I am short and organizing and the PGR

I haven't really felt the desire to write an update in a week now.
Kelsie and Jonas have taken a trip to Sweeden and will be gone till the end of the month. While it's nice having the place to myself; I'm getting frustrated.

Everything in this apartment is set up for tall people! Kelsie has a good 6 inches on me and Jonas has even more (probably close to a foot) in height. I find myself reaching above the microwave which is above the stove for my cereal. Now about 40% of my diet comes in the form of cereal. So this constant having to get the stool out to reach my cereal...DOESN"T WORK FOR ME!

So it's currently sitting out on the counter. That doesn't particularly bother me, but I know it won't work in the long term. It appears i'm going to have to re-organize the kitchen again before Kelsie gets back. Same goes for the laundry nook. When i have trouble reaching down the heavy bottles of fabric softener....there needs to be a change. What the change is going to be...i'm not sure yet. The wheels in my head are still turning.

Something have noticed, mostly because i used to work for a personal organizer and that's one of her major lessons. Vertical space is not utilized at all in this apartment. It's frustratingly cramped. Looks like i'm making a trip to The Container Store or Storables.

But that will be saved for sunday. Today, friday, i've been invited on a PGR mission. The Patriot Guard Riders are a group of motorcycle riding people i highly admire. They escort the bodies of fallen soldiers from the airport, to the funeral, to the burial sight. Their job is to make sure no soldier is forgotten and alone when they are laid to rest. They have a secondary job to obscure the hateful shouts of vile protesters at these events. Usually they do this with american flags and a bunch of harleys reved up at full throttle with speakers blasting country songs to drown them out. I may have never served in the military, but this is a group that i can't help but admire and respect. I'm honered to be allowed to join them today.

Saturday is painting at the island. It's about time we got those ceilings painted. I hate unfinished partical board.

She squeaks and squaks

My Aunt Maria comes out to Seattle for an annual vacation to escape the searing temperatures of New York in the summer time. It's an adventure both she and my cousin Mikey look avidly forward to all year long.
Mikey is retarded in the traditional sense. He's basically a 7 year old trapped in a 33 year old body. He lives for food, (decaf) coffee and attention from those he loves even if it's as simple as holding his hand for a few seconds. He adores my dad to the point of completely ignoring his guardian Aunt Maria and has been known to spontaneously burst into ruckus dance and off-key singing. His favorite line is "Flip a U-ie!!!" and "Shake your booty".
My Aunt comes here for the Island. Plain and simple. Sure she gets to go shopping with my shop-aholic sister and go sight-seeing with my mother...but her single goal every year is to make it to the island and go swimming and boating.
Now, my aunt is not the adventurous type; thrill seeking is never on her agenda. She stays firmly on the ground while the kids go on the roller coaster.
So i was surprised when she asked me to take her for a ride in the Bayliner. Now, the bayliner has a new, and much to my pleasure, powerful engine. And I'm the kind of person who at 23, is the first one on the roller coaster, and last one off.
Natrually, since I'm the driver, i might have pushed the speed-limit...just a bit.

Ok, maybe a lot

Ok, maybe i should have gotten ticketed.

Maybe there are still claw marks in the boat from where Aunt Maria was hanging on for dear life as she screamed with every single little wave bump.

It's ok, she was still grinning when we docked. Lol

Chemical Burns Suck

So this weekend was extremely hot for Seattle weather, probably reaching 95 in direct sunlight. My sister threw a bbq down at my parent's cabin on a lake. My mom decided to invite half the neighborhood.
This meant that Dad and I who went down early saturday morning, got the wonderful task of cleaning an entire house for nearly 20 guests who arrived on sunday. Oh joy.
One of my tasks was to clean out the old shower which was downstairs in the basement. This tiled out-cropping probably hadn't been cleaned in 10+ years if the thick layer of crunchy bug carcasses was any indication. The base had been coated with an insecticide called Diazanon. So after vacuuming out the bugs with a shop vac, i had to get in there and scrub. I figured when I was done, i would go jump in the lake anyway so i went barefoot. Normally, this wouldn't be an issue as Diazanon isn't harmful on the skin. But as normal, i got called away to do something else, and put my shoes back on.
I spent the rest of the day eating, entertaining people with small talk, and spending every moment i could in the water. I even managed to escape getting sunburned. I went home that night quite tired and pretty much went to bed immediatly when i opened the door.
The next morning, i cleaned my bathtub at home with bleach to kill the mold which was starting to grow. Got in, and took a shower since i hadn't taken one when i got home the night before. Then i went to work.
Within an hour, my feet were burning, within two i couldn't stand having my shoes on, within three, i was in real pain and left work early. My mom gave me anti poison oak medicine, then i soaked my feet in baking soda water, then thinking it might have been a sunburn, put aloe on the bottom of my feet.
I spent most of the rest of the day with my feet about a foot from an AC unit as the inflamation slowly went down.
It wasn't until we went through a list of everything i did the previous two days that we made a connection. Bleach and the Diazanon residue in my shoes: DO NOT MIX!
Granted we're not scientists, and could be wrong. But I'm not inclined to try and find out.

In other news, I have my TV up in my room now! :D