Car Free Sunday

Have you ever had a flat tire or ran out of gas on the freeway? Sure, it sucks. Inconvenience aside, having to get out of your car and stand on or next to the freeway gives you a totally different experience of freeways (or highways).  
I’m still without wifi and in a quick search for something historic about today, November 4th, I found that here was an oil crises in 1973 which caused Holland to declare Sundays, “car free”.  
I found some pictures. While I am in love with driving. It looks so peaceful on the freeways.
   

 People rollerskated, biked, even ride horseback on multi-lane freeways. The places they only saw zip by in the past they got to experience without glass and steel separating in between, or even had a place to relax.

  
  Ok. This is a bit much. Guessing the picture is from an article about the new law of no cars on Sunday. I doubt Jr there hauled the lazy boy and house plant on the back of his tractor.  

  
So, it’s not a holiday. But it’s a historic event. Forty-two years ago the country of Holland banned cars on Sunday. I think we should revive this here in the US. But not with cars, let’s ban Facebook on Tuesdays and Twitter on Fridays and Saracha on Wednesdays. (Seriously, it’s alright but there are plenty of other superior hot sauces).  

See you tomorrow. And tomorrow, the Internet fix it person arrives. I won’t have to thumb type. Holla!

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My Dirty Little Secret

Did I mention I’m not staying at my home for a few months?  I’m not.  I’m living it up in a condo while my house is being finished.  And by living it up I mean taking money out of the money set aside to finish my house to rent a place to live so my littlest kids don’t eat screws and climb scaffolding. 

My point here is I’m using condo wifi.  And it lasted a whopping two days before going out.  So while I have no reliable internet to use a keyboard ready device I must blog with my thumbs on my smart phone using the small amount of data I allow myself in my cell plan.

Two paragraphs of explanation later, I have to blog quick today.  So let me tell you my secret. I’m currently a barista.  I make coffee and espresso drinks for people in an amazing little shop.  It’s a jewel, to be honest.  We serve the finest espresso drinks around and we’re in a town where most would believe fine things are rare.  I take enormous pride in my work and with a nose pointed high into the air I mock chain coffee with snarky sass and annoying confidence.  

But there’s this drink.  A drink I can only buy at the one place I never buy actual coffee.  *Big Sigh*   Im addicted to Green Tea Frappuccinos.  

  
It’s so shameful, I know.  I’d say 3-5 times a week I drive my vehicle over to the local abomination of craft coffee shop and make my order.  It’s become such a problem that they KNOW me.  I’m a regular.  It’s just that, nobody else has this drink.  It’s the  green tea matcha powder.  I ask for extra matcha and less sweet.  It’s just…so good.  And above getting my antioxidants in frappe form, it’s being served to ME.  Having someone make me a drink is something I was missing.  I make hundred of orders weekly for other people.  Having someone make me something is really amazing for once.  

So now you know.  I won’t blame you if you have a hard time looking me in the eye for a little while.  But for the record, I still despise   chain coffee. That’s worth something, isn’t it?

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Worst Variety Store Finds

There is a store in the town nearest to my home and it boasts a wide selection of necessities and nonsense.  It’s called The Variety Store and the name explains what they sell.  A little of what you need, some of what you don’t, and a whole ton of things no person alive has ever needed.

I grabbed a ten dollar bill and The Max and told him we had a solid goal of finding the weirdest stuff we could find with my cash.  Plenty of treasures were left behind as ten bucks doesn’t go far, even at The Variety Store.  But let me tell you a story about what we did buy.

  
Candy cigarettes are still a thing.  Who knew?  But no longer can they be titled cigarettes, but instead, candy.  With, I believe, an imitation at the Lucky Strike logo and proper shape and sized box you can buy your child not candy cigarettes, but candy…candy?!

  Is there a worst tasting candy than this?  Slightly sweet chalk doesn’t seem to be enough to merit pretending to smoke cigarettes.  If we’re splitting hairs about this, pretending to smoke doesn’t seem like a joy ride either.  

  
There’s so much to love to hate about this gag toy that I tossed a coin on which to start with.  It was tails, and tails was why is this a 14+ suggested aged product?  It says right on the package that children under three years are at risk of cholking on the chunks of plastic.  What about this is forbidden for the four to thirteen year old crowd? 

The package also states it contains pimples and warts.  However I only see one nipple and one raisin.  What fun is a raisin looking gag?  Pop it in a bowl of granola and congrats, your kid just cholked.  And they aren’t even under three.  

Finally that face that gentleman is making because his lady has suddenly sprouted a face full of “pimples.”  This is supporting my conclusion that they are nipples. A man with that receding hair and beer gut certainly has seen a less than fair complextion in his lifetime.  He has never seen a lady with a dozen nipples on her face, hence his cowering stance.

  
Lord let me never be the parent (or pet owner) who rejoices at the departure of my children.  But if I am, let me not be the person who hangs signs showing whoever I know that I need to visit the great wizard for a new heart.

  
This was my favorite.  This caused me to break my ten dollar limit.  Fake tampons which I can haul small amounts of hooch.  Perfect. 

 
Look a little closer.  I can actually read the words booze tube through the the plastic wrapper.  Another thing, these are easily twice the length of a regular tampon.  I’m guessing that if you truly attempted to sneak liquor into these products you would be fine as most folks don’t linger too long while searching purses shoved full of ginormous  tampons.  
 
My most favorite part of the tampon flask is the they specify it is not intended for illegal use.  I’m still searching to figure out a legal scenario involving camouflaged liquor.  Help me out and suggest one if you can.

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NaBloPoMo

It’s that time of year again.  time for me to make a goal I just won’t keep.  It’s National Blog Posting Month.  The month when all the hooligans and geeks whip open their laptops and try to write a blog post every day for a whole month.  

I’d say of the past five years most of my blog posts have been soley about how I never write.  You see, five-ish years ago, tiny little people decided to rule my life.  They’re sleeping soundly now, sure, but most of the time they are creating messes (creatively, of course) that suck all the energy from my soul.

  
But we’re gonna try this again.  Day one, done.  This promise to post counts as a real post.  Twenty-nine to go.  

See you tomorrow, uh, alligator.

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Apocalyptic Haze

Something I don’t often share is my mostly mild and occasionally severe anxiety disorder.  And I don’t share because any attention I might corral for it terrifies me.  But what happened today seems to be an annual occasion and I am curious if anyone else can relate.
I was camping, and enjoying myself tremendously.  On the drive home the smoke started to thicken-it’s wildfire season here in the West- and sure as can be by the time I came home the sky was gone and had been replaced by an orange haze of thick and wretched smokey air.  Logically, this is simply the result of a large plume of smoke from a nearby fire settling into our valley.  But in my slightly disturbed mind I now need to convince myself that I am not in some sort of Mad Max or  Terminator like tragedy.  
  
Once I get home, I shut myself in the house and ensure I’m surrounded by current news and social media showing that the world is still turning and life is peachy.  And it is.  The rest of the day turns out ideal.  I have family over and nobody is disfigured from a nuclear tragedy, I make a run to the grocery store and the shelves are not wiped in an apocalyptic frenzy.  But I still wasted those precious moments of my life worrying that the end had come…Because of the smoke resulting from a wildfire I knew about well in advance.
I know my brain does this.  I anticipate such anxious events and make certain I avoid certain movies and situations that escalate such vibrant and imaginative scenes in my brain.  But they still occur here and there.  
I can’t be the only one though.  Who else prepares for the worst in any break from the expected?  Tell me I’m not the only one.

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Blogiversary #8!

Remember last month when I was going to write for ninety days about how great summer is?  That was funny.  I’ll never do it again, pinkie swear.  Just after I dropped my ambition the temps here rose to 110 and stayed horrid for weeks.  I can’t pretend to love summer so let’s move on from my mistake and wish this website a happy anniversary! 

For it’s eighth year, I decided to again purchase an actual domain.  So now if you type thepilver.com you’ll go to the same place you are now, you just won’t need to type the WordPress part.  Fancy!

Since I’m actually paying I’m hoping to use this more.  I keep telling myself I don’t have enough time, but I do.  I’ll find it.  

  Worst Pilver Cake yet.  It’s a day old muffin from work with a pencil candle.  And I promise nobody is eating this.   I’m actually at work, not working but playing with my blog.  Better get back to making drinks for tourists!  

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#6 No School

I’m not in school right now.  I have two pesky semesters between myself and a diploma.  But I still get amped when summer vacation arrives.  Work feels more carefree, sleeping in seems like the thing to do (regardless of the fact I’m awake by six no matter what).

I work where a decent bulk of my interactions every day are with people on vacation.  School not being in session makes every day appear happier in some way.  Sometime shortly after mid July this feeling fades in favor of socializing and new pencils.  But for now, let’s enjoy the assumed freedom of summer break.

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