The Pilver

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Alacazam!  All of a sudden it hit me…bam!  I smelled Kraft Singles American cheese.  The indistinguishable scent came into my nostrils and I the odor was unmistakable.  “We don’t have Kraft singles” I said to no one, or maybe the kitten who was sitting on my lap.  I wondered if maybe the kitten crapped and it just smelled like fake cheese, but that couldn’t be.  I had just taken him indoors and set him on my lap and he certainly didn’t crap there.

It’s the first weird thing that’s happened since pregnancy.  Everything else is typical, but even now, after a full scrub down shower and change of clothes I smell Kraft Singles. I do hope this side effect of my human parasite goes away.  Everything else at this point is quite nice.

My baby is somewhere between the size of a turnip and a large banana.  The produce comparison changes with every book or website I read.  They are full on dancing in my belly.  Just today, I got home from work, lied down on the couch and pulled my shirt up revealing my bare stomach to marvel as the kicks looked like popcorn exploding inside a bag of Orville Redenbacher.  Or maybe their punches…or fist pumps!

Ah, the glorious second trimester.  You’re not too big yet and your not sick any longer and your baby dances, can hear, and apparently is swallowing the fluid in the womb.  I’d say the only downside (apart from the mysterious cheese odor) is really needing your full night’s sleep.  I am not too tired ever.   This is because I demand eight hours of sleep a night.

Mr. Pilver does not need his eight hours.  Just the other night I went to bed at around nine or ten as usual and he followed me an hour or so later.  Then he decided we needed to talk.  Not about anything weird or stressful, I think the topic may have been about what groceries we needed or who was going to pick The Max up from school.  I have no idea what my words, if any, were.  But in my head I sternly stated, “I’m sleeping.  We can talk about this any other time than when I am sleeping.”  Keep my up past ten and I turn full on two-year-old with the crankiness.  The next morning at 5am he decided the conversation could continue.  So I kicked him in the shin.   Of course I didn’t.  But at no other time in my life can I remember HAVING to get a good amount of sleep.  Like now.

It’s bed time in Pilverville.  And if it was not I would try to nap anyways.  At least then I cannot smell the cheese.

Last fall, I watched a silly video on YouTube.  It was funny, as a server I really understood the humor.  Today, I had a customer that was worthy of making a similar video.  Yee Haw!   Enjoy.

My move to Washington state a little over a year ago brought many colossal changes to my life.  I gained a husband, mountains stand everywhere, salt water lies a few hours away, I can now posses cats being as I ditched landlord living.  Speaking of cats, have you met my new kitten?  His name is Ninja!, the exclamation point is indeed in the spelling as he is caraazzyy!

I have no idea how to make this not be upside-down.

New pets and nature aside, I left behind one huge joy in my cross country move.  I cannot attend school right now.  I haven’t secured my residency in this state, and even if I had there’s a lack of local colleges that offer my major.  So, I must wait for college credits.  While I am waiting there’s always community ed.

There’s a local community college, and by local I mean forty-five minutes away, that offers non-credit courses in writing.  Today I begin my first class, WRITERIFFIC!  I am not exactly sure what the course will teach, but from the title it sounds like a blast.

There are twenty-one different writing courses in total.  So, I can keep myself occupied for the time being until I earn my status as a resident.

I must end this blog now, there’s a kitty dancing on they keyboard and typing is most difficult.

Let’s get the obvious out in the open, Matt of X-E reviews Pitch Black Mtn Dew.  It’s really his job and area of expertise.  However, as I stopped to get gas at the crappy gas station in my town where you have to pay inside because the pumps are too old to use credit cards on, (And I did this specifically so I could justify buying a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos inside the store) I spotted the not-so-black soda and I bought it without hesitation.  The Doritos are long gone and I would like more.  The Pitch Black Mtn Dew is still here and I am not so sure about it.

I saw yesterday, that Matt has already reviewed the only available some of the time soda.  I have yet to read this review and I decided I would wait to read until I had a chance to sip it for myself without outside opinions in my head.   I know it was out years back, and I never tasted the original, so I cannot tell you if the recipe is different.  You know who else never tried it?  Billy of VeggieMacabre.  In my last Mtn Dew related post her wrote, “…but I will say, for X-E sake, that they bring back Pitch Black. I missed the boat on that and wish I had another chance.”  This is your chance Billy, don’t let it pass you by…again.

Here’s a bottle of Pitch Black using my neighbor’s barn as a background, also mountains and dew.  No, I’m lying, it’s not dew.  It’s four o’clock in the afternoon and it’s been raining all day.

Before I taste let me give my opinion on Mtn Dew, which I always thought was Mt Dew until I read this bottle today.  I love it.  I love the original stuff and have not ever been overly impressed with the come and go limited edition flavors.  I also have been mostly off the stuff since fetuses don’t need that much caffeine.  Therefore, I don’t think Pitch Black will be my hero.  I really want to take a drink regardless.

***Here’s the part where I take a drink***

Oh no.  I don’t love it.  I don’t even like it.  It’s a grapey tasting Mtn Dew. If I left a grape dum-dum in a bottle of Mtn Dew all day until it dissolved, I believe the taste would be similar.  I am not fond of artificial grape flavoring and this is exactly that.  While I will never buy this beverage again, I will be ever grateful that I did try it and will not have to be out of the limited edition soda loop.  Now I will go read the real review.

When I was a kid, if someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up I’d always answer them with whatever I thought they wanted to hear.  I had a fantastic career to spout off to any adult who inquired.  Teacher, butcher, doctor, lawyer, scientist…  When I was a kid I had no idea what I wanted to be.  I loved math and I was nerdtastically great at the subject.  This did nothing for me as I did not want to ‘do math’ for a living.  My mother told me to be an anesthesiologist, as they made a great living but medicine was not my passion and going to school forever sounded despicable.  My grandpa told me he’d pay for any law school in the country for me to attend because I was the great debater in the family (ie difficult).  He told me how much he’d spent every year on lawyers for his business and said it could be all mine if he could hire me as his own lawyer.  I didn’t want to be a lawyer either.  I didn’t want to be a teacher and I didn’t want to be a mail carrier and I didn’t want to do anything that sounded important or that required schooling.  I’ve attended four colleges up to this point studying theology, psychology, interior design and journalism.  I am, by trade, none of these things.  I am a restaurant server.

Often, so often, so often I sometimes curse people in my head, it is mentioned that I am ‘just a server’.  “Oh, if you lose your job it’s not too bad.  You can find another, you’re JUST A SERVER.”  Really?  Well, I guess you are just a teacher and there are kids everywhere so you are bound to find another position as well.  And you are just a policeman and people are committing crimes everyday so don’t worry about it, you’ll find something.  It’s not as though all the word combinations in the world have been used up, so I bet you’ll find another writing job tomorrow or the day after.

Another gem from those who are better than I frequently uttered is the deep question, “When are you going to get a REAL JOB?”   Dammit!!!  All this time I really thought I was paying my bills.  I really thought I had money coming in and I really thought I was employed and paying taxes and now I find out it was a LIE!   During these fine moments I would like to whip out my pay stub and show my hourly wage (after tips, of course) and ask them if they feel that is a real livable wage as it has been in many cases far more than that of the inquirer’s.

People have always thought less of the profession of servers.  Not individually, but as a society.  I’m OK with this.  I suppose I don’t have a great need to feel superior in the  area of employment.  Serving is generally fun and you don’t have to take home stress, for the most part.  Your ‘clients’ are in your life for one hour and so long as you bring them food and smile and make conversation, they are almost always happy.

This blog post is not about serving.  It’s about not serving.  Today I found out that because of certain boring details of which I will spare you, I will most likely be quitting my job in the next two months.  Either me or Mr. Pilver has to quit.  While our hourly wage is similar, he works more hours.  His position has a far better chance of advancement.  He receives that lovely little thing called health insurance.  Therefore, I must forfeit.  I will be a stay at home Pilver.  I will go crazy.

I have worked all but the six weeks after The Max was born and about the same amount of time when I moved here last winter.  Since  I was fifteen years old I have been employed.  After I moved out on my own at nineteen, I was my sole provider for every day of my life.  For every day of The Max’s life I have been his sole provider.  I don’t know how else to live.  I do understand that my role as Suzy Homemaker will be equally as important in our lives as bringing home the bacon, but folks I suck at making bread and I got a C- in sewing class and I am sort of a sloppy housekeeper.

I need to see glass of domestic goddess as full, however, not even half full will do.  Spending more time with The Max is an obvious benefit.  Suppose I can find more time to blog, that would be awesome.  I can learn to bake bread and to sew.  And of course, our garden is not going to grow itself.

This is not a 100% for sure thing, but I’d say that there’s a 90% chance that when school lets out for the summer, I will bid farewell to being a server and at least temporarily hang up my apron strings.

I have had the most evil time trying to blog lately.  Much of my thoughts are tied up with the tiny person growing in my stomach and I feel as though many people would rather not hear about nausea and fetal heart rates.  Therefore, I have not written.  I am going to stop behaving as though what my world is revolving around is not important and only encourage you to click over to another web page if this bores you.

I can feel my baby flop around now.  That’s outstanding and freaky all at once.  I also haven’t puked in two weeks.  Did you hear me?  I HAVEN’T PUKED IN TWO WEEKS!  My final upchuck was in the bathroom of Jiffy Lube.  The few minutes after the fact were most dreadful as I knew I was going to be forced into a waiting room of people who’d just heard me say, “Yeeeeeeaaaaaaaakkkkkkkk blllllaaaaaaahhh!”  Thankfully everyone pretended to be highly interested in their Family Circle magazines from 2006 when I exited the restroom.

I had a doctor’s appointment today.  I heard Gumdrop’s heartbeat.  I peed on a stick.  I asked the nurse if they were making sure I was still pregnant when she told me what I was supposed to do.  She told me they were testing for proteins.  I told her I ate a pound rib eye steak the night before and it would probably come out really high.  She looked at me funny and told me that’s not exactly how it works.  And, then she weighed me.  I’ve lost two pounds since last month.  I was told that can happen with nausea, but being as it’s over this should be the last month I do not gain weight for quite some time.

Oh, yeah, I have cravings.  Ice cream, chocolate, and fruit are big ones.  The biggest is rum and coke.  I imagine it’s the biggest because I cannot have it.  Sure, I know if I have half a glass of wine or half a beer I’m going to be fine and so is Gumdrop.  I’m not craving beer or wine.  I want some of the Captain in me.  I’ve already set aside a time after I give birth where I will drink a couple of these prime beverages and I assume by this time my cravings will be gone.  Until then, I will continue to cut limes into short glasses filled with ice and caffeine free Coke and dream big.

This morning, before my lunch shift at the restaurant, I am going to drive to the bank and sit in an uncomfortable chair covered in nylon fabric and sign a few papers.  After this activity I will be a homeowner.  In all my years of desiring a place to own, I never thought it would be with such little struggle the act would be completed.

I always daydreamed of finding a fixer-upper that was barely able to pass inspection and pinching pennies until I could afford the down payment.  My reality is far less romantic.

I’ll take it.  Our home still has plenty of work needed to be considered “done.”  It has been a thrill to this point being able to pick out tile and carpet and paint and following that with the trial and error of installing.

Cross your fingers that all goes well, because our interest rate is only locked in until the end of today.

We ended up spanning more than six hundred photos while on vacation.  I’m realizing I could write fifty blogs about the trip, but I have already been home five days and I’d like to get moving onto other topics.  However, I cannot ignore our stop over in Roswell for obvious reasons.

I’ve always been ho-hum on the topic of UFOs and ETs.  I figure, if they ever become real in my life, I’ll care much more.  But, focusing on things that will most likely never affect my life is a waste of time.  Bottom line, if the aliens want to talk to me, I’ll give them more of my thoughts.

After researching the attractions in Roswell, we decided on three can’t miss locations.  First, the International UFO Museum and Research Center.  This is the place where they are serious about their aliens.  Second, Alien Zone, which is completely un-serious.  Finally, the McDonald’s in town which I was told was alien themed.

Upon entering the museum there stands an art piece representing the initial crash at Roswell in 1947.  Cowboys and aliens and joining them, The Max.

Pictures taken at the UFO Museum are mostly uninteresting.  The bulk of the exhibits are document based, attempting to prove the saucer crash is legit and the government cover-up of the crash is ludicrous.   What was interesting and is most likely why the topic is still discussed is the fact that the first reports of the UFO crash are not disputed.   It simply states a large unidentified saucer crashed into a field with at least three little “people” in and around the crash site.

Apparently the military quickly became involved in the search and clean-up of the area.  Homer here, held onto his story while many others either changed their story after being briefed by the government or they just kept quiet altogether.

Coke enjoys aliens as well.  Or at least they enjoy creating theme machines.

Onto Alien Zone!  For two bucks a person we were able to see what the day in the life of an earth bound alien is really like.  The attraction encourages one to take an up close look into their lives.

We had a drink at their bar.

Max spent some time at one of the alien’s homes.

After while they grew hungry and grilled some food.

This jokester pulled a prank on us and pretended he was going to abduct The Max and I.

After a long day of drinking, eating, and faux abductions we all crashed.

Alien Zone proves that while they may not be human, our little new friends are generally good eggs.

After the education at the museum and the fun at Alien Zone we were starving.  I got a tip from a Pilver reader to make sure and stop by McDonald’s on our visit.  I was anxious for a Ronald with green skin or a Grimace with antennae.  While Roswell’s McDonald’s was a welcome change from your everyday fast food establishment the theme was not that of the extraterrestrial variety, but instead a space travel affair.

The Mural on the exterior of the building is a good preview of what is inside.  The McDonald’s gang are going to fly around in space and they want you to watch them.

This McNugget requires very little by means of protective gear.

Ronald requires more.

Grimace is largely ignored these days so he felt OK about nearly being covered entirely by his beverage cup suit.  He was lucky to be there at all.

Birdie always reminds me of McDonald’s pancakes which I believe I only ate once in the early 1980’s.  But here she flies a fry box.  It would have been more fitting if a fry guy was piloting this rig, but alas, no fry guys were in sight.

I kinda lied, there’s a fry girl, in a McFlurry cup.  I don’t think she is old enough to drive the Fry Ship so I’ll forgive McDonald’s for allowing Birdie to fly the craft.

Near the center of New Mexico lies the world’s largest gypsum sand dunes.  Our stay in the state would have been a failure if we had not stopped to explore the natural wonder.  It’s difficult to capture with words the bizarreness  of the area, I tried eight times and hit backspace deleting each description.

It was a very warm day when we visited the White Sands National Monument. (Being called a monument, I expected some sort of monolith or some other man made structure.  In reality, it’s a natural monument which still does not compute in my brain.)  The thermometer read close to ninety degrees, but once we walked out onto the dunes, it felt much warmer.  The sun reflected off the sands and back onto our bodies, though, because the sand is white it is cool to the touch.  There are a few grasses and small plants that somehow can grow in certain areas of the sands, but mostly it’s a 275 square mile sandbox for playing.  Oh, and they test missiles there too.

We buried the dog in the sand, and she loved it.  She’s old and always panting because she is so hot.  If she had her way, she would have never left the cool comfort.  Max decided he ought to be buried alongside the dog.

It wasn’t long before Max grew bored and resurrected himself and shorter still until he wanted to be buried once again.  The second time his burial was self inflicted and  incomplete.

White Sands National Monument is close to nothing, as most things in New Mexico.  However, if you have the chance to visit do not pass it up!