The 2009 Halloween Effort

I'm not sure whether we're having our carving contest this year at the office or not, so I made a new prize winning pumpkin just in case. I thought that the Dremel would make carving a piece of cake this year, but I didn't end up using it that much. It still took a detail saw to get things just right. Still, it went a little faster than last year--this pumpkin only took about 2.5 hours instead of the roughly 3.5 hours for my spider from last year. Blaise should love this one. The front looks like this:


The back looks like this:


When it's all lit up, it looks like this:

Well, shucks. I just watched the video, and with the sub-par resolution you can't see the little ghosts dancing on the fireplace behind the pumpkin. (I swear, you can see it when you watch it on my camera...) Too bad. Trust me, it looks really cute.

The Most Fun You Can Have with 4 Wheels

Hey, long time no post! Sorry, but there's been lots to do and see.

Last weekend I went up to Kalamazoo for the Naptown Roller Girls' away game. I'd post pictures of Kalamazoo and such, but I didn't take any! Either my friend and I never found the main drag in Kalamazoo, or that place is absolutely dead. (I'm thinking the latter is correct.)

On the way to Kalamazoo, my friend and I noticed the copious billboards for Auburn, IN. The advertisements looked so enticing that we decided to go on Tuesday. We were not disappointed. Auburn is the self-proclaimed classic car capital of the world, largely owing to its history of Cord and Dusenburg car manufacturing. Below is Elvis' car from the movie "Spinout." One suspects that the car is more memorable than the movie itself.


Auburn is also home to the WWII Victory museum, which featured about a billion tanks, staff cars, lorries, jeeps, and motorcycles. Mysteriously, it also featured a TV museum with an amusing array of TV remote control cables.


The same building also houses Kruse Carriage and Automobile Museum. Who knew that Batman parked it in Indy?


And why shouldn't he? We also have the General Lee AND K.I.T.T. (Inexplicably, I forgot to take a picture of the A-Team van, but it was there too.)

Watch Out! Here comes the bleach bomb!

I swore I would never let this happen again. Why wasn't someone here to stop me?


This momentarily seemed like a good idea. Once the bleach vapors left the air and the terrible concoction had been rinsed away, however, this particular shade just didn't seem very professional anymore. When will I ever learn?

The Tide is High

Roll up your pants and prepare to get your feet wet. It's flood time!


Turns out that when you don't listen to the weather, everything becomes unpredictable and mysterious. Who knew the yard would flood today? From about 8 AM to 2 PM we picked up about 4 inches of rain. As a result this made the ground as soft and moist as a rich chocolate cake. Unlike a cake, however, it all smelled very fishy. (Sorry, my photographs just couldn't capture that aspect of today's meteorological wonder.)

The water approached within 8 feet of the door to the basement, at which point Babushka and I decided to develop a new skill: sandbagging!


Cute but effective, just like us. Babushka was upset about having to use her pretty pillowcases for such a purpose; I was upset about having to spend my day off making sandbags at all. When all was said and done, the length of the ditch looked something like this:


Thankfully, the water never quite made it up to our door, but still fears, doubts, and one question remains--where does all of this water come from? It seems impossible to believe that so much water can so simply fall from the sky. Certainly, it must come from some place else. With that in mind, I followed the ditch from the side of the house to the front and on eastward until I reached the mystical spring from which all the waters seemed to flow: the sewer.

Now you know.

It goes with my black Schwinn...

Half the battle in finding the answers to your burning questions is in knowing what questions to ask in the first place. Time and time again, I hear the mistakenly formulated question, "Who really needs chaps?" This is not the question. The question should be, "Who doesn't need chaps?!" The answer: No one! That's right, everyone ought to have a pair.


Can't you just smell the leather?

Brought to you by the same woman who took me on a field trip to Camp Dellwood, my buddy and I drove down to Nashville on Tuesday in search of oddities and adventure. My buddy happens to be a biker girl, so she knows the leather shops down there pretty well. I wish I could say that I took some persuading in order to be convinced that we needed matching chaps, but who am I kidding? Leather chaps need no justification. The stupid things just feel cool, no matter how laughable they may look. Fortunately, the woman who outfitted me seemed to understand. As soon as I'd paid she asked encouragingly, "Aren't you going to wear them out of here?" And that's all it took to start me strutting around downtown Nashville with a quarter of a cow strapped to my legs. After a while, I didn't even mind that I was going to be leaving Nashville in a Jeep rather than on a Harley. Such is the power of the rebellious biker girl look. Try it today.

My Run-In with the Law

There is a saying at Wishard--you're never in more danger than when you're minding your own business. (Whenever someone came in to the ER who had been stabbed or shot, the obvious answer to the question of how it happened was inevitably, "I don't know. I was just there, minding my own business...") But it's true this time. There I was, just minding my own business when I had my run-in with the law this afternoon...

It all started with a quick dash into Kohl's. I needed my watch battery replaced, and ten short minutes after walking in I was out the door again and re-setting the hour on my timepiece. It also seemed like a good time to organize the dozens of credit card receipts in my cupholder...and I had some newspapers on the floor to clean up...and then the cord on my tape adapter for my iPod needed untangling. So many things to do when all of a sudden I hear a tap on my window. It was the police, and from the look on the officer's face I'd been busted for goodness knows what. I pondered langorously and confusedly about which was more appropriate--rolling down the window or opening the door altogether. My time-consuming internal struggle only seemed to make the officer more peeved. In a fit of panic I flung the door open.

"Hey buddy....[pause]...uhm, ma'am?"
"It's ma'am," I reassured him, though he seemed doubtful.
"Is this your truck?"
"Yes." Ack! My first lie! It immediately occured to me that if he asked to see the registration, he would find that it was still in Babushka's name. And then what?! He would call to ask Babushka if she knew where her truck was, and she would undoubtedly answer, "I don't know, some buddy took it."
"Well, I was just noticing how you were ducking around a lot under the dash. I figured you were trying to steal the radio out."
I immediately understood why I'd aroused his suspicions, among other things, but I panicked anyway. "No...it's not that...receipts...see!" I blurted out incoherently. "Look, I'm organized!"

He did not seem impressed, though after such a chaotic display of shopping receipts, he did seem finally convinced that I was female. Small victory. It was at that point that my nervousness transferred back to the officer, who went into a long apology for both accusing me of being a boy and a thief. He hoped I hadn't taken any of it wrongly. Ha! He must have thought I was likely to make a complaint regarding the host of degradations he'd piled upon me. Little did he know that I was de-sensitized years ago at the zoo, where I was mistaken daily for a Boy Scout. Ultimately I found my cool again. I gave an impromptu speech pontificating on the virtues of vigilance. We thanked each other kindly and headed off on our merry ways.

Now where the hell was he when my catalytic converter was stolen?

The heat, the stench...

I have a trip down memory lane for Cassandra. Does any of this look familiar?









That's right. It's Dellwood! That mystical land of misery! That vast wasteland that masquerades as a campground! Further proof that your annual Girl Scout cookie funds go to support a very special breed of terrorism. Any coincidence that the juvenile center is just up the street and Camp Dellwood has a cemetery on its grounds? I think not...

I voiced my human rights concerns on Tuesday, though my protests were brushed aside. "Scouting isn't for everyone." I should say not. No child should be subjected to such a place. As an adult, however, it made for a pretty decent afternoon.

In a break from my normal trap shooting, I went out to Dellwood for an after hours archery lesson. It was a good time. In a refreshing change from clay pigeons, the archery target didn't move, and it was about the size of a Smart car. And because I was one of the adults, I got to ride around on a golf cart like I was all superior or something. I have a picture of my red sneakered-foot below to prove it. Pretty impressive, huh?

Swingin' Saturday

Last night was roller derby night! As I know that mere words cannot describe such a spectacle, I will provide video as well. But first, what's a Saturday night without wandering around and bumping into a hot dog?


Not to be outdone, the dairy portion of the food pyramid also sent out a representative.


Walking inflatable food could not distract me though. It was on to derby! Roller derby involves a pack of skaters and two "jammers" who start out behind the pack. The object is for the jammers to break through the pack and pass members of the opposing team, which is how the team scores points. The video below is the very beginning of a jam. If you listen to the announcer, you'll hear (and see) when the jammer makes it through the pack to become the lead jammer.

As far as sporting events go, it's highly entertaining. The crowd is always interesting too.


When all is said and done, however, there is one enduring message that roller derby promotes. It's so catchy, they've made it into a high class bumper sticker.


That's entertainment.

Adventures

Lauren of Suburbia reporting from Southern Indiana!

First stop was the Monastery Immaculate Conception in Ferdinand, Indiana. (It's about 90 miles east of Evansville.) It's home to the Sisters of St. Benedict. Did you know Indiana was home to such an architectural beauty? It was a beauty on the inside as well, though I didn't feel like I could photograph it. Nuns were watching, you know.


Next stop was Corydon, Indiana's first state capitol. The capitol only lasted nine years before it moved to sunny Indianapolis. It's only 40 square feet, but it's still $2 to look the place over. At that rate, what do you think they charge for Biltmore?


And the last stop was Schimpff's Candy Store and Museum in Jeffersonville. This is the best kind of museum, as it not only featured the history of candy, but it sold modern examples of it as well.
If you're willing to put 320 miles on your car or truck, this trip can be yours. Highly recommended.

Spring Fever, which is preferable to Swine Flu

We're in bloom here at home, and I have the evidence to prove it.

We have our Crabby Tree, which doesn't look as impressive now that the white blooms have blown away--


We have our large Staple Trees to give us shade--



Wild Violence have popped up around the front of the house near the garage--


And the Hostages lining the driveway look quite pleased after having been buried under the snow throughout most of January--



When things start to look too cheery, our resident vulture comes around to darken up the day and eat whatever roadkill that hangs out by the side of the road.


And that's the glory of nature.

Where are your Easter eggs?

We wore our Sunday Best for you.

Message to the Munchkin, Pt. 2

To cover up for my startling lack of content, I've opted for another video post. This video isn't nearly as exciting as intended, as the subtle shaking of Bob and me has been lost. Use your imaginations, kiddies!

Exclusive Reclusives in Space

Due to Babushka listening to too much Coast 2 Coast on the radio, she has become infected with the desire to seek out aliens. To this end, she has enlisted Abuelo to set up a gigantic antenna on the side of the house. This will be transmitting our signal into outer space in a project (that's "campaign" in Lilly-speak) that will run along the lines of SETI (the Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence). Upon establishing a connection, Babushka plans to warn the alien lifeforms not to buy burnt crackers. These transmissions will be done without the benefit of taxpayer dollars, although we are hoping that some provision will be made in the next government stimulus package.

All this technical mumbo-jumbo has been hard work. You will see this evidenced in the video below. It features a frustrated Babushka yelling at Abuelo through the floor (and if you listen carefully, you can hear his muffled voice yelling back) as they attempted to thread a cable up from the crawlspace.

Making Use of the Deck

Ever since the Dead Squirrel Debacle of two weeks ago, I've been trying to be more pro-active in my defense against nature's intruders. Thanks to the deck that Theron built (and a comfy camping chair), I have taken to setting up a defensive post at the back of the house. The objective is simple: to shoot any squirrel that comes within 20 feet of home sweet home. Note that the goal is not shoot to kill because, frankly, I'm just not good enough of a shot. My plastic BBs that tend to blow away in a strong breeze aren't exactly up to the task of assassination either, but with the help of some near misses, I do believe I may just be able to scare off our three resident squirrels by force of intimidation.

All in all, I find this new plan of action to be both physically and intellectually enriching. Intellectually enriching because I spend my time reading in between shots, and physically enriching because, although no real exercise is involved, the very act of being outdoors makes me feel as if I were doing something both sporty and healthful.

Message to the Munchkin

Not contented with the written word, Babushka wishes to send a personal, live-action message to the Munchkin.

Crackers Feeling the Fires of Hell

Greetings from Babushka and Lauren of Suburbia. As a reciprocatory effort to Blaise's work on the island of Guam, we have launched postings from The Exclusive Reclusives.

In this week's adventure, we find Babushka starting a new domestic project. She has begun collecting saltine crackers which she believes to be burnt. Once a sufficient number of specimens have been collected, Babushka plans to stage a protest at the local Target and demand compensation upwards of twenty-five cents.

This, to my mind, seems very much not worth the time.