Moth-magedon - Friday Freak Out

***I have decided to start "Friday Freak Out" as a somewhat illitered, weekly post where I rant about what is freaking me out this week.  It is also an attempt to force myself to post every week.  We'll see how long this lasts.***




There is an infestation of moths on my patio.  Seriously.  They are everywhere. Hundreds of them.  As soon as dusk settles in they start winging about it their non-sensicle mothy way running into the ceiling, the windows, me.  Gross out, am I right? 

Not cool moths! 

The patio is the only quiet space I have to myself where I can think, participate in internet radio shows with my ultra-nerd friends and conduct phone conversations without the sound of my soon to be MIL and JP (Fiance and all around awesome dude) screaming across the house at each other about who's on the phone with who, that America's Next Top Model is on or about that plane that landed on the highway.  Soon to be MIL has no concept of "Inside Voice" and JP tends to match whoever he's speaking with.  Here's is an example of a conversation between them:

MIL:  JUAN!

JP: WHAT?!

MIL:  THE THING IS ON THE NEWS!

JP:  WHAT THING?!?!

MIL:  WITH THE PLANE ON THE HIGHWAY!!!!

JP:  OK!!!!!!!!

MIL:  AAAAGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!  A ROACH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

JP:  I'LL GET IT IN A MINUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MIL:  HOW DO I GET THE PICTURE FROM THE E-MAIL?

JP:  CLICK ON THE FILE AND THEN CLICK DOWNLOAD!!!!!!!!!!

MIL:  WHERE IS THE FILE, I DON'T SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

JP:  HOLD ON A SECOND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The quietest time in the house is when they've both gone to sleep because even if they're not speaking about how to open a PDF file at a volume that could raise the dead, there are never any less than two televisions on (sometimes three, which is all of them).  When they are asleep there's still one television on because soon the be MIL leaves her television on twenty four hours a day. 

Why is it so hard to get some quiet you ask?  Check out the lay out of my house that I drew that's not at all to scale and poorly done:
(Sorry if this is hard to read.)

That's right, hardly any doors anywhere and soon to be MIL keeps her door open 24-7.
It's pretty pathetic when you enjoy going to the grocery store because it's quieter than your own home.

But now with the moth-pocalypse underway on my patio the only place I have left to go that is quiet and bug free is my car.

I'm Famous! Or Something Like It Anyway....

So I'm guest blogging over here today. It is apparently for this:







In an attempt to do less work today, I have asked my friends to write an "About the Author" section for me. This is what my friends have to say about me.

Christine: Rikki was born in 1812 in the land before time. On her spare days, she enjoys pretending to be a T-Rex and can occasionally be found roaming Walmart, growling as her hands mimic the tiny forearms of this iconic and beloved dinosaur.
Squid: Some have suggested that Rikki is a reincarnation of Cleopatra's second cat, Aristotle but subsequent scientific testing reveals she is the first manifestation of the Sumerian word "Argu" instead. Born in 1993 in a small cardboard b...ox by the river Seine, she has made a living by go-go dancing, flipping apple pies and -- reportedly -- even engaging in the Luftwaffe historical uniform import/export business. Now fully immersed in the world of modern New Media Journalism(tm)(c)(dvd), she lives in northern Atlanta with a fiancee, blueprints for a nuclear device, and a half-monkey/half-pony monster to please you.

Carolyn: My spidey sense is tingling!

Rikki: (Why can't I be me friend too?) Rikki is a world famous author with more novels published than Stephen King.When she's not summering in New Zealand, Rikki spends her afternoons sewing quilts to the homeless and obsessively double checking her locks. She is convinced a small family of raptors living in her wine cellar.

JP (Fiance and all around awesome dude) In a nearly deserted monastery high up in the Pyrenees, there lies an ancient tome. For the chosen few who have had the privilege to guard this mysterious book, they would gladly lay down their lives to keep it safe.

Why such a devotion to such an old text? Because contained therein is a prophecy foretelling the arrival of one who will blog. One who will entertain with wit and wisdom. One who will make acute observations about the minutiae of day to day life. One who will be known as Erika.
The list of people who have read the prophecy can be counted upon a single hand. Yet you will be witness to what is writ therein. The translated passage reads as follows: "Hey, have you checked out that 'There's Always Room For Pie' blog? I think you'll dig it." And with that, go forth with peace and serenity.

Fun at Church

So JP (Fiance and all around awesome dude) and I are going out for Greek food tonight, and it reminded me of a story from school in Hawaii.

So I went to Maranatha Christian Church and Academy * for a year when I lived in Hawaii.  It was a predominately Filipino school.  As in: when I wasn't there it was a Filipino school.  It was a super great school to attend.  Seriously, the students were some for the nicest people I have ever met, the teachers truly cared about the students and the pastor/principal was dedicated like no one ever was to the success of the church, school and everyone in it.

I said that to say this**:  I am about to totally make fun of something that happened there and everyone who attended.

At the end of the year the school had an assembly as most schools do, and they had a special guest speaker; a traveling preacher and his beautiful Samoan wife.  I do not remember there names, it was a long time ago. 

First I need to tell you that I grew up in a Baptist environment; quiet churches and generally reserved people.  Maranatha was a charismatic church were speaking in tongues was common along with holy laughter and general rolling in the aisles.  I had never seen anything like it.  During the weekly chapel for school there was never anything like that, just sharing with everyone what you needed everyone to pray about, blessings, etc.

So the assembly started off with singing and a prayer, pretty average, then the Samoan wife did an interpretive dance about her love for Jesus.  Okay.., weird a little.., but okay.  Then the preacher delivered his message.  People were shouting Amen a lot and Yes! and the like.  Loud, not what I was used, to but okay.

Then the preacher started "speaking in tongues"***.

I will never forget what this guys version of speaking in tongues was.  Let me quote:  "Mousseeka moussaka mousseeka moussaka mousseeka moussaka moussaka..," and so on like that for I'd say about a half hour.  Everyone in the church is getting worked up, humming, then some start laughing hysterically while others start speaking in tongues.  This was completely frightening to my 15 year old self, by the way.

While the preacher is doing his "Mousseeka Moussaka" bit, there's someone "interpreting"*** what he's saying to mean all these different things even though he's saying the same two words over and over.  We need to recruit help people find Jesus, we need to confess our sins, we need to get closer to the Lord, etc.

(Speaking in tongues is suppose to be this event were you get into the spirit and the Holy Spirit speak through you in a "Holy Language"***.)

Apparently the Holy Spirit was super hungry from what I understood because Moussaka is a delicious Greek casserole with potatoes and beef.

I think I'll invite the Holy Spirit to dinner tonight.

_______________________________________________________________________________

*If you look at the map in the link, scroll towards the upper right along Center Street, I lived up there, right next to the Ewa Forest Reserve.

**A nod to a fun conversation with Mr. Eric about another great preacher we know.

***No hate mail for the quote marks please, just because I don't believe a word of it doesn't mean you can't.  Nor should it mean that you need to berate me about it.  Thank you and have a nice day.

An Evening Out

I'm off to the Shady Characters Art Show.  Hope to see you there!

All the artist in the show are great but I really just what to see this guy's work.  His website is here.

He did my muffin baking robot and it makes me happy every time I see it:

What, didn't know I collect robots?  More on that later.

****UPDATE****

The show was AWESOME!!!!

The Game Show Only JP Would Win

So I'm terrible at names.  Not just people I've met but people I've known for years.  Also people on TV and movies.  Also the names of said movies and TV shows.

I am however very good with faces.  Really good with faces, which is why I haven't pissed off every friend  and acquaintance I have. 

So the following are typical examples of the conversations JP (fiance and all around awesome dude) and I have while watching a show or movie:

Scenario 1

Me:  Hey, it's that guy!  You know.., he's in that movie where he kills himself and he's in college or something.

JP:  Huh?

Me:  And he's on that show with the angry man.

JP:  Robert Sean Leonard?

Me:  Yeah!

Scenario 2

Me:  Hey, it's that guy!  From that show you like with the alien robots?

JP:  James Callis?

Me:  Yeah?

JP:  Battlestar Galactica.

Me:  Yeah, that one!

Scenario 3

Me:  Hey, it's that lady!  You know, she was on that superman show.

JP:  ...

Me:  Uhm.., and that show with the.., ladies?  Uhm.., you know, one looks like an alligator, the other one looks plastic?

JP:  Sex in the City?

Me:  No, she looks like a horse and the other one looks like a drug addict.  I'm talking about the one with apples?  And they don't have jobs or something?

JP:  Desperate Housewives?

Me:  Yeah!

JP:  Teri Hatcher?

Me:  Yeah!

I really don't think anyone else could understand the way my brain remembers things except JP. 




Also, this is a few examples of how I have people listed in my cell phone so I can remember who they are when they call or secret nicknames I've given them to jog my memory:

Chris - Artist, Sally's

Chris - Good cook, Diana's

Chris - Navy

Chris - Stupid

Cliff - Atari  (Atari is my way of abbreviating someone who gets up in my personal space too much.  As in space invader.  Usually a hugger.  Get it?)

Joe - White trash

Joe - Car fixer

Amy - DA DNR (Drug Addict - Do Not Resuscitate as in do not answer the phone.)

Johnny - Stinky Squirrel Pants

Josh - King Tut

John - French Jesus

Julie - MHI DNR (Mental Health Issues)

Dear John Letter to a Grocery Store

Dear Dekalb Farmer's Market,

By the time you get this letter, I'll be gone.  I tried really hard to make this relationship work but you just won't let me in.., until I've checked my backpack or reusable shopping bags at your entrance.  I cant help but get the feeling you don't trust me.  I certainly can't miss the giant signs you're throwing up.., about checking my bags.

The crowd that you run with made me very uncomfortable, all those hippies, I always felt like an outsider.  I guess because I bathe, drive a car that isn't practically made of political opinion stickers and brush my teeth.  Not that you'd notice of course, you always smell of rotting fish, everywhere.  Not just in your fish department but all the way across your store.  It just killed the romance.  Forget a nice afternoon of smelling the stem ends of fruit to see if they're ripe; the only ripe thing anyone can smell is you!

And Honey, I hate to break it to you but your proper title is "International Market".  Farmer's markets are places you can go to purchase goods directly from the farmers who grew said goods.  Just drop the whole "farmer's market" thing, you're not fooling anyone.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't all bad.  You have really great deals on spices!  Maybe you can elaborate on that.  And remember, good unspoiled fish smells like nothing; try to be a good fish.

With All My Love,

Rikki

Neti Pot and Other Reasons I Hate My Allergies

So for the last few weeks I've been getting sick.  I started to think I was becoming a hypochondriac because the symptoms were vague and went away after a couple of days.  They would come back again and again with just fever, loss of appetite, and general blahs.  After discussing it with my mother, (I don't have any  health insurance right now so Mom is what I can afford) we came to the conclusion that it might be a low grade sinus infection.

With my terrible allergies I really didn't take into account the fact that I couldn't breath through my nose.

So JP (fiance and all around awesome dude) went and got me a Neti Pot so that I could do the "sinus irrigation" thing and hopefully kick the sick.  I read the instructions carefully and used the pot properly.  Which brings me to the reason for this post.

Using the Neti Pot has got to be the most uncomfortable thing I have EVER done to myself on purpose.  Do you know how this thing works?  Basically it kind of looks like Aladdin's magic lamp and a teapot had a baby.  You fill it with lukewarm water and salt, then put your head over the sink and stick the spout into your nostril and pour the saltwater into your nose so it washes up into your sinuses then drains out of the other side.  Crazy right??  But it's suppose to help.

Remember when you were a kid and you'd go to the pool, and at some point get the pool water up your nose?  That's what it feels like.  So you have to fight the urge to stop and blow it all out of your nose immediately.  My sinuses are all clogged if you'll remember so this isn't a quick thing either.  It just dribbles out slowly.  The whole time I just have to keep breathing through my mouth so it doesn't go down my throat which it's constantly threatening to do in which case I'd probably gag and that might not be a good thing in that situation.

When the pot is empty the saline solution is still draining out of the other side of your nose so you have to stay in that awkward position for a while and when the solution is done draining then there's a few minutes of runny snot and snot bubbles that have never made me feel sexier.  So once I've finished making snot tea, then it's nose blowing and coughing for yet a few more minutes.  That's followed by coughing through the night and coughing when I wake up.

If this turns out not to be a sinus infection I'm going to run over that pot with my car.