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8:24 p.m. - 2010-01-04
Western Biological and Co.

On the way home from the movies the other night we stopped at B&N so I could buy a new copy of 'Cannery Row'. What happened to my previous copy I do not know. Just disappeared. Things do that around here. Sometimes other things appear. Nobody bought them or scavenged them but there they are just the same- a can of paint, a pair of purple work gloves. I've yet to discover who's running this cosmic swap meet or find out why that over-size shot glass bearing the witticism, "One tequila. Two tequila. Three tequila. Floor!" I found on the dining room bookcase was considered a fair trade for my dvd of 'Legally Blonde'. I like my things and do not appreciate them being bartered for these weird other things I never wanted at all, but until the fiend responsible for this goofy free-cycling finally shows up I'm stuck with them. And I still have to go out and replace my original stuff that went missing. Case in point the copy of 'Cannery Row' I'd had since high school that just up and went AWOL off the stack on my nightstand and when it became necessary for me to visit with Doc and Dora and Mack, as it did the other night (and does several times a year), I had to make a trip to B&N and buy a new copy. I hate when that happens.

Today's resumption of the normal wasn't exactly an ordinary day. Instead of buckling down to work as expected, I took a tootle over to the farm. Bought some of GBW's amazing cheese and had a nice visit for a couple hours. When I arrived GBW and her apprentice were out in the milking parlor so I joined them out there. The few ladies still being milked over the winter gestation season are done by hand. Sanitizing and running the milking machine for those few goats with their skerce winter yield is neither cost nor time effective, so GBW and Lily the intern were doing the traditional milkmaid squat, pulling on teats and whizzing steaming milk into a plastic measuring cup. We made some bad jokes about boobies and cold hands and goat fondling, the usual farm humor. During my own time as a cheese maid I'd stayed away from the milk production end of things, so my visit to the milking parlor was another of the day's oddities. I also avoid the barns during kidding season, I have zero interest in helping to yoink a slimy kid out of a goat's vagina, sorry. If you need me I'll be upstairs bottle feeding the kids who are already here and are all clean and cute. Hey, everybody should play to their talents, right? I can roll chevre, brine feta and sell the farm wares like nobody's business. Goat midwifery and teat squeezing just aren't part of my skill set.

As much as I wanted to stay and while away the whole day, by lunchtime the cramps were starting to fold me in half so I skedaddled home, somewhat amused that during the drive I had to keep adjusting the rearview mirror downward as my ouchy bod curled in on itself like a boiled shrimp.

Speaking of girlie things, Mick had put 4 bottles of nail polish in my Christmas stocking. (And boy howdy after all those years of filling my Christmas stocking myself I am loving having a man who not only does well on the larger gifts, but also understands the nuance and pleasure of stocking stuffers!) 3 bottles of Essie brand polish and one of China Glaze. I tried the China Glaze first. Decent coverage, good drying time, only fair-to-middlin' chip resistance. By day three the color on my nail tips had worn off and by day four I started to get serious lifting and chipping. The bottle also claims the polish has nail hardener in it too, but you could have fooled me.

Polish change on Saturday to one of the Essie polishes. Honestly, the stuff didn't look promising. Dense in the bottle, ugly and a bit gloopy on the brush, putting it on it looked like colored White-Out. Chalky and thick with little sparkle or shine. But surprise! The polish dried to a gorgeous hard gloss. The color evened out as it dried too. For something that had the texture and appeal of Pepto-Bismol when wet, this polish is darn nice as a finished product. It's wearing well too. No dings, chips, or worn tips. I'm not terrible to my nails, but neither do I treat them like fragile crystal either. And so far the Essie polish is holding up admirably to the mild abuse of my daily routine. Which doesn't include milking goats, but does include lots of chemical usage during house cleaning and typing upwards of 3,000 words a day.

Now my pretty polished fingers are going to fix a cup of tea and they along with my misery of a mid-section are going to snuggle up on the couch and rejoin my friends on Cannery Row. Mack and the boys are about to catch a spectacular amount of frogs and adopt Darling the bird dog puppy.

Good night, lovies. ~LA

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