ImPerceptibility

Archive for August, 2007

I don’t read the newspaper because I can find all the news I want on-line . It’s easier to sort through than the BS that makes up the average daily paper. In spite of my personal preferences, every Thursday our local paper delivers an unsolicited publication to my mailbox. I usually take out the grocery store ads and toss the rest. Today I decided to see if I was missing out on something. It said right on the top of paper – Serving Stafford County with the news that is important to you. Being the trusting person that I am, I decided to sit down and find out what exactly was important to me.

Under the eminent domain laws, Stafford County is attempting to purchase 7.5 acres of a family farm in Stafford County for $140K. My far less than 7-acre lot is appraised at more than that. Will it lower my property value? They tried doing it to the family before. 100 years ago. They lost that time.

Corn production dropped 65% due to the drought. Shit, I like me some fresh corn on the cob.

Cal Ripken Sr. Foundation is building us a baseball field. According to a representative, “No matter where it is, it’s going to benefit the children of our community.” I hope they don’t build it in Iowa.

No Child Left Behind has apparently left 59% of the areas schools behind. But don’t let the numbers fool you. Stafford high school is being investigated for testing improprieties. It might be higher.

In July, There were only 11 VRE delays that lasted more than 30 minutes. 87% on-time percentage. BFD. You still don’t have a train that can take my kids and I to DC, mid day, for less money than I would spend on gas, parking, and a decent lunch combined.

If you are looking for some “company” the 1200 block of Thomas Jefferson Place is not the place to find it. Not one, but two arrests for solicitation last week.

There, now I am up to date on our local news. It feels good to be so informed. I think it’ll last me at least another year. Maybe two.

I’ve been working on this type stuff instead of typing this stuff.  Unfortunately it all sucks.  So you don’t get to see it.  I did manage to get a new background image out of my insanity.   I think I kinda like it. 

Today was a quiet day. The girls decided they wanted to publish a magazine and have been working on it all day. I have 101 million things I should be doing but I haven’t done any. I spent the day going through the artwork that is covered in a thick coat of dust under my bed.

It’s old stuff. It dates from my first year of college back to my first day of high school. It isn’t a complete collection by any accounts. Just bits and pieces of the massive quantity of paper I scribbled and painted. It was enough of the madness that was my childhood to give me a new theory as to why Van Gogh cut off his ear. I was grateful I never developed a taste for absinthe.

I was shocked at how the memories poured back. The top layer was from college and I remembered the teachers but not their names.

The woman that criticized too much – Little yellow post-it notes written in tiny neat handwriting. Minus five for a crooked mat corner. Minus five for using a piece of paper you painted red instead of a red piece of paper.

The man who didn’t criticize enough – Circled A’s written in graphite on the back of my charcoal drawings. There was one B. The first. After that he gave me A’s so he wouldn’t have to explain. He was a wonderful artist. I wanted to learn from him. He never gave me the chance.

The one who wanted to control me by making my art an extension of his own. – No, like this, he would say grabbing my paintbrush from my hands. One day I had enough courage or anger, maybe tequila, to grab my brush back. I despised him and told him so. He couldn’t understand why and started to cry.

I can see their faces. I can hear their words. But I can’t remember their names. Maybe it’s better that way.

They didn’t see me watching as they packed up to leave. They decided to leave their trash behind. Beer bottles, food wrappers, and cigarette butts littered their small part of the beach. A few people gave them nasty looks but they kept walking. They were in their mid-thirties and that is old enough to know better. They wouldn’t be old enough to understand the sense of justice that was simmering in my heart until the next morning.

People watched as I picked up the trash. I placed it carefully in an old plastic bag. A few people even helped. I thanked them. When we were finished I asked them to join me that night on a mid-night mission.

“Wear Black” I told them.

We had a feast of a dinner; crabs, shrimp, and fresh fish in large quantities. As the fish were being prepared I stopped by to collect the remains. With a smile that was slightly less than sinister I added the guts and scales to my bag. I thanked the fishermen.

“Please join me at mid-night out front. We have a mission.” They chuckled as they drank their beer and cleaned the fish.

We ate pounds of shrimp and crab and had pounds of shells left over.

“Don’t throw those out” I told them. “They will be needed at mid-night.” They giggled and dumped the empty shells into my bag.

When my bag was full, I left it outside in the heat to simmer until mid-night.

We partied like a bunch of sailors about to be shipped out to sea. The piles of bottles got bigger and bigger. The laughter got louder and louder. Finally, the bell tolled. (It was actually the buzzer on the stove but that doesn’t sound as good) It was mid-night. Dressed in the required black we gathered around the table and I set out our mission. I had maps and a time line drawn out on the notepad someone stole from the bank. After a rowdy round of debriefing and rebriefing we embarked.

I wish I could give you more details of the actual mission. My mind is a little fuzzy. I vividly remember the smell as I accidentally spilled the contents of my bag all over their front porch. I remember beer bottles being stacked on porch steps. I mostly remember running with a sense of freedom that can only be found in the dead of night with a heart full of self-satisfied mischief.

The next morning the doorbell rang. I heard a deep voice deny knowledge. It was part of the plan. I heard the same voice ask if it was the house of the people that had left their trash all over the beach. I pulled my covers up over my head and pressed my fist to my mouth to keep from giggling. The sound of laughter from the fat southern cop was pure magic.

They noticed me watching as they cleaned up their yard the next morning. They had no choice but to pick up the trash. That stuff stank and there were those big beach flies. People walking by smiled politely as they cleaned up. They were in their mid-thirties and that is old enough to know better. They were now old enough to understand the sense of justice in my heart. It was a wonderful morning.

I’m not a connoisseur of the f word that rhymes with duck. I have used it only three times in my life and each of these times has been the cause of hysterical laughter from my husband. I mentioned the most recent use of the word in a previous post. Today I’ll tell you about another time.

Shortly after the birth of my second child we decided to take a family trip to the dump to dispose of dirty diapers and frozen dinner boxes. On the way to the dump is a McDonalds. We decided to stop and get lunch. Being conscious of my postpartum figure I ordered a salad shaker.

Now, the truth be told, my mouth ordered a salad shaker with low-fat dressing but my eyes were saying Big Mac with a generous portion of fries. My Big Mac lust was almost sinful. To keep my desire in check, I focused my attention on the especially large rear end of the woman waiting for her burger and forced myself to order the salad.

We got our order to go and started driving. I added the dressing to the salad and replaced the top. I would like to believe that I would never take my frustrations out on an innocent salad but I shook that damn thing. I shook it to the left. I shook it to the right. I shook it with so much force the top flew off and the entire content of the plastic shaker container flew out and landed on me.

I was covered in lettuce, dressing, and shredded carrots. There was a cherry tomato in my lap. My husband froze in horror.

“FUCK!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

“All I wanted was a Big Mac. I wanted a fucking Big Mac!”

My face was red and my hands were shaking with rage. My husband quickly pulled over on the side of the road. It was a good move because he was laughing so hard he couldn’t drive. I got out and shook off the salad and wiped off the dressing with a spare cloth diaper. I got back in still steaming. I sat there with my arms crossed and a scowl on my face as my husband turned around and headed back towards home.

I eventually started to see the humor in the situation. I started to smile the slightest of smiles when he pulled into the drive-through and ordered me a Big Mac.

“Would you like a shake with that?” He asked.

I went to the grocery store today. For some reason my youngest wanted to ride in the baby seat at the front of the cart. She is way too big to fit in that anymore so I suggested she help me push.

It was so nice having her close to me. All snuggled up safe and sound with my arms on each side of her. Talking about nothing. Giving her quick little kisses on her forehead for no reason than because it was there. I couldn’t help thinking about the little baldhead and big baby eyes that use to sit in the seat and babble non-stop as I did my shopping.

It took some work but we finished shopping. At times I looked a little foolish walking like a two year with a wet diaper trying not to step on her. I didn’t care I’ve looked foolish for things that were far less rewarding.

When we finished shopping and got home she helped me carry the groceries into the house.

“I can carry two milks” she boasted.

Grabbing both milks she waddled and grunted her way to the front door and to the kitchen. She then explained to me that she wasn’t a baby anymore. ‘Just look at me mom!’ She made muscle man poses in front of the open refrigerator.

I had to explain to her that she wasn’t a baby but she would always be my baby. She told me she was fine with that.

Too tired to think. Too tired to type. My world has become the cold hard reality known as tile. Will post again. Please send Peach Daiquiris and kneepads.

Some days I wish that I could use my blog for good. I haven’t been able to think of an appropriate way to do this. Then, out of the blue, inspiration in the form of a search engine inquiry struck. It struck hard and I was thrilled. I now have purpose and meaning in my life. I have discovered that all the drunken and formerly meaningless nights of youth were but a steeping stone to my ultimate purpose. I am pleased to share with you the new purpose of my life: Bar patron searching for Redneck bar on the Potomac liaison. It makes me a little weepy just thinking about it.

Dear Sir,

I recently received your search for redneck bar on the Potomac River. I am pleased to announce that you have come to the right place! I am both the spokes woman and former patron of most all of ‘em.

Please complete the following questionnaire. Based on your responses I will e-mail the ideal redneck bar on the Potomac matched to your own personal styled of redneckedness.

What side of the rivah will you be staying?

_This side _That side

Do you wish to wear a shirt? Y/N

On a scale of 1 to 10 where 1=Olive Oyle and 10=Jason Bourne how tough are you?_

How tough are you really? (Please select all that apply)

_Fu man what?

_I’ve castrated bulls

_I have all my teeth

_The number 8 should be retired

_I had a bath today

Do you have a sexual preference?

_Man _Woman _Beast _Whatever’ll have me

Please select the proper condiment for biscuits:

_Red Eye Gravy _Sausage Gravy _Marmalade

Please select the proper name for a deer:

_Bambi _Buck _Igot’em!

Have you ever rocked down to Electric Avenue? Y/N

If yes, would you be willing to explain where it is and why everyone is rockin’ down to it? Y/N

Do you carry a concealed weapon? Y/N (If yes please select all that apply)

_Gun _Shotgun _Deer Guttin’ Knife _Swiss Army Knife _Mama’s biscuits

Do you own a motorcycle? Y/N (If yes, please select all that apply)

_Chop This! _Hog Wild _Honda’s are a pleasure to ride _I’m a motorrade man _Other

Please underline you choice for the proper definition of mullet.

A) It’s a fish B) It’s a sexy haircut C) It’s something you hit things with

When you inadvertently insult Earl’s woman or mamma and are forcefully removed from the bar, do you know how to swim? Y/N

Can you swim while being pelted with beer bottles? Y/N

Can you swim with Earl’s mamma’s legs wrapped around your neck? Y/N

Please briefly explain the difference between a good ‘ole boy and a redneck. (Ex: A good ‘ole boy raises livestock. A redneck gets romantically involved)

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Thank you for your recent inquiry. I hope that your trip to a redneck bar on the Potomac River will be a memorable experience.

Without an ounce of Sincerity,

ImPerceptible

Whit over at Honea Express decided to give me what I was asking for. Things got a little personal but I didn’t mind. Here are the five questions he gave me. In accordance with the rules, for which he is a stickler, I have answered them.

1. What is the best, and worst, thing about homeschooling?

For me, the best thing about homeschooling is just having time with my kids. We have so many memories just because we were together and had nothing better to do. I think of the afternoons we’ve spent making up crazy stories or covering the cul-de-sac in chalk drawings and I wouldn’t give them up for anything.

The worst thing about homeschooling would be the responsibility. I’m not only their mom; I’m their teacher, social director, lunch lady, janitor, and bus driver. At times it gets a bit overwhelming. I’ve gotten better at juggling all my hats but some days I dream about sitting on the couch in a quiet house and not having to share my bar of chocolate.

2. Are you still making cheese? If so, what has been your best thus far?

I haven’t made any of the more complicated cheeses for several months. They take a lot of time and patience and I have little of that right now. I hope to start a few batches this fall once we get finished with the house. My first batch of feta turned out horribly and I won’t be happy until I make a good batch.

By far, my best cheese is mozzarella. It doesn’t take much time or patience. I make it with whole milk and it turns out so rich and creamy. The girls love when I make little bite sized balls for their lunch.

3. Are you really perceptibility?

I was surprised by this question. No one has ever asked me about my name. Technically, my blog is perceptibility and I’m perceptible. Capable of being seen by the mind or senses, I think it fits. Who am I if not an identity you have pieced together, post by post, within your mind? The fact that I am known, as defined by my blog and accepted into your mind, makes me perceptible. Don’t yah think?

4. What’s your favorite caffeinated drink?

I’m a simple girl with simple tastes. My beverage of choice is green tea with jasmine. Occasionally I will sweeten it with a small bit of honey. I try not to over-indulge.

There are times I will chug down large quantities of vanilla coke. The combined rush of sugar and caffeine will do weird things to my body and mind. During these period of insanity I will race aimlessly around my house with bottles of cleaner and dishtowels. I have also been known to type furiously at my keyboard. The products of my furious, and sometimes incoherent, typing usually end up here.

5. Do you and the tomato stay in touch?

As most things conceived in youth and grown in the hot passion of southern nights, things ended badly. Perhaps it grew tired of my hunger. Or maybe I developed a taste for sweeter fruit. Either way we parted in anger. The anger was short lived, but a permanent fence was built between us. It’s the type of fence we can look through and observe each other. On occasion, we both peek through the small cracks that have formed between the planks. I enjoy seeing my tomato’s blossoms turn to fruit. It is happy that I now tend a garden full of fruits that excite and sustain me. But, we don’t climb over the fence.

Interview rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the
questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Thank you, Whit. I had fun with this. Now who wants to be interviewed? I can think of at least five questions that I’d like to ask each and every one of you.

I’ve been trying Netvibes for the past few days. After I spent some time looking through the module directory and getting everything configured, I like it. I finally have a way to keep almost all of my web services and applications in one place. Not only that, I can organize them into separate tabs.

E-Mail

I have five e-mail addresses so the first thing I did was create a tab called mail. In this tab I put modules for each of accounts. Now, at a glance, I can see when a new message comes in and what account it was addressed. I then added a Google talk module. A bonus, even if I am not on the mail tab, the total number of unread messages for all my accounts is displayed on the top of the tab.

Blog

Second, I created a tab called ImPerceptibility. I set this as a two-column tab. After a lot of searching in the module directory I added my StatCounter, the feeds for my blog and comments, and by pasting the widget code into an empty html module, FeedBurner and MyBlogLog. Now I have a tab that shows me everything I usually view when I check on my blog and it’s all on one page. There is also a module to access your WordPress dashboard.

Feeds

Then I created a single column tab and added the web page for my Google Reader. I called that Google Reader. It works ok, but I still like to go directly to that page. If you use BlogLines as your feed reader there is a custom module that will show you the number of unread posts. Clicking on the number will open up your bloglines/myfeeds page.

Net Applications

Another tab holds all the odds and end I use occasionally or am just starting to use. Del.icio.us, Facebook, Twitter, Netflix, etc. There are modules for MySpace, flickr, Fox sports videos, and many others.

General

My main tab has several to-do lists, a net-note section, and search modules for images, videos, web, and blog. Having my various to-do lists on the front page seems to motivate me to get things done. After I’ve marked a few off I can go to my other tabs and have fun.

Once you get all tabs set you can customize the icons. The modules on each tab can be customized by color and moved around within the tab. The modules can be collapsed into just a title bar so if you have several modules, you don’t have to scroll down.

Overall, it’s kind of like iGoogle with more options. It helps sort out all your sites visually and keep things manageable. I think once I stop playing around with the modules and settings it will probably save some time as well.