nail polish touch-up, wishbone

Ahh, boredom. I played the Sims Makin’ Magic for several hours earlier for the first time in quite a while. It’s not as fun anymore anyway, but for some reason, there is no sound whatsoever in the game, which makes it really unfun compared to how it used to be. Sometimes I have sound for a week, then it’ll stop working again. Stupid Windows 95, I guess.

I’ve been drawing stuff for Psaces (see previous entry). Trin’s doing a better job with the outfits than I am. Her drawings have more detail. I’ll have to work on that. Gotta draw my stick figures with style!

I washed my baby today. It’s all lovely and gleaming now. I took a toothbrush to the wheel covers because of all the road grime built up in them. There are several little spots on the sides, near the back, where rust had built up because the paint was gone. I imagine gravel is the cause of that. Anyway, Dad scratched off the rust and I dug up some nail polish that is almost exactly the same shade as my car. It’s a little greener and a little lighter but it looked better than rust and it’ll help to protect the metal. I went around the whole car, filling in the little spots from which Dad had removed the rust.

My brother cooked a goose (one of ours, sadly) the other day on the grill. Mom fixed it up for dinner tonight. I couldn’t bear to eat it, so I just had the rice, green beans, and salad. Anyway, Dad found the wishbone and we tried to break it. He just held his end while I tried to snap the son of a gun. My pinky finger kept slipping off and I couldn’t break it. How wimpy is that? The whole point of this is that Dad asked me if I had ever put a bone in vinegar. I told him no so he had me put the still-whole wishbone into a glass jar with vinegar. The thing was horribly grotesque. I just had to put it in the pantry, between an inconspicuous jar of macaroni and a box of cocoa. Lord, if that thing is still there when we have guests… I can just imagine someone wanting something out of the pantry and seeing that gory old bone, floating in a foggy liquid (bits of meat were still on the bone and they came off in the vinegar).

I can’t find my damn NiMH battery charger. I had it with me at UK and brought it back, I know, because I remember packing it. I dug through all three of my big Rubbermaid containers today, though, and couldn’t find the thing. It’s probably wrapped in a towel, buried under some skirts, snuggled up with packages of crackers, resting on a paper plate, nestled amongst bobby pins in the bottom of the very bottom container in the stack of Rubbermaid containers.

Jake is one weird dog. I had to put flea and tick drops on the dogs today. Goldy and Blaise have no problem with it, although I always have to coax Blaise out from under the porch because she’s shy. Once I put it on them, though, they go about their business and act normally. Jake, however, is suspicious from the beginning. I started out by petting him, talking to him and the other dogs, with none of the medicine with me. When he relaxed a bit, I got the medicine and went to pet him again. I quickly sprayed the whole tube on his back and he noticed while I was still spraying. He leapt off the porch and ran to the other end of the house. He came back a few minutes later and dove into the sand pile, rolling on his back, wuffling and snuffling. He must’ve rolled and scrubbed around on his back in the sand for ten minutes. I went over to him, talking calmly and trying to pet him, but he took off when he saw me approaching. I know the poor thing hates me for it, but it’s for his own good. That’s one crazy dog.