Oh Idaho, sometimes.... sometimes

I never thought I'd grow up to be somebody that had visited a bunch of different countries. It more just happened, it was not really something I ever actively pursued.
But I am glad it happened. For many reasons of course, but one being that it really humbles you.
Gives you perspective.
When (especially white and straight) people in Idaho talk about their rights and needs and values.... it's very obvious that that slice of humble pie was left untouched.
So many people seem to think that they have the right to do certain things, or better yet deserve them, have earned them even.... just by being born in a certain place, looking a certain way.

God bless America, but he sure as hell doesn't bless any other countries.
If you're bilingual, it means you speak English and Spanish. (why, those are the only two languages, right?)
Any foreign person living in the States is a) extremely lucky to be living here and b) wants nothing more than to become a citizen.
And finally (although I could of course go on and on...) all foreign people constantly think of themselves and their home countries, values and cultures as foreign and exotic.
America is the norm, to everybody everywhere. For always.
Amen.

And just like that...

I come home from work today and BAM!
A recycling bin, right there, next to our dumpster.
I had to walk up and touch it, peek inside, to make sure it was real.
And it seems like it is.
Just like that, we now have recycling right outside our door.
Good job Coeur d'Alene, you're officially only about two decades behind the rest of the first world.

Embarrassing, really

The only good news is that we live really close to the recycling station and can take our stuff there without much hassle.
But the bad news is that I sincerely doubt anyone else in our apartment complex does it. And that the city won't give us a recycling bin with the argument that "we can't force anyone to recycle".
Like the blue bin would come alive and attack people if they threw their cans and empty cartons in the regular dumpster (which would be totally awesome, but they have yet to invent bins with this feature).
I don't see how I am currently forced to throw my garbage in the big dumpster right outside, either.
I feel totally free to haul it off someplace else if I felt like it. But I don't, since it's way easier to just toss it right here. And if we had the option to recycle right here too.... yeah, I think a few more people would.
But the city disagrees and I have less than a little faith in the manager here who acted like we asked her for a golden jacuzzi complete with seahorses when we asked about recycling on the property.  
It is so stupid.
And embarrassing, really.

Drop and give me a million burpees

I knew very well I couldn't do a pull up. No surprises there.
I thought however, that I could do a few push-ups.
Cross Fit told me no. Nope, those are not push-ups.
Bitch.
So yeah, after a lot of first-Saturday-of-the-months coming and going without me making it to the bring-a-friend day, I finally made it today.
I drank the kool-aid. And didn't spit it out. But I also don't know that I'll be coming back for seconds.
I might just keep doing my push ups the way I'm used to.
Elbows out and wrists all flimsy.

Dinner is ready. And lunch. And breakfast. For ever.

Dylan made a meal in the crock pot last night. Or more like 50 meals. He mixed a huge bag of beans, rice, peas, onions, carrots and random whathaveyous.... and let it slowly cook together, as one does with a crock pot.
Only, the beans were the rock hard, un-soaked kind you have to leave in water over night. So by the time the beans had reached eatable texture, the rest of the ingredients had disintegrated into a giant mix of mushy food-smelling, porridge looking cement.
The good news is that all the ingredients were dirt cheap so the whole batch probably cost us a total of 6 bucks or less.
The slightly less exciting news is that we have about a hundred pounds of it now.
And we'll eat it.
Cause I don't necessarily like to waste food, and Dylan grew up in a household where moldy oranges make perfect stocking stuffers....
So we'll eat it.
And it's not like it's that bad. It smells like food and tastes like food.
Like Grandma Melba said when I gawked at how much sugar was in her jam
"if it bothers you, just shut your eyes!"

Hey there

Wow, it's been a while.
Anyways, we had a couch surfer come stay with us the other night. A musician from Ohio, on a great big tour of the US. Just a man and his car, driving from city to city, playing gigs and chasing his dream.
Sounds poetic, no?
Just a man and his guitar.
And, a shit ton of electronic equipment to drown the smallest resemblance of actual music.
(That last part is my own reflection of his art. Dylan is much nicer, he stubbornly maintains that he liked his gig...)
He played Calypsos, downtown Coeur d'Alene in front of a handful teenagers in skinny jeans and hipster hair dos. We caught the last few....songs? no, I can't call them songs.
We caught the last few pieces of sound production.
Then he stayed in our guest room before heading for Montana the next morning.
He texted and asked us to mail him the ice pack he accidentally left in our freezer.
Ice packs are heavy and cheap. You don't send things in the mail that are heavy and cheap.
But then again, that's just my own take on things.
He can keep calling what he does music and he can keep playing his songs.
But we're not mailing his ice pack.

Ever seen that episode of Friends where Ross is playing the keybord and has all this songs that are made up of sounds like birds chirping and helicopters taking off?
Yeah, it was like that.

Alrighty then

So I pretty much quit my job.
Now I need a new one. In CdA.
Pretty please...