Archive for the ‘Cloud Cuckooland’ Category

Before the Rain

We’ve had some rain here and there, and it’s cooled things off quite a bit. The temperature on our patio topped out at 90°, which is refreshingly crisp for a Texas August. I’ve been outside off and on all day, because the air outside is just addicting. It smells sweet and clean and there’s a cool breeze in the air.

A large, heavy cloud has been hanging just to the east of us. It gets darker as it gets closer, and I can see rain coming down on the other side of the creek. A few hundred yards away, to my right, the sky is still bright with sunset.

It’s a beautiful moment, and I’m thankful for it.

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Remember my post about my husband’s dumpster-diving tendencies?

I was carrying trash to the dumpster this morning and thought “Wow, Hubs would have a field day out here.” There was a big wooden hutch (which was actually quite nice, but we have no room for it), some junky furniture (no thanks), stereo speakers (we don’t even use the ones we have!), and…a bicycle?

I tossed my bag of shame cat crap in the dumpster and took a closer look (at the bike, not the dumpster). It was a faded blue men’s-style bike (the kind with the bar in the middle). The back tire was flat and the chain was rusty; but it still had two wheels, two pedals, a seat and handlebars. I pushed it a little, and it moved pretty well…a new tire and chain, and it would be a rideable bike. It seemed wrong to let it go into the trash. I thought to myself,  “Even if we can’t use this, it can still be donated or used for parts.” So I started wheeling the bike back home.

Our neighbor Dan– who had been loading stuff into a moving truck nearby this whole time– waved and started walking toward me. I waved back. “Was this your bike?”

“Yeah!” He quickly explained “We have like, four of them, and we weren’t riding that one. We don’t really have room for it.” He added “The tire needs some air, and maybe a new chain, but it’s a good bike.”

His lady friend smiled “I’m glad you can use it. I hated to see it go into the trash.”

Me too, girl. Me too.


I haven’t really decided what to do with it, beyond fixing the tire and chain and cleaning it up. I could ride it if I lower the seat; and I always thought it would be nice to have a bike to ride around the neighborhood in. Or maybe our friend’s son would like to ride it when he comes to visit on weekends. Or we could donate it to Workshop Houston. We’ll see.

In the meantime… “Honey, I brought home a bike!”

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Welcome 2012

Hello, 2012! It’s very nice to meet you. Come in, come in; we’ve been expecting you. Have a glass of champagne. Would you like a fruit cookie? I just baked them today, they’re delicious– well, in a bland vegan sort of way. Anyway, enough chitchat. Sit! Sit!

So, 2012, we just wanted to have a chat with you. No pressure or anything, but you have a REALLY hard act to follow. 2011 was an awesome year; at least it was here in Cloud Cuckooland. Hey, we got married in 2011; and in terms of blessings, that’s pretty hard to beat. Sorry to be so blunt, but we just wanted to paint a realistic picture of what you’re up against. Not that we in any way doubt your prospects, 2012. We know you will meet or exceed all our expectations of you this coming year. Right?

Oh, and before you go…you do realize you are an election year, right? Surely we don’t need to remind you that this alone can make you or break you. We know you don’t want to go down in the Hall of Shame like 2004 or (heaven forbid) 2000. Of course you don’t. Right?

Anyway! Enough seriousness. Come and have another drink with us. Then you must go get some sleep– you’ve got a hell of a job to do.

Happy New Year from all of us here at Cloud Cuckooland. We wish you a year of health, hearth, happiness and hope.

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While going through a drawer full of of papers from several years ago, I found a file folder with the following written on the front of it:

“Rant it, chant it, slant it. The grass is always greener on the other side of the film budget.”

No idea what the context of this was, but okay then, Me of the Past. Whatever you say.

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Dear High-School guys,
Whenever you make fun of the boy who takes ballet, remember this: That boy spends his afternoons surrounded by flexible, hard-bodied girls who like to wear skimpy clothing.

Not only that, he gets to put his hands all over said girls (in the context of pas de deux) without having his ass kicked by their fathers.

He does all this while YOU are wearing tight pants and tackling another man from behind.

I’m sorry… who did you say was gay, again?

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~ Why do Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie have so many kids? It’s not like they actually parent them. The kids are cared for by Brangelina’s personal staff while Mom & Dad make movies and do fabulous famous-people things. It seems like the kids are living, breathing accessories that they whip out to look nice for magazine pictures (and then sell those pictures for eight figures. As you do).

Then again, this *is* America: If you have enough money, you can do whatever the fuck you want here.

At least they’ll have enough money for the therapy those six kids will surely need.

~ Speaking of Brangelina: I feel like him/her/Jennifer Aniston have been on the cover of at least one tabloid a week for the last ten years, regarding their little love triangle (Wikipedia tells me that Brad/Jen divorced in 2005… so it’s only been six years, but it FEELS like ten). Does ANYBODY care? Really? I don’t even want to hear about my neighbor’s marital problems, let alone some rich actor’s marital problems.

~ Celebrity drug use is easy to understand:
Q: What do you do with unlimited money and freedom?

Cocaine! Lots and lots of it!

(Ditto to hookers, heavy drinking, and anything else Charlie Sheen does.*)

~ ‘Jersey Shore:’ I can’t even begin to get my head around it.
Is “stupid sells” the new “sex sells?” (If so, GOD HELP US)
Is Italian exploitation the new blaxploitation?
If so, couldn’t they have stuck with exploiting the rich probably-in-the-Mafia Italians? At least that’s interesting. Personally, I’d rather watch a bunch of hairy guys kick each other’s asses than a watch a bunch of drunk oily gym rats grinding on a fat girl; But that’s just me.

~ Scientology seems to be the preferred belief system of celebrities. I think it’s because super rich people want their own God. Anybody else? (Granted, that’s an extremely simplified statement)

~ Don’t even get me started on THIS shit:

Yet gay people in meaningful relationships can’t get married because it ruins the holy institution.

Remember what I said earlier about how you can do anything you want in this country if you have enough money?


That’s all for now, folks. Rant over!

*When I did a google image search for “pile of cocaine,” Charlie Sheen’s picture turned up in the second row of results. Hee!

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Free Toilet

We got a free miniature porta-potty today.

Yeah, I know, how often does *that* happen?

After I finished my workout this morning, I walked down to the fishing hole to say hello to my husband (he has the day off and is spending it fishing. What a rough life he has!). As I was heading back home, I was stopped by one of the matinence guys in a golf cart.

“I have a bucket for your husband,” he said in broken English, “Wait here.”

(Quick backstory: People in our apartment complex have a tendency to throw perfectly good household items in the trash. My husband has a talent for finding these perfectly-good things and putting them to use– some may need a little cleaning or minor repair, but most of the stuff he finds is in prime condition. So far he has brought home several vaccum cleaners, a bookcase, 2 end tables, a picnic table with three chairs, and a giant stuffed leopard that he picked up specifically to freak out our cats with.)

I merrily said okay and waited. I thought he was going to bring me an empty 5-gallon plastic bucket, the kind my husband used o hold his bait. And catches. And cast-net. And sometimes beer and ice, if for some reason he’s away from his trusty cooler (not often). Basically, sir has a good any uses for a plastic bucket.

So you can imagine my surprise when he handed me a box with a portable toilet– the kind you use for camping trips– in it. “Looks brand-new. Might want to clean it anyway.

It’s a little awkward when a total stranger hands you something to crap in, is it not?

“Um…did my husband ask you for this?” I asked.

“It was in trash. Thought he might want it.” And then I realized that this guy was aware of my husband’s dumpster diving interest in finding treasure in another man’s trash i still think “dumpster diving” is the best term for it. And then I realized that having a mini-porta-potty would be handy on camping or boating trips, especially for me since I don’t have the luxury of a penis.
“I bet he will. I’ll take it to him. Thank you very much!”
And lo and beold, my husband was happy with our latest piece of free camping camping equipment (Him: “You can use this when we go on boat trips!” Aww. See?)

And that’s how we got a free porta-potty.

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