Pickles & Dimes

We got our engagement proofs! Not only we were our outfits unintentionally color-coordinated, but my hair, which I curled extra curly knowing it would need to endure a 60-minute car ride and 90-degree heat, decided to cooperate – FOR ONCE.

All photos copyright of Cherished Moments by Deb.

This weekend was our surburb’s summer festival, Earle Brown Days. I’m sure it’s much like every other festival around the Twin Cities with food, a carnival, live music, a parade and fireworks. Unfortunately, ours didn’t feature Martin Zellar of the Gear Daddies like the one in Savage, but that’s OK.

This was our first year at Earle Brown Days, even though last year – not knowing there was a parade – we inadvertently got caught in the parade route while out for a bike ride. We had fun at the parade this year, but learned one thing. If you want candy, DO NOT sit over a curb-side drain. Anything thrown at you will end up down there. Also, do not place yourself too close to cute children, because anyone handing candy to the parade-goers will knock you over to hand the Tootsie Rolls to the kids.

We were very impressed with the fireworks display on Saturday night. I didn’t know the budget would allow for more than some bottle-rockets and sparklers, but it was a great show. I would say, from past experience, that it even rivals the big Taste of Minnesota nightly fireworks in St. Paul.

I just wish I had some Tootsie Rolls to enjoy while watching the fireworks.

This afternoon, I finished putting a new thingy on the door. (You know, the thingy? The thingy that allows the door to slowly close instead of trapping your ankle in the doorway?)

Anyway, I was all proud of myself because I basically MacGyvered the whole installation in 45 minutes, having bought a thingy that was shorter than the previous one, which meant lots of hammering of the dented old one and drilling for the new one. MacGyver probably could have done it in 3 minutes with a toothpick and a canteloupe, but all I had was myself, a bottle of Mt. Dew and the helpful assistance of two cats intent on eating the drill bit.

I tested the door and while I was busy congratulating myself on my door-fixing achievement, Abby snuck outside and started her months-planned escape. Once I wrangled her back inside, I decided that I would be generous and let both cats out in our fenced-in backyard.

I put Abby’s leash on her because if I don’t, she eats enough grass to barf up later in a giant Mountain of Slime. I didn’t put a leash on Sunny, because she thinks you’re trying to kill her when you do and will ram her head into the wall trying to escape.

Outside, Abby made a beeline for the grass before I tied her to an acceptable surface under the patio: half sun, half shade, full view of birds. I then watched Sunny meander around the yard, her tail twitching in nervousness and her occasional worried “mew?” my cue to reassure her she was OK.

When I saw her heading toward our prickly raspberry bush, I went to retrieve her. I picked her up and right then, a giant grackle flew by. Sunny, frightened to death, screeched and kicked at me viciously with her back paws. I set her down with an unkind word and looked at my shredded arm.

It was a horror map of destruction: two long, angry welted scratches down my bicep, with enough forks in them to warrant their own Robert Frost poem. And right in the crook of my arm: three deep gouges that were, to put it mildly, oozing copiously.

Everything’s going to scar. I already have two smaller ones on my upper arm, courtesy of Sunny and her Claws of Angry. I’m not so worried about the scratches scarring. But I am worried about the three gouges, seeing how they’re located exactly where a drug user would have needle marks.

Edited to Add:

Exhibit A

You can even see the bruising underneath the scratches already. I’ll have to put a moratorium on picking up Sunny about a month before the wedding.

This past weekend, while making our semi-monthly contribution to Target and Cub, one of the necessities at the top of our list was toilet paper.

Over the past four years, I’ve given up on buying Charmin just to appease Shauna, and we’ve been getting Quilted Northern. That’s a lifetime of brand recognition I had to give up, and believe me, Shauna heard about it every time we had to buy toilet paper.

Last week, Shauna wanted to surprise me and get Charmin (probably just to get me off her back). It wasn’t until we were already checked out that I noticed she got the MEGA rolls. Not just the normal double rolls, but the jumbo quadruple rolls. Now if you haven’t seen these, their dimension is just larger than a paper towel roll. I’m not kidding, they’re larger than Shauna’s head. I mentioned this to her, only to have my observation shrugged off with, “We’ll see when we get home, won’t we?”

Well, I hate to say I’m right, but…

The new toilet paper will not fit on any of the holders. Unfortunately, I can’t even enjoy being right because she was doing me a favor. Who’s laughing now, while Shauna has to crawl over the roll to get to the toilet? She’ll now get her way; we’ll be buying Quilted Northern next time we need to purchase toilet paper.

Which may be sometime around Christmas 2009.