Hypothetical "Most Awesome Day" Becomes Reality

If someone had asked, "What would be your ideal Saturday?" I'd answer, "Well, Asker, I'd want to go on a short hike with my dogger, bake cookies, spend an hour or two reading, socialize a bit, and find free money."

Well stomp your foot, it totally happened.

Harper Dog and I trotted around Carkeek Park, my favorite King County location. It cancels out so much urban crappiness. Plus, we met a well-behaved dachshund named Moe.

I baked thumbprint cookies for our neighbor because he always takes out our garbage on Wednesday mornings when we've forgotten. I saved a couple for Hamb, because that is one of the perks of being engaged to me. Cookies.

I flopped on the couch and read The Bishop's Man. Solid characters, interesting story.

Tonight, Hambo and I are heading to the neighbors for dinner, cards, and dog frolics. (Their pupper Coal is a black lab mix. He makes sounds like Chewbacca.)

And the free money? Yep, that happened too. The federal government decided that I overpaid them, so they're giving me a pile of cash back. I love tax refunds almost as much as I love taxes. Truth. "Taxes are a down payment on the common good." The common good is wonderful! Give me a hug, common good! And feel free to toss me a couple dollars!

It's too bad you weren't here, reader pal. Today was a winner.

In case you missed it, here is an adorable picture of Harper and Drew's feet.

Sugar water and songs

Anna's Hummingbirds are obsessed with my sugar water. It's nothing special - 1 part sug, 4 parts water - but they freaking adore it. They won't leave my feeder, not even when Abe is lurking nearby. (Do they know Abe is useless?) If birds used Yelp, my backyard would have 40+ reviews averaging 5 stars.

It's fortunate they love my sugar water, too, because the hummingbirds' presence (and then a little research of my own) confirmed that I am not a nutter. See, sometimes at work, I hear a "chippy ch-ch tsschhh pch". I could tell immediately it was a bird, but then I started connecting with the hummingbirds perched in the trees. "But hummingbirds don't make noises like that!" I thought. "They're just supposed to float around and look dainty!"

Nope. They make noises. They "chippy ch-ch tssschhhh pch" the crap out of my backyard. Also, they're sassy. I even watched two hummingbirds fight. It was like West Side Story.

What else can I tempt to my deck so that I can smile at nature? What would it take to get a baby elephant? I will think about this for all of 2011, minus yesterday.

Linguistically Correct

I frequently force Hambers to answer probably-never-going-to-happen, so-hypothetical-it's-almost-a-waste-of-breath questions.

Examples:

Hamb, what should we do if we win $300,00? How about only $30,000?

Hamb, what would you do if my leg turned into a giant wart?

Hamb, how mad would you be if I kissed Ludacris? Just kissed him. Hardly any tongue.

Since H put a ring on it, I've realized that I get to factor him into all of my decisions, big and little. Should I spend $25 on season 4 of Friends? Should I invest some of my money for a down payment on a house a thousand years from now? Should I eat the whole bag of yogurt pretzels? (Answers: no, maybe, no but I did it anyway)

Anyway, I wondered, "What term best describes this relationship? "Fiance" doesn't mean anything, and "future husband" is precious at best... OMG, he is totally my life partner. Because we make decisions together! Like a team! Life Team!"

I probably won't call him anything but Hamb or "the man" because I only use excess syllables on jokes, but if I wanted to use the most accurate label, I'd probably gay it up and say "Here's my life partner, HamberHambyHamb." And then goobers would give me the scoff eye or wonder if one of us was a tranny, but I wouldn't care at all.

Harper can be Life Mascot. Abe is Life A'hole. My tea is Life Beverage. This is perfect.

Look out, fancy Mercedez Benz.

Unlike you futuristic weirdos, Drew and I do not have wireless internet. As I'm blogging this, my computer is attached to a cord that is attached to a cable outlet that is attached to a whole, wide, world of information and smut!

To you, this non-wireless business might be restrictive, but I like it because it keeps me closer to

this:

This wildly important piece of art is titled "Dinosaurier auf der Autobahn" (oooobviously), and it used to be in the Hambletons' shed. I bet if we took it to the Antique Road Show, they'd say, "This poster is worth one trillion dollars", but I still wouldn't sell it... well, I wouldn't let Drew sell it, because it's not technically mine until the wedding.

Should I move up the wedding so I can be half owner of this poster?

If you were with me (physically), you'd be able to see the face of the guy who's driving that green truck. If you were with me (mentally), you'd be able to think, "Woweewowwow, this dino fills my soul with joy and whimsy!"

I would feel differently if this dino's last name were Rossi, but I don't think it is. I bet its full name is Dino Clompy.

Stay here in my sight, Dino Clompy. Never, ever go extinct.

Transportation

I've made two big transportation purchases:

(1) A bus pass for fall quarter. It means I get to hang out downtown for 10-60 minutes a week. It's like I'm a real city person. Once, I even saw a guy smoking a blunt at the bus stop. Drugs! What a crazy world.

(2) The best car in the world... or continent. Yes, maybe just continent. But look at this beautiful 2004 Toyota Matrix!

What it lacks in power locks and get-up-and-go, it makes up for in reliability and space for the dog to roam. I love it. So much. Drew's lucky I'm already engaged to him, because I totally want to put a ring on this thing. I don't know where it would go... maybe the door handle... but no matter. This car is mine always and forever and/or until it dies, but I hear Toyotas don't do that.

Now, as soon as our pupper realizes that we're not going to abandon her and leave her to be eternally frustrated by squirrels, I can actually leave the house via bus or car. Heeeey, mobility.

Fiance schmiance

Oh, what's that on my left hand? Ok, nothing. But what will be on my left hand after it's done being resized?

An engagement ring!

From Drew!

I am engaged to Drew. Here are some things that will be different after we're married:

-Drew will be less supportive of my signature, because to him it's ok that I blur "Walden" but not "Hambleton". Psh.

-Drew will be half responsible for cleaning up cat puke. Well, Abe's puke, not all the cat puke in the world. That's not how marriage works.

-I can say "father-in-law" and "sister-in-law" isntead of "boyfriend's dad" and "boyfriend's brother's wife". Hurrah for brevity!

-Maybe we'll get in a fight. I think married people do that sometimes. The angriest I've ever been at Drew was loosely related to chocolate chip mint ice cream, and within seconds, my rage went from "I'm never talking to Drew again!" to "I'm never talking to Drew again... for 24 hours!" to "I'm never talking to Drew again... for 8 hours!" which was how long I slept. So I totally kept that last one.

Happy engagement, us!

Houndstooth tears

I love Project Runway more than bee-loving bears love bees. I love the goofy fashion, I love Tim Gunn, and I love how it makes me cry even though it's kind of about fabric.

On another note, my left nostril is totally clogged.

RIP Busty Bust

Buster Walden has gone on the Eternal Car Ride.

He's in a world of chasable squirrels, unstealable Nylabones, and 30-foot, metal cows at which he can bark. We loved that rascal. Buster Walden, thanks for a decade of flops, leans, and snugs. Lovelovelove and treats.

By and by

Alki Beach is fabulous. Don't let the weirdos tell you otherwise. Look at it!

It turns out they were ants, anyway.

I owe Oats.

It started when I attended a meeting to learn how to make HL a therapy dog. As I listened to the sweet ladies with dainty poodles, my mutt was performing therapy by destruction on my passenger side seat belt. It's a weird kind of therapy. Very new age.

So, I'd been driving around like a weirdo with passengers in my back eat. "Enough is enough!" I said. (Actually, Boyfriend said that. And then I said, "I'll get a new seat belt when you set up an automatic transfer from your bank account into your IRA." Secret message to Boyfriend: I have secured my passengers, so it's time you secure your future.)

I did a little research and found a seat belt in a junk yard... in Spanaway. Grosssss, Spanaway! My dad, Oats, was a hero and picked it up for me. You da man, Oats! Then I drove down to Puyallup and he almost helped me install it. You almost da mechanic, Oats! Unfortunately, we lacked the seat belt tools. The neighbor had them, though, so took things apart and started reassembling them. You da tool-havingest, neighbor!

But all this was just background for why I owe Oats a blog post. He made a comment that made me giggle like my teeth were made of sparkles. The conversation went like this:

Me: Oats, there are termites around. Scary!

Oats: Well... don't come out here and be wooden.

Hahahahaha. I was talking about the house, but he was talking about Pinocchio or something

Termites. Being wooden. Bahaaha.

Invisibility Cloak

Here are things I'd do if I had an Invisibility Cloak:

-Win radio contests. I'd sneak into the radio station and eavesdrop as they discussed the winning trivia answers. Then I'd sell the prizes online to buy a year's supply of wasabi peas.

-Scare my dog. "Why is my gutted hedgehog toy flying? WHAT IS HAPPENING?" Harper Lee is so precious when she's nervous.

-Travel for free. How easy would it be to sneak on to a direct flight to Paris if you were invisible? So easy! And then I could sneak into fancy hotel rooms after the housekeepers left, and I could steal croissaints from bakeries. (Only ones they probably weren't going to sell, though. InvisiKelly isn't completely devoid of ethics.)

-Look for cheaters. Students are clever, and some like to glance at their classmates' tests. H no, students! Your teacher can see you, even though you can't see her!

It's a good thing HP took care of Voldemort. Otherwise, I'd have to focus my Invisibility Cloak privileges on fighting evil instead of eating croissants.