Random Ramblings

Confession

OK... I admit it... I lied about posting the rest of my family tree blog the "next day". The thing is, I'm still doing my research and my family tree is probably not interesting to anyone else but me. I'm sure I'll blog about the subject again, but I've got to get my mind organized first. It's amazing how many branches diverge off of one tree trunk... I can hardly keep track of who is who in my family anymore.

My Cat

We got our kitten a few weeks ago. She is adorable! She is also, I'm noticing, a bit mentally-challenged. The first time she saw herself in our full-length mirror and attacked the "other cat" in the reflection was cute and funny. Well, she is still attacking herself. And by "attack", I mean full-on, high-speed, battering-ram, flying into the mirror cat-fight! It's still funny. It's not so cute anymore. I worry she is going to shatter the mirror with her head!

She can also be found chasing her tail... while trying to balance on the top of a chair back. This usually results in a nasty spill. She has fallen into the water-filled bathtub a few times, much to the boys' delight. She likes to lick. She especially likes to lick my legs after I go for a long, sweaty run.

Speaking of Run

I went for a great run today! I went longer than I had planned but it was worth it. I discovered some new trails and the weather couldn't have been better. My heel has been bothering me (I have a bone spur in my heel) but I've decided that I might as well get used to it. I've had physical therapy and a cortisone shot and neither has completely taken away the pain. It's sort of a trade-off... my heel hurts when I run but the rest of me hurts when I don't. So, I guess I'll run.

Virtually Me

I love Facebook. Where else can you become "friends" with people who hardly gave you the time of day in high school? Where else can you connect with people who actually live only a few doors down from you? For a phone-hating, verbally-challenged individual like me, Facebook is a social paradise. If only I could include my Facebook life on my job resumes! Who wouldn't want to hire someone with the following qualifications?

• Voted "Nicest Person" -by people who don't really know me- several days in a row
• Successful farm owner who took a small, four-plot farm and turned it into a thriving business worth millions of "coins"
• Winner of numerous Bake-Offs in the town of YoVille
• Supporter of and participant in several worthy committees, such as "We Hate the New Facebook Home Page", "Six Degrees of Separation", and "I Don't Care How Comfortable Crocs are, You Look Like a Dumbass"

It takes a lot of time to have such a successful Facebook life!

So, yesterday I decided to quit two of my three Facebook farms. I gave away all my Yoville merchandise to a friend and will move out totally once all my cakes have finished baking. I purged myself of my Roller Coaster Kingdom and got rid of my aquarium. And you know what? It felt good! I only have one farm now and it has no crops so all I have to do is water my flowers and I'm free.

Insomnia?

I don't have it. Good night!

Messed-Up Families Have Trees, Too

This has the potential to turn into a long blog. I'll do my best to keep it from turning into a long story turned longer... but I do need to include some personal history, so please bear with me.

What I'm Doing
For the past week, I have been trying to research my family ancestry. No, I haven't converted to Mormonism... although, I do appreciate their excellent family-record keeping skills. There are reasons for doing this and reasons for not having done it before.

Why am I Doing This?
As I was lying in bed last Sunday, unsuccessfully fighting off the onset of a cold, I saw a news report about a group of Cherokee Indians in San Diego County getting together for the day to celebrate their culture. This caught my attention because, supposedly, I have a small amount of Cherokee blood running through my veins. It also occurred to me that I have no proof of this Native American ancestry. So, I figured I might as well try to find it.

What Makes this a Difficult Task?
Here is where the story has the potential to get overly long. I come from a pretty messed-up family. Basically, I don't know most of my family. I haven't seen my biological mom in over 30 years... I don't associate with any of my living grandparents because my two grandmothers are not very nice people.

I have four full-blooded siblings. I have relationships with none of them. I have a half-brother and a half-sister and they are awesome, so we are pretty close. I have some uncles, aunts, and cousins but I don't really know them because they live in other states.

I pretty much grew up with my Dad and my Stepmom. I know I can get some information about my Dad's side of the family... but even that will be scarce, due to fact that my Dad didn't even really know his dad. Heck, the last name I grew up with isn't even my Dad's real last name- the story is my Dad took the last name of his favorite step dad (my grandmother was married five times).

Thanks to a kind step-grandfather I never met, my maiden name was Kish. This is apparently a common Hungarian name. I am zero percent Hungarian. I dated a guy who was Hungarian once but that's as close as I ever came to being one. I've never felt any attachment to that name... I felt no remorse when I became a Jones on my wedding day. Besides, nobody could ever pronounce or spell it. It's just not that hard, people!

Get Out the Violins...
I'm just kidding... leave them in their cases. I really dislike pity and I don't want it but I'm going to tell you all something sort of sad about me. Growing up, I never really felt like I belonged to a family. There I said it. Now, wipe your eyes and read on. I always felt like I was on the peripheral of someone else's family... sort of able to be a part but never feeling totally connected.

I'm sure I am totally messed-up now as a result. I mean, this has got to be the reason I can never seem to get the clean laundry put away. Right? Go along with it, folks... I need an excuse.

Cliff-hanger
I'm going to finish this tomorrow. I'm tired and I'm still trying to get over this cold so I'm off to bed. If you are still reading this, thanks for hanging in with me. I still have lots to tell about my search for a familial identity... including a trip to a cemetery, walks down memory lane, and lots and lots of time spent on the computer.

Meanwhile, please enjoy this picture of the bottom of my shoe.

It's Official- Fall is Here!

Fall is my favorite time of year. I love the way the air feels as the summer heat gradually surrenders to the cooler temperatures of autumn. It is bliss to have to pull the bed covers up to my neck in the early morning hours when the chill settles into our bedroom. What a perfect setting for sleeping in (if only I could).

I love the anticipation of the coming holidays... Halloween and visits to the pumpkin patch, candy corn, apple cider, and trick-or-treating. Thanksgiving and family, turkey, pumpkin pie, and stuffing. Christmas and... oh, better not go there. Yet.

So, what happens when the arrival of my favorite season is combined with my favorite grocery store? Autumnal enlightenment. Since most of Southern California isn't blessed with the stereotypical signal of fall's arrival, I have to rely on Trader Joe's to announce that, in spite of the non-changing color of the trees, summer is gone and autumn has taken its place.

Sure, there may be a change in the temperature and the days may become noticeably shorter, but when Trader Joe's displays its annual giant logo-pumpkin and has orange and yellow geraniums for sale, I sense a change in the air... fall is here.

For the past few years (since they opened our neighborhood Trader Joe's) I have found that- for me- autumn officially begins once I can purchase Trader Joe's Pumpkin Bread Mix. I went to Trader Joe's yesterday, hoping to get my hands on a couple boxes but they were all out. I found out from one of the helpful employees that they were getting another shipment in that night.

There was no question in my mind... I would be back at Trader Joe's the next morning to get my pumpkin bread fix.

And that's what I did. I picked up two boxes of the pumpkin bread mix... along with a box of their new apple spice bread mix, a box of pumpkin pancake mix, and a bottle of apple cider.



I baked the apple bread tonight. It was a hit with the entire family and it left the house smelling the way a Norman Rockwell painting looks: Homey, warm, and simple.

I have not tried the pumpkin pancake mix (I think it's a new item) but I've been assured by a reliable source that it is "rather yummy". I think pumpkin pancakes will be on our morning menu within the next few days.

I am happy that fall is here. I will savor it. I will enjoy being able to wear a sweatshirt. I will look forward to the holidays and all my beloved family traditions associated with each.

I will enjoy this short period of time... because I know that in about a month, my signal that Christmas is on its way will arrive at every Starbucks in the nation in the form of a caloric little beauty known as the Egg Nog Latte. Mmmmmm...

Oreolicious

Right now, I should be cooking dinner. Heck, I'd be happy to even know what we're having for dinner!

Am I the only one who gets tired of planning meals? I just cooked dinner yesterday. Maybe I should give the boys Double Stuff Oreo Cookies for dinner. With a glass of milk, it would be a healthy meal... and I can guarantee there would be no complaining.

Just a thought.

High Tech Treasure Hunting

A couple weeks ago, when Matt first expressed an interest in geocaching, I'm pretty sure I responded with a blank stare. Geocaching? I had heard the word before but had no idea what it was.

Am I the only person under the age of 67 who did not know what geocaching is? Since I am hoping I'm not the only one who needed an explanation, I'm going to explain it to you. If you are more "hip" than I am (and who isn't?), please bear with me... or rather, bear with Wikipedia:

Geocaching is an outdoor activity in which the participants use a Global Positioning Systemreceiver or other navigational techniques to hide and seek containers (called "geocaches" or "caches") anywhere in the world. A typical cache is a small waterproof container (usually a tupperware or ammo box) containing a logbook. Larger containers can also contain items for trading, usually toys or trinkets of little value. Geocaching is most often described as a "game of high-tech hide and seek", sharing many aspects with orienteering, treasure-hunting, and waymarking. (GPS)

Geocaches are currently placed in over 100 countries around the world and on all seven continents, including Antarctica.^[1] As of September 20 2009, there are over 904,000 active geocaches over the world.

-Stolen from Wikipedia

Now that you know everything there is to know about geocaching, I can finish this blog. Matt and I took the boys geocaching on Friday afternoon. Matt had gone with the boys on Thursday, but this was my first time. I had a great time, in spite of the heat. The boys had tons of fun. I think Matt had the most fun of all of us (that's probably because he got to hold the GPS thing).

We didn't even have to go far to have a fun adventure. Matt found out there were a few caches hidden at Kit Carson Park and off we went. I figured it would be an easy excursion but I was wrong. We stomped through brush, wound our way down coyote trails, barely missed angering a nest of wasps, saw a baby rattlesnake, and all ended up exhausted. I've seen parts of Kit Carson Park I never knew existed.


We found a total of three caches that day. We looked for five but two were impossible to find in all the dense brush and trees. The funniest one was hidden in the base of a lamp post in the parking lot by the soccer field. In the collage above, you can see Matt holding a small, black disk... that is what was hidden in the base of the lamp post.

The best cache was hidden on an obscure trail. We found it at the base of a tree, near where we saw the baby rattlesnake. In this cache, there were fun little toys for the boys. Per geocaching etiquette, we replaced what we took with our own little toys.

By the time we found that cache, we were all tired, thirsty, dirty, and ready to call it a day. The boys did very well, considering the amount of walking we did. I'm so glad Matt thought to start geocaching. I think we have found a fun family hobby that will keep us active and having fun together.

Toxic People

I'm sure I did not coin the term "Toxic People"... I don't recall hearing it before, but it must have been engraved in my subconscious from somewhere. It's far too good for me to have come up with it myself.

Toxic People
I bet everyone has at least one of these people in their life. Some of us have an abundance of them. These are the people who thrive on negativity. The people who love to cause rifts between others. Toxic people do not rejoice when good things happen to others. Instead, they wonder, "Why couldn't that happen to me?" They spoil joyful moments by expressing their own misery. These are the people who talk about others when they aren't around... including you. Toxic people love to be the victim- that allows them to blame others for their lot in life.

It's not always easy to identify a toxic person right away. They don't walk around with the skull and crossbones symbol on their forehead. They don't come with a warning label. They often look like the rest of us... after all, nobody is happy and perfect all the time!

Toxic people become very apparent over time. They usually leave you feeling drained, stressed, used, and generally unhappy. You might think you're helping them, but in reality you're harming yourself and your relationships with those who love you. This is because toxic people suck the joy out of you.

Do you have a toxic person in your life? Perhaps she is an acquaintance. Maybe she is a friend. If you're like me, your toxic person is a family member. Actually, I have several toxic family members but most of them leave me alone.

Here's the thing: I have learned the hard way to keep toxic people- even family members out of my life. Life is too short and precious to spend it griping, complaining, and comparing misery. This may seem harsh... especially when it's family. If it's harsh, I don't care. My own little family is my priority. Anyone who tries to steal my joy, causes friction and stress in my life, or brings me down will not be part of my world.

This post came about because I heard from one of my toxic family members today, who called for the sole purpose of telling me off. I'm just using this blog to vent, I guess. Thanks for letting me get it out.

Mommy, the Black Widow Slayer

I am going to hate writing this blog but I feel like it needs to be done... regardless of how heevie-jeevie it makes me feel.

Let me start by declaring that I really dislike black widow spiders. When I say "dislike", I mean hate, despise, abhor, loathe, and detest black widows. I've never liked them but it seems like my hatred and fear of them has grown over the past few years. Actually, it's no coincidence that my black widow hatred has grown since we moved into our current house.

I'm pretty sure our house was built on the Mecca for black widows. Each spring, they make their pilgrimage to our backyard and set up permanent homes. They party, have spider sex, kill their partners, and lay eggs. Lots and lots of eggs. In egg sacs. Lots of disgusting eggs in lots of disgusting egg sacs.

We rarely see the egg sacs but we know they're there because a few weeks later, those eggs hatch and out come the baby black widows. Fortunately, many of them don't survive the hatching process because they eat each other. I guess the ones that survive are the ones that a) float away in the breeze to another part of our yard; or b) do the eating.

When Matt and I first moved into our house, we kept noticing these little spiders in the backyard. They seemed to be everywhere in the back. They did not look like black widows... because they weren't black. Their bodies were usually shaped like black widows, though, so we took a closer look. We noticed these little grayish spiders had whiteish hour glasses on their abdomens.

We did some research and found out that the little spiders we kept seeing were baby and/or juvenile black widows. The information isn't clear regarding whether or not juvenile black widows are poisonous. Some sources say yes, and some say no. I don't intend to find out for sure the hard way so I kill any and all black widows.

In case you're wondering what newly hatched black widows look like, check out this disturbing picture.

I took the following picture yesterday. I was on a black widow spider killing spree in our backyard. This one is not a newly hatched baby. In my unscientific backyard observations, I label these the "preteen" widows.

The widow is in the center of the picture... it's that roundish grayish thing with the legs.
Sorry for the poor quality of the picture- I was high on bug spray fumes when I took it.

I am pretty sure this is an immature female black widow. The males don't usually have such round butts. Notice that she is not black. You may also notice that I found this little devil on the underside of the boys' Little Tykes Picnic Table.

Here is another one I found on the same table:

Based on its shape, this one is probably a female, too. The white stripes indicate that it is an immature spider. My label for this stage of widowhood is "Late Teen". She's almost grown up, she just needs to get rid of those stripes and she's a full-fledged black widow.

Both of the spiders are dead now... along with about 11 of their friends. I mostly find juvenile black widows in our yard but when I do find the full-fledged black widow, I am always happy to kill them with a little extra "umph". My weapons of choice are bug spray and a croquet mallet.

Here are some black widow spider facts:

• The males are not poisonous
  
• The males are smaller than the females
• The females don't always eat the males after they mate- it depends on how hungry they are.
• Females can live up to three years
• Egg sacs can hold between 250-700 eggs

If I seem obsessed with black widows, it's probably because I am. They both horrify and intrigue me. They mostly horrify me. I've always believed that in order to appreciate something, you need to learn about it. This may be true in many cases, but I've learned more about black widows than I ever wanted to and I only hate them more.

I dream of one day living in a place where there are no black widows. A place where my boys can go out back to play without me having to do a spider check first. A place where we can have spider-free outside toys and play structures. A place where I don't need to shake, stomp on, and turn inside-out my garden gloves before I put them on.

I know there are dangerous creatures in every place. But believe me when I say I would take rattlesnakes, coyotes, bats, chiggers (whatever those are), ticks, scorpions, and rabid bunnies over black widows, any day!





By the way... I know some of you are thinking, "Why don't you hire a pest control person to spray the backyard?" My answer to that is, "That's probably a good idea." A good idea, assuming it works better than the ant control we used to have done... until we realized we were still getting ants.