That would be 844, not 884, stupid.

It’s official…I am not allowed to pick up a telephone ever again. It’s just too traumatic for the party on the other end.

WARNING: The information in the following post may (and probably will be) offensive to some (and by some I mean everybody).

I’m on my way home from San Jose. I get an email (the I-phone is a wonderous thing) from my best friend with a forwarded message from someone she knows (a complete and utter moron, might I add) who is pregnant and feels the need to post ‘newsletters’ detailing every minute and personal detail of her bodily functions relating to her pregnancy. Unfortunately for everyone, The Moron is on final approach to birthing this kid. Thus she has sent out a rather ‘juicy’ bulletin, including dilation measurements, amniotic leakage and pondering the whereabouts of a missing mucus plug (ewwwww, who loses something like that??? Gross.)*

This email was too much for me to just let wait until I get home to answer, so I decided to go ahead and ring her up. I get voice mail, “Hi, we’re not here to answer your call, please leave a message and we’ll call you back” Gosh, she sounds very mechanical, but not unhappy. So I launch into my message (and for those of you who have received phone messages from me, you know I’m not exaggerating when I say ‘launch’) It goes something like this:

“Oh my god, why do you subject me to these things? Gross gross gross, this woman is walking birth control for two reasons: 1) Who wants someone this stupid raising children??? and 2) Mucus plugs??? MUCUS PLUGS??!? AMNEOTIC LEAKAGE??!? EWWWWW! If I ever DID want to have children I certainly DON’T now after hearing about lost mucus plugs and her agonizingly slow cervical dilation process. Ugggg! That picture of her that you sent me, the one with the attempt to look all Demi Moore Madona-ish?? That wasn’t the look she had goin’ on! Now I know the look, after reading that….it’s the “Hmmm, where did I last see my mucus plug?”-look. Okay, well, thank you but now I have to go wash my brain, thanks, Elizabeth, really. Okay, bye.”

Satisfied, I end the call. And start to think. That really didn’t sound like Elizabeth in the outgoing greeting, come to think of it, it really really didn’t sound like her. The outgoing message never said “You have reached Jeremy and Elizabeth…blah blah blah”…..Uh-oh.

5 minutes pass as I drive and ponder. I decide I better call back and put in a disclaimer and an ‘apology if I reached the wrong number’ message, you know, on the off chance that I HAD THE WRONG NUMBER or something almost impossible like that. It rings all of 4 times before someone answers. A dude.

“Hi Jeremy, how are you?” I say.

“Uh, who?” the voice responds.

Uh oh.

And I say “Uh-oh”…pause…”Is this Jeremy?”

“Um, no”


“So, I’m guessing there’s nobody named Elizabeth at this number?”

“Uh, nope. No Elizabeth”

“Oh man. Ummm, you know, you may want to go ahead and just erase the message I left on your voice mail about 5 minutes ago….dude, I’m SO sorry. You know, just, um, delete that. I obviously have the wrong number”

Silence. And then a brief chuckle….

“Ummm, too late”

Oh geezus.

“Ooops” I offer.

Another chuckle.


Geez. I hope I didn’t do any permanent damage. It was a pretty vivid message (there are a few details I left out of the printed version, for obvious reasons…I mean, why scar anyone else?)

Note to self: tone it down, just a smidge maybe. And get on in there and double check your contact list numbers on the cell.

Yeah, probably good advice.

*If you are or have been pregnant, have a spouse who is or has been pregnant, are an expert on being pregnant…please…I’m well aware that this is all “very natural and whatever whatever”. I know this, and don’t care. I am completely gagged out hearing about it. I don’t have kids, and these oozing swelling dilating tearing leaking heaving pushing stretching details are one of the reasons (don’t judge me, I know I’m shallow). So please, don’t post comments to tell me how ‘worth it’ all of those ‘perfectly natural’ horrors are. I know you think they are. But given my druthers, I’ll think I’ll take a pass, thank you very much.

Fall is here, again, thank you

It’s my favorite time of the year, hands down. Here in California the hottest months of the year are notoriously August and September. October is my favorite because it mellows out in the heat department but stays blue and gorgeous through the end of the month and usually well into November. The nights cool down (most of the time, there’s still a few warm breezy evenings, but none of the stagnant yuck that happens July/August/September), the mornings are bright and beautiful, and the afternoons are long and dreamy.

I got out of work pretty early today, hit the chiropractor (he done fixed me up good the last 3 weeks, I owe the man a debt of gratitude). I’ve had a cold, so I went home after tying up a few strings at work. It was a beautiful day, a perfect day (less the stuffy head and nausea, that is). I had my camera with me, so I caught these guys on the way up the hill:

These were about 15 hens and a very young tom, and not the Ranch Flock (the flock of about 30 young birds that seem to have decided to make our ranch their home base….we’ll see about that). How do I know this? I mean, a flock of turkeys is a flock of turkeys, right? I know this because Clark was hangin’ with his homies as I came up the driveway

I know I should have laid down and rested, but the afternoon was too good to waste. So I grabbed the camera and lost myself doing something I get pure, unadulterated pleasure from: wasting digital film.

Please enjoy. **NOTE: all of the photos in this post (hell, on the entire blog for the most part) have been crunched down to fit the page. If you click on them they will expand to the size they’re meant to be viewed at**

This is Northern California, for those of you far removed. If you come visit, you can sit under this tree and knock back something alcoholic while you soak up the view. I’ve got hospitality down to a fine art, ask anyone who’s come to stay:

We have acorns this year. “So what?” you say….well, they don’t come along every year. Just sometimes, like this year. If you want some, tell me, and I’ll send you a box of the little suckers. Acorns are cool.

Screen doors keep dogs, no names mentioned, from running into trees and breaking themselves:

Random garden stuff…. I love my garden;

Mexican Sage


White Guara

I collect shiny things, Art likes they way they refract the sun. We have lots of sun up here.

Then there are the honey bees. For the record, they’re alive and well up here. And very, very busy.

Just keep clear of the business end, and you know, it’s all good.

I’m pretty sure I’m gunna pay for this one at some point….

This took place on the cell, on my way home from the UPS store, with our mail and a much anticipated package for AtH.

AtH: “Hey, what’s up?”

Me: “So, what time you gunna be home?”

AtH: “Oh, around 8-ish. I’m going to the gym.”

Me: “hmmmm. You’re not going to be home any earlier? Well, I guess I can figure it out….”

AtH: (OMG OMG OMG ITS HERE) “Ummmm, did my PS3 show up today?”

Me: “Yeah, but you don’t have to come home, I’ll figure out how to hook it up.”

AtH: (Uh-oh) “Uhhhmmmm, well, you know it takes a special HDMI cable, I mean, you can’t just use any cable”

Me: (giggle silently) “Oh, well, I don’t know about that, I mean, I’m sure I’ll find something that will work. You have so many cables in those bins in the office, I’ll just keep trying them until one of them works. If I have to jury-rig something, I’m sure I can manage to MAKE it work”

AtH: (Crap, I don’t think I want her touching my new stuff, think Art! Think!) “You know, I can just pick one up on the way home at Fry’s. You don’t have to mess around with it, I’ll hook it up when I get home”

Me: “Nooooo, I’m sure I can do it. We have lots and lots of cables. I’m sure one will work.”

AtH: (sigh) “Well, was the box in good shape? No dents or smashed up spots?”

Me: “Welllllll, it was in good shape when I signed for it. I mean, it was heavy, but I only dropped it twice. I’m sure they put lots of padding inside. It comes with a warranty, right?”

Momentary silence.

Me: “I’m just messing with ya”


Me: “I’m joking Art”

AtH: “We shouldn’t joke about things like this”


Sure we should. It’s fun.

In case you were wondering

The conversation went something like this:

Cut to Art and I driving down the hill through the park to do some errand or another.

AtH: “Oh, I saw this cow in the middle of the road yesterday when I was coming down the hill and I thought of you.”

Me: (excuse me???) “You saw a cow and thought of me?”

AtH: “Yeah, it was in the middle of the road, so I slowed down, and then it turned sideways and gave me this look like “Hey, what the hell, I’m WALKING here” and totally had attitude.”

Me: (oh no he did not just say that) “So, you’re saying you saw a cow with a bad attitude and it reminded you of your wife?”

Insert momentary silence while Art the Husband mentally backpedals.

Me: “Well?”

AtH: “Um, well, sweetie, no, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that the cow had this attitude and it was like when you……um….I…..I mean…, baby, that’s not what I meant.”

Insert more silence.

Me: “Maybe we should change the subject”

AtH: “Yeah, um, that totally came out wrong”

Me: “Yeah, yeah it did.”