All posts filed under: Humor

The unfortunate members of my household provide entertainment – along with the rest of the world.

Worm Bin Chronicles: Inception

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WideEyedSpouse says, “We are not having a worm bin in the kitchen.” WideEyedFunk answers, “Mm hmm.” I bought Worms Eat My Garbage in June of 2009 and I don’t know why. The Spouse saw it sitting on the sofa and instantly, no pause for contemplation said: “We are not having a worm bin in the house.” I simply did not acknowledge that he spoke. Several weeks later two colleagues and I were lounging around on Action Packers in our tiny weatherport on the shore of Kiska Harbor. Outside of the weatherport Kiska volcano loomed over us to the north (albeit invisibly because of the low clouds), the waters of the harbor ruffled in a stiff, rainy wind, and the Kiska Island Valor in the Pacific National Monument layered over the hills around us as far as the eye could see. My colleagues were on Kiska Island to map WWII features. I – along with Brian H. who wasn’t present for the worm talk – was there looking for much older Aleut occupations. Anyway, three of us …

Wretched Chores Made Less Crappy: Weed Pulling Cocktails

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The weeds in the driveway now hit the undercarriage of the WideEyedRides. I can hear them smacking the bumper and the bigger sticky-er ones make tiny scraping noises as I putt-putt up the drive. Brush fires are a concern when I park the hot engines over the verdant crack weeds. I can’t turn my face away any longer. It is time to weed the driveway. Years ago the Spouse and I developed a system for undertaking this wretched chore – which, you may note comes about ONLY during the smoking hottest sizzling portion of the summer. Our system does not include herbicide. Have a look at that image over there on the right. If I blasted those tall, healthy, nearly blooming weeds with herbicide what would I get? Tall, dead, yellow weeds, even more likely to catch on fire, that’s what. And I don’t want to hear anything about maybe taking care of this before it becomes a problem, prophylactic herbicide application, whatever. This happens every year and has in every house we’ve ever owned. …

Who cleans up the ick?

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Maybe it is because I am from New Jersey. Maybe it’s because I read too many books of questionable topics.  But when I was standing in the sandwich shop on Niagara Falls Boulevard and saw the Eraser (www.erase-it.org) business card, I thought, Oh yeah, I need to put that card in my wallet. Because you just never really know. Discreet and professional biohazard remediation is EXACTLY what a person wants to have on speed dial. When you need it, you need it.. As I stood at the long counter of the sandwich shop waiting for my Philly cheesesteak (Buffalo interpretation) hoagy (Buffalo spelling. Inexplicable.), I thought of many reasons to call the Eraser: Vampire extermination. Ash and anciently rotting bio-ooze are left behind every time. Disgusting. Borg attack. Watch StarTrek Voyager on Netflix for a while. They just look smelly. Really, really smelly. Ghoul nesting. Ghouls drool. They prefer carrion. Even if you don’t mind them around, someone’s got to clean up sometimes. They’ll rot a house out otherwise. October 22nd Incidents. Ask the WideEyedDad …

Nice to see you. What books did you bring?

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Wide Eyed Funks visit one another every now and again, even though leaving the comforts and libraries of home is difficult for us. We are happy to see each other even if the joy of the family visit is tempered by the knowledge that a certain amount of reading time is going to be sacrificed for actual human interaction. It is, at best, bittersweet. We have developed a solution to the problem. And what I can’t decide is this: is our solution – mutually enacted, endlessly repeated –  conscious or unconscious? When a visit to or from a Funk household is impending, the book stack begins. What might the visitor like to read, what might be passed on to the host from the far-flung family collections? Once the visit begins, the discussions about “what have you been reading” are far more interesting than accomplishments, work activities, household life events, yah yah yah. That stuff comes and goes. The books, they linger. And, the best part, since everyone has new books to read, no one is left …

Twenty things I could have bought with the $20 I lost yesterday.

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1. 2,000 pieces of penny candy. Two thousand. 2. 20 minutes of satellite phone time to talk to the Spouse from the remote fieldwork location. 3. 2 dozen Paula’s Donuts. That’s 24 items of pure deliciousness. 4. Two tickets to a Buffalo Bisons game. 5. 20 Mega Millions lottery tickets. 6. A shovel. 7. 6 bags of Family Size potato chips. 8. Gas for a scenic drive to Olcott and back, with a stop at Reids Hot Dogs. 9. A really big bale of toilet paper. 10. Contact lens solution, pickles, potato chips and fair-trade coffee at Target: the intended purpose. 11. A dog chair. 12. A dog license renewal. 13. A marriage license (17 years ago). 14. 180 dukie bags for dog walks. 15. 2 completely drinkable bottles of wine, or one wine-in-a-box (Equivalent of 4 bottles – stays fresh for a month. Just saying.). 16. 2 6-packs of quality beer. 17. Almost 3 months of Netflix. 18. Approximately 60 showers, 8 dishwasher runs, 5-10 loads of hot water laundry (whites and dog beds) …

Ceiling Fan of Damocles

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For a solid year the ceiling fan dangled unbalanced and clearly crooked above the Spouse and me as we slept. We knew full well that failure was imminent with this fan – one among many coming problems in the house. We knew that buying a historic structure was going to be…tense. That we’d have moments of joyful accomplishment while living under the threat of crushing large scale repairs and near disasters. Since we moved into the place last year, the ceiling fan has been the physical embodiment of stuff we didn’t want to think about. This spring the fan waggled in an increasingly catastrophic rhythm. After 13 months of lying under a 52 inch, 30 pound whirling death trap – except for a few short weeks when we graciously permitted guests the use of the room and shared with them potential dismemberment, contusions, or electrocution – the Spouse gave destiny a shake up last weekend and had a look at the situation under the fan’s cowling. Two antique wood screws wedged the fan bracket into …

Peanuts, Beer, and Minor League Baseball on a Spring Evening

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The Buffalo Bisons beat the Columbus Clippers in a dramatic bottom of the 10th inning run from third as the Clipper’s catcher scrambled for a mis-pitched ball. The 1000 or so Buffalonians in the stadium hooted and whooped as they filed out of Coca-Cola Field into the gloaming twilight. We were at the game last night because the Spouse won the department lottery for the company’s baseball tickets. We fed the poochies, locked down the household, and set off to the Metro station. We walked past permanent Santa who watched us from above, and we descended level after level into the bowels of the creepily uncrowded Metro tunnel. I emptied my pockets for the $8 round trip ride for the both of us. Parking downtown was $5. But then, where’s the adventure in parking a car?  I do that every day one place or another. The Buffalo Bisons mascot Buster and his son Chip wandered the stands – the Spouse high fived Chip. The Boy Robin tromped up and down the stadium stairs yelling “Snow …

Street level synchronicity

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The spouse was driving us to Gramma Mora’s for carnitas and margaritas because sometimes life is just right. Ok, almost just right, because we were aiming for Suzy Q’s BBQ Shack but she decided not to open on Tuesday. Anyway, we hit a red light. I guess even on good days that can happen. The walking man on the traffic light post at Hertel and North Park tick, tick, ticked away the seconds of waiting. The spouse reached over and turned on the radio and music came on that had the same beat as the walking man. (Go on out to youtube in another browser window and start Basement Jaxx, Raindrops and it’ll be like you were there too, maybe in the back seat thinking your own thoughts…) I tapped my foot on the floor mat and watched an out of shape new mom dressed in yoga wear jiggle her way across the crosswalk – the smiling baby’s head visible in the carriage bobbed to the beat along with her mom’s footsteps. Weird, I thought, …

Car Fever: Part 1 – Irrationalizing a New Car Purchase

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Seven slightly irrational justifications for buying a new car when you have a perfectly good car already – by the WideEyedSpouse. 1. The warranty is expiring and the newer car has a great warranty. A car out of its warranty period will “potentially” need large, costly repairs. A warranty protects you against out of pocket repair expenses. A brand new car warranty is bumper to bumper.  Anything that can or will go wrong is covered. No out of pocket costs for repairs, except maintenance items. If something feels weird with the car, it makes a funny sound or possibly even breaks down and stops running…no problem, send it to the dealer, they investigate it and if necessary make repairs with no cost to you. You need the piece of mind that comes with a new car warranty…trust me. 2. The tires are getting worn. This one sells itself, it’s a no brainer.  Why buy a new set of tires when you can just buy a new car with new tires?  Tires are expensive. If you …

Thinning seedlings: I think they scream as I tear them out…

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I think the baby plants scream when I ruthlessly pluck them out of the ground. I know it has to be done. It is my job as a gardener to be a creative, even divine force. The choices I make about which of the little seedlings get to swell into tastiness, into full fruit and seed producing maturity, are irrevocable. My choices shape the future of plants in my garden through pollination and seed harvesting. The lucky ones spaced properly apart for effective growing survive. The particularly lovely, big, and cheery looking guys make it. A lot of not-yet, never-will-be plants will die though, and their unique random genetic mutations die with them. It pains me every time I tug on their little bodies and feel their tiny roots rending. I have already this spring killed baby radishes, peas, tomatoes, carrots, peppers, eggplants….and it isn’t just the vegetables who get it either. Zinnias, poppies, nasturtiums, wild bergamot, calendula: no one is safe. My seedling book says that I am doing no one any favors by …