It's Tiny, I'm Planning on Eating it, and I Got it Out of Someone's Driveway.

I bought a pineapple plant. I'm pretty much obsessed with growing a pineapple that I can eat. Too bad 

the little pineapple is about two inches tall right now, and not even big enough for Spongebob to live in. No, I did not buy this plant (or is it a tiny tree?) at Lowe's or a local nursery. I got it out of someone's driveway. Hold on, hold on. Stop thinking that I stole it. Let me tell you how I came upon this treasure.

Previous to the pineapple plant, my newest obsession was garage sales. I don't think my husband enjoys it as much as I do, but I enjoy dragging him along with me.

Now, it was a bright, beautiful, sunny, (and early) Saturday morning. I had located every garage sale within my entire subdivision, which is quite impressive because I think my subdivision is as big as Portales, NM. I had everything mapped out, and I had my fresh coffee sitting in the cup holder. At the first house I found some beautiful, rose colored glass bowls. When I showed them to my husband he just smiled but I'm pretty sure he was thinking "Why is this woman obsessed with dishes?".  It seems there are quite a few things I'm obsessed with.

After such a great find at the first house I was feeling pretty pumped. I could feel it in my bones that I was gonna get some good loot. My definition of good loot might be the same as my husband's definition of crap-we-definitely-don't-need (is that correct to put those dashes there? I don't care, I like them.). As I strolled up to the next house my spirits were high! I just knew I was going to find something amazing.

Seven garage sales, one imitation Dooney and Bourke bag, and one tiny glass cup later, I was beginning to lose hope. My husband was ready to call it quits and I was about to turn back home when.... there, on the horizon I saw one last yellow and red garage sale sign. I had to go, I needed to see what was there.

I pulled up, and immediately I could see it was a bunch of old shoes and baby clothes. While I love garage sales, I do not love other peoples smelly old shoes. I still got out of the car since I was there.  I slowly walked up, knowing this was going to be disappointing. I dragged my feet up and down the the driveway just to get a quick look and not be rude. I was turning to leave when I saw some potted plants sitting off to the side. You guessed it, I am also obsessed with potted, indoor plants. I took my happy self over there and looked.

















What I saw was nothing short of amazing.
It was this little guy----------------------------------->
A tiny pineapple!! A perfect little tiny pineapple plant.

I asked the garage sale lady how much, (even though I was willing to pay any amount of money to have this tiny pineapple plant in my possession) and lo and behold... it only cost $5! Isn't that amazing?!

I quickly handed her the cash and ran to my car with my prize. I wanted to buckle it in but my husband just put it in the back. He didn't seem to think it needed to be safe in case of a collision.

So now, here it sits on my plant shelf that I built to contain the potted plants I am obsessed with.  Apparently, if I cut off the little pineapple guy and plant him, he will grow another pineapple plant. However, I plan on seeing how big he will grow.

I'm pretty excited. 

I'm almost positive my pineapple will grow to be at least this big. At least.

My Doorbell- My Therapist's Pay Day.

The other day I was trying to take a 30 minute power nap after work, before I headed to class. When there's such a small window for a nap, every minute counts. So I was kind of pissed when my doorbell woke me up only 10 minutes into my nap. I decided not to answer it, but in the ensuing 5 minutes I imagined there was a psychotic robber at my front door who was going through the neighborhood pretending to be a carpet cleaner salesman, but really he was just robbing the houses where no one answered the door and murdering anyone he found inside.

Suffice to say I have a very active imagination and have read many Stephen King novels.


I dragged myself out of bed and went to the door. When I looked out the peephole no masked robber was waiting on the other side (it seems like my front door causes a lot of anxiety, right? Refer to my previous blog- "Trolls, Only Cute When They Have Little Jewels in Their Tummies").  I was not happy because my nap was now ruined, and with my 15 hour days, I need that freaking 30 minute power nap. The whole way to class I was thinking about what kind of sign to put on my door to keep people from EVER ringing the door bell.

Two days later I was home from an exhausting day at work. When I say exhausting day at work I really mean an exhausting day spent riding every roller coaster at six flags. I was just about to hop in the shower (cause riding roller coasters and eating onion rings makes a girl sweaty) when I heard the infernal door bell. I swear that little jerk is causing me to have some sort of anxiety disorder. This time I didn't hesitate, I quickly ran to the door. I peeped out the peephole and saw.........


Jehova's Witnesses. Or what appeared to be Jehova's Witnesses. Two young men in black slacks, white dress shirts, and black ties. I obviously realized the real reason they were at my door. To trick me into opening the front door so they could rush inside and rob me and possibly kill me.

Once again, suffice to say I grew up in a small town and I don't feel safe living in a big city.

The end of this story is very anti-climactic. I did not answer the door, and the "Jehova's Witnesses" just went away instead of breaking down the door like I assumed they would.

A while later I was telling my sister the story of these "Jehova's Witnesses" and she told me what I really needed to do was run outside naked with a shotgun every time a solicitor rang my doorbell. See her blog here to understand why she would suggest this solution- http://whatelainasays.blogspot.com/2013/02/dear-god-that-nudity-was-totally.html.  I thought about it and realized this might actually make matters worse if I took her advice so I'm looking for creative signs to post on my door to keep people away.

So who has an awesome, not stupid idea? Cause I don't want any stupid ideas people. No stupid ideas allowed. Only good ones. Seriously.

Post your ideas to my blog or my facebook. Thanks, have a good day, and don't run outside naked with a shotgun.

This is my actual doorbell. Every time someone rings it my therapist gets richer.

Trolls, only cute when they have little jewels in their tummies.

Most days I feel like I'm living the American dream. The one where I live in a cute little red brick house, with neighbors that talk to me over my fence, and birds that sit in the trees and chirp.  It's quiet, except for the birds and the occasional sounds of kids playing, and a few barking dogs here and there. The lawns are green and lush, and most of the women are stay at home moms that drive mini vans and smile at me every time I see them. So it paints a pretty picture, right?

Here's the ugly side of that pretty picture. Home Owner's Association (dun dun dun). These people INFURIATE me.

I was home in the middle of the day, which is an incredibly rare and weird occurrence (kind of like when you find a ball of hair in your cup o'noodles.)

So, I'm sitting down on my couch when......



the doorbell rang.



I sighed because I figured it was a solicitor. I got up, walked to the door and smashed my face against the little view hole thingy so I could see who was there.

Then,  I saw it.

Standing right. there. on my doorstep was a troll. A TROLL.  It's feet had loooong, yellow, sharp toenails. It's legs were covered in black, thick, coarse hair. The clothes it had on were filthy, dirty, rags. The long, muscled arms hung down to it's knees. It's mouth was set in a permanent snarl, and I could see the sharp, yellow teeth within. The eyes bulged out of it's head almost comically, except for the fact that they were terrifying. The large, bulbous nose sniffed the air as if trying to discern whether or not I was standing on the other side of the door.  It's hair was thin, black, and stringy, hanging to it's shoulders in limp, oily strands. 

It raised it's clawed hand and rang the doorbell again. 

I gasped and stepped away from the door.

I heard shuffling and then something slid under my door. I picked it up tentatively, and opened it..

I scanned it quickly and realized it was a notice from the Home Owner's Association telling me to edge my yard and roll up my hose, immediately. Well, that's weird. Why would a troll deliver this? Don't they have better things to do, like eat people who walk over bridges and terrorize medieval towns?

I walked slowly back to the peephole. There was a figure walking away from my door. It didn't look like troll though....weird.

I smacked my forehead with realization. Duh! 

That "troll" was just someone from the Homeowner's Association, delivering this EXTREMELY important message.

I guess trolls don't terrorize bridges anymore, they just threaten hard working people (who barely have time to eat and take showers) with legal ramifications should their yard not be edged within 10 days.

*Sigh*

Man, have we lost sight of what's truly important and worth our time and effort.

What's important to you? Have you become a troll?


It might be ok if I was one of these trolls, cause they can grant wishes and stuff.

Sometimes, a Serious Blog is Required.

I am a person of substantial inner strength. I've always felt that situations affecting the emotions in others were sort of beneath me. Don't get me wrong, I am an extremely passionate person, full of love, kindness, anger, and all of those wonderful things that make life so beautifully colorful. What I mean is that I've always been able to withstand emotional trials much easier than most of those around me. At least, this is how I view it from my perspective. And perspective is such a flimsy thing.

Lately I've been wondering how such a thing could affect me so much. I don't feel the need to share this thing....but it is a thorn in my side. It actually pisses me off how much my heart is broken over it. I think possibly the reason I am so sad in my soul is because I've realized a form of cruelty and selfishness in  a human being that I had not yet experienced. A betrayal of ideals I held dear to my heart and soul.

Possibly the reason my heart is so broken by it all is simply because, while I never held romantic ideals close to me, I may have had some sort of childish dream that most people truly were good and kind inside. It seems this unconscious thing I did not even know I so strongly believed in has been smashed to pieces.

Yet in the betrayal of all this I have found confirmation in what my rational mind has always told me, and that is a comfort. I suppose my rational mind was quite right, and those around us are quite unreliable and happiness is only truly found within ourselves.

Cheers to a lesson learned early in life. 

I Got a Horse.

I got a horse. We love her so much we let her live inside because we want to be good horse parents. Actually, we even let her get on the couch and snuggle with us. Sometimes when she gets on me and snuggles me I worry that I have internal bleeding. Luckily if I just drink enough wine/beer/tequila I forget that I could be bleeding to death inside from horse snuggles. The only problem with this horse though is that she won't let me ride her. When I get on her and start screaming "YEEEEEHHHAAAWWW!" at the top of my lungs she just stands there, or sits down and sighs. So I thought, maybe "YEEEEEEHHHAAWWWW" is not the right way to get this particular horse moving. I tried out "GET ALONG LITTLE DOGGIES!" and at one point I even burst out into a particularly moving and beautiful version of  "Home on the Range." All to no avail. Finally I realized what the problem was.

I actually got a Great Dane.....not a horse. 

(Also, let's be real here, I didn't ACTUALLY try and ride her. I just pretended. However, I did sing and utter many exclamations of the cowboy nature.)

So in all seriousness folks, this is Cleo.

She's a pure bred Great Dane. She's a rescue dog who can't hear a thing and can't see so well out of one of her beautiful blue eyes. From what I understand deaf Danes come from the breeding of certain same color Danes together. These are the highly sought after colors, the ones people will pay a pretty penny for. White Danes are often culled at birth because to a breeder they are worthless. I still have a lot to learn about why she's deaf, but my general understanding is that breeders are greedy and they don't care if they come out with a deaf puppy. All I know is Cleo is special. She loves everyone and everything. All she wants is a spot to snuggle on the couch and a bone to chew on. I've never met a dog with a personality like hers, and I will be forever grateful that she clumsily stumbled her awkward, giant body into our lives. 

Does my head look big?

The Green Squishy Thing That Almost Killed Me

After two giant cups of coffee, I was sitting at my computer holding my pee for the better part of an hour. I finally decided it was either pee my pants or sprint to the bathroom and hope that my bladder was strong.  I decided on the tricky business of sprinting and holding it at the same time. I jumped up from my chair, raced across my office and into the bathroom without turning on the light. I took two steps inside, my right foot came down on the tile, and SQUISH. I stepped on something gelatinous, and squishy. It's amazing how many thoughts can run through your head in the space of about two terrifying seconds. I imagined I had stepped on some worm-like creature that was now smashed into a blob on the bottom of my foot. I then imagined I had stepped on a baby snake. 

Yes, a baby snake. I know that sounds insane, but it was dark and I stepped on something long and squishy! If you think I'm crazy then you obviously have much more mental fortitude than I do when it comes to squishy things. At this moment I became convinced  there was indeed a squished baby snake on the bottom of my foot, and I'm absolutely positive that my heart stopped beating for a solid minute. (When I say I'm positive it stopped beating, what I really mean is that I completely imagined it stopped beating). I then almost died, because my heart was so obviously not beating. Somehow, in the last moments of my life I managed to flip on the bathroom light and look down at the bottom of my foot, dreading that the baby snake might actually still be alive. I looked at my foot, blinked, and my heart started beating again. Surprise, it was not a baby snake. It was some grass my chihuahua had thrown up. While grass throw up is disgusting, it is not terrifying. That being said, this green, squishy thing did almost kill me. The lights will be on before I enter any room from this day forward. Yep, I've now added stepping on a baby snake to my irrational list of fears. Thanks, green squishy thing.





I did not feel this way about my squishy thing. Also, googling baby snake images made my fear much worse. I deserve a pat on the back for increasing my fear. Good job, self.