Tag Archives: quirky

How to kill your African Violet

Answer: Give it to me.

When are people going to learn that I am not equiped to handle living plants? I’ve killed more cacti than 10 drunk grannies on golf carts in Sun City, Arizona.  I can’t even save the basil you buy with the dirt in the grocery store. Somehow, it manages to die overnight in the refrigerator

And just when I thought my brown thumb curse was over, I accidentally killed a lovely bamboo plant that was a gift from my boss, after a year and a half of keeping it alive. (Note: they don’t like direct sun.) I’m a botanist’s worst nightmare.

Even though my boss knows I killed the bamboo, she decided to trust me with a second gifted plant. Truth be told, she probably just felt bad leaving me out, when she was giving one to each member of our team. But regardless, I was a reformed plant owner! I would take care of it like my job depended on it. (I really hope it doesn’t.)

I followed everyone’s instructions. Don’t water it too much. put the water in from the bottom, give it light, but not direct sunlight…

I was doing all those things. I was not neglecting it. I even told it I was cheering for it. But one day, I walked in and saw that my African Violet was in the middle of a plant cardiac arrest.

I took immediate action and called my co-worker into my officle for a code green.  You see, her African Violet was um…a little better off.

That night, sad plant had open plant surgery (meaning, under the tender care of my co-worker,  it was re-potted with new soil.)

It got a new spot, next to happy plant (and no longer in my officle), as we were all hoping that happy plant could rub off on sad plant.

And we waited.

And green-thumb co-worker tried everything – watering adjustments, adding rocks to its pan, new light – but, the curse of Stephanie’s thumb had already taken its toll.  Sad plant remained in a plant coma.

 

While, happy plant will probably miss the presence of its comatose friend, I think it’s time to pull the cord.

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Confessions of a rambling quirky blogger

Copyright 2010 BlueRue Studio

My life is an open book.

I don’t know much you don’t know about me. I mean c’mon I broke my butt and shared it. But I thought I’d give it a try…you know.

Try to share even more of the nonsense that goes on inside my head with you.

 Also, it’s Friday. And besides the duck, nothing remotely interesting happened in my life this week. I should really plan ahead with some fantastic editorial material for weeks like this. But that would take work.

So, you are stuck with this random TMI  list of things I feel like sharing with you.

  •  I’m an interrupter. It’s not intentional. I know it’s rude. I just get really excited sometimes and words are out before I know it. It’s kind of like when Gertie licks people in the mouth (and I mean in.) She didn’t mean to. It just happened.
  • I have the worst road rage known to man. But I’m a complete hypocrite about it. I’ve been known to lay on the horn at someone for cutting me off while cutting someone else off.
  • I may owe the state of Pennsylvania a toll fee. I’m still a little confused about what happened. I got on the bypass and took a ticket. Then, there was a portion of my route where Bad Betty was telling me to stay left. I could see other cars pulling into a lane to the right of me where they were paying a toll, but I just assumed it wasn’t my turn to pay because I wasn’t exiting the road. I figured when I got off the bypass at my final exit, I would pay. But when I arrived at my destination, I looked down and realized I’d never paid a toll. Oopsie.
  • It’s not the first time I’ve owed a state toll money. Once in Virginia I didn’t have any cash so I took an IOU from the toll lady and was supposed to mail it in. I’m not sure I ever did.
  • I hope no authorities in those states read this blog. I’m a good citizen, I promise.
  • I eat food that I’ve dropped on the floor. I drop things a lot so this happens often. I haven’t died yet.
  • I skip chapters in books if they bore me. I did this a lot in college and they still gave me a degree.
  • I skipped a lot of class and they still gave me a degree.
  • I’m beginning to wonder if they just give degrees to anyone.
  • I would have eaten something after my dog has had a bite.  
  • I just picked my nose. I have a nose ring and boogers get stuck to it. It’s allergy season so this is problematic.

I feel like I’ve hit a low on my list and should probably stop there. Have a great weekend!

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Who’s the chicken now?

Let me just start by saying I’m an idiot.

Now don’t jump down my throat. You haven’t heard what I did yet.

Trust me. You’ll concur.

It was ugly. But see there is this little thing called an ego. And mine sometimes gets a wee bit out of control.

Ego. Meet death.

Wings.

Yes, death wings. 

(Note the surgical gloves next to wing? Required for handling.)

It seemed like a really good idea to eat something with death in the title AND that requires a surgical glove to hold onto.  Yes, sometimes I wonder about myself as well.

And Mr. Quirky? He was out. He wanted nothing to do with this. It was all me. He had no sympathy what.so.ever. Fine. I am woman enough to take this challenge without him.

So, we gathered the troops. It was a contest of sorts.

But when push came to shove, only four of us were brave enough stupid enough to go through with it.

I was the only girl.

That should have told me something. But for once I wanted to be the girl that could hang with the boys. I wanted to take my girly-girl reputation and stomp it to smithereens.

Instead. I burned my mouth to smithereens. Oops.

See, these wings, make even a grown man cry.

(And no. This is not a fabricated photo. He really had a melt down after eating two wings.)

So did I.

But luckily, Joel’s emotional collapse was more entertaining than mine.

All the camera caught was my aftermath.

(two wings.)

Wherein I foolishly thought holding a napkin soaked in my ice water on my lips would help anything.

It was true, as Joel wisely recapped, once you let the pain fully hit you, then, and only then could you recover.

And water? Don’t even try.

I thought I could do three or four. But after one, I almost threw up in the towel. There is hot and then there is a place where it’s just you and the fire. The world is tuned out. Sound melts away. All you know is burn.

And later, it will feel as if there is an alien inside you, trying to escape.

But if you are as bold ridonkulous as my friends Paul (shown) and Andy, you power through six wings.

Because you can.

And because you are very, very foolish and have a lot to prove.

I thought I could prove that I wasn’t chicken once and for all by manning up and telling the death wings who is boss.

But all I have to say now is.

Bawk.

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Just not 24 anymore

Adorable Val and Joe photo stolen from Facebook. 🙂

My brother-in-law’s girlfriend turned 24 this weekend.

She is a-stinking-dorable. Not only is she so tiny, I could fit her in my handbag, she is as sweet as pie. Seriously, she’s got it all going for her.

And she’s just 24. The world is hers. And I feel lucky to know her.

On a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon, Mr. Quirky, Gertie and I took a little stroll which ended at a local bar with a patio where Val and friends were celebrating her birthday.

We didn’t stay for long. Just enough to have a glass of wine and share in some birthday wishes.

But it got me thinking about being 24. The things you could do without getting tired. The food you could eat without getting fat. The outfits you could wear without looking foolish. The jobs you’ve yet to have. The friendships you’ve yet to have. The experiences yet to shape you.

It is just such an awesome time. There will never be another 24.

Then I thought about being 32. The things that make me tired. The things I can’t eat without getting fat. The outfits I should have given gave away to charity. The jobs I’ve had and friends who have come with those jobs. The experiences that have shaped me.

And I realized that this. This is an awesome time.

A time in my life where I know where I’ve come from. Have direction toward the future. The support of a great husband and family. The life experiences of living in various places and even divorce. Fantastic friends. Passion for cooking and creating and entertaining. This blog. Connections that I’ve made beyond my imagination.

There will be another 32.

Val, enjoy the journey! And be sure to rock 24 like it’s never been rocked before.

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Tap. Tap. Is this thing on?

Well this is embarrassing.

No posts in two weeks?! What is wrong with me?

Gah. 

Ok, fine. I’m alive. With absolutely no excuses for abandoning my blog.

[Empty promises to follow.]

And I promise never, ever to leave you in the quirky darkness again. And to alway, always blog, even when I’m super busy.

So what the heck have I been up to?

Well, first off. I broke my butt.

Yup, not even kidding. Despite what you might think, this injury did not occur during a Fire & Wine night.

I slipped on the ice on Monday heading down my front steps. One minute I was upright, the next minute – BLAMO!- I was down. Hard. On my tailbone.

But don’t worry. He’s been taking good care of me.

Which has included the purchase and subsequent wearing of donut on his head.

Eh, it didn’t do anything for me anyway. I prefer sitting on ice these days.

Also, the family has been great. My mom has been full of empathy, and my new in-laws sent over my brother-in-law with a bag of hot tamales (my favorite candy.)

Unfortunately, I was sitting on the couch, not wearing any pants when he randomly arrived at our house. (There was a blanket nearby, for anyone who is worried about how this scene played out.)

Look very closely at the fellows. Image copyright 2010 BlueRue Studio Photography.

He really likes to drop trou.

Speaking of wedding pictures, that’s another thing I’ve been up to.

I mean, if you had wedding pictures this awesome, wouldn’t you spend your time looking at them over and over again?

I can say that not because I am awesome, but because my photographer made me look awesome. There is a difference.

My pictures were up just in time to show them off on my latest business trip to Hershey, PA. Armed with my (new!) i-phone and a chocolate martini, I am an unstoppable happy hour social machine.

And when it comes to happy hours, there is probably nothing I like better than showing off my city to friends from out of town.

Lucky for me, my friend Melissa at SingleGalNYC  made Kansas City a stop on her Great Dating Blitz. She even allowed me to crash a single gals happy hour at one of my favorite KC hot spots.

So, here I am a business trip, social events and butt injury later, asking you to stick with me here in Quirkyville.  Because I am such a pain in the butt.

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The more the merrier

“Hey, I was at your wedding on Saturday.”

It was Tuesday and I was sitting in a sports bar  (with my husband…woot!) and friends to watch the KU/K-State game.  This factoid was shared by the guy who delivered my grilled chicken sandwich (with swiss cheese and mushrooms…yum.)

My first thought was he must have been someone’s date that I didn’t get around to meeting…

But then Mr. Quirky remembered.

Every wedding has them. Those strangers who wander into your wedding, whether it be playful, voyeuristic or just to drink your booze.

The wedding crashers.

And ours just happened to be holding a delicious grilled chicken sandwich.

“Oh my gosh,” I said after stuffing my face with a fry. “I remember now. Oh, and can I get some ranch dressing too?” (Because any good wedding crasher should provide ranch dressing.)

I did remember. The cute couple who Mr. Quirky found in the lobby at our wedding reception (the venue is attached to a bar that is open to the public.) They had wandered in to peek at the wedding, (Because who wouldn’t want to be at that party? ) and Mr. Quirky invited them to stay and have a beer.

And now, a few days later, the guy is forgetting to bring me my ranch dressing.

Turns out our wedding crasher is a cool dude (ranch dressing forgetfulness aside) who happens to work at a bar that I have been a regular at for years. The bar that introduced the Lunch Bunch.

So, we did what we do. We made a new friend, swapped numbers and hope to hang out soon.

Crash is such a harsh word. I like to think of them as wedding  fans, wedding joiners, wedding strangers who become friends…

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Two Peas in A Pod

The fiance’s mom has been working on the great cake project which requires going through old photos of both of us to pick pictures for the film strips.

My mom picked some of my old photos to send to her. (Wow,  Mom. You picked some real winners. Really? The toilet picture? Thanks.) 

In compiling the pictures, the fiance’s mom began to notice some pretty eerie similarities. It’s almost as if we’ve been together all along…

Rub-a-dub-dub him

Rub-a-dub-dub me

(I still get that excited about taking a bath.)

Adorable pose him

Adorable pose me

But wait…we’re not done. Because not only were we both cheek-pinch worthy cute little kids, we both found our middle grades a little more…awkward.

First day of school in blue him

First day of school in blue me

(Yes, that is a perm.)

Smarty-pants project him

Smarty-pants project me

(First place! Booyah!)

And while these pictures might make you think we were high school sweethearts, I can assure you, we did not meet until 2008…

Prom pic him

Prom pic me

We really are two peas in a pod…

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