slowed down. (Alas, they still do arrive.) Here’s a picture of Buddy snuggling in a box of paper recycling.

It’s so much harder to recycle here without ye old curbside recycling pick up. Glass (clear only!), plastic, and metal go a few miles over to Smith’s but paper has to go to work with me. There is a place in Floyd that collects cardboard, and Smith’s will take newspaper, but what about all that junk mail? Well, I guess there is the recycle drop off place in Floyd, but it never seems to be open when we aren’t at work or asleep. I guess most folks out here either just trash the paper or burn it.

The last few nights we’ve made bread in the bread machine to have nice fresh bread for sandwiches for lunch. Last night, Andy was the lucky baker. During a commercial break in “House,” Andy jumped up to take the bread out. The smell was wonderful, and we were both salivating over that first slice of hot bread with butter.

Now, the thing with bread makers is that making bread in them is sort of a gamble. If you don’t measure things quite right or if the humidity is wonky or if the moon is in the wrong phase, the bread won’t turn out. It will only rise half way or it will rise so high it pushes the lid open. Sometimes the crust is too done or maybe it’s still a bit mooshy on top. I know I always get a bit nervous when I approach the machine after it beeps completion.

Last night as I sat on the couch under a pile of kitties, I heard Andy in the kitchen say in a sad voice, “The bread didn’t turn out. It’s flat and dense.” I was sad, too, but I figured it’d be salvagable enough to get a pair of sandwiches out of it. But then Andy kept talking, “It appears that…umm…I forgot to add a sort of key ingredient.”

My laughter tossed the kitties off my lap and onto the floor. I laughed and laughed. I told him to take a picture, but he pouted and said no. The poor, yeastless bread was indeed a sad sight at about one inch tall.

I suggested we could cut thin slices off and use them as crackers, but I’m not sure if we have an appropriate hacksaw blade. Instead, I think maybe we’ll feed it to the chickens. I don’t think the ducks could handle it with their rounded bills.