Pickles & Dimes

Reading Shelly’s creepy story about a guy videotaping her house reminded me of my own little quirk.

If I see someone suspicious in a car, I memorize their license plate. In fact, yesterday I was (legally and rightfully) crossing the street on my way to work, and a car lurched into the crosswalk and almost hit me. I glared at the driver and rolled my eyes.

The car then turned the corner and pulled up next to me on the curb. As I kept walking, it crept alongside me until I looked over. The closer I got to work, I debated whether I should keep walking. I decided to go into work and as I opened the door, I glanced back at the car, which suddenly sped off.

What the hell, right? So I memorized the license plate. That way, if anything happens to me, you can tell the police it was a guy with a crappy haircut in a black car, license HPT 839.

So tell me, do any of you keep either a mental or written list of license plate numbers from creepy people?

Hey there, lawnmower. Yeah, that’s right. Jason’s working so I get to mow the lawn tonight. No more losing Rock Paper Scissors!

Let’s see, looks like you’re a little low on gas. No problem. There you go…top you off a little. Alright, what do I do again? Oh yeah, push the primer button 3 times. OK, one, two, three. Sweet.

Hey, why aren’t you starting? You’re embarrassing me in front of the neighbors. How many times do I have to yank on this stupid starter cord?

Jerk. Maybe I’ll press the primer button a few MORE times. There. That probably made your engine flood, but guess what? Screw you.

OK. Why aren’t you starting? I’m starting to get pissed off. Maybe I’ll read the instruction manual. OK, the instruction manual not in Spanish.

You have a full tank of gas, the oil is fine, the spark plug appears to be attached…I don’t get it. Why do you always do this to me? Screw it, I’m pushing the primer button again.

Fine, you piece of crap. I’m calling Jason.

I hate you, lawnmower. You made me sound like a helpless girl: “I can’t get the mower started. Yes, I pushed the primer button. It just won’t start – wah!” Now Jason’s going to be crabby because he has to work late AND mow the lawn.

There, you like that? I’ll kick your wheel harder next time if you don’t start. You’ll see.

Ha ha! I pushed your primer button another 3 times! How do you like THAT?

Look, please? Please start?

Fine. I can chill out here ALL night.

Look, you’ve got 2 minutes to start before I take a sledgehammer to you and your stupid “Weed Eater” face.

Oh, NOW you start. That’s just DANDY.

Oh look, there’s Jason. Good work, lawnmower. If you preferred him, why didn’t you just SAY so?

Jerk.

Hi. We are back from Denver, a fact we are both not happy about, since work greeted me with a 140-page document to be edited by the end of the week and Jason’s work greeted him with 3+ days of overflow.

Denver was fantastic. I was a little concerned about my asthma, but it turns out walking all over the city in dry, high-altitude conditions left me breathing easy, while in Minnesota I routinely have to use my inhaler in the middle of speaking a sentence.

Jason was a rule-breaking fool, as his lotion got confiscated at the airport (more than 3 ounces!) and his sunscreen got confiscated at Coors Field (no metal cans!). I was just a regular fool, whose motion sickness kicked in on the airplane (turbulence) and during a winding mountain drive with Artemisia and A. (non-working Dramamine).

Artemisia and A. Cutest couple ever. Also: nice, funny, awesome and totally cool. Notice how A. wore a Vikings t-shirt for us. Hee!

Artemisia and A. drove from Wyoming to Denver and took us on a beautiful drive through the mountains, where we oohed and aahed over patches of snow in the mountains; fresh, clean air; rock climbers; kayakers; and quaint tourist towns. They didn’t even make me feel silly when I asked to make a preventive stop so I wouldn’t succumb to my stupid carsickness. They took us to a wonderful pizza and wings place, and it was so easy to talk with them, we felt like we had known them for years. It was wonderful. (And, in a bizarre coincidence, their baseball seats happened to be in the row directly behind us. In a 40,000+ seat stadium. Crazy.)

Onto the pictures!

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We’re about to head out on our annual Twins road trip (and meet Artemisia!), and hopefully, we’ll manage to experience the elusive weather phenomenon known as “warmer than 70 degrees.” Work is cooperating for both of us by being “stupid, dumb and super-duper busy.”

I did manage to finally update the About Us and Contact Us pages, though. (This new template is not as user-friendly as the last one, so don’t ask me why the date on the Contact Us page is from 2006. I’m begging you.) Enjoy!

Question time: How did you come up with the name for your blog? Was it something that’s been an inside joke for years, or was the name the result of frantic searching to find something that wasn’t already taken? And is your blog a secret, or do people you know in real life read it? Back stories, please!