When Feminism Stings

I consider myself a feminist. I’m not an extreme feminist. I’ve never burned my bra or hated someone for having a penis. I just firmly believe that women are capable of functioning successfully without a man and, at times, better. There are certain things that I believe are a man’s job, like taking out the trash. However, this should not be mistaken for me admitting weakness. I just don’t like to take out the trash.

The past few days, I’ve noticed that we’ve had a wasp flying in the area between the front door and the screen door. I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me to do something about it, but today when I saw a small nest next to the screen door’s hinge, I knew I was in trouble. My first reaction was to call the indomitable. He was in a meeting at work and didn’t answer his phone. I thought a moment and remember that a year ago I was living alone, and at that time, it would have been my responsibility. I was still capable of killing bugs by myself. Mean, huge bugs with stingers. So I hopped in the car and set out for Walgreens.

It was dark when I came home and the porch light wasn’t on. Have you ever tried to unlock your door without any light? Have you ever done this with the fear of an allergic reaction from millions of wasp stings? To boot, the indomitable was at a hockey game so no one was around to drive me to the hospital if needed. As soon as I got safely inside, I prepared the bug spray. Our front door opens on the opposite side of the screen door. This made for easy access to the nest without opening the door all the way.

I cracked the door and sprayed the can. It scared the hell out of me. For some reason, I was imaging a gentle spray that suffocated the nest. What I got was a high power stream with the force of a fire hydrant. I thought it was going to knock down the nest, causing dozens of wasps to swarm me. Needless to say, I did not spray it for the required 2-3 seconds.

Now I find myself trapped in the house. I need to water my plants. I need to check the mail. But I’m not going outside. The indomitable isn’t home yet. He’ll have to walk through the front door to get inside. I could check it out before he gets here, but I think that he should check. It definitely seems like a man’s job.

Sweet Fancy Moses

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The Lord said to not covet thy neighbor’s house, but what about coveting things from Amazon? I’m sure I’m breaking some commandment for these, but here are the latest things I’m jonesing for: outdoor entertaining edition.



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Blue Ferris Wheel Hummingbird Feeder by Uncommon Goods
Even if the quick flitter of hummingbird wings doesn’t draw you to it, the spinning wheel with complimentary cobalt blue glass of this feeder will catch your eye.

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Animal Corn Holders by Wrapables
The indomitable may be allergic to dogs, but I think he’d fall in love with these corn dogs, especially if they are grilled corn dogs.

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Fueled Outdoor Patio Firepit on Amazon
Keep the party going and a warm ambiance during cold nights.

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Aerogrow Aerogarden Garden Kit on Amazon
Use grow lights for good (and legal) reasons. The Aerogarden allows you to grow healthy salad fixin’s easily for evening munchies.

Kind Buds

The past month or so I’ve felt a little depressed. This is a common thing for me when I’m not working. I feel like I’m constantly working towards something without feel any daily reward. I realize that I’ll be graduating from college in less than fifty days and getting married in less than eighty, but it’s still very difficult to feel a lot of pleasure in waiting, especially when you counterbalance that with all the stressful tasks involved. Last Saturday, I started a new approach. I’m using herbal treatments. By that, I don’t mean the kind that would make me piss hot.

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In an attempt to be domestic, I’ve planted flowers, herbs, peppers, and tomatoes. I’m hoping that I’ve inherited my mother’s green thumb gene. Like all good Arkansans, she grows and cans lots of veggies and pickles every year. I won’t attempt to create my own tomato juice, but I would like a couple of tomatoes.big boy
Words cannot express how much I love my little garden. I find myself skipping to the backyard like a third grader. I frequently open the backdoor just to see how they are doing. I also found myself going to Home Depot today just to buy new dirt and coming back with three more plants. Somehow I don’t think this new hobby will help us save money for the wedding. It will, however, help us stay together because it reduces my depressed manic episodes.

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Taming of the Hef

Categories: Relations | 6 Comments

Over the past thirteen months, the indomitable has undergone radical changes. I would like to personally take credit for a large part of this. When we originally started dating, I told him I was only in it for fun; he told me he was in I t to become “house broken”. After dating for a few months, I realized that I shouldn’t let another woman reap in the rewards from my hard work.

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This is a picture of the indomitable (on the far right) before I entered his life. At that time, he knew my name but didn’t care. In fact, he didn’t care about anything. His daily activities included things that would make his mother cry and his dad furrow his brow in disappointment. He was an angry, fat indomitable.

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This is the indomitable in September of 2006. We started hanging out in April and labeled it as “dating” in June. Notice that he doesn’t look as fat or angry. He still has red eyes, but that’s expected since he only took his contacts out once a month. Despite how rough he looks, you can tell a soul is starting to grow in the empty hole.

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This is the indomitable at my family Thanksgiving. It was the first time he met my family. He’s hair is short and he’s wearing glasses. This is probably the most sincere smile yet. In fact, he looks really happy, which is amazing. I would expect most people to run screaming and frantic after meet my genetic likenesses.

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Indomitable, today. I convinced him to cut his hair short and that it was okay to put hair product on his mane. Personally, I think he looks damn sexy. Over the past thirteen months, he has lost 70lbs, gained 125 (that’s me), and become dead sexy. Oh, the things that the love of a good woman can do!

Daily Digestion 3.20.7

Special K Red Berries with Milk, Baked Doritos, and a Hummus Sprout Sandwich.

He’s a Cop (show) Killer

Categories: Picklings | 3 Comments

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I’m not sure what to make of all the political talk lately. In the past, I’ve been left with a want of something more when comparing candidates for President or Congressman. However, I have come to the conclusion that I will not vote for Fred Thompson. I am not going to pretend I know anything about his actions as a Tennessee Senator from 1994-2003. I do know that I like Fred Thompson as an actor. If he left “Law and Order: Special Victims Unit,” there would be a void in my Thursday night. As a substitute, I would like to offer Ice-T.

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He Bites

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beware

I Still Think They Taste Like Toothpaste

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This is a picture of my lifelong friend, Pittman, that I took in 1997 on my first 35mm SLR. Pittman and I had met the year before at the county fair. I was in the eighth grade and he was a freshman. Since we lived in rural Arkansas, the annual county fair was one of the highlights of our year. It was a Saturday night and the last day of the weeklong festivities. I ran into my friend and fellow band geek, Justin. Justin was accompanied by a hot fellow that I didn’t know. He had long, silky blond hair that was a mixture of cool rebel and Hanson band member. Justin introduced him as Pittman. I thought that was an interesting name, like boys named Lucky or Beau on soap operas.

Much to our dismay, that night it rained and ruined our fair fun. The three of us wandered around the business booths, collecting candy, and gossiping. Eventually Justin had to leave us, and Pittman and I found ourselves sitting on a wooden bench. It wasn’t a private setting. After all, the entire population of the county was inside the stuff, dusty, humid building, but I was in pure heaven. A cute boy was speaking to me! True to junior high form, I was overly dramatic when we argued the value of green peppermints.

That night I went home high on thoughts of Pittman. I daydreamed about him the rest of the weekend and experienced those ecstatic hormone rushes that only early teens feel. Somehow I got the nerve to be daring. During those years, I had settled for boyfriends that were easily accessible and had already shown interest in me. But I like Pittman, and I wanted him to like me back. So on Monday, I snuck into the band room instrument closet and slipped a note inside his saxophone case with three green peppermints. Though we are now just friends, my life has never been the same.

Happy 26th Birthday, Pittman!

Daisy Mae, Do You Take Bubba?

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Yesterday I decided to release my tight grip on wedding coordinating and hire a caterer for the reception dining. However, I’m having a hard time choosing the kind of atmosphere I want to create. The decorations have been finalized: lots of candles and outdoor lights. I’m hoping to create a warm ambiance. I just don’t know if I want to have classy hors d’oeuvres or Mexican food. There is a fine line between great party and white trash wedding reception. And I’ve planned for a cheese fountain so the redneck atmosphere is already locked into place. I guess I could use chocolate in the fountains, but I’m not sure if chocolate compliments Mexican and beer. Everyone tells me that I should do whatever I want, but it’s a constant battle between my anal-retentive self and the low-key gal I want to be.

Weekly Wisdom from Dr. Advice

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People save themselves for marriage and then the wedding night say, “I waited for this?” You know, the first time isn’t that great.