Dinner with mom, and a vexing little dadget.

I went over to Temple Monday evening and had dinner with my mom. She'd spoken over the weekend about taking some chicken out and wanting to make enchiladas, so i was really looking forward to the treat.

This is one of mom's best dishes. Ask anybody. I'm gonna call my cousin Bob tomorrow and tell him I got to enjoy these and He'll cuss me. The envy will just ooze through the phone connection. Seriously.



My usual helping is three, but she'd decided to load them in these smaller casserole dishes, so I ended up having two for my first helping, and then the third all by it's lonesome. What? Save number three for later? Pffft, are you kidding. Oh hell no.



Just look at that. Juicy, cheesy goodness.



Yep, it's good. I know, I shouldn't tease the public like this. Well, head on over. Maybe we can talk mom into making some more.



You can see here, even the cat knows how good this stuff is.

We both enjoyed a beer with our dinner, and then I took the dishes back to the kitchen and loaded them in the sink to soak. While there, I noted that mom was missing a few bulbs in her ceiling light fixture.



It's a funky cool one with directional lights. There were three bulbs out on this thing, and another out on another fixture nearby. They all use fancy halogen lights. Fancy and expensive, but that's not the real kicker in the deal.

I offered to go and get some new bulbs at Lowe's and fix the situation. I told mom I needed to go there and get a few things for myself anyway, so it was no big deal. I was only gone for a short while. I went in and found the right bulbs, and my own items, really quickly. I wasn't even in the car long enough to light a cigar. I got back to the house and started working on these lights.



You should have heard me cussin'. The guy who designed these little bastards needs to be pistol whipped. First, they're a HUGE pain in the ass to get out, and then they're even more of a pain in the ass to replace with a fresh bulb.

See, you have to press up hard on the bulb with your thumbs and then twist to the left to get the old one out. Then you have to try to line up those two little nubs with the two holes in the fixture, and then twist the bulb to the right with your thumbs while you keep pressing up, hard.

I got the idea that there's probably some sort of suction cup devise the electricians use to replace these things, making it much easier to align the bulb, press and twist, but mom doesn't have one.

Plusssss, these are the only lights in the kitchen, and it's late, so I had to have them on while I was changing them. So, after minutes of pissing and moaning, cussin' a blue streak (mom was in the other side of the house), I'd get the thing lined up right and start twisting with my thumbs, and then the light would come on.

I'd be pressing as hard as I could with my thumbs as the light would blind me and the friggin' thing began to quickly heat up. And i mean heat up! I think I may have left a little finger print burned on to the bulb, along with a circle of bright light burned into my retina.

But, as you can see from the shot above, I eventually got it done. I saved a few of the dead bulbs for target practice later. That should be fun.

Anyway, I went back in and sat down with mom to watch the downhill skiing. Watched some Canadian dude crash and burn at a dizzying speed. And then they said the American skier had won the bronze medal, but that he'd only missed winning the gold by a margin of 1/900ths of a second! Sheeeeeit! I bet he was pissed. Puts my light bulb troubles in perspective.

I hung around there for a while and then headed home. I left mom that extra rack of pork ribs that I'd cooked Sunday afternoon. She'll have those to enjoy this week. I know she'll love them.

Well, that's that. I'm off to work. Florence, San Saba and then Ft, Hood. It'll be a long day, but one filled with good friends, fun times and a job I love. I can't complain. Y'all be good. Cheers.