Halloween!

Kenz and I have similar posts today. (check out her blog, their Halloween costumes are great.) We were both talking and decided to each make a mom Halloween favorite. I made her delicious sugar cookies, although my frosting job could never compare to the magic of Lorrie. Jon helped me decorate, but that was probably obvious. I'm staring at them right now, knowing that overnight they have become amazingly soft and delicious...

Also, I was tagged in a post by Jessie (at first I had to figure out if she knew another Malorie) but for those who roll eyes at the sight of a tag post, I've only chosen one category. I've ignored too many tags and I know my mom would enjoy reading this (Happy early birthday!). I was going to split my post but the instructions were too complicated.

8 THINGS THAT HAPPENED YESTERDAY (and the day before)
1. The washing machine ate $1.25 (total lost: $3.75)
2. Sent my first purchase from my etsy shop, and now my net profit is -3 dollars. When the guy told me shipping was $17 I nearly threw up.
3. My visiting teacher came over with her potty training 2 year old, and I'm 90% she fell in my toilet.
4. Made enchiladas with pumpkin sauce.
5. Made my mom's sugar cookies for the first time. Bought shortening for the first time.
6. My free internet came back, and I lost my desire to purchase it.
7. Cut myself side bangs with my cutco kitchen scissors.
8. Went to book club and discussed vampires. NOT the Twilight ones. Thank heavens.

I was supposed to tag 8 people. If you just read that sentence and secretly wished I tagged you, you're tagged.

maam.

I've been busy lately. Well, busy's a strong word. I know it's hard to believe, but I have been doing actual things once in a while. For instance, I got a part time work from home job. I prefer interacting with people, but those jobs are apparently hard to come by in the Portland Metro area. And, me and Kenz have been putting together an online etsy shop selling wonderful vintage things we find. Our dream job would be to open a store together, so we thought we'd do the next best thing. So check it out. Don't worry, it's not a place to sell our buyer's remorse items--I love everything in the shop and would rather keep it myself. The mirror above sold within a few hours of posting! I'm posting a dress and a cardigan and men's sweater soon--I am having internet troubles lately. Every day I try on the sweater and tell Jon I'm not selling it, but I am. I've committed. And the money goes towards a good cause--a plane ticket for two lonely twins to reunite someday.

I voted today.

And this is who I voted for:


Bob Skipper for Sheriff. Because, who wouldn't?

Sacrifices you make for your family and really good blog topics

At one point on Thursday night, I looked outside of my situation and had to laugh. There I was, dressed like an Olive Garden server (minus the tie), spending the greater part of my night in the corner of a 6' by 8' elevator, saying things like, "Are you headed to the Penthouse?" and "Yes, I am actually the elevator operator." When I arrived at my temp gig, I found out that I was working at an upscale housing open house, and I was the one pegged to take the guests from floor to floor because a passcode was needed.

My first trip was a little rocky. The guy in charge told me the code, which I was to use until I got a sensor. I got my first elevator load, including two extremely flamboyant nice men and their dramatic female companion, who by chance had an elevator phobia. The doors closed and we started moving, and the code didn't work. Because I had forgotten it. I kept trying new numbers until I got to the embarrassing point where I had to explain myself and go back to the lobby and ask. The girl started freaking out because she thought the elevator was stuck, and when we reached the lobby she ran out, demanding water. From that point on, 4 hours in an elevator was not the death sentence I thought it would be. Elevators are a perfect place to crack jokes with rich folk who are extremely relaxed due to the open bar, and people were acting like my button earrings were on par with the invention of the Magic Bullet. A jeweler asked me about them, and I felt a little sheepish saying I had just superglued buttons to posts. (not even my original idea, by the way). I also explained what gauged ears were to an inquiring pair of elderly English twins. I found out that most high class older women in Portland wear a version of a polar fleece vest, but made of high class fibers like raw silk or quilted gold leaf. It was also an interesting observation on how the economy has affected this wealthiest class, hearing side comments about how the units wouldn't sell in this market, and real estate agents being grateful they still have jobs. One of the realtors working that night looked and sounded exactly like Sarah Palin. Which was funny until she put her arm around me and I felt extremely uncomfortable.

Creepier than McCain's wide eyes...

I just spent the past 10 minutes reading about how to make bacon cinnamon rolls.
The bile had not fully settled when I came upon this...


Bacon brownies. (involuntary shudder)

Little People, Only Produce Big Pumpkins.

Can you guess this Portland-area celebrity I'm trying to pose with?

This past weekend we visited the famed Roloff Farms (from tv show Little People, Big World) with some friends. We went for pumpkins, but I guess we were really on the hunt for a Roloff sighting. It was interesting, in that it wasn't that interesting. I guess I was expecting more? All of the pumpkins were a similar larger size, except for a small corral of little, cute pumpkins that were "reserved." I guess those are reserved for little people, but I'm claiming average size discrimination. We didn't pay to go on the tours, buy Matt Roloff's book, "Against Tall Odds," or buy "Molly's Jam" with her face on the jar. Or a $20 t-shirt. But I did tour the "Pumpkin House" filled with paper mache pumpkins with human expressions doing human things, which thoroughly creeped me out.

Give up? It's Grandpa Roloff, who, as I suspected, only owns one outfit--a sheriff's costume. Seriously.

Oh, the horror of the pumpkin catapult. I guess almost killing your son and farmhand wasn't enough for Papa Roloff to get rid of this. Jon actually checked it for blood.

She sparkes like a rhinestone encrusted sweater

You may not know Amber, but if you do, you probably think she is one of the coolest people you have ever met. I mean, she speaks Chinese, is amazingly tall and owns a pink spandex bodysuit.(!) I met Amber when I was assigned to visit teach her, and when she showed me the bomb shelter in her apartment and told me about the Hello Kitty bikes that were retrofitted to her size in Taiwan, I thought she was a little crazy. Which meant I really wanted to be friends with her. Serendipitously some friends and I moved into the House of Creepy for a summer and so did she. Our lives were never the same.

Besides the mind blowing dance moves, Amber is simply a wonderful friend. For instance, when I was doubly afflicted with the friend killing disease of marriage and the flu, she made me laugh and brought me gatorade. She is great at making your day--and when it comes to friends, she's a lifer. Happy birthday Amber!


(and yes, I know this picture is with Kenz. My laptop with relevant pictures crashed and so this is the best I could do. Why be an identical twin if it's not useful once in a while?)

Experimentation with Beans, Part II

Yes, this was dinner. Yes, that is my extremely wrinkly hand.

Oh, my need to try new recipes. Experimentation with Beans, Part I, was a shudder-worthy gastronomical disaster. This time I had high expectations because all the ingredients were things I liked to eat (black beans, sweet potato, a large amount of cumin), and nothing was pureed. And Martha had a really pretty picture.


See? Don't you want to eat this? I don't know what happened with mine, but they kind of looked like shiz. And while edible, we gave it a "meh." They were bland. And don't even get Jon started on the shiz patties' companion food, jicama slaw. I should have known to never mention that word that is associated with a mayo based salad purchased from KFC. It created a tension experienced rarely in our marriage, even though no mayo or sauce was involved.

pumpkin head.

The only thing that gives me more joy than this little perfect pumpkin is the fact that my mother lovingly picked it from her garden, nestled it in a box, and sent it via priority mail, to me.

10 lb Toshiba, once enemy, now friend.

"My" internet at home has been out since Wednesday morning. Having to go to the local library to use the wi-fi has made me realize a couple things--I've forgotten how to use a PC and your fingers can get chafed from using a trackpad. I love libraries, but one thing I don't like is the potential for complete strangers to approach me while I'm enjoying my blogs. Yesterday a guy came up to me and started asking me about my typing skills. He eventually asked me to take a few parts of an employment test for him that he couldn't pass. I told him no because it was dishonest. (and if you can't type 30 wpm, maybe you're just not cut out for the job...) Then he tried to make me feel bad because he just moved here a week ago and he had been taking these tests ALL DAY. I told him to talk to me after 2 months. Amateur.

p.s. Wearing sunglasses inside a library is weird and wholly unnecessary.