some HELLish blasts from the past...

Sasquatch seems taken over by ennui this weekend. I have no idea what's the matter, but she hasn't been interested in the Game Show Channel, nor the Golf Channel, despite its retrospectives of past Masters Tournaments (her favorite), nor even the Crime Channel, although I'm a little relieved she doesn't want to watch that one. She prefers to spend her time in quiet contemplation, so I won't disturb her. Perhaps she's undergoing some sort of spiritual awakening, or maybe she's just reviewing past loves...Rolf, Dr G, H and A...as some kind of Spring mind catharsis. She's a complex being, not easily understood. It may be that she senses the end of the remodeling project and knows that H and A will no longer be visiting on a regular basis. In fact, A bid us farewell when he left last night, so I suspect we've seen the last of him. I shall miss him, with his light-hearted ways and those little tricks he used to play on H.

Since Sas was ignoring me, I thought I'd see what was happening in HELL. Oh my. As I've mentioned, I've been getting a lot of attention there, for whatever reason, and this visit revealed a number of messages. Some of the messages were from ones that I had not corresponded with for months, like Shih-tzu4u2u8u. He wondered if I was still in jail so I told him no, I'd gotten out with the help of a few well-placed bribes. He seemed delighted by this news and wanted to know if I'd reconsidered his offer to come over 3 or 4 times a week to help me with my "boredom" problem. I told him I had not reconsidered and invited him to crawl back under his rock. This seemed to hurt his feelings, but I'm sure he'll come sniffing around again one day.

And then there was a very interesting message from R. I don't believe I've mentioned him here before. He and I exchanged a few most pleasant messages back when I first discovered HELL. He writes an excellent message...funny, spelled and punctuated correctly, coherent, and he uses multisyllabic words! Unfortunately, he lives hundreds of miles from me, as all the interesting ones have, but he's even farther than most. When we corresponded before, we agreed that there was little possibility that either of us would ever have a reason to visit the other's city of residence and so decided further correspondence would be of little value. As a result, I was surprised to see a message from him. At first, I thought perhaps he'd gotten me confused with someone else, but then it was clear that he hadn't. He asked some questions that let me know he remembered our previous correspondence and provided some chatty news of himself. Well, I answered his questions and let it go at that, thinking I wouldn't hear anything further. But, then there was another message and so now, I guess I can have a penpal from HELL if I so desire...but I'm not so sure that I do. I have little time for that, what with working and remodeling, and perfecting recipes and blogging...Penpal from HELL...how ludicrous that sounds.

There were a couple of new gentlemen too, although gentleman is not the word for one of them. His moniker was something I cannot reveal...it had to do with an action he'd like to perform (4u) upon a vulgar word for a portion of the feminine anatomy. He was vile and it was not difficult at all to delete his message. I was a little surprised that the administrators of HELL let him use that moniker, considering how stringent they are about photos...

And then there was a message from someone who addressed me as his fair lady...well, that put me off right away. He wanted to see a picture of my face, but would not demand one yet. (!) His "hobby" was engaging in "playful banter with worthy opponents..." Ugh. And he thought, based upon my profile, which gave him "a chuckle or two" that I would be a most worthy opponent. Of course, it was not his intent to cause harm or injury, except to my "bruised ego" when he "stomped" me! I let him know, but quick, that if he's interested in engaging in banter or anything else, he'd be wise to leave off the talk of bruising egos by stomping...And so, fearing emasculation, he sent an apology immediately. I've ignored him and will continue to do so until he slinks away. Little does he know that had I decided to go along with his banter idea, he would have been the one with a bruised ego, or quite possibly worse. Stomp me indeed.

--Ina

My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that color.

Sasquatch reminded me of the quote by Maria, from The Twelfth Night, which I use as my title for today. It is also my purpose, and the purpose of my most charming and funny gentleman caller, with whom I hope to split huge winnings from a Derby victory, that our horse of that color makes a speedy recovery and suffers no lasting damage from his recent small setback. We remain optimistic that he will quickly regain his form and will go on to more thrilling wins in the Sport of Kings. And if not, then they can shoot him for all I care, and while I haven't discussed this possibility with my GC, I suspect he shares my sentiment. If he doesn't, I'm sure he'll let me know in no uncertain terms. (You will, won't you, honey?)

Today is a beautiful day in our city by the river and Sas and I wandered the grounds earlier, sniffing for rabbits and keeping an alert eye out for squirrels. The birds are singing and flowers are blooming and we felt revitalized with the arrival of Spring. (Of course it's supposed to snow tomorrow, but we live in the moment as much as possible and so will not let this distressing prediction cast a pall on our enjoyment of this day.)

Narcissus poeticus recurvus

This charming and very fragrant daffodil is one I found growing in the woods behind the house. I shamelessly dug up a few of the bulbs to plant in my yard, and I'm glad I did because some idiot came along and built ugly houses there and killed the daffodils! They have flourished and spread in my yard and I should cut some to take to the office tomorrow.

After our excursion outside, Sas and I settled in to await H, who was supposed to be here early to finish(!) up my floor. Well, Sas quickly tired of waiting and decided a nap was in order, and while I was tempted by the idea of a nap, I also wanted to work on a recipe I've been mulling over. And so I set to work. There's a traditional dessert in Kentucky called Derby Pie, which has walnuts and chocolate and eggs and butter and sugar, of course. It's quite rich, but delicious in small slices with whipped cream, just to gild the lily. Buford had heard of something called a Derby Pie milkshake and he and I agreed that it sounded like a wonderful thing indeed. It occurred to me that Derby Pie ice cream might be even better and so that was the recipe I set out to perfect. First, I had to make a Derby Pie, of course, but, one is not allowed to call it Derby Pie since that is a very protected trademark and the owners of the trademark have no sense of humor whatsoever. Well, I've never been a scoff-law, so I decided to call my Derby Pie Supertrifecta Pie, which conveys the racing theme and also hints at the awesomeness of the dessert. It was my idea that I'd bake the pie and when it was thoroughly cooled, I'd chop it up and mix it into the almost fully churned vanilla ice cream, thus chunks of the pie would remain intact. And that's what I did, and we have a winner! This will be a perfect dessert to take to a Derby party and I'm excited by that idea and more than a little proud of myself. Sasquatch asked vigorously to taste the ice cream and so I gave in and let her have a small spoonful...not too much because chocolate isn't good for dogs, plus 67 pounds!

She approved.

H finally arrived and I am certain he can finish the floor today. He also promises to install my new light fixtures and that cannot happen soon enough. I've been working in a dim kitchen for so long I fear my eyesight is failing. But the new serpentine ceiling fixture with halogen spotlights should provide ample task lighting, if it ever gets installed...

--Ina

yet another Sunday in HELL

Sasquatch gave the barking a rest today......thank goodness. I cannot imagine what got into her yesterday, but she was a bad dog! She cannot stay bad for long though and today is back to her gentle, sweet self.

H called this morning to say he was sorry for not letting me know he would be at my house yesterday. His arrival yesterday was most unexpected and set a tone for most of the day. He was careful to tell me when he would come by today and made sure I understood. Yes, I did understand. He got here right when he said he would and after apologizing once again, and chatting for awhile, he got to work and accomplished a lot!! I was delighted! He did not bring his 2 helpers but didn't seem at all hindered by their absence. I like my new floor very much but am eager for it to be finished so I can put my house back together! As you can see, the living room is just as bad as the kitchen, plus much dustier.

So H finished up in a couple of hours and Sas wanted to watch the Game Show channel. Some old episodes of Let's Make a Deal were on and Sas gets excited about picking the door, so she was happy and wagged contentedly when I told her I was going out for awhile.

It is so cold here and I'm sick to death of winter...gray, drizzly, snowy, windy winter. A trip to someplace warm would be welcome, but I cannot leave in the middle of the remodeling project. And by the time the project is done, it should be warmer here and so a trip will unnecessary. There, I've talked myself out of spending thousands of dollars on a vacation! Still, a change of scenery might be nice...well, perhaps later in the year.

My HELL emailer of early this morning was a man of few words indeed. His message, in its entirety(punctuation intact) read: "hI nice legs" Well, those of you who know me know I'm nothing if not polite and so I did what I had to do and emailed him back: "Thanks" I thought that would be the end of it. After all, he was from Port Whatever, NY, which must be hundreds of miles from me. His name was lookin4u420. It seems like many of the men from HELL attach 420 to their monikers. I have no idea what it means and think it's just a coincidence. Lookin's photo showed him in what looked very much like a wet suit and he had a parrot perched on his finger! (I couldn't see if he had a peg leg, but wouldn't be surprised.) He's a bird lover!! Well, Paul Varjak would be excited about that. After my terse response to his succinct message, I did not believe he would write back. But he did! He said: "Hi" What?!? "Hi??" Well, if this is his idea of conversation, I don't think there's a future here at all. I have declined to respond to his last message, if you can call it that. After all, at this rate, it could go on for months before we ever got to paragraphs. So, lookin can look elsewhere. I'm sure I'm not the only babe in HELL with a nice pair of legs...

--Ina

what fresh HELL is this?

Sasquatch was barking, nonstop. The radio was blaring classic rock. The shop vac was sucking mightily. What was the occasion? Oh just Saturday...a Saturday I had planned to spend in quiet reflection or if not that, then just in quiet. H and A were not expected this day, but life's full of surprises and no one knows that better than I. Especially lately. Not only had H and A shown up unexpectedly, but they had brought another member of their merry band, R, who is a charming young woman, but one whose relationship to the others is a mystery. She chipped in just like she knew what she was doing, taking doors off their hinges, moving things from one place to another, and her use of the shop vac was masterful. This girl had some experience!

Sas was very put out. Literally put out, as in outside. In her desire to be helpful, she has made a pest of herself and cannot be allowed to stay under foot. Her assistance is most unwelcome today because it is another day of laying hardwood flooring and she has a tendency to be in exactly the wrong place at exactly the wrong time...as do I apparently. So, she's on the deck where she can keep an eye out for looters and thugs and I have retreated to my bedroom, which is in no way far enough away but will have to do for now. She barks and I blog...seems about right to me.


I did remain downstairs long enough to oversee the moving of the china cabinet. H insisted he could move it without breaking anything and he probably could have. But I have a few pieces of Waterford that I'm ridiculously attached to and so I insisted in removing those pieces first. The rest of the stuff can break for all I care...most of it doesn't even have sentimental value.






As you can see from this photo, I have not exaggerated the chaos the remodeling project has generated. There's no point in trying to put anything away, and so it stacks up here and there waiting for the day order can be restored. And that day cannot come soon enough. So, I shouldn't complain about H and A and R showing up unexpectedly. The more they show up, the quicker all this will be done.


The painter was here earlier this week and promises to be finished in a week. Unbelievable and exciting. So good to have something to be excited about!

A check of email revealed a couple of messages from HELL...there has been an unexpected increase in activity from there lately. Unfortunately, the messages are the same old stuff from the same old men. Well, no, the men are different but they might as well be the same. I'm having some serious thoughts about whether or not to continue my HELL experience. More about that later...or earlier since that entry appears below this one.


--Ina

what to do about HELL

Sasquatch has had a much improved attitude this last week. Perhaps she's becoming used to the chaos that is our home. Well, good for her. It seems to be getting worse for me. I should strive to be more like her and accept what is just because it is. As a human being though, it's hard to just accept, even though, clearly, this is exactly what we should do. My human nature makes me believe that I actually have control over things that happen and so I rebel against my circumstances sometimes. What I really believe is that what's going to happen is going to happen, no matter what I do. So, I'd be much happier just to let be what will be and I do try to do so, but...I'm imperfect, as humans are, and that's all there is to it. Perfection is perhaps an admirable goal, yet unattainable. There are so many things I wish I could change and so few I actually can. How much better to be like Sas and just live in the moment, and trust that it will work out as it should, give no thought to goals, wishes, hopes and be happy just to be...Well, all I can do is try today and forgive myself for my shortcomings.

All this brings me, in a roundabout way, to HELL.

In the last couple of weeks, I've, inexplicably, received a record number of communications from the men of HELL. Practically every day, there's a new message from one or another...rarely 2 from the same man. It's strange because I've done nothing to prompt this activity...I haven't taken any new tests or answered any questions or posted any journal entries, so I'm at a loss to explain it. Unfortunately, none of these men even remotely resemble anyone I'd ever be interested in. It's not their fault, nor is it mine. Some have seemed nice enough, but nice is, well, just nice. Others have been downright freaky, if not truly scary, so, no. Most have been just average boring guys, with their poor grammar and their misspellings and their descriptions of the things they like to do...camping, fishing, bowling, watching television!! (I'm genuinely amazed at the number of people who like to camp. I can think of little that's more unpleasant than living in the dirt, sleeping with the bugs, and exposing oneself to the elements. Give me a hotel--4-star at least please--and room service any day. But that's just me). I imagine most of them would be happy to buy me dinner and take me to a movie (or bowling!), but I wonder what we would talk about? I could feign an interest in camping, I suppose, but I'd be found out as soon as the weather gets warm enough to actually consider sleeping in the woods, so why bother? There are those who say I'm too picky and that I should get over myself, the implication being, of course, that I'm not nearly as cool as I think I am. Well, maybe. But I've had some dull relationships and I'd rather have no relationship at all. So, maybe I'm not as cool as I think I am, but I'm not settling for some Joe Don with his pickup truck and his gun rack...not for a relationship, not for a date. Joe Don is undoubtedly perfect for some woman, but that woman isn't me.

And so, I'm considering chucking it all and suspending my HELL profile. It's been almost six months, which seems like enough time. In addition, HELL has pissed me off badly by removing the most fabulous profile photo ever...my Escape photo and replacing it with another. (Well, OK, there is one other profile photo just as fabulous, which captivated me plus made me laugh! I think the owner of that photo knows who he is. And if he doesn't, he hasn't been paying attention.) This photo removal thing is beyond the pale though. Obviously, there is nothing objectionable about my Escape pic, and yet, some dope objected and just like that, photo removed. The only thing that makes me hesitate is that the HELL experience is the point of this blog and without it, there's really no reason to continue here. I have enjoyed it and am perhaps not ready to give it up yet, so we'll see. Whatever is supposed to happen will happen and that goes for this too. Something will tell me whether to stay or to go if I pay attention and stay alert. In any case, I fully expect to continue at least until remodeling is finished. Since I've brought you this far, I'll take you to the end of that.

For the Sasquatch lovers, and there are many, I've included a short video of Sasquatch being Sas...happy, goofy, adorable. Plus, it gives an indication of the sad state of our home brought about by the remodeling project.

Finally, I received a gentle reprimand from Anonymous for using the phrase "boost Buicks" in an entry from last week. Well plagarism is never attractive and I do sincerely apologize, although I believe a 2-word phrase doesn't really require attribution. Nevertheless, it is not my intention to upset anyone. And so I want the multitudes who read here to know that boost Buicks was lifted shamelessly from a comment by Anonymous and I'm sorry for not saying so. I promise to try to do better.

--Ina

a quiet Sunday in HELL

Sasquatch and I got up early as usual and while I drank coffee and read the paper, she napped. I think she'd stayed up pretty late watching the Crime Channel. When I went to bed, she was engrossed in some stupid show When Good Dogs Go Bad...all about dogs who suddenly get the urge to dig up flowerbeds and boost Buicks. She seemed far too familiar with the entire concept and I wondered if she'd been corresponding with someone from the outside. I know for a fact that she sees my emails and she understands far more than she lets on. Not long ago, I found the draft of an email to our old friend Foghorn Leghorn. It was poorly spelled and the grammar was atrocious...dere fog...stoopid humn clled frm mag bar 4am an siad cal taxy but sas 2 smrt fr tht. brng treets soon...sas hngry. chuckwlry hngry. billclln hngry. bobbrkr hngry. skwerls out ther but sas caint gt out dore. chk palice stashun, see if stoopid humn in jale. probly iz.

Well, there's no way I ever called from the Mag Bar at 4 a.m. The whole thing is a fabrication and a pathetic bid for attention. I do not know what gets into her sometimes! And even if I had been at the Mag Bar at 4 a.m., if I could call Sasquatch, I could call my own taxi! So she's not as smart as she thinks she is! It's not true...not one word. Well, fortunately, she couldn't figure out how to send it, so I was at least saved that embarrassment.

H and A showed up to do some more work on the floor, but they didn't stay long and didn't really get that much accomplished. I hope to have everything put back together in time for Christmas. I really don't think a Christmas tree sitting on a plywood floor says Happy Holidays very well, so I hope it doesn't come to that.

While Sasquatch napped, I thought I'd catch up on some emails. And wouldn't you know, there was one from one of the gentlemen of HELL. This gentleman's name was spicydog4u and he said he was from INDY and explained that was a city, I assume in Indiana, but have no proof. It could be anywhere. He also explained that he was divorced (I suppose that's an improvement over the latest rash of married ones.) and that his bratty teen aged daughter lived with him and had driven off this most recent wife! He noted that I had looked at his profile (I had not) and asked what I thought. He also said that he didn't like people very much and preferred cats. Well, he was racking up quite a few strikes. He was disabled and was awaiting a big check from Social Security. He wondered what he should spend his windfall on...perhaps a hot tub?? (It seems to me, if one is disabled and cannot work, one might be wise to save any windfalls for things like paying bills and buying groceries, but that's just me.) He loves tattoos and wondered what kinds of tats I might sport. And if he was not broke, it was his intention to add to his collection of 10 tattoos on himself...mostly of Norse gods and symbolism because he was involved in some crazy heathen cult or something that seemed to be based in Scandinavia. He said he also had one over the "spiritual third eye, if you know what I mean wink" Well, I have heard of the spiritual third eye, which I believe is in the brain...some have suggested the pineal gland. Somehow, I don't think this is what he meant and I don't want to think too long about it because, well, you know, eeeewwww. So, I thought about it carefully and decided not to write back. I don't know...I'm sure he's quite appealing in his own way, but there's the cat issue and all those tattoos, but the dealbreaker was that third eye thing...

And so it will soon be time for the Derby, perhaps Kentucky's biggest claim to fame. I like horse racing quite a bit and have had some good luck in recent years with Derby bets and so have been following the prep races and doing some research. There are several promising colts this year, and even a filly or 2 who might have a shot, but I have been most captivated by one colt, whose name I will not reveal, lest the thousands who read here bet him down to ridiculously low odds. A most charming and attractive gentleman caller from HELL has also become enchanted by this colt (unless he is feigning enchantment and I don't think he is this time) and has agreed to join me in a bet to win and win only. A most romantic notion, in my book. Our horse, our bet, ours to win. Although I won't tell the colt's name, I will include a photo so you can judge for yourself. Take note of the beautiful head and the intelligence in the eyes and the remarkable color of his coat.

--Ina

Sasquatch goes all swoony-dog

Sasquatch had an appointment with her physician, the very attractive Dr G. Sas loves Dr G, more than Rolf, more than H or A, more than anyone, except perhaps me. Many dogs are unhappy when they have to see the doctor, but not Sas. It could be because she's never had a serious illness...or any illness at all...and so, has never had to endure a painful treatment. But she has undergone the usual vaccines and pokes that go along with her annual physical, and still, she adores Dr G. I can sort of see it. Dr G. is very soft spoken, reassuring, and gentle. He's a very tall man and I can't help but notice what large feet he has! And if he's not classically handsome, he has a certain appeal to his visage and beautiful, kind blue eyes.





Sas's excitement was apparent as we made our way to Dr G.'s office. She knew where we were going in the same way that she knows when H and A are near. Who knows how she does it; it's enough to know that she does. We had to wait for a time in the outer office. Dr G. was very patiently explaining an injury that a cute little toy fox terrier had suffered to her front leg. He diagnosed a hyper-extended carpus and told the terrier's human that bedrest was important. Well, the human thought that was hysterically funny. Apparently Sas did too as she wagged and twirled in a circle when she heard. Of course, perhaps she was reacting to seeing Dr G. for the first time in a year. The doctor took a few minutes to wash his hands and spray the examination table with disinfectant (he's very hygenic) and then it was our turn. Sas smiled broadly and her eyes sparkled as she walked to the inner office. She was so excited! It took Dr G. and his assistant both to lift her onto the table. (She weighs 67 pounds and probably should think of joining the gym.) She got herself settled on the table then grinned and wiggled with delight as Dr G. asked her how she was, and told her she looked beautiful with her new hairdo (she's quite vain, as I think we've discussed...I cannot imagine where she gets it) and scratched her behind her ears. He rubbed his hand along her back and down her sides and she wagged fiercely. When he turned away to consult her chart, she whimpered a little to get his attention and he did not disappoint...such a good boy! All too soon, it was over. Sas was very quiet on the way home. Perhaps she was reliving the scene in her mind or maybe she was just tired from all that flirting...it can be most exhausting if one is doing it right. In any case, when we got home, she found a spot on the floor for a nap and barely looked up when H and A arrived. She was in a Dr G-induced swoon. She did manage to beat her tail weakly on the floor when H inquired about her health, but her heart wasn't in it. It had been stolen once again by the most captivating Dr G.




The arrival of H and A meant that remodeling noise would commence shortly. First, they have to tune in their radio because music keeps them energized and on task, I guess.

War, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

I tell you love, sister, it's just a kiss away

It's just a kiss away

It's just a kiss away

It's just a kiss away

It's just a kiss away

Kiss away, kiss away

So, yes, we listened to Gimme Shelter, and I like the Rolling Stones. I do. I prefer not to like them at ear-bleeding volume, but I understand how hard it is to enjoy music over the whine of the table saw and hammering of the...hammer. In any case, the remodeling is moving along apace (a slow pace, is what I mean), but it will be finished one day and if that one day comes before the day that I myself am finished, so much the better. I do love my new floor...well, what there is of it.

--Ina

Sasquatch and pizza and HELL oh my

Sasquatch has been spending some time in time-out these days. Her attitude is most distressing and I cannot tolerate it. I understand she's unhappy about the remodeling project, but we simply cannot cancel it now. We have too much time and money invested in it, and besides, I can't walk forever on plywood floors! So, she has to go to her kennel, which she hates, but it's better than having her get in the way and bark and whine constantly. When I was at the office the other day, I noticed a photo of her taken when she was a mere pup. I don't know who that babe to the right is, but she's a looker! The Super Bitch sticker was given to me by Buford. He knows me too well! Look at Sas with her girlish figure! So cute! So young! So innocent!

That day at the office was an exciting one indeed. The staff had earned a reward...a pizza party! Those of you who know me know there's nothing I love more than a pizza party! And this one promised to be a doozy because we were branching out from our normal pizza supplier and trying something new! And I think we've found a new favorite. This pizza was really quite good...it had the proper oiliness and the cheese was tasty. It had sprinklings of herbs (always a good thing) and the crust, while substantial, wasn't tough or cardboardy. Plus, there were no strange toppings, like chicken. It would be an exaggeration to say that the staff was ecstatic, but they were well fed and seemed happy enough for a day at work. Of course, after all that pizza, I was not planning to cook anything at home that evening, so Sas and I sat on the couch, watching her new favorite, the Food Channel. Tonight was a retrospective of Little BigHead Cooks Italian Stuff! Sas was rapt, but I didn't care that much, so I checked to see if anyone interesting had shown up in my handbasket, and don't you know someone had! His name was grandelatte4u and he was married. But! his spouse had a medical condition. And! he didn't want a divorce. But! he had needz. What? Needz?? A grown man who spells needs with a z?? Well, perhaps his finger hit the wrong key. So, we have found out that grandelatte is married, but "deprived" and yet he's not interested in a divorce. That's probably because he loves his wife deeply and is very compassionate. (Or, as M suggested, maybe she has disability income that grandelatte doesn't wish to give up. And thanks, M, for that perspective. Without it, I might have felt sorry enough for him to have invited him to visit me in the near future. Probably not, but you never know what I might do.) Married and deprived, plus he was interested in a hot, heavin hunny who wanz to get monkey-drunk in lust and who can't get enuf of ridin the lightnin. I'm beginning to think grandelatte had been deprived of an education in spelling in addition to whatever other deprivations he suffers. Well, as romantic and charming as his profile was, (and the idea of ridin the lightnin is quite appealing!) I make it a point never to get involved with married men. It's just too complicated and I need no complications...I'm remodeling! Grandelatte4u = deleted.

--Ina

their foot shall slide in due time...

Sasquatch and I are enduring the torment of remodeling everlasting. Our foot had slid (on the splintery plywood) and it seemed for sure that the day of our calamity was at hand. Well, it wasn't just a day. It has been several days, weeks, in fact, and there is no sign of the end...remodeling everlasting. Sas is depressed; I am unsettled; we are a mess. And our home! Talk about messes!! I am unable to find anything and Sasquatch is unable to find her way through the back door to the deck. I have the office as an escape, but poor Sas. I fear she may become totally unhinged before too much longer. She gives me her hand in supplication, begging for relief, but there's little I can do. Had I realized how this would affect her, I would have thought twice about this remodeling project. Oh, I would have gone ahead with it, but I definitely would have spent more time in contemplation.

The parts of our project that are finished have been most satisfying. The back door, with its blinds between the glass, rocks hard (although it is a source of endless confusion for poor Sas.). And my new sink!! It's a thing of beauty, deep and dark and spacious. And the faucet!! The lightest touch on the handle produces a cascade of sparkling water...hot or cold! Amazing. I am totally in love.

My new countertops are very nice too. They're a very pale gray and have some mottling in them to resemble stone. Quite nice, except for the island. A mix up at the fabricator produced a less-than-satisfying result with regard to the edges. H. assured me that I could send it back and make them do it over, but that would take 2 to 3 weeks and I think I can learn to live with it. I'm sure I can.

And then, there's the...oh wait, the door, the sink and the counters...that's all there is so far. Well, surely the rest cannot be far behind. Surely, I tell myself and I tell Sas and she just sniffs in disgust. Really, her attitude lately has become most unattractive. I understand what she's going through...no one understands better than I, but it's time for her to suck it up and deal. Sometimes she can be such a little bitch.

It's the noise that has been the worst I think. On Saturday, I had to retreat to my bedroom in an effort to escape it. It wasn't a very successful effort either. Sunday was worse, with some sort of whining power tool that went on endlessly. H had turned on his radio...ZZ Top, which never has been my favorite orchestra, blared from the speaker...I put Ella on in my room, but she was no match for Sharp Dressed Man...well, who is?

I thought I might distract myself by taking a trip to HELL. I got into Aubergine's account to see if there had been any activity. There had and not in a good way. She was being stalked by many of the creeps who visit me!! I guess that's not too surprising since our profiles are quite similar. Mine is superior, but Aubergine was my first attempt. I've noticed some folks revise their profiles regularly. I don't. I don't care that much. So, Aubergine...there was that disgusting dope with the freakishly abnormal "package" for one. But at least he hadn't sent her any messages...He's from some burg in Illinois called Niles, so even if he does try to contact her (or me) we should be able to avoid him pretty easily. Then there was Rickpowrful, who spends a lot of time thinking about how dominant he is and how he's looking for a good woman who will submit to his every demand and desire. Sounds like fun Rick! I'll fetch beers for you and open them with my teeth and then you can tie me up and ignore me for 3 or 4 hours while you watch some sports extravaganza on television. Perhaps you'll remember to untie me before the circulation in my wrists and ankles is completely gone. But hey! if you don't I can always get the feeling back by massaging your shoulders and walking on your back! And yes, I'd love to do your laundry. That's what we good little women do best! No, I don't mind ironing your socks, not at all. Man of my dreams! I'm yours! Rick had included a photo of himself, from the back, from the waist down. Oh, he had jeans on, but this is one time it might have been better if he'd left them off. It was just stupid...his baggy jeans and his sad flat ass. Who cares about seeing that? I certainly do not possess a perfect figure, but I also do not publish photos of my worst features. So, I feel completely okay judging Rick harshly.

As I often do, I took refuge in cooking. I'd had a hankering for spaghetti and meatballs, so that's what I did. H. had turned off the water to install my sink and thought I was crazy to attempt to cook with no water.Well, I found a bottle of club soda in the pantry that worked perfectly well for cleaning hands and parsley. I mixed up ground beef, veal and pork and added bread crumbs and an egg and some herbs. I grated some Parmigiano Reggiano and threw that in...salt, pepper. You know, meatballs. I had some cans of San Marzano tomatoes for the sauce, plus onions, mushrooms and garlic that I'd sauteed with pancetta, fresh basil, some roasted red pepper, oregano, a couple glugs of a decent Cab...you know, marinara. I browned the meatballs in the oven and put them in with the sauce to simmer. Soon, it started to smell pretty good in my house. Later, when Sas and I were ready to eat, it looked like this.

Sas had a meatball to go with her regular dog food. She wanted spaghetti too, but I didn't think that was the best idea. She did have a bite of bread, but passed on the salad and wine. It was good and we were well satisfied.

--Ina

Sas goes all disappointed-dog

Sasquatch was a little depressed...She was bored with everything. You'd think she'd have been excited by the remodeling and her new boyfriends H. and A. but no, she wanted to go to work with me. She'd heard about some enlightened companies that allow, even encourage, dogs in the workplace. And she could not understand why she couldn't accompany me. It did little good to try to explain to her that da man had forbidden dogs and even cats. Sas wants what she wants...I don't know where she picked up that trait.






Actually, since the remodeling has been wreaking havoc with our domain, the office hadn't been the worst place to be...and I cannot believe I have written such a sentence.





But things at the office are familiar. Oh it may look like all is in disarray, but I know where everything is, unlike at my house. And it's quiet there. It has all the conveniences of home...coffee, ice, the Internet, lots of reference books, in case I need to look something up, like a banking law term...There's that pesky work thing, but many days that can be easily knocked out in a few hours...other days, well, other days it's more difficult. But even so, I walk on carpet or tile at the office instead of plywood and it's not that dusty and there are not men opening my drawers and closets. So I completely understand Sas's desire to be someplace relatively orderly and not dusty.



To distract her, I've shown Sas a new (to her) channel on television. The Food Channel. She likes food, a lot, and she's always interested when I cook, so I was pretty sure she would enjoy some of the simpler shows on the Food Channel...The Semi-Ho, for example. You can't get much simpler than she, with her penchant for taking convenience foods like canned icing, and transforming them into gourmet dishes like chocolate truffles. Her recipe for truffles is brilliant! Canned icing, powdered sugar and the flavoring of your choice. She uses vanilla, but shows us that we can use whatever we want, even imitation strawberry flavoring, which I'm sure is divine. All you have to do is mix everything together using a hand mixer, but do be sure to stir in the powdered sugar first before turning on the mixer, lest you find your kitchen sugared like a Viennese tort in a bakery window. You use the mixer to ensure all the little lumps of powdered sugar are pulverized and incorporated throughout the icing, and when all is a homogeneous mass, you drop teaspoonfuls of the stuff onto a white platter, being sure to swirl the top for a most pleasing effect, and dusting the whole thing with cocoa powder, platter and all. Fifteen minutes in the refrigerator, and you have the most luscious truffles you've ever put in your mouth. Well, that's what the Semi-Ho says anyway. I've never actually tried them, but I believe they'd be simple enough for Sas to make herself. And I'm sure they're
delicious...canned icing, powdered sugar and imitation strawberry flavoring...mmmmmmm. I would have garnished the white platter with a real (not imitation) strawberry and perhaps a few mint leaves, just for color. And hey! maybe a few sprinkles would be more fun than that boring cocoa powder. And if I were going to make them, I really think I'd use some bittersweet chocolate (60% cacao or better), melted with some heavy cream and chilled until they were firm enough to roll into balls, approximating the look of actual truffles, after which these confections were named. But that's just me...not creative at all.

--Ina

office hell

Sasquatch works from home. Her job is to guard our home from looters, thugs, small children and squirrels...mostly squirrels. She despises those little rat bastards, as we've discussed previously. Although normally the gentlest of souls, she can get vicious when confronted with those rodents of the trees. She takes delight in meting out the most horrible tortures but only when she's dealing with squirrels...She practices with Bat!

So Sas never has to deal with the pressures of the office, and in that respect she is a lucky dog indeed...well, in all respects she's a lucky dog, but she might disagree. She believes she should be afforded many more freedoms than she gets, but, sad to say, she cannot be trusted to reliably come back home quickly if she is allowed out by herself. She resents this, but the world is full of predators, as anyone who's spent any time in HELL can tell you.

Yes, Sas is lucky she has no office to deal with. She's also lucky her employer is reasonable and generous. (I prefer to think of myself as employer/companion rather than owner...owner implies a superior position and in no way am I superior to Sasquatch.) There are some who have employers who are less than generous...even stingy! There are some who have employers who think nothing of suspending merit increases even though their employees have surely merited an increase. Oh, they blame it on the economy or unforeseen financial issues, and perhaps those issues come into play, but to fail to reward people who have done their best over the year smacks of a lack of respect for those who really do the work that makes the business go. And to announce it right before the performance appraisal cycle begins adds insult to injury. And so, the office was an especially bad place to be today. But, we can all thank our lucky stars that we have jobs and we are reminded of that daily. And perhaps we are lucky to have jobs, but sometimes I wonder if we are lucky to have the jobs we have.

--Ina

discontent in HELL...

Sasquatch had been napping all morning. She seems worn out all the time lately...too many changes for her little doggy psyche to deal with I think. Frankly, I've felt a little worn out myself...perhaps there've been too many changes for my little human psyche too. I long for the change that the remodeling project will bring about, but I also long for things to get back to normal. I suppose it's the promise of Spring in the air that has made me restless and discontented. There's a feeling of anticipation that I cannot attribute to anything specific...a desire for change...for something new. I'm thinking of painting again...not the walls this time, but canvases. I see the light reflected on the ground and the trees and I want to paint it...capture the quality of the light and it doesn't matter on what. I used to be a fairly decent painter. Can I still? Beats me. In any case, I really don't have time for that...not as long as there's a house to take care of and a soul sucking (but excellent!) job to go to five days a week. So, maybe I'm not really ready for painting. If I were, I'd find a way. Undoubtedly, the notion will pass.

J&G and I went out for dinner...A belated birthday celebration...G's and mine in January and J's in February. J mentioned that she had had a good dish in New Orleans...lobster pot stickers or dumplings in a lobster butter sauce. She wanted me to recreate this dish, but was having trouble telling me what it tasted like, except that it was "good." Well, yeah, lobster and butter...how could it be anything but? So, I thought about it a little...I have made a seafood ravioli that's turned out well, so I thought perhaps I could adapt that for just lobster then make a beurre blanc for the sauce. Since I had nothing else to do (Sas was still napping and there was nothing going on in HELL...well, I don't guess there was. I didn't actually check, but it's gotten dull over there and checking seemed like too much trouble.) I thought I could do a trial recipe. So that's what I did. Well, lobster ravioli is quite a dish. I used a lobster tail, red bell pepper, shallots, portabella mushrooms, tarragon, bread crumbs...held together with a little liquid and stuffed into wonton skins. They were incredibly good, but the beurre blanc was a little too much. Before I fix the dish for my most demanding sister, I'll have to perfect another sauce. I have some ideas in mind and it won't be a hardship to work on sauces. Of course, a picture cannot convey the deliciousness...tarragon is the key, plus a little lemon zest in the filling and on top.

No, this entry has little to do with HELL, but since that's been the hook, it seems like a good idea to use it. And certainly the idea of hell is not inappropriate since Sas and I have been living in remodeling hell for awhile now. But we know the outcome will be worth it, thanks to the diligence of H and A.

--Ina

psychic Sas?

Sasquatch and I were enjoying a lazy Sunday morning. Each week, we have Serious Music Sunday and we both look forward it. Sas believes, as I do, that music can provide more than just background noise. We find inspiration and solace in music and spend some of our Sundays listening to orchestral and choral works. On this morning, we were listening to John Rutter, the Cambridge Choir and the City of London Sinfonia...beautiful, soothing music for a Sunday. The gurgle of the washing machine, the hum of the dryer, a choir, dog snoring in her chair...perfect Sunday morning. Even the cats, those little rat bastards, were behaving themselves.

Sas needed a peaceful Sunday. She had had a most trying week, dealing with the changes remodeling has brought about. Dogs, while superior in every way, are creatures of habit and have problems with change. And changes have abounded at our home lately. The biggest obstacle for Sas has been the new door. H. replaced the french door that led from our family room to the deck...a door that Sas and I use every day. I had wanted the door to be hinged differently to make it more convenient for lugging out garbage and instructed H. to install a door that opened from the center, which he did. I did not take into consideration Sas's possible confusion. When she wished to go outdoors to watch for thugs or protect our home from squirrels, it had been her habit to position herself directly under the doorknob. She's a most patient being and knew that eventually, I'd notice her there and open the door. On the morning after H. had installed the new door, Sas waited where the knob had been on the old door...even though I had opened the door, she remained there until I took her by the collar and showed her the way. Poor Sas...so confused by new doors and ripped up floors. I do feel sorry for her, but it makes me laugh a little too (don't ever tell her though).

Here's something I don't understand about dogs...well, there are many things, but this is the thing I'm thinking about now...how do they know seemingly unknowable stuff? Dogs know things that they really should have no idea about. They know when the weekend is...they sleep later on the weekend, at least Sas does. Can they count and so know when Saturday is? Well, perhaps they can, but that does not explain how they know when their person is taking a vacation day. Maybe all dogs don't know, but again, Sas does. When I'm taking a vacation day, she sleeps later, just like on Saturday. And during the horror that was the ice storm, she also knew I wouldn't be going to work. How did she know that when I didn't even know myself until I had assessed the conditions. (Since the electricity was off, I didn't have the benefit of alarm clock and so slept past the usual hour...so did Sas, but on regular work days, she's awake and ready for the day when I come down the stairs. And if I happen to oversleep, she alerts me by barking until I'm up.) But here's the strangest thing...one evening last week, we were just sitting around when suddenly, Sas got up and trotted to the front door. A minute later, she came back to me and looked at me, like well, come on! I had no idea what she wanted and was engrossed in my book, so didn't pay much attention. She persisted...trotting to the door and coming back to look quizzically at me. After 3 or 4 minutes, the doorbell rang. It was H. Sas adores H. and greeted him with shameless enthusiasm. I said to him that I was surprised to see him and had not heard his truck. He explained that he had a few remodeling things to drop off, and by the way, he was driving his car since his truck was in the shop. Now, always before when Sas had anticipated H.'s arrival, I had assumed she could hear his (noisy)truck miles away and so knew when to go to the door. But on this evening, he had driven his car...he'd never driven his car to our house before, so how did she know it was H...or anybody coming to see us? And yet, clearly, she did know. Sometimes, I wish dogs could talk, but then I realize if they could, it would take away the mystique and to explain some of their powers, they'd toss off some phrase like, "Oh it's nothing...just the canine/human cerebral interface...didn't you know about that?" In much the same way as communications between men and women often have an element of mystery, so do human/dog interactions, and if you can relax and go with it, that can be part of the fun. You just have to shake your head and say, "Wow," and appreciate what you cannot understand as part of the spark that keeps things interesting.

--Ina

the hounds of HELL

Sasquatch and I were just hanging out. It had been another grueling day...the office for me and dealing with remodeling changes for Sas. So we were watching the Game Show Channel. It was showing a retrospective, The Price is Right: The Bob Barker Years. It was going to be on for several days, I believe, so Sas was in heaven. She loves Bob Barker and knows what an animal lover he is, although she doesn't buy in completely with his tag line, "Remember, get your pets spayed or neutered." Sasquatch regrets never having had children. She would have been a good mother, tender and protective, but fun! Well, she has enough to do taking care of me...

I did check my HELL email while Sas was wagging over Bob. I was surprised to see that Shih-tzu2u4u8u had sent an "intimate" message. I thought I'd gotten rid of him once and for all. Perhaps you remember Shih-t...He's married, but his wife doesn't understand him at all, especially his raging sex drive. He thought HELL might provide him a little action on the side, unbeknownst to the "missus," perhaps with me 3 or 4 days a week, at my house, of course, since his house had the missus in it and she just would not approve. No, he was quite certain that she must not ever catch wind of his plan. He had asked me for my phone number so he could call me from his car on his cell phone. (He said he'd looked up "Tizzy" in the White Pages...whatta dope.) Well, no, I didn't think I'd be sharing my number with him. And told him to leave me alone. I am not interested in having him come over 3 or 4 days a week for a quick roll in the hay. I don't even know what he looks like! He may be a ringer for Marty Feldman for all I know (thanks, M, for reminding me of Marty...need to see Young Frankenstein again, stat.). I'm no beauty, but I do have my standards!!

One day, Sas snapped a picture of me as I was reading that classic novel, Slugs in Love, by Susan Pearson. The photo, taken from behind me, shows my hair, but not my face. Since it showed little that could be used to identify me, I included in my HELL profile. Shih-t has always seemed fascinated by my hair...perhaps he has a hair fetish...Is there such a thing? So, in his latest message to me, he said that my hair looked just like the hair of a woman who'd been on the news for killing her husband and wondered if she were I? Well, I don't know...I don't watch the news. I wrote him back and said that yes, I had done it, but hadn't meant too. It was an unfortunate emasculation accident. I thought this message would scare him off. But no, our Shih-t is a brave man. He sympathized with me! He called me "poor thing" and hoped I wouldn't go to jail! Damn! The thing to do, of course, would have been to just ignore him and not answer, but those of you who know me know that I cannot resist a challenge. So I answered him and said that indeed, I already was in jail, but I had assembled a team of the best legal minds in the country and was sure they'd get me the lightest possible sentence. I assured him that I had reconsidered and was now ready to meet him 3 or 4 days a week, but since the jail was not enlightened enough to allow conjugal visits, I would need some help making bail. While I awaited trial, we could meet and his every urge would be satisfied...all he had to do was withdraw several thousand dollars from his account, and send it to my favorite local attorney, AJ, who would take care of everything. (Must remember to alert AJ to the possibility of a large amount of cash arriving at his office and emphasize to him that I know where it came from; otherwise, he might keep it all for himself and I cannot allow that to happen. I have remodeling and new furniture to pay for.) I'm awaiting Shih-t's response...it's been 2 days...Either way, it's win-win for me...I've scared him off with talk of big money or he's sending big money and my financial worries are over. Sometimes, I'm a little frightened of how devious I can be. Since I learned most of it from Sas though, I in no way consider it a character flaw.

--Ina

another day in remodeling hell...

Sasquatch finally got her day of beauty. She was very excited and romped with delight. I had talked her out of letting her bangs grow out, and she came home with a completely different look. I'm not sure I would have emphasized the eyebrows quite so much, but she likes it and that's all that matters. She really looks much better with a shorter 'do. If I were good with scissors, I could trim her from time to time and save an expensive salon visit, but I'm no stylist and she has had the good fortune to have found a good one, so it's worth the money. There's nothing like a day at the spa to cheer a girl right up!

It was good that she was out of the house because it was chaotic in there! Carpet and floors were being ripped up with abandon; the shop vac blared, plus the radio. You have to have it pretty loud to hear it over the shop vac! There were large male creatures who were generally in the way and it was best that she was spared the ordeal, especially after what she's been through with the winter weather and her many bad hair days. "Lucky dog" took on a whole new meaning...


While H. and A. were happily working, I decided to take a look at my handbasket from HELL, which had arrived the night before. Well, there were some interesting selections this time...interesting, not appealing. One called himself Flirty4U...He looked like Samuel L. Jackson (thanks for noticing the resemblance, M...I couldn't think who he reminded me of.) and had trouble spelling...lots of trouble. He wondered wy he didt get tons of emails sinse he was no diffrent from nobody els. He was afecshunut and compasshunut just like everone els, so wy he got few emails was hard to understand. He liked walking around the house nude, and yet the first thing folks noticed about him were his clothes. He spent a lot of time thinking about getting laid...off. Well, I've always liked men who are a little different and if he's just like everone els, then I'm just not that interested. Sory, Flirty.



There was another one...I can't remember his name...I don't remember anything about him, except he used the words "worst case cinerio" in his profile. That was enough for me. And then there was...well, his moniker is just appalling and I cannot reveal it. I'm sorry I ever saw it, but I'll tell you a little about him because its just too revolting to keep to myself. According to his self-summary, he's a very large man who is looking for a very sexual woman. He likes long kisses...he mentions his very large hands and feet, and all that they say about him! He wants to whisper sweetly to us in his "deep baritone voice." That's funny...usually the timbre of one's voice doesn't come through in whispers. Actually, he spells pretty well, but it was his picture, plus that disgusting moniker, that told me I must reject him. What was he thinking? I fail to understand what some of these men do in the hopes of finding a woman. How can he possibly think that any woman in her right mind would go all oh baby over that awful picture and his stupid description of his large hands and feet and all they imply. Well, maybe some women would, I don't pretend to know. But not this woman, not in a million years. I must not let Sas see this photo. She's far too innocent and I'm afraid she might be scarred for life. I'm thinking about turning in the key to my handbasket. If this is the best the administrators in HELL can do, then I might very well be done with the whole thing.


When Sas returned from her day of beauty, she was undone by all the changes that had taken place in her absence. She looked at me like WTF?? I tried to explain, but she just wandered around her home, sniffing and looking for familiar things...her carpet was gone, her rug where she chewed happily on bones, gone. She was bewildered, but still pumped up by her new coif and bandanna! Her stylist, knowing that Sas was tired to death of winter and snow, had given her a bright floral bandanna to remind her that Spring was near, and she wore it proudly. She paraded around, swinging her hips, to catch the eyes of her new best boyfriends, H. and A. They were appreciative and patted her head and called her beautiful. She was aglow from their attention! But the day had exhausted her and soon, she was ready for bed.

She was so tired, she refused most of her dinner, which for Sasquatch, is rare indeed. I'd spent the whole day cooking, but I didn't really mind if she wasn't hungry...she'd had a big day, and it was enough for me to see her happy and confident again. Sometimes, a day of beauty is just the thing.















--Ina

and now for something completely different...

Sasquatch and I had discussed it and we came to the conclusion that we needed to remodel. We were tired of our surroundings and needed a change. We spent many hours thinking about what we'd like done and finally arrived at a plan. Now, we needed someone to carry out our vision, and I just happened to know somebody! I'd met H. when the company he worked for moved into the building where my office is. He was a very charming man with lovely manners. (You may have noticed that I'm a sucker for nice manners...) Over the course of our conversations, I learned that he did remodeling. Well, I needed remodeling done and we spoke of it and he agreed to take on the project. It was a good thing I wasn't in a hurry to have the work done...Yes, that was indeed a good thing. I was patient...extremely patient....more patient than normal for me. But I didn't want to interview a dozen contractors and he seemed most capable. So, I waited. Actually, I waited for several months. In fact, I was almost out of the notion. My patience paid off though and he came by to measure and look and figure and discuss. We arrived at a plan and a price, and suddenly, there Sas and I were in the middle of a remodeling project! How exciting and how noisy!

H. and his helper, A., (a very polite young man) came by to start ripping up stuff and generally disrupting my life. But that was their job and so I didn't mind...too much. (I was a little distressed when I heard H. say, "A., do you know how to use a nail gun?" And A. said, "No, but I'd like to learn!") Great! A nail gun neophyte in my house! Sas, on the other hand, has been a little confused by these recent developments. She isn't used to men wielding crowbars in her house...well, I'm not either, but, being slightly more sophisticated, I'm better able to hide my confusion. Sasquatch has been delighted with the prospect of other people in her house. She has danced around and generally made a fool of herself in her shameless bid for attention from attractive men. Sometimes she's such a whore! I have lectured her extensively on the dangers of throwing herself at any new man who enters her life, but she has refused to listen. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and really, who's to say she's wrong? And so, she's flirted and invited H. and A. to play and has been a pest, but H. and A. have taken it in stride, almost as if they're used to this kind of wanton behavior. I think they're being polite.

And so now our home is in disarray...well, it's usually in disarray because I'm so busy working and blogging and emailing Internet boyfriends and picking up random piles of cat throw up that I have little time for housework. What I need is a maid. And I think I might look into that. Actually, my workload would be diminished if the cats disappeared. (I'm considering asking H. if I can borrow his nail gun...to nail some stuff. No, I don't know how to use one and if an unfortunate accident were to happen involving cats, well, it it wouldn't really be my fault, being nail gun unsavvy and all. Yes, I think I must discuss this with him as soon as possible. I'm sure a nail gun is most appropriate for hanging pictures and I have many that need hanging...)

When I arrived home this evening after a grueling day at work full of corporate bullshit and incomprehensible spreadsheets, I found that H. and A. had been hard at work, taking up flooring. The racket was incredible...but one must endure unpleasantness to appreciate the good things that come from it. And now, I'm walking on plywood! It's most distressing, but will be worth it in the end. I hope. I didn't even have a chance to check with HELL to see if I had any more perfect boyfriend prospects (right). My HELL matches are a sad story, and will be discussed at length...later. There will be more to this saga of floors and countertops and light fixtures and faucets and sinks and no, I have not picked out everything yet, H., but I will. Those of you who've been reading but are bored by tales of home improvements might want to take a break for awhile. Soon...well, I'm not exactly sure how soon, but eventually, Chez Ina & Sas will be transformed!

--Ina

another kind of HELL...redux, part II

Sasquatch was wild to get my attention. I was in a stupor caused by 3 days of performance appraisal writing. In fact, I was near catatonia or perhaps even cataplexy, but Sas persisted and managed to revive me by smiling broadly and pawing at my knee. She wanted to watch Hawaii 5-0 on the Crime Show Channel. She'd heard of this show, but had never seen it and was curious about Dan-o. Plus, she thought it might help her remember that Hawaii was, in fact, a state and so would improve her geography skills. Sas looks for any opportunity to enrich her education, which is an admirable goal. I still haven't figured out how she knows the television schedule, but she does. So I was brought out of my trance-like state and gradually regained my senses. Sas was dancing with desire to see Hawaii 5-0, so I found the channel and she was content.


I had spent Friday in frustration, writing reviews, dealing with corporate nonsense, and then had to go back to the office on Saturday to finish reviews and make up snow time. As an exempt employee, I didn't think I should be made to make up time, but da man saw it differently, so I did my corporate duty.


Valentine's Day at the office...five more depressing words have never been written...However, on a bright note, there were Valentine's Day Doughnuts! But wait! The box was there, but where were the doughnuts?!? It was just an empty box! Damn! No doughnuts, no Valentines, just reviews. Shit...So, I evaluated, I appraised, I typed and saved and typed some more. It was a long day...And it was only 5 hours! It's amazing how long a Saturday hour is at the office, and yet how short at home...I think its a time warp thing. Finally, I was finished. The last review had been written, saved, and sent. Whew! Mr V and B and I decided to go to lunch to celebrate...Well, Mr V and I were celebrating...B was just taking a break. I was astounded when Mr V said he was treating us to lunch! I felt like I'd gotten a Valentine! A platonic one, of course. Thanks Mr V!
Thus fortified by a delicious hamburger and some home-made chips, I went home. But first, I had to stop by the grocery because I had told J&G that I'd bring gumbo to their house for dinner and I needed bread to go with it. I shopped quickly and finally arrived home! At last! It was wonderful to be there and Sas was happy too! I checked the mailbox and guess what? Valentines! Wow! How exciting! There was this one and that one and the other one, and a couple more and surprisingly, one from Sasquatch! How could that have happened? I know too well that all her credit cards are maxxed out and she hasn't even been anywhere to shop lately. Well, she had some help...Oh, and an assorted chocolate sampler in a heart-shaped box sent through the mail and only slightly squashed (although, to tell the truth, I'd have rather had an imported shoe sampler, but I suppose that would have been too much to ask). I read my cards and put the chocolate somewhere out of sight and then finished up the gumbo, which, you may remember was supposed to be my contribution to the office pot luck. But apathy had cancelled that so I was left with a huge pot of seafood stock.

At J's house, the gumbo happily simmered and I added some frozen scallops and a bag of shrimp, which were peeled, but still had their little shrimpy tails. Well, G was appalled at the shrimp tails...it bordered on disgust! J, always the loving wife, patiently de-tailed the shrimp in G's bowl, while I looked on like WTF?!? The gumbo was extraordinarily delicious. It brimmed with shrimp and scallops and crab and andouille sausage plus onions, celery, and peppers (but don't tell G...he hates those last three things). And so, despite the office, Valentine's Day ended on a happy note. I was disappointed that HELL had not sent me a special Valentine's Day handbasket, but if recent handbaskets were any indication, it would have been a disappointment too.

--Ina

another kind of hell...redux

Sasquatch was delighted to see me again this afternoon. Sometimes, I think my homecoming might be the highlight of her day. Often, when she's especially happy, Sas licks her nose. Yes, if you or I were to lick our nose in happiness, it would be weird, but for Sas, it's an expression of joy. I do not judge what I cannot understand about superior beings.

Today was exactly like yesterday...another day in performance appraisal hell. Exactly like yesterday...except possibly more frustrating. Yesterday, I had gotten off to a shaky start, but found my rhythm and blazed down the stretch...and if I faltered at the end, well, I figured that today, with a little more conditioning than yesterday, I'd be able to rate and finish strong. But something happened. Like Arazi, the odds-on favorite who finished eighth in the 1992 Derby, I had a bad day. Perhaps I was off my feed...maybe I woke up sore...it might have been that someone had tried to kill me with a poison cupcake that morning.

As the pot luck lunch had been cancelled because of apathy, it had been suggested that the leadership team might want to provide cupcakes for the staff, in celebration of Valentine's Day and as a naked plea for acceptance and respect. One editor knew of a cupcake establishment that baked superior cakes, and with the blessing of da man, she ordered cupcakes for the staff.

On the morning of the Cupcake Caper, the managers were frantically writing performance appraisals...or were frantically thinking of writing them...or were sobbing in despair over the prospect of writing 15 or 16 (it's so hard to keep up with the exact number) appraisals in the next 2 days. It was chaotic. Nerves were frayed. Tempers were short. But then, da man appeared with his box of sugary, buttery deliciousness and strolled the aisles between the cubicles, dispensing treats to one and all. I had had to go outside to get some air...all that sobbing had made me all stuffed up and I thought a few deep breaths of sub-zero air would clear things right up. And when I got back in my office, I saw it there on the desk...the red cake of death...Oh it looked innocent enough, sitting there with its wreath of white fluffy frosting and its perky red sugar sprinkles, but I knew what it was right away. Red velvet!

Those of you who were not brought up in the South may be unfamiliar with Red Velvet cake. It is an abomination. It is a cake that tastes of, well, nothing really, except sugar and a slight tang from buttermilk. It typically is dry and relies on too much sweet, greasy cream cheese icing to make it at all palatable. But the worst thing about Red Velvet cake is the source of its screaming red hue...bottles and bottles of red dye #3, the dye of death. There's enough red dye in one of these cupcakes to kill a normal human several times over. The only reason most people survive is because they cannot finish one or even take more than a bite or two before the gag reflex takes over and saves them from certain death. And this is what had been left on my desk two days before performance appraisals were due?

I was stunned. Why was I being singled out? Did upper management think my performance was so dismal that death was to be the "overall rating" on my own appraisal? Was my staff attempting a coup? I couldn't think. And I certainly couldn't work on any performance appraisals. I went to Mr V's office for advice and found him near death, choking and holding his hand to his throat. I quickly opened his cherry Coke and poured it down his gullet. I think the fizz must have worked its way through the clogged up cupcake, much like Drano works on those stubborn clogs in your kitchen sink, because he soon began to breathe normally and his color returned. When he regained his ability to speak, we talked in hushed tones about what might be going on. We called our colleague, B., who reported that since eating her own cupcake, she'd been oddly not able to have a coherent thought. It would take much deep thought and perhaps help from the outside to get to the bottom of this .

Meanwhile, another colleague, Buford, had found the top of one of the cupcake boxes and had been happily playing with it. He asked for a photo, so I obliged. It wasn't like I was getting any work done...I was touched by his childlike glee and was determined to make the best of my frightening situation. But, I also was determined to get to the bottom of the killer cupcake caper, but not today. I was tired and hungry and needed a nap. So I worked at simple things until it was time to go home to my most wise and reassuring boon companion, Sas. Perhaps I'd take a look at the Valentine's matches HELL had sent or maybe we'd just watch a little Game Show Channel. But NOT the Golf Channel, not tonight.

--Ina