I might end up with carpal tunnel…

But I’m having a lot of fun!

My trip to the mountains was good. The conference went well and I had time in the afternoons to head over to Biltmore Estate in Asheville. B-e-a-utiful! I took lots of pictures, but I’ve got this little craft fair thing coming up in six weeks, so I’ve been dedicating my spare time to getting ready for that- which may be why I’m going to be a little scarce ’round these parts until mid-November or so.

Anywho, here’s my latest little piece. I don’t plan on selling it or anything, just thought I’d play around and see if I could come up with something spooky for one of my most favorite holidays that’ll be here before we know it.

Before

After

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Talk Like a Swashbuckler Tide

Today`s Talk Like a Swashbuckler Tide. Since I first mentioned this tide last voyage an’ th’ “swashbuckler” word, I`ve had 2,500 unique visits t’ me blog from swabbies searchin’ fer swashbucklers. Swashbucklers ben good t’ me. I be good t’ swashbucklers.

Did ye know that th’ WMD be a swashbuckler before he be th’ WMD? He be. An’ so be I. An’ swashbucklers we will always be

(Translation: Today’s Talk Like a Pirate Day. Since I first mentioned this day last year and the “pirate” word, I’ve had 2,500 unique visits to my blog from people searching for pirates. Pirates have been good to me. I’m good to pirates.

Did you know that the WMD was a pirate before he was the WMD? He was. And so was I. And pirates we will always be.)

And if you want to see something really, really cool, click on this link: http://www.syddware.com/cgi-bin/pirate.pl and enter my blog url (http://yankeebelle.wordpress.com) in the section that says “Translate Yer Own Website.

Pirate, pirate, pirate. Pirate, pirate, pirate.

 

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A Conversation with the WMD

Me: Lunch is ready.

WMD: Smells great. (Looks at his plate.) Um, what is it?

Me: Eggplant Parmesan.

WMD: Really. Where’s the eggplant?

Me: Those breaded circle looking thingys.

WMD: Oo-kay.

Me: It was in season at the produce stand. I’m experimenting with cooking new things. I’m trying to broaden our palate. Expand our minds.

WMD: Hrrmmm…

Me: Pretend it’s chicken.

A little while later:

Me: Well, you ate all of it. You must have liked it.

WMD: It was good.

Me: Really? You actually liked it?

WMD: Well, yeah. Except…

Me: Except what?

WMD: It would have been better without the eggplant.

Me: It’s EGGPLANT Parmesan. What’s there to like without the eggplant?

WMD: The spaghetti sauce was good. And the noodles and the cheese.

Me: So basically you’d rather have spaghetti.

WMD: Or this again, without the eggplant.

*********************************************

Off to the mountains this week for a work conference. Don’t know if I’ll have an internet connection or not, so if you don’t hear back from me this week, you’ll know why.

Off to the fresh air, fall leaves and cool weather!

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On Neutrality and Fraud

Well, I didn’t get to make the dolls or learn about HTML this weekend and I played around very little on Photoshop. But I did learn about PayPal fraud and how to launch an investigation when someone breaks into your account. And I learned that the hard way. But, after spending three hours dealing with institutions and entities on Sunday, we’ve got 25% of the money that was taken out of our bank account refunded back to us and I anticipate the other 75% this week sometime. Unless you want some credits for a poker website in Croatia. Then I can sell you those and we’ll call it even.

I did enjoy making the mushrooms. They were excellent and definitely something to add to my rather obsessive palate. Seems that whenever I try something new that I just love, I want to eat it every day for a week. Does that ever happen to you?

We were the last people on planet earth to see The Dark Night last Friday. I think we’ve both wanted to see it for awhile now, but the WMD was hesitant since I had somewhat of a (read=massive) crush on Heath Ledger when I was a freshman in college. While that water went under the bridge a looong time ago, he’s still touchy about it. I did remind the WMD that the target of his jealousy plays a raving lunatic in the film and in real life, well, he just happens to be dead, so no worries on his part. Like there ever was one in the first place.

I did note that during the Joker’s first crazy scene, the WMD had his head slightly turned away from me and was covering his mouth oh-so-nonchalantly with his hand. He thinks I can’t tell when he’s got a big grin of delight on his face. That put a smug smile on my face.

In the end, we both liked it a lot. Except for the parts where people’s faces were slashed open. I covered my eyes for those scenes and waited for the WMD to tell me when they were over.  But what was up with Batman’s voice? I think he needed a Ricola or something.

I learned yesterday that my feet were neutral. They are the Switzerland of feet. Did you know that that was even possible? It is. It means that I don’t need any corrections to my step when I buy shoes. Perfect feet. Huh, who would have guessed? Don’t ask how I know that. You don’t want to know. It includes coworkers and sweaty feet without socks on them.

I think I’m also the last person to play around with Wordle. It’s somuchfun! Head over there, paste a bunch of text in the box and try it for yourself. I think I may capitalize on this for the craft fair coming up by turning my creations into postcards or something. Hey, I know my market.

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Hanna’s Here

So Hanna’s just showed up at the door. As you can see, it’s a good thing we don’t live in Wilmington anymore. Although, I don’t think it’s really going to be that bad for them. Not this time around.

We’re just starting to get some rain. It will pick up tonight along with the wind. Apparently, we’re supposed to be concerned about the pine trees more than anything else. With the drought we’ve had for the last year, their roots aren’t too stable and high winds can send them toppling over.

Guess where we live?

Umm, yeah.

Well hey, I’ve been hoping for a fire to destroy the place so we could just start fresh, but maybe the winds will do it for us! Did I mention that I’m over renovating our house into a cute little cottage? Because I am.

So, while I’m waiting for that to happen, I plan to make these and this this weekend. I also want to work on more of these and learn how to do this.

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A Hypothetical for You

So, um, hypothetically speaking, what would you do if the lawnmower spewed what appeared to be oil from what appeared to be the carburetor shortly before emitting what appeared to be blue smoke with a definite strong odor?

a) Immediately turn the lawnmower off and wait for your husband to get home from work so that he can take care of it.

b) Run screaming for the hills out of fear that the danged machine is about to blow up and take your face with it.

c) Turn it off, roll it over to the far edge of your property near the woods so that your neighbors can’t see (or smell) that you’re about to start up a lawnmower that moments before spewed oil and blue smoke and let it run for a few moments until the smoke clears.

If it were me, I’d chose c. And I did. And I managed to mow half of the lawn before the mower finally gave up the ghost. Well, I hope it didn’t really give up the ghost because that would mean that we would have to buy a new one and we just went on a strict budget that I really don’t want to bust on the second day of the month.

Hoping against hope, I checked the oil (Yes, I did. I really did), wiped off the dipstick, stuck it back in, pulled it back out and all. It said it was fine.

Figuring (really hoping) that I was simply out of gas, I peeked into the tank. While it wasn’t full, I don’t think it could have technically been defined as empty either. But what do I know about lawnmowers? Not much. Actually, nothing. Other than that they cut grass and can shear the top off of your sewer vent if you’re not careful.

 So, I lugged the gas can from the shed and filled…her…him…up. But after furtively trying to get it started by pulling the starter cord fifteen thousand times, nothing happened. All I got for my efforts was a stiff neck. The revenge of the lawnmower.

 So what did I do? I rolled the lawnmower around to the front porch and put her/him next to the front door, so that WMD would be sure to see it when he came traipsing home from work. Not that he would know why it was there, but I thought it would be a nice “Welcome home, honey!” (He hates the word honey used as a term of endearment. I think it comes from one of his five thousand ex-girlfriends.) A lawnmower on the front porch can only mean that something is wrong, very wrong. Or that we’re too lazy to put it away. Either one. Which one do you think he hedged his bets on?

 Should I tell him that I think its issues are a result of me putting the lawnmower in the shed after the last time I mowed at a (slight) angle, so that the oil started to (slightly ) leak out through the thing that appears to be the carburetor? (I really have no idea what it is, but that sounds like I do.) Or should I just let him figure it out, hoping that it’s not my fault and it’s just old and needs replaced? (That’s Southern speak for all of my Northern friends.)

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