Excommunicated

My identity has been erased and I'm quite perturbed.

Somehow it has already been five years since I graduated from Carleton. Well, not quite, it will be in June, but they have already started to send us reminders and whatnot for it. Well, last week I received a letter (that did not really ring true to my Carleton experience but whatever) and a lovely reunion directory of all '02 graduates. As I flip through I come to the D's and see that the meredoerr is not listed. Ok, fine, they messed up. So they didn't have me listed under my maiden name like everyone else. Fine. So then I look in section three, which is specifically for cross-referencing birth names (i.e. your name while at college) to new names. And I'm still not there. Twenty-three ladies with name changes are listed, but I'm not. Did I not exist at Carleton? Not under the name they have for me, that's for sure. Maybe I'm overreacting but this pissed me off.

Carleton, give the meredoerr her respect.

Pumpkin Party!

It has been a long time since I have carved a pumpkin. For sure not since college and I don't recall it even in college. So I was super psyched to hear that some of my other lady friends were up for some pumpkin carving fun! After dining on a very non-holiday appropriate feast of tacos, we inaugurated our new deck with pumpkin guts and seeds. It was great, even if somewhat chilly. We also discovered that the deck does not have ideal lighting for knife wielding, so the lovely pole that appears to be coming out of my head is actually a floor lamp we dragged up from the basement. Thank goodness for outdoor outlets.

I tried to express the greatness of this event on my dear pumpkin. Drew on the other hand tried to express his GREAT displeasure of the pumpkin smell. Can you guess which pumpkins are mine and Drew's? (I'll give you a hint. Drew's is not the one with the 'X' - that was in honor of our dear friend Xander who couldn't make it.)

The Work is Never Done

Apparently, I didn't read the fine print when buying our new house. Or else it failed to mention how much work will always need to be done. Whether it's repairing cracks in the sidewalk so that water won't seep in and eventually knock your house over or tearing down the forest full of ferns in preparation for winter, there is always something that is vying for my attention. Today, after starting this project in August, when my dad was here, I finally finished washing, cleaning and staining our deck. Almost three months later we can finally enjoy our deck...while wearing mittens, hats and coats.

I know it may be difficult to see anything else but the beautifully treated furniture, but if you squint and tilt your head 36 degrees to the left, you may notice the grayish, ugliness of the deck. And this was after I had already done...

THIS.

Oh, how I long for sunny days where I could power wash anything I wanted. No, I'm serious. It's addicting. I worry about having OCD every now and then, but having a power washer in my hand may have convinced me that I might indeed have it. Or maybe an obsessive compulsive personality, I'll have to go check my DSM IV.

I was able to wash away mold from the sidewalk, leaf stains, Caper's muddy footprints. It was brilliant!! And it looked beautiful. But then more leaves fell and Caper continued to track mud around so that work has disappeared. But the deck remained, for the most part, free of mud, mold and stains.

So then it was time to add some color back to the gray sad wood. After pain- stakingly staining each freakin' railing post with a five-inch brush TWICE (I'm not sure the second coat made that much of a difference), we now have a beautiful deck of the "natural pine" coloration. The stain can promised me that it will block out damage from the weather. It had better come through or else my bill for my upcoming shoulder surgery will be sent straight to the stain company. Seriously, I do not like the repetitive brushing motion. Ouch.

But it was all worth it. Stay tuned for the next post.

Perfect Day...

...for a football game.

I Had No Idea

So I got an email today that had the word 'tear' in it. Due to our crazy English language, a word can be spelled the same way but be pronounced differently and hence have two meanings. When Gmail frantically searched my email for any potential topic that could be twisted into an advertisement, it misinterpreted the context of 'tear' in the email. It mistakenly thought the writer was referring to being ripped and not to the salty liquid that emerges from the lacrimal duct (I knew that anatomy class would someday be useful). So, thinking that I may be interested in tears/rips/breaks/splits, I am provided with two advertisement taglines.

"Tear Down the Outhouse"
&
"Avoid Perineal Tear"

Apparently, dear readers, I have been targeted as either in need of a composting toilet or a stretchier vagina.

How, oh how, will I choose between the two?