CommunityPam's House Blend


Sorry for the slacker posting. Worked late and was pretty wiped. This AM, Kate and I got up and decided to head over to the Durham Waste Disposal and Recycling Center, where they are giving away free mulch.

The city gives away compost and leaf mulch every Saturday during the month of October, so this was our last chance to load up. We lined the Focus wagon with a tarp, put in shovels, a bunch of plastic tubs and headed off. This is when I wish I had a pickup truck, since they have Bobcats to just pick up a load to fill your bed, or if you have a trailer. It’s the only time I would really appreciate having a truck. Otherwise, a plain-jane station wagon is perfectly fine.

We actually got a lot, enough to line all the flower/shrub beds in our smallish yard. Anyway, that’s what burned up the AM.

Now Kate’s out mowing the lawn and I’m supposed to be designing some iron-ons to put on black shirts for our Halloween costumes. Our friend Kelly is giving a “superhero” theme party, and we’re making up our own superheroes — Supreme P (me) and Special K (the missus). Kate won’t be going as a cereal box, and the origin of my “identity” is convoluted and has nothing to do with a superhero.

It’s more of an inside joke about a ridiculous character in HBO’s Oz, Kevin Ketchum, that called himself “Supreme Allah.” (For Oz fans, the character was “convicted March 22, 2000. Murder in the second degree. Sentence: 25 years, up for parole in 10. Died due to allergic reaction to eggs.”)

Since this guy had the balls to think of himself as a deity, I just figured I can call myself Supreme P, and reign over my domain. I think I was tired that night and clearly it was funny at the time…oh, never mind… Anyway, I need to create some logos to iron-onto T-shirts. We have capes already, and very strange wigs (I think mine is blue, hers is purple) with cat-like ears on them.

Below is from last year’s 80s themed party. Lots of makeup, plastic jewelry, shoulder pads, and for Kate, Aqua Net.

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Pam Spaulding

Pam Spaulding