Yeah, I was totally unproductive this weekend. I did get some dishes done, but that's about it. Oh well, there's always Thursday.

Work sucked ass. That's all I'm going to say about that.

I saw a fabulous sign whilst browsing the AP photos tonight. It was out in San Francisco; I can't remember if they were at a protest or at the courthouse or what, but it said "Preserve Marriage Ban Divorce" That is exactly right. I still want to send some flowers out, but I'll have to wait until tomorrow. They are still marrying couples tomorrow, aren't they? I want to thank RevSpork's girlfriend for informing us all of these goings-on, by the way. Rock on!

Mom tells me our little Rusty has hurt his hind leg/paw. Rough-housing outside, no doubt. Silly puppy; I can't wait until we have him up here!

*BURN UPDATE* It wants to play Tetris.

I think I have a version of a cold. No stuffiness to speak of, but a terribly dry throat. Actually, my nose is pretty dry (and yes, I know how odd that sounds). Anyway, no matter how much water I drink I still feel parched. Poor Dani!

Maybe it's because I haven't had a soda in two days. I went to the dentist Wednesday, and I've been a bad, bad girl. I need lots o' fillings because I drink way too much soda. But Dr. Mitchell says he can save me (no, really, that's what he said) so I guess it'll be OK. Stupid girl.

A word to the wise: If you plan on being productive, don't get out the Tetris. Especially if you have a gamecube, because there are some crazy addictive games on there. I did get most of the dishes done, but I didn't even touch the bathroom or any laundry. I suppose there's always Saturday.

So, I realized today that in the next few months I'm going to need to start planning Dave's graduation party - or should I say par-tay, because it's gonna be huge! By that time we should be in a house (renting) so there will be room for more than five people to be there at the same time. If only BGSU's colors weren't orange & brown...maybe the history department has its own colors? Probably not.

I really want to redo my Web site, but I haven't been in a particularly creative or witty mood lately. Maybe inspiration will strike this weekend and I won't have to clean the bathroom. We'll see.

*BURN UPDATE* I think it tells Fat Mojo to be bad.


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It's so depressing finding out you really cannot hold your liquor. In the BGSU days, I could keep up with just about anyone, but no more. We went to the AMVETS Valentine's Day dance with Joy and Rodney Saturday night, and my buzz began with my first rum & coke. By the time I finished No. 3, it was all over. In my defense though, they were big glasses; they used those big red plastic cups. I was way too excited about the ham raffles and the door prizes, but that's OK. I had fun, and I didn't even get weepy until we got home!

Nothing else to report, sorry!

*BURN UPDATE* It likes my Garth Brooks Live CD.

Just a quickie 'cause my head is killing me. Star is back home, safe and sound. She was just two doors down from my parents' house, and they finally got around to calling the humane society Thursday, and found out where she belonged.

Fat Mojo is just fine. Apparently he just has some wacky "pigmentation" on the belly.

*BURN UPDATE* It's asleep.

Damn lunchlady bitch spit on my dessert today. My parents' puppy, Star aka Star-baby, is missing. She's been gone since Tuesday evening. I'm hoping that a well-meaning person picked her up and will see the signs and bring her home. You all had better stay away from me for a while, becuase my bad karma is apparently spreading.

No word on Mojo.

*BURN UPDATE* Who cares?

Oh, and no word on Mojo's biopsy yet.

As I stand in the line of the cafeteria of life, I look at my plate piled high with work casserole and financial casserole and say "That is so not what I ordered!" I take it back to the lunchlady of life and tell her she screwed up, to fix it but not to touch the personal dessert. She flips me off and piles more casserole on, but thankfully doesn't take my dessert. Well guess what lunchlady? I'm not paying!

I am so sick of playing catch-up, hurry up and wait, and all the other oxymoronic games that borderline sane people have to play. I'm sick of playing Capable Woman, Responsible Girl, Tough Lady and all the other stupid roles I have. I'm sick of smiling sweetly when I want to yell and scream and lock myself in the bathroom and cry. Thank God for Dave.

*BURN UPDATE* It's a damned ugly reminder of how stupid I am.



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I would like to apologize to Meijer for saying mean things about them. They still make their lotion tissues, and I stocked up last week.

Now, anybody who had a suck-ass Thursday raise your hand (or just a finger if it was really bad). We had a really bad Thursday, so I am currently flipping that day the bird. It started when I got home from work and saw Fat Mojo sprawled out on his back, presenting the belly. In and of itself, that's not a bad thing; it was the bare patch around his little Mojo nipple with the mole-like spots that was bad. We poked and prodded the belly, trying to feel if these spots were raised and trying to decide whether we should be worried. We decided they weren't really raised and that maybe we should worry a little.

So, after three hours of sleep, I got up and called Dr. Jones (the veterinarian, not the archaeologist) and got an appointment for 9:30 that morning. Took the fat cat up to Bowling Green, and Dr. Jones decided to do a biopsy just to be safe. I left the fat cat with the doctor, promising said fat cat that I would be back to get him that night. When I got home I was going to try and nap, but that didn't really happen. I think I dozed off and on for about an hour.

I was supposed to pick Mojo up between 7:30-8:30 p.m., and Dave gets home at 8, so I was going to leave a bit before 7 so we'd get home around the same time. Well, Dave got home at 6, and when I said "What the hell are you doing home?" he said "I just got in a car accident."

Nobody got hurt, don't worry, but the front of the car is smushed in a bit. I don't feel like getting into all the details, but we'll just say it involved an old lady who kept slowing down in the left lane and the guy behind her (not Dave) who was riding her ass and was just shy of a DUI.

So, about an hour later, after Dave had calmed down, we headed out for BG. It had started snowing at some point, and the interstate was a mess. We finally made it to Dr. Jones', got Fat Mojo, wrote out a big-ass check, and headed home. The interstate was even worse, so I wasn't going too fast. We got about halfway home, maybe 2/3 of the way there, and I saw a knot of traffic up ahead, so I started slowing down.

One car went flying by me on the left, and then a second car went flying by. As they got up to the little knot of traffic, the second driver realized that the first driver wasn't going as fast as him, so he slammed on his brakes. On the icy road. Do you see where I'm going with this?

As soon as I saw those brake lights, I said to Dave "Oh shit, this is gonna be bad!" Car 2 swung to the left, then swung to the right, into my lane, in front of a semi so I couldn't see what was going on. Then it swung back into the left lane, fishtailed a couple of times, and then slid into the median. I cannot express to you how scared I was.

We made it down the interstate - seeing a semi upright but jackknifed on the side of the road and a car in a deep ditch (well, not really seeing the car, just the headlights pointing up and towards us) - with no other near misses.

When we got home we discovered that Fat Mojo was still messed up from the anesthetic, which is funny now but was disturbing at the time. He didn't have total control of his back legs, so he was kind of stumbling all over. It was like he didn't know where he was. Dave had to help Mojo into the litter box, and at one point Mojo wandered into the bathroom and just stood there in the doorway. Mojo also managed to get behind the entertainment center and the washer and dryer. He seemed to want to eat, but I didn't know if it would make him sick, so I was all worried about that.

We may get the biopsy results as soon as Monday, but most likely Tuesday, so I'll keep you posted.

I know it probably doesn't sound like Thursday was that awful, but it was. It just was.

On a completely different topic, I just want to say that as much as the governor sucks ass, Ohio is still a good state. There are several issues knocking around in my brain - state-oriented and otherwise - but I just don't feel like getting political right now. Sorry.

*BURN UPDATE* It's trying to recruit the scar on my left ring finger.



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All is right with the world. My Harry Potter Goblet of Fire & Order of the Phoenix (GoF & OotP for those of you as obsessed as I am) have been returned. I loaned them to a lady in the rental office months ago and finally asked after them yesterday. I'm seriously going to have to rethink my borrowing system, or start charging fines like the library. But anyway, I can get started on OotP for the third (or is it fourth) time and get back to hunting for clues. I'm pathetic.

It's a damn good thing I don't have a bad back, because I'm pretty sure I'd have thrown it out several times in the last few days. Our landlord apparently doesn't believe in salting sidewalks or the parking lot, so there have been some rather painful and unnatural movements on my part. I've taken to kind of rocking from side to side as I take tiny little baby steps, because it seems to work for penguins. Although today I found myself shouting "Son of a bitch!" on my dinner break as I tried to make it to the building. Serious back and knee twistage, but I remained upright.

*BURN UPDATE* It's plotting against me with the scar on my shin.



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I keep forgetting about that article I wrote and said I'd post up here, but I finally remembered tonight, so here you go...It's not much, but it's mine. And the Courier's.



History und sausage

Learn about the life of James Thurber, then grab a bite to eat in German Village



By DANIELLE HAUS

ASSISTANT WIRE EDITOR





From the outside, the Thurber House at 77 Jefferson Ave. in Co­lumbus looks like most any other carefully restored home.

In fact, even with my mom, my aunt and myself looking for the former home of author James Thurber, we almost had to take a second lap around the circular road.

Inside there was a museum-like aura, but that was probably due to the near-silence in the building, because this is not your typical historical site.

No plastic runners to follow, no docents "asking" visitors not to touch anything, no velvet ropes keeping visitors out of rooms — the Thurber family wanted the house to be a com­fortable place to visit and work.

The house (which is reported­ly haunted) has been restored to reflect the period when the Thurber family lived there (1913-1917), and even the wall­paper designs have been duplicat­ed. Some rooms do double duty, like the dining room/gift shop or a bedroom/staff office, but peri­od pieces or memorabilia can al­ways be found, and Thurber-like drawings abound.

Six days a week, tours are self-guided with the aid of a laminat­ed brochure, and you can roam the rooms at leisure getting a close-up view of any little thing that catches your eye. On Sundays, tours are given by a staff member.

If you don’t want to cart the brochure around, outside the rooms there are small plaques with a drawing and a brief des­cription of the room. Inside the rooms a more detailed descrip­tion is available.

We started off by wandering through the comfortable parlor — "suitable for reading and light conversation" according to the plaque — and the living room, and then headed upstairs. We checked out the area at the top of the stairs, where we found, among other items, an antique dress and pair of very small, pointy shoes.

We laughed quietly at the size of the shoes, because we still couldn’t shake the be-quiet-you’re-in-a-museum feeling. That didn’t last too much longer though.

After looking at some Ohio State sports pictures in one of the bedrooms and a showcase of memorabilia in another bedroom, my companions browsed through the Thurber family pictures down the wall of the hallway, dis­cussing how they would make over Mame Thurber, James’ mother.

We looked through James’ bedroom, making sure to find him in the fraternity picture, and even peered into the closets. We were amused to find the scrawled signatures of (we assumed) past visitors.

One even claimed to have been "Thurbered."

After peeking into the bath­room where Thurber once hid from a ghost, we made our way downstairs into the dining room/gift shop. I listened for the ghostly footsteps that allegedly go around the kitchen table and then run up the stairs, but sadly I heard nothing.

After one more look at the liv­ing room, we left the quietness of the Thurber House for the hubbub of the original Schmidt’s Restaurant und Sausage Haus in German Village.

Schmidt’s, located in a former livery stable, has been around since 1886. They offer an original line of German and American food and drink, including Ger­man and micro brews.

We were seated in the room where the German Autobahn Buffet is located, and after squeezing between the tables we had a nice view down Kossuth Street. The restaurant was quite full, and as much as I tried not to listen, I heard many snippets of conversations from other tables.

This is definitely not the place for a clandestine meeting.

Despite the impression my last name may give, I am totally unfa­miliar with most German foods. I played it safe and ordered the Ba­hama Mama sandwich with pota­to pancakes, while my mom and aunt went for the honey roasted turkey Reuben.

After very little debate, the three of us decided to split one of Schmidt’s famous jumbo cream puffs.

A word to the wise — if you can’t handle spicy food, I’d try the "Milder Mama." I did my best, but I just couldn’t finish the sandwich. The turkey Reubens are fantastic, or so I’m told, and the cream puffs alone may be worth the drive.

I had been staring out the win­dow at Schmidt’s Fudge Haus und Gifts all through lunch, and my placemat told me to go see fudge being made, so we careful­ly made our way across the street — sleet had made for a slippery road that day.

The Fudge Haus is filled to the brim with candy, gifts and annoy­ing items that say "Try me" and make a lot of noise when you do. The guy behind the counter (Daniel) greeted us with a cheery "Hello," and I made a beeline for the fudge-making area. Alas, no one was there.

According to Daniel, things are a bit slow this time of year. He assured me, however, that the daily fudge making would re­sume in February.

After exploring the store, we made our purchases. The store apparently is frequented by Ohio State University football coach Jim Tressel, so I made sure to get a "Tressel Truffle" for my dad.

If you plan on using a credit card, make sure you have a min­imum of $10 worth of goodies.

Our next stop was The Red Stable, back towards Schmidt’s. I would have liked to have spent more time browsing through this little shop, but the weather was getting worse so we only did a quick walk-through. There are all kinds of little antiques, trinkets, steins and more.

I got the feeling that you may never know what you’ll find at The Red Stable.

Schmidt’s Restaurant und Sau­sage Haus is open from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. Sunday and Monday, from 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday, and from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. Friday and Satur­day.

Hours for Schmidt’s Fudge Haus have been shortened for the winter. Saturday is your best bet for a visit. Their hours should be expanding in the next few weeks.

The Red Stable is open from noon to 6 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday.



*BURN UPDATE* It's very angry today.



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Has it really been a week? What a bad seed I am! And nothing exciting has happened, so I have no excuse.

We went down to the Pammer & the Papa's house Saturday. Watched the tape of the previously mentioned ex-step-cousin on Maury. Lovely.

Also got to see our little Rusty! He's such a sweet little thing! Dad and mom say it's all an act, but I don't believe them. SO wish we could bring him up now!

Those nasty little pounds did leave, and they did take a couple of their friends with them, so I'll keep pluggin' along for now. If we go out for Valentine's Day though, I may have to splurge a little and have some chocolate cake or something.

*BURN UPDATE* It's cold and has goosebumps.

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