Posted in Musings and Mutterings

Happy Birthday, Camp Nini


Camp Nini has now officially celebrated its first year! On February 27, 2012 we did the deed and signed for the house, although it wasn’t until February 28th that we were able to move in.

Settlement on Camp Nini was scheduled for the dinner hour so we could complete the settlement on the house we had sold earlier in the day. Tension was high, as it is when all are nervous about big purchases and large sums of money, while we all sat waiting for the title company to arrive. Sparse, idle conversation was attempted, but for the most part we listened to the clock tick on the wall.

And tick.

And tick.

Finally, the realtor decided they’d try to find out what was going on and quickly realized that they didn’t have any information on the company assigned by our bank to perform the settlement. To say the sellers were getting uptight would be exceedingly polite.

Enter my smart phone. Having your email chase you all over the planet is good now and then. I looked up an email from the title company, got the phone number and started calling. No answer. Not to be deterred, I called my lending institution on the off-chance that someone would be around at 7:00 pm. Lo and behold, my account manager was still there working. He finally got in touch with the title company who had forgotten we were supposed to have the settlement that night. To their credit, they asked if they could come that evening and suggested we all have a bite to eat while we waited for them.

After dinner, we all reconvened in the realtors offices and settled in to sign away. The sellers were more than annoyed with the title company and were gruff when accepting the reduction in fees they were willing to credit due to their error. As far as I was concerned, I got free money! Woo hoo! About a half hour later, we were done, and the proud new owners of Camp Nini. Since it was pitch dark out, not to mention fairly cold, we opted not to begin unpacking the truck we’d struggled to get up the driveway the night before with all our worldly possessions stuffed inside.

I’m not sure if you can tell from this photo, but our driveway isn’t very forgiving and it’s a pretty steep grade. Recently, we found out that some of the locals referred to our house as the one “on top of concrete hill”.

Hubby and I decided to spend one more night in a hotel before getting a fresh start in the morning.

…to be continued tomorrow… as is fitting…..  :0)

Posted in Musings and Mutterings

121, 522 and 10

It’s all about the numbers.

121 days until we leave for Paris.

That’s me up there, just enjoying the view….

This is my 522nd post.

Chewing on an idea… I’ve always loved to bite pencils… just sayin’…

I just did the Amy Dixon “Give me 10” video and who knew 10 minutes could fly by so quickly outside of the bedroom and I’d be exhausted and sweaty?

In 6 minutes I have to leave for work where I will spend 7 hours with about 200 children. If I don’t get up in 1 minutes, I won’t have the 5 minutes I need to put together my dinner and get ready to leave.

Guess I’ve got 2 go.





Posted in Musings and Mutterings

Hi-ho Pa-leo

If you ever lived in the Baltimore region, you would have heard the commercial that goes, “Hi – Ho – Pim-li-co!” for Pimlico Raceway. This is totally irrelevant to my post, but does kinda explain my silliness in the title.

Went to the doctor the other day and he told me to put the lime in the coconut and drink it all up. And be sure there isn’t any sugar in that. He also suggested I stay away from grains and dairy. Hmmm.. meat, veggies and fruit. >smirks< That’s where I’ve directed my diet now for a while, but it took the cautionary warning from my Dr. to convince me I should perhaps adhere to eating the stuff my bod seems to like.

But can you blame me?! Like any other person, I love warm bread with hot gooey melting butter.

Many moon ago, I lost weight on the Atkins plan, so in looking around for some guidance, I hit on the Paleo, or Neanderthin, or Caveman or whatever you want to call it, lifestyle. Since I’m lactose intolerant, giving up dairy wasn’t so difficult. (except butter… omg, do I love butter) Giving up grains has been a bit more trying, but easily do-able. Eliminating sugar hasn’t been too bad either. What is difficult is increasing my fruit consumption. I like mostly berries, but I don’t eat many of those even when they are available, so they sometimes become furry in the fridge. Ewww… And I’d rather gnaw on meat than a plate of veggies.

I guess it’s obvious that I am pretty easily a modern-day carnivore. I say modern-day because if  *I* had to hunt it (aww poor thing) or skin it (barf) or slaughter it (barf and faint) or fish for it (omg NO) then I’d be a vegetarian.

So far, so good. I’ll keep you posted if anything significant comes from all this change, other than some gurgling guts, fatigue and ennui, which is all supposedly normal when you are eliminating most of the carbohydrates from your diet. At least I haven’t killed anyone. Or leaped over the counter to grab the soft, chewy bread slathered in butter from their hands, just before they take a bite, screaming, “I’ll save you!! Don’t you know this is bad for you?” and shoving the thing in my mouth. Or stolen candy from a baby.

I’m saving all of those for later… when I might need them.

Posted in Musings and Mutterings

I’m Singing In My Dreams

I had a dream that’s stuck with me all morning.

I was on another planet. Maybe it wasn’t another planet, but I was elsewhere. I never got a clear view of any of the inhabitants, really. I do remember they were familiar, as if they were human, but undefined. It was as if everything was in soft focus.

Anyway, I was interacting with these whatevertheyare and it was pleasant. We were enjoying our time together when a young one of them began to hum a tune and I began to hum along. Everyone stopped when they realized I knew this song. Their reaction was as if I shouldn’t or couldn’t know the song because the distance between where they are and where I am would have been prohibitive for it to have been something in common between the two of us. It was after this registered to me that I woke up.

It was a tune I was very familiar with and heard many times when I was young. My father played it often and although it’s only a small part of a bigger song, I’ve only ever remembered this part. I can easily say I haven’t actually sung or heard it for 30 years or more. YOU TUBE to the rescue!! Since I remembered the first line in the lyric, I could find it and played it as soon as I woke up.

I found it oddly poignant and something else I can’t quite describe. These are the kinds of dreams where you feel like you are being told something. Either by an outside source, or by your own internal voice.

I figured I’d share…

Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they’re all that’s left you

Posted in Musings and Mutterings

Their Cups Runneth Over

If you are keeping up, I posted that we went to the Papermoon Diner on Saturday for our February birthday celebrations. Last night we celebrated the birthday of our adopted (not really, but we feel this way) son. He turned 14, so what better place to go then a place where breasts abound. Or are they bound? If you look at the uniform for the waitresses, you’ll get my drift!


Trust me, all the comments and jokes you would imagine a 14-year-old male surrounded by boobs could make were made!

Posted in Musings and Mutterings

By the Light of the Papermoon

If baby doll heads and a fork mohawk bother you, then this isn’t the place for you.

February is the month we celebrate #3’s birthday, as well as the birthday of #4’s steady. Now that #3 decided city life in the Nation’s Capital is where he wishes to be, he sold his car. The challenge was to find somewhere that we could go that wasn’t too far out of the realm of Penn Station in B’more so we could all essentially meet in the middle. I chose the Papermoon diner.


Eclectic is a polite word you could use to describe this place. Creepy might be another. Mannequins with ball-chain clothing and toilet, sink and bathtub flower pots adorn the exterior.


Oh yeah, I forgot the doll head “flowers” on the windows…

These were creepy and reminded me of when my brother would pull the heads off my dolls, or hang them from the rafters in the part of the basement we called, “the other side”.  I didn’t know whether to be disturbed, or comforted by the sights of my childhood when I saw them.

The gentleman with the fork mohawk, astride the cow with long eye lashes and glittering udders was one I enjoyed.


Inside there were formica tables and mismatched chairs, and a menu that was stuffed with many options. Interestingly, sandwiches were ranging between 6-12 dollars, but for french fries you had to pay 2.50 extra, and if you preferred sweet potato fries or deadly onion rings, you were going to cough up another 3.00 instead. (I would cough up a lung, due to my allergy) That being said, the food was pretty good. The desserts were probably the best part of the meal. I had a flourless chocolate cake that my daughter likened to “wine” and hubby had a delightful salty caramel cake I could nibble on.

Wall decor consisted of more doll heads and mannequins with army men glued to their heads to simulate hair. I didn’t get to look around too much because they were busy and we were ushered quickly to our table, however within view I could see:

  • Handicapped Ken doll and Handicapped Stacey doll – complete with their own wheel chairs.
  • A number of assorted Barbie dolls or accessories
  • A wall of heads

Didn’t do so much for my appetite to be stared at by so many.



Posted in Musings and Mutterings

Purple Tuesday

I don’t suppose it would be right to have a journal/blog and not write about what goes on around me, would it?

I was going to join the Nablopomo challenge to post once a day – every day – for the month of February. Their topic was love, relationships and sex. Phht… seemed like the perfect month to choose. It’s short and it’s a topic I don’t have problems writing or talking about. And we all know I’ve got plenty of opinions. But, I didn’t do it. My muse is there… but she’s just not been prolific, nor interested in much.

I have to say, if the sun doesn’t come out soon, I’m liable to curl up under my desk in a blanket fort and tell everyone to leave me the hell alone until it’s Spring! Bleh, bleh and some meh to boot.

The Baltimore Ravens, my default football team simply because I live and work in the city, won the Superbowl. Let me state for the record, I’m not a big football fan. In fact, I believe I’ve written in the past about my distaste for the whole “event” of football. But winning the Superbowl tends to make everyone else around me happier in some way so I have been analyzing and noticing how I feel about it all just a bit more.

First, the excitement, pride and camaraderie provided by having your local team do well in any National League was pretty good for the moral of Old Mobtown. Merchants sold more goods and money was dumped into the local economy. People felt like they were a part of a common thing. Purple Friday was allowed in many businesses and there was something pleasant to discuss casually. These things I can see from a logical standpoint.

Then came the parade on Tuesday. It was a peaceful, joyous and exciting event – or so I’m told – which I was invited to attend, but declined. Watching the coverage on TV,

(it was on in the nail salon where I was getting my toes done – don’t they look pretty?) photo

  was enough for me. The yelling, hooting, screaming and practically unintelligible shout-outs that were given made my insides recoil. I don’t blame others for their enthusiasm, please don’t get me wrong, but I don’t seem to enjoy that kind of display at all. My reaction is one of fleeing the scene and hiding from the discomfort it brings.

Looking at photos, though, and seeing how many people attended, gives me a whiff of involvement, without the dancing around the fire in loincloths and arm pumping madness with our spears. I’m betting I was the old woman who sat off to the side and observed in that scenario. Or, just like the Chinese sign I’m born under, maybe I’m afraid I’ll be the rabbit roasting on the spit, so I run away and hide instead.


This… this scares me… I wonder why. People enjoying themselves, crushed together and wearing purple wigs… what’s there to be frightened of?