New post in the bookblog.
Holiday weekend! Woo-hoo! Swimming, cooking out, Jorel’s 21st birthday, washing the cars! We’re so money!!!
Monthly Archive for June, 2006
Today is Kris’ last day to work in Trussville. I asked him this morning how many years he’s worked at Rococo. Over twelve.
He is far more excited than sad, but it’s closing a chapter in his life. So there’s emotion.
It already feels awesome to have him in town, but full time now? Even awesomer. (Great word, I know.)
Next Friday, we are having the Moxie salon’s grand opening. How is this different than the open house, you ask? Cause back then, it was just Kris, just two days a week. And now?
Now the Moxie is three full-time stylists, open Tuesday through Saturday. Sounds like something to celebrate to me.
Pshaw.
More like a 3 cat in window day:
GJ called me yesterday and asked if I bought her any groceries at K-Mart. That would be a no. And then she asks “Well, what is K-Mart?”
“Uh…” I stall out of confusion, because she shops at K-Mart. Like, on a semi-regular basis.
“Is it like Wal-Mart?”
Da hell?
I finally realize that she is looking at her credit card statement and sees two numbers. She figures that the number on the card she ordered for me should be the same number as on her card. Rightly so. I won’t know what the deal is until I can see it in person, but maybe she made purchases at each of the two K-Marts locally and they have separate store numbers?
Oi.
I want to have a nice, greasy, horrible for you dinner, but I am out of frozen pizza and Johnson’s doesn’t carry “my flavor” and FoodMax is not on my way home and already I am so tired and drained just because I know I will be going to GJ’s tonight.
I left work the same way yesterday because I had dinner at Mama Juanita’s.
My grandmothers make me tired.
When I was a kid and my mom made spaghetti, she always used vermicelli noodles. I noticed our spaghetti was always thinner than spaghetti I ate at the school lunchroom or friends’ houses. As sometimes happens when you’re a kid, this bothered me. Like it wasn’t “right” that she used those kind of noodles.
When I began to cook for myself, I bought rotini noodles cause they looked fun. Mom always complained about this, calling them “worm noodles.”
Turns out Kris is sort of like my parents and prefers a thinner ’sketti noodle. As a shopper these days, I buy the noodles labeled Thin Spaghetti. (Oh, the choices of today’s consumer.)
Last night, Jaimie made dinner and, presumably because rotini “sounds like more fun,” that was the pasta she bought. She let me take some leftovers to reheat at work today. The coworkers I normally eat with are both absent today, so I guess I concentrated on my food a little more than usual. And I gotta tell ya, sitting there chewing my pasta, my thoughts were…
“Damn, these really are like worm noodles.”
You gonna take my picture?
Originally uploaded by DameCatoe.
There are so many things listed on this date on my calendar (payday, car payment due, Nathan’s birthday)… that I would’ve forgotten if Dad hadn’t mentioned it yesterday.
Funny how that goes. I never really think of it as a date, anyway. I think of it as a Sunday. I think of it as the month after I got married. I think of it as the turning point.
I would rather it stay that way. So that June 22 can just be a day. No. So it can be a friend’s birthday.
Saturday was a bad hair day, so I went down to the salon after Kris finished his day, flipped through a hair magazine and asked “how about this?”
I had been toying with the notion of a super-short cut for weeks. We’d be sitting around and I’d say something like “how about Keira Knightley’s hair in Domino?” and Kris would give me a blank stare because he didn’t remember what her hair looked like in that movie.
New favorite beer: Red Stripe
New favorite wine: 2003 Rosemount Shiraz
New favorite recipe: grilled corn coated in butter, fresh lime juice & chili powder
New favorite thing to hate about rednecks: cockfighting
New favorite thing to dream about: a loft on Broad
New favorite movie from Netflix: Aeon Flux
New favorite trick in Illustrator: outline stroke
New favorite album: Dixie Chicks’ Taking the Long Way
New favorite news: Heather Adams is engaged
New favorite shoes: my birthday Birks
New favorite thing, voice dripping with sarcasm: how it never rains anymore
My Mama Juanita does two main dishes really well: roast beef and chicken strips. Everything else is hit or miss. Years ago, there were far more hits than misses. But the gal isn’t as young as she used to be, and now there are more misses.
Yesterday, she wanted to have hamburgers on the grill because it was Father’s Day. She made them in the shape of hockey pucks and then appointed my uncle to grill them.
Now, I am 100% sure that my Uncle John can grill a mean burger in his own home. I was not present for the grilling yesterday, so I don’t know the variables, but I am allowing that there could have been plenty.
What I do know is that after placing one hockey puck burger on the bun, I cut another in half to add so that the meat would actually be about the size of the bun. I noticed the patty was kinda pink inside.
I sort of skirted off to the sidelines and cut into the other one. Pinker.
Maybe you already know, or maybe you can guess: I am strictly a well-done beef eater. You can yammer on (like my granddad did at the table) that “it won’t hurt ya.” I do not care; I will take charred over medium well any day.
I whispered to my dad and Kris quietly, “hey, if I microwave these, will it finish cooking them?” They thought so. I went ahead and microwaved some for them, too.
I did not ‘wave them long enough. Mine were still gray-pink. The center of Kris’ burger was Pepto Bismol pink. The pink of the Carnation Pink Crayola.
We ate a lot of chips and dip.
I have this thing where when I go to the Book Corner in Rainbow City, I forget all the names of the authors I like. I wandered around for fifteen minutes, but I did pick out a romance, a mystery, a book that a movie I once saw was based on and a young adult novel because I liked the illustration on the cover.
The lady behind the counter asked for my name to see if I had any credit from bringing in used books. I haven’t been since last summer, so I said I was sure I didn’t. She wanted to check anyway. (Sweet lady.) So I say my name is “Catoe with a C,” because if I don’t say with a C, people always look under K. (And sometimes even when I say with a C.)
I forget that I talk sorta fast sometimes. I had to repeat myself three times. So then I feel like an idiot because everyone in the store now knows my last name is “CATOE! WITH A CEEEEE!” except the sweet old lady behind the counter, who thinks my last name is Winchester.
