We rent the building our bookstore is in. A couple of weeks ago we get a stereotypical the-sky-is-falling-oh-my-gawd-what-are-you-going-to-do-about-this phone call from The Wife part of the landlord team who informs us that they had a $4000-dollar water bill last month.

Uh. HUH!?!?

We have a 2-story building, of which we only use the downstairs right now.
We have 1 bathroom (that barely anyone but me uses).
We have a sink downstairs. I use it to rinse the coffee pot out.
And, we are only open 3 days per week right now (because of Ella).

So, she's trying to tell us that we owe her for a $4000/month water bill. Uh. No. I don't think so.

Todd gets the REAL story from The Husband - it was really $400 NOT $4000 (gee, hm, big difference). OK, that's still a lot for what we do here. So, they were going to send the city out to check our meter and in the meantime they want to check the inside to insure that, uh, I don't know?

  1. We aren't using our faucet to get the water level up in the river out front, and/or
  2. We aren't using our storefront as a bootleg to sell superior American water to the Canadians who come across on the ferry?

Anyway, they want to check out the inside. TODAY.

So I come in this morning and fill up a bucket to water the poor wilting flowers out front. I set the bucket on the floor to fill up the next jug (heh heh "jug") and I look down and there is a flood of water all over the floor.


Of course this would happen today of all days. Does it look conspicuous to have an entire bucket of wet rags on the day that, "No Mrs. Cleaver, we don't have a water problem" is coming?


Addendum: BTW...the water came from a hole in my bucket (in case you didn't figure that out) and NOT any water problems or issues at the store.
Of any kind.
In any way.


A few weeks after Ella was born, my mom and dad were up. I had gone out for something exotic (like groceries, I'm sure) and my parents were at home with Ella. Upon my arrival back home, I went into my home office to check my email. Much to my surprise, my computer desktop looked like this:

Yep-upside down.

Now, there were two things I knew:
1. I didn't put my computer desktop like that, and
2. I hadn't been drinking (seeing how I hadn't had a drink in many months and was breast feeding).

When my dad came in I said, "Ha, ha, dad, very funny." My dad is pretty computer savvy and I had assumed he had done this little "trick" as a joke.

His response?
"Uh, I've never seen that before in my life."

Well, APPARENTLY, Ninja Cocaine Kitty (who likes to lay on my keyboard and/or fling himself off of my keyboard to gain height and speed for his next ninja move), hit some series of keys that turned my desktop upside down. (Yeah, great idea right? A set of keystrokes that turns your screen upside down...)
Since then, he's done other minor "damages" - changing the resolution on the screen, opening a WORD document and then saving it, renaming files, and on and on...

If you're wondering what the PC key strokes are (and/or want to play this little fun nugget with your family and friends), the Windows key strokes are CTRL, ALT, and down arrow (all at the same time). (To get your screen upright again, just do the same except with the up arrow).

Now, Go forth and play tricks. Just email me to let me know the reactions of the people you play the trick on...


An update on Ninja Cocaine Kitty is so long overdue that it will be a multi-posting update.

Part 1: Ninja Cocaine Kitty and Ice Hockey

First off, I would love to tell you that Ninja Cocaine Kitty (NCK) has cooled his Ninja Cocaine spastic ways and settled into a nice, calm, loving cat. But that would just be be a lie. There might not be a bigger lie on the face of the earth. So, we'll just say NCK is continuing his Ninja Cocaine Kitty ways.

Case #1 - The Ice.

NCK is obsessed with ice. I don't mean just interested. I mean utterly and completely obsessed. It's so bad that he doesn't even have to hear you getting ice out of the refrigerator door, he can just hear you opening the cabinet to get the glass that you are taking over to get ice out of the freezer and he will fly through the house to fling himself at you in the best Ninja kitty move. Once he arrives, he awaits, crouched expectantly, for you to throw an ice cube in his direction. Sometimes he jumps up to catch it (this cat has some mad jumping skills), but mostly he just waits for it to hit the floor so he can ice hockey it all over the house, eventually leaving it to melt in a puddle where I can later step in it and think it's kitty pee or pet puke of some kind.

A couple of months ago, Todd said, "Guess where I found Freddie [aka: Ninja Cocaine Kitty] today?" With him, it's pretty much a toss up, so I shrugged unceremoniously.

"Hanging from the ice dispenser on the refrigerator door trying to get his own ice," Todd said in awe.

"Do you think he was trying to make me a margarita?" I replied. (...because it seemed the only reasonable response).


What is all this crap new and improved cool stuff to your blog, you ask? Well, I've been thinking. The site is called WRITER ramblings. Seeing how I never really talk about my writing or about books, I thought I would start doing something semi-literary. Namely? Letting you know what I'm reading - see "Current Reads" in the sidebar and also cool books that I recommend (uh, see above). I'll change the recommended reads regularly probably rarely but at least they are there now on occasion, and probably the current reads even less. (Please, no comments about how slow I'm reading right now. Hellloooo, I do have a 6 month old, you know).

Also, you will see a regular a posting when I feel like it after some margaritas an occasional book review. But don't expect your current bestsellers. RARELY do I read what everyone else is reading. *shudder to conformity* But, you might find some interesting reviews/recommendations anyway (or not).

Anyway, it's just what I was thinking tonight.
It will probably all change tomorrow with the light of day (but you can't blame a girl for trying).


Today I got to say the P-word at work.
You know penis...

A guy came in and pulled a book from the shelf called Venus Envy. (I know, I giggled at the play on words, too, but it really isn't a good book. And I own a bookstore. And I've heard from others that they didn't enjoy it. So I consider myself a semi-expert on good books. I digress...)

So anyway this guy (we'll call him CHCWNT) pulls Venus Envy from the shelf.

CHCWNT: I don't get it.
ME: What's that?
CHCWNT: The title. Venus Envy? What does that mean? I don't get it.
ME: *blink*blink*blink*
ME: WELLLLL... I think it's a play on words.
CHCWNT: What words?
ME: *blink*bink*blink*
ME: Um...Penis.
ME: PENIS. I think it's supposed to be a play on PENIS ENVY.

and then he says?

CHCWNT: It's too tight here, I can't get it back in... (as he tried to shove the book back on the shelf)

NOTE: OK, I realize in my own juvenile, crude mind this might only be funny to me to link together an innocent conversation like this, but, hey, whatever. A girl has to amuse herself somehow.


I have a dirty little secret:
Blogging makes me feel validated.

I don't know what it is about blogging, but it makes me feel important. Like I really exist in this world. Something special in a universe of other special things. Like I'm "someone" in this big ole bad blog-o-sphere black hole.

I don't know who reads my blog. I don't even know how many people access it. I rarely even look at the statistics that tells me these things (the last time I looked was months and months ago). However, I still feel some kind of existence just blogging. Maybe it has something to do with my lack of adult contact and spending 12 hours a day babbling, "SAY MAMA! Come on MAAAA-MAAAA. I KNOW YOU CAN SAY IT! SAY MAAAAA-MAAAA" to a 5 month old.

But I could be wrong.
It could be that I'm just completely egocentric.



A regular customer came in the bookstore today. She had her cute little granddaughter with her. She just turned five. Not only did she get a Barbie car, but she also got a Barbie Cake. When the customer told me this I had a flood of memories and disappointment rush over me.

I never got a Barbie cake.
And I wanted a Barbie cake.
I asked for a Barbie cake growing up.
But I never got a Barbie cake.
Jodie (a girl I grew up with) got a great Barbie cake.
I asked for a Barbie cake for my birthday after that, but I never got one.
And, yes, I'm still bitter.

On occasion, I bring up the Barbie cake neglect to Todd. So much so that sometimes when I'm complaining about something (besides NOT getting a Barbie cake), he'll say, "Yeah, yeah. I know. You never got a Barbie cake."

When I was pregnant, I saw a Barbie cake at the grocery store. There she was, sitting on top of the bakery counter in her own little clear plastic protective box, as beautiful as ever. I knew this was my chance and I shrieked, "A BARBIE CAKE! I want a Barbie cake when I have my baby!!" Fully understanding and knowing the importance of THE BARBIE CAKE, I just KNEW my sensitive husband would remember and get me a Barbie cake to celebrate Ella's birth. Five months later? Still waiting for that Barbie cake...

For those of you who have NO IDEA what a Barbie cake is, you must now leave my blog...

Still here? *sigh* OK. A Barbie Cake is a Barbie doll stuck in a cake to look like the cake part is the bottom of her big ball gown. A Barbie cake looks like this:


Anyway, my bookstore customer today told me that she had a Barbie cake when she was a child. She reminded me that most Barbie cakes had only "faux" Barbies - that is the doll part had no legs (it was just a Barbie upper torso on a stick).

That's not how I remember it. Jodie's Barbie cake had a REAL, FULL SIZE Barbie. Know how I know? I GOT TO PLAY WITH THE BARBIE WHEN I NEVER RECEIVED MY OWN BARBIE CAKE.


So, I'm here today to officially announce the unofficial title of my memoir:

I Never Got a Barbie Cake (and Other Childhood Deprivations That Made Me Who I Am Today).

I'm totally serious. So don't steal it (HELLLOOOOO COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL).

Did I mention I never got a Barbie cake?!?!