It's County Fair Time! And That Can Only Mean ONE Thing...

...vomitous, deep-fried fair food!

Every year over the last few years, the Orange Country Fair in Costa Mesa, CA has introduced some new, weird, deep-fried food.

It's a bare-faced, shameless celebration of FOOD THAT IS BAD FOR YOU. First they take some commonly known junk food such as Twinkies, Oreos, and Coke--and then just to twist the knife a little they deep fry that sucker. Top it off with oh, say, chocolate sauce and powdered sugar and you're good to go. And if they can ram that sucker on a stick, and even better!

The problem is, now every year they have to come up with some new exotic treat, eternally forced to one-up themselves. So we've done the deep fried Oreos...Snickers bars...Twinkies...cheesecake...heck, even Coke, last year. What could POSSIBLY BE LEFT?

Here ya go.

Yeah, baby,
A Chicken & Krispy Kreme Doughnut sandwich!!!

But wait, stop those dry heaves, because that's not all!

Naturally, simply a hunk of chicken on a glazed doughnut isn't vile enough. We need MORE. Add raspberry jelly AND honey!!! Perfection!

As you can see from Chicken Charlie's menu, sadly, health food is not their forte.

Hell, even the promised 'Fresh Veggie Combo' on the far right, initially seeming an oasis of sane food in a freakish sea of grease...has the words, 'Deep Fried!' under it, cruelly yanking away any chance of escaping your arteries hardening. Under that, they laughingly list the innocent vegetables being tortured: asparagus, artichoke hearts, mushrooms and zucchini (Ok, I can actually get behind torturing zucchini). It's scary that the broasted chicken is the healthiest thing on the menu.

At any rate, J. decided to try one. Here it is, in all it's nasty glory.

They missed the 'deep frying' step here, but still, a more unholy union of foods I cannot imagine.

Here he is, trying gamely to swallow the bite he took.

All in all, J.'s verdict was, 'it wasn't bad'. N. opted for the deep fried cheese balls, but we took one look at this one and tried to convince her they were really deep fried slugs. Antennae, ahoy!

I just watched in horrified fascination.

Life Is Outrunning Me

I hate it when that happens. Things are happening that I'm planning on, but before I'm ready for them.

My car needed work: brakes, transmission adjusted (annoyingly, it won't reliably go into 'park') and the ignition was refusing the key. Had to wait until N. was out of school and I could go without the car for a few days.

OK, so the thing spent three days lounging at the mechanics last week, because everyone else had the same idea. My mechanic is close to having a nervous breakdown, he's so busy. I need the car back so I can go and get new glasses, which I'm trying to schedule for next week.

Get the car back, and it's acting strange on the way home, although it's problems seem fixed. Later that day, I go out to the car...and my car radio is possessed--it scans through all the channels and won't stop, then it fades out and turns off. Restart the car, repeat weird radio problem. *sigh* Well, I knew that radio was on it's last legs, anyway. Start car to run errands...and it dies. Hmm. Go to restart it, and it's dead.

OK, now I'm getting annoyed. An electrical problem. I just GOT the thing back. I need it to be reliable and NOT strand me on some hot as Hell LA freeway in summer. I call the mechanic and he swears up and down that he didn't TOUCH the electrical system. I suspect he shorted something out. So J. gets out his volt meter and finds that the battery has a low charge, and it's dropping. The alternator (which is less than 6 months old) isn't charging the battery. We jump the car and get it back over to the mechanic. HE tests parts, and says both the alternator and voltage regulator are fried. So we take it back home and J. spends a couple of happy hours in the oppressive heat changing out the parts. Joy, it lives again. It still is acting funny though, so I think it has more surprises waiting in the wings.

So this morning I have a doctors' appointment, another tomorrow with a different doctor--I'm going to call the optometrist to make that appointment, but first I run out front to turn off the sprinkler. I get some water drops on my glasses so I grasp them to take them off so I can wipe them dry...

They fall in half in my hands.

*double sigh* I truck back into the house and dig up an old pair of glasses, which I'm wearing now and are a grand headache in the making. I call the optometrist...he only works on Wednesdays.

What's this Wednesday, kids? Fourth of July, yay!

He can't see me till NEXT week. Just once I'd like things to just HOLD OFF for a bit. I'm going to get them done, I swear! Gimme a break, for cri-yi!

Am I...Wha...?

Last night when my daughter came out to kiss me goodnight, she had a serious expression as she asked me, "Mom, are you still sarcastic?"

I looked over her shoulder at J., who looked every bit as puzzled as I was. Don't laugh, or you'll never get this particular tidbit explained, my brain warned me.

"Uh...what?" I finally said lamely...all originality, that's me.

She looked annoyed. "Are.you.still.SARCASTIC!" She said--slowly, loudly and exasperatedly, as to an idiot.

Puzzled look on husbands' face deepens.
A thought occurs to me: I've been ill. "Oh...do you mean 'contagious'?"

Enlightenment dawns on her face. "Yes!" she says.

No, I tell her, I'm OK now. At this she goes ahead and gives me a kiss goodnight, and J. and I wait until she's in bed to giggle amongst ourselves.

No, But Thanks For The Ego Boost, Anyway...

I drive a 1969 Plymouth Fury III convertible.

Not a muscle car, but a beach cruiser/professional gasoline swallower. The other day I was walking away from my car after I'd parked it at a local shopping strip mall, when some guy in an SUV stops next to me as he's passing.

"HEY! Want to sell your car?"

Now, I'm not exaggerating when I say I get this ALL THE TIME. People stop me to ask, shout it across streets and parking lots, pull up at red lights, knock on my front door, leave notes, etc. The longing look in their eyes is downright amusing and they practically drool. Even my mechanic wants it, and he told me that in his research of my car, it's estimated value is around $30,000. I already knew this, as I'd done my own research long ago...but it was nice to hear from an independent source!

So anyway, I politely decline the guys' offer, coupled with a smile and my standard response of, "Sorry, it's my baby." Most people recognize that there is no chance of a sale and accept it graciously enough.

Not this guy, he's determined.

He's also not pulling away, and I stand there somewhat awkwardly, waiting for him to pass by so I can continue into the store.

"Aw, come ON! Are you sure you don't want to sell it?" *cue longing look* "It's an awful nice car, I love those..." *wistful look* Oh dear, another Fury fan. I can sympathize, I know that illness. I again decline, with an understanding smile.

Undeterred, he desperately begins rummaging in his glove compartment. "No, wait! I'll...I'll TRADE YOU! I can give you TWO fully restored Corvairs! I did them myself, it's a hobby..." He waves a fistfull of photographs. At this point he's attracted the frowning attention of a police officer, who is getting into his cruiser parked nearby.

Oh God, the guy loves Furys AND is a rabid auto hobbiest. He's now holding forth the fanned-out photos and has a hungry, pleading look in his eye. This is getting a bit weird, and I'm not about to approach some strange guy's car close enough to inspect the photos. The cops' stare is getting harder by the moment.

I still say no, but nicely, and wish him goodbye and good luck on his Corvairs, then step back a pace or two...I'm going to go around the back of his car and into the store that way. The cop shuts the door to his cruiser and prepares to walk over to the guy, who now has two cars waiting behind him.

Finally, to everyone's relief, the guy accepts defeat and goes on about his business. But I have to say, that's the best offer I've had for my car yet!

But...We Really NEED Your Help!

I knew it would happen.

Less than a week since the school told me I couldn't read for the Book Fair/Reading event, and the principal has hit me up TWICE to volunteer--once for the Book Fair (but not to read) and again this morning, trying to get myself and J. to serve on the PTA. I told her 'No' both times.

Last week she had gone up and down the line of parents waiting to pick up kids, armed with a clipboard, asking for volunteers for the book fair that night...and being, as always, rejected by parent after parent. She finally got to me and asked me if I could volunteer and I told her 'no'. Afterwards, two of the other moms laughingly called over, "Hey Velvet, I bet she got you to help out, huh?" I walked over to them and told them I hadn't, and why. I wanted to see what their reaction would be, to see if maybe I was overreacting to the whole thing. But they were amazed and digusted, and agreed that that was a rotten thing to do and if it happened to them, they would have the same reaction. Hmmm.

So this morning the principal cornered me in the office after I went in to pay for N.'s yearbook. She had her little clipboard out and a big grin, and said, "So, Velvet--can I count on you to help out and maybe serve on the PTA?" like she was offering me some kind of rare and special treat. I stared at her a moment and then burst out laughing (I couldn't help it) and shook my head 'no', which made her smile crumble in one big hurry. She said hastily, "But you can have your pick of projects! You tell me--what would you like to do?" OK, I thought. "Read tonight." I shot back.

"Oh no! That's just for staff!"

I just tossed my hands in the air, laughed and shook my head again and went for the door, but she stopped me. "It's a staff thing!"

"Well, then I should have been told that months ago when I asked if I could participate, NOT just a few days before the event when I had everything set up and was looking forward to it." I told her. She stammered the same thing again, so I just waved goodbye in disgust and left.

Up to now I thought that maybe the principal, who had previously welcomed, appreciated and been very happy about my offer to participate in the reading event, perhaps didn't know that I had been unceremoniously kicked to the curb, but it seems she did and is OK with it.

So much for volunteerism. I'm soured on it for good.

We Desperately Need Your Help! But Not Really...

My daughter's elementary school saddens me.

During the year, they have various events such as field trips, science fairs, student art shows, etc. The school is forever clamoring and whining in their weekly newsletter for more parent help and participation. The school secretary and principal are very vocal in person about this as well, and VERY few people step forward--maybe 3-4 parents in the entire school.

Well, I'm a stay-at-home mom because of my various chronic injury problems, so I offer to help the school however and wherever I can. I've volunteered as a Kindergarten helper, gone on field trips, taken yearbook photos, done things around the school, all with no problems.

The school has an event every year at this time to promote reading, where they invite kids and parents to come out for an evening of books read aloud and a take away dinner (hot dogs, tacos, etc.) to eat picnic style on the grass. We loved it when we went when N. was in Kindergarten two years ago, and I volunteered to be a reader last year. Unfortunately I contracted pneumonia and was unable to do it, which really crushed me. I love reading with a passion, and J. and I have read to N. every day since she was born. As a result, she loves reading as well, and is well beyond her grade level in reading and comprehension. This year, the event is next Friday, and back at the beginning of this year I once again volunteered. Both the principal and the school secretary were appreciative and very eager for help, they said, "Sure! The more the merrier, fantastic!". So I got the green light months ago and I was all excited about it--books ready to go and no goddamn pneumonia this time. I had popped into the office a few times over the year to remind the secretary that I was still interested in it. I checked in again with her two weeks ago so I wouldn't forget the date. Book nerd that I am, I've literally been waiting all year for this.

The school secretary just called me to let me know I couldn't join in.

Apparantly, one of the teachers who is in charge, got upset and feels that it should be a 'teachers only' event. That was the only explanation given and I got the distinct impression that there was more going on under the surface, if you know what I mean. It's almost like she wanted to keep all her toys and not share. I think this particular teacher may have some control issues as well...

I feel like I've been dis-invited to a party. Why in God's name would you tell someone for months that your participation would be wonderful, and then with a week to go tell them not to come? Sad that the school constantly clamors for more money and parent participation, then at the last minute, spits in the eye of one of the few people who consistently volunteer.

Well...Hell, here are the books I was going to read:

Edward The Emu by Sheena Knowles
Edwina The Emu by Sheena Knowles
Don't Let The Pigeon Drive The Bus! by Mo Willems
Cook A Doodle Do by Janet Stevens
The Story Of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf
Pinduli by Janell Canon
Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type by Doreen Cronin
Raoul The Owl by Louis Untermeyer

I had a little audience participation thing for the kids all planned and everything. I so would have loved to share these wonderful books.

Damn, She Was One Of My Favorites.

Rita in the back, Poof photobombing in on the left.

Rita was a feisty, headstrong little Cochin/Jersey Giant mix that we hatched ourselves back in 2003. She was one of my favorites and whenever I sat down out back, would come RUNNING over as fast as she could waddle (cochins aren't built for speed) to sit in my lap--and woe betide any other chicken that wanted equal lap time! Rita would warn them off right away. She would sit in my lap for as long as I would let her, and complained loudly when I set her down again. Often I'd have Rita on one knee, Babs on the other--Babs was a gift from a sibling's household, and Babs thinks she is still a baby chick and insists on sitting on your lap with her head rammed in your armpit--under your wing, as it were.

Rita had a habit of at the last minute, sticking her head into pictures we tried to take of the other chickens. The end result was like bad vacation snapshots, photobomb city. So it's kind of fitting that in the photo above, Poof is doing it to her.

Rita died yesterday. I don't even know what killed her. Granted, it was nearly 100 degrees yesterday, our first really hot day this year. I had gone out like I always do on hot days to hose off the chickens and yard to keep things cooler for the animals. I had gone out at 8:30AM, 10:30AM and 12:30PM. Everything was fine. I even stopped to talk to her and pet her and all was well. At 2PM when I went again to hose things off, we found her in the coop, sitting in the corner as if to lay an egg and breathing a bit hard. Since she was distressed (we thought by the heat), we brought her in to cool off. She died less than 5 minutes later. She had been eating, drinking and carrying on normally up until then. I don't know what's worse--having an animal get ill and die slowly or go quickly like that.

Rita was one of those animals that 'picked out her human'--she chose ME as her favorite human first, not the other way around. Rita's mother, Elizabeth, is elderly but still with us, and Rita's daughter, Skitters, is twice as feisty and psycho as Rita ever was. Even Moet, our very elderly Frizzle Cochin who was Rita's foster mama, is still with us.

This is Rita as a baby, back in 2003.

Last night when I went out to sit with the chickens in the evening, Rita's mother, Liz, jumped up in my lap and sat with me a while.

She's never done that before. I appreciated it.