Well, At Least She Didn't Call Me Elderly

I am obviously in a weird place in my life.

I have finally stopped flinching (but still pretend I can't hear them if someone is calling me from afar or behind me) at "ma'am."

I don't even bother with joking/getting excited about the "carding" thing. They want to see my ID because they probably just got cited and everyone in an over 21 establishment needs to be carrying some sort of ID, get over it lady, they do not think you are too young, no matter what story the waitress pulls.

Today though, a double-whammy:

Today I found out that the fellow I'm assisting is younger than me, by a wide enough margin that when he talks to me in Spanish he will use the "Ud." form. (It's a, um, case/style of speaking that is used to speak to say an older person, your boss, your parents/grandparents, people you don't know well/are only acquainted with. In English it would be the thee/the thing of olde.)

I can honestly say I had not noticed it until today when he made the mistake of using "vas" (the tu/informal instead of "va") and then quickly apologized because in the country he comes from, they don't really use the "Ud." form and that's when it came out that he'd been using the more formal speech with me cuz he knew that it was mostly a Mexican/Spanish thing and he was so very sorry and he does really respect his elders (oh yes he did); I felt so very old and I could have cried...I think the look on my face said it all as he kinda just went quiet and then said he was going to go help the other assistant, or something...(I'm six years older, BTW, I guess in young' un years that may as well be 50.)

Well, after that I felt no guilt whatsoever leaving work early enough to hit el banco.

I need a new bank. Not so much the global conglomerate that is rhymes-with-bells-cargo, but the physical branch that is closest to my house. I swear to all that is green and makes rich people go, no one in that branch is over 25. Also, maybe that branch attracts one too many "winners." They have that plate-glass thing that banks that were held up one too many times in the early 90s were required to put in, so instead of having a private conversation with your teller, your business gets blasted across the room because somehow the tellers think you can't hear them, and, like the woman in front of me, the patrons scream what they need at full volume. Very disconcerting.

The opposite of this is that the tellers think that you can't hear their private conversations. So I got to hear the teller to the right of mine wale about his inability to stay up yet another minute. And my teller explaining as she got my money, that the lovely coffee shop across the way only sold espresso and he would be far too wired for all of them if he did that.

I smiled and remarked about the propensity of PNWers and their addiction to the magical bean. Shocked I could hear her, she agreed and said, "It's even worse when people my age stay up all night partying and think they can work a full shift the next day." We both looked over at the teller at that point and he was all, "Why you lookin' at me!"

"We'll grow out of that, though, right?" She said smiling handing me my cash. (Did I mention she was about 22? With too much eye make-up and product in her hair?)

Until that point in time I had no idea that "smiling with only your mouth" was something that happened in real life, because people, I felt myself doing it. But the moment passed and I took my money. I'd asked for an odd assortment of bill values and I actually apologized for the weirdness of it, but she said, "Oh, this is nothing. The elderly ladies that come in usually have a very specific list of how much of what they want to have and are very insistent about it."

Ahem, how nice. At least, in her eyes, I'm still not a part of that category, yet. Except, yeah, it's 6 PM and I am so going to bed cuz I am no bank-tellering-all-night-partier. Instead I am one-day-closer-to-middle-age and it's not going to be pretty...besides, I think I've caught the latest "field-office-virus" from my wonderful co-workers...

(SIGH.)

Neither Snow, nor Rain, nor Dark of Night...

ETA:Quick grammar sweep, nothing new...
Time and talking and a little crying do a body good, do not let people tell you that crying won't help! God, how I hated that phrase as a kid.

I'm here to say, "I am a cry baby and proud of it!"

I'd shout it from the rooftops, but it is wet and muggy like Hilo got transplanted to Seattle or something. I was fighting the urge to just go out sans rain jacket today as I ran into the same problem I faced my entire time in Hawai'i: get sopping wet from the rain, or sopping wet from the sweat of wearing too many non-breathable fabrics meant to keep the rain off.

Of course this is all relative now...it's only about 55 degrees out there...yet, somehow, after living in Winter-is-10-months-long Kings Beach, CA, that's almost balmy! I'm sure in another year I'll have become acclimated to the mild-in-comparison weather that Seattle supposedly has...what with global warming and all.

I mean, we had our snow, was that just the day before yesterday? And now we are having a tropical storm. Nothing like nutty weather to keep you on your toes! And nothing like this weekend to be sitting around reading blogs, knitting and maybe catching up on some TV (I love having access to episodes on the internet...no wonder the writers are P.O.'d about not getting any cuts from that aspect of the shows! There may not be a zillion commercials, but there are ads, and I am so with you guys! (um, yes, I know the WGA does not read my blog, but you just never know).)

If the weather ever breaks again, and/or Seattle does not get washed away AND we get a break in the weather, I will update, with pictures even, on the status of my knitting-frenzy projects.

Happy Monday!

Coping With Loss

Everyone deals with losing loved ones, family members, and friends in a different way. I remind myself of this constantly around deaths and holidays...and break-ups really.

By the time my X no longer wanted us to be an 'us,' he was such a different person than the guy I married that I started thinking of my X as having died, and the new X as his twin brother who hated me and was an asshole and I should be wary. If I fell into my story well enough, I could almost see the physical differences of those twins. (I taught in Castroville, CA. Not only is it the "Artichoke Capital of the World," it is over-run with twins! One year I had 5 sets among the 60 kids I taught. I had to be able to distinguish via the most minor of details, 8% of my students, or fail them as an adult--7th graders, remember? Who knew such an experience would come in handy one day?)

When someone older dies, it's kinda easier, and kinda not. I am ashamed to admit it, but heck, why not, I've given out so many other secrets to the internets, I am still angry at my 92-year-old grandfather dying on me when I was 18. Isn't that awful? I have let go of so many things in my life, and yet, that's one of the reasons the holidays are rather bitter-sweet for me, as that's when he passed on. It's not like he was 25 and full of a future that never happened! But why couldn't he be there for my future?!?

My dad is one of the youngest of his family. He just turned 62. My big family-tree sized view of my family shines a light on the fact that the majority of the aunts and uncles are older. Living to see their 70s, 80s and 90s is not an odd thing. But in my selfish world, that makes losing them harder as they have been a part of my life for so long. Even if it's just to be part of the line of gossip of what awful thing "la hija de Pello" is doing now!

Recently, the oldest of my dad's sister's left us. It makes me wonder if I am a masochist, living way the hell out here away from people who I could cry with and reminisce. Yeah, I'm a crier. And it's the "ugly cry" I'm talking about. But I wasn't around any of my family or friends who would understand, and scaring them was not my goal. It was much easier to set it aside and move on. Distance from the event is great for avoidance, until it comes up behind you and bites you in the ass.

That's kinda how I feel this morning. Last night I got word that a friend I'd been losing touch with was found dead in his house. As I told the friend whose awful luck it was to spread the news, this is not something that happens to boring people like us. No one knows any details and I feel like I've been dropped into the middle of a soap opera. Which helps, because then I can laugh (maniacally of course) about the absurdity instead of falling into even more despair. What helps a little is the fact that Andy & Co. (not sure if the crew is ready for me to shout out to them on the www) all knew him too. Unfortunately the "bad" side effect is that it is much easier for that ugly cry to bare it's um, horrific head. Which, as the first line way up at the top of this post states, might not mesh well with how everyone else will be dealing. I mean, hi, I'm spouting it out to the world here! I'm obviously not a quiet mourner!

I feel very harry-potter/jk-rolling/think of england here...I know I can get through all this because I've done it (far too often now) before. In the shower I made my laundry list and I started bawling (little cry). I've already coped/semi-coped/faked myself out about coping over the death of 10 people I knew/loved/was related to/considered myself a close friend of. (I have a separate list for the other kinds of losses...) I began typing the list out here and found it too morbid even for me. I keep thinking that all of that experience under my belt should make it easier, right? Right?

Please.

"Wings That Worked..."

Turkey Day round up:
There was turkey and stuffings and potatoes and champagne and something like- but not, cognac and bree and crab cakes and kitties and a dog and a baby. Not all in one place, not all in that order.

There was much fun had by all.

It is so very hard to go back to working 10 hour days after having four whole days off, but I managed, somehow. Ah yes, mainly by constantly reminding myself two basic things:
1) overtime makes the bills sting less
2) my job is far too easy to be complaining about it

And here it is a Tuesday and I'm blogging! I blame it on "Stumbling over Chaos's" Chris.

See, she's having a blog anniversary thingie right now, name your superpower and be entered into her raffle. What was most amusing was seeing how many "Heroes" fans there are out there. When I sat down to think about what I'd like to have for a super power, I totally think of the Justice League/Super Friends conglomerate. Is that another generational thing? What comes to mind when I say, "Conjunction Junction?"

Ahem, anyway, what I decided was that of all the superman/woman powers out there, what I really needed was something to combat the superpower that has already glommed onto me: the ability to find all the rough/sharp/protuberant edges of a room. Not to, you know, point them out to parents so that their small children don't hurt themselves, oh no. I find them and slam/slice/bang/boom onto/off of them like nobody's business! I am nothing if not thorough in such endeavors.

I want to be like Batman, slick and sly and have all the cool toys...and a mansion, fast car, money to burn...uhhh, where was I? Oh yeah, I guess he doesn't really have super anything...maybe a super brain? He is kinda smart. What I came up with though is that really, I need...No. I NEED to figure out how to add a little more grace into my life. Like River Tam, in Firefly/Serenity. Like Wonder Woman dodging bullets, like Neo bending away from punches. Okay super speed wouldn't be too bad either. But grace? That would be more than enough to get me started.

Need I really tell you that today was one of my less graceful?

I think it stems from distraction. I kinda forget where things are until another part of my body, um, finds them again. Like the edge of my desk that the back of my head found when I was digging out my lunch bag as I listened to my older brother's voicemail. Or the steering column of my car when I went to get out, my knee reminded me it was there, you know, in case I forgot. I should also thank my shin for reminding me where the edge of the coffee table was as I rushed around gathering the mail.

I also have spontaneously clumsy moments. Like my muscles decide to NOT hold onto the cup of coffee anymore, or the bowl of cereal, or my bag, or my pen. I drop things for no explainable reason. They literally slip through like water. I count that as my bonus power. You know like Superman has super strength AND x-ray vision? Hiro Nakamura can bend time AND space. River Tam is super graceful AND psychotic.

Oh for wings that worked...I used to be a fencer. I never once lumbered down the strip or fell. I think it must be a concentration thing. I mean, I was kinda focused on NOT getting hit and dealing with a meter-long piece of metal. It is amazing how you can get your body to move so as to avoid getting smacked, poked, or jabbed by a weapon.

Hmmmmm

Twas the Wednesday before Thanksgiving...

So....another list, tee hee.

1) I love free stuff, of all sorts! Useful free stuff is like a bonus. I just snagged what are to become this years xmas cards! FREE! They were in the "supply" room with a "free" stickie on them!!

2) And an extra rad bonus? I totally missed the deadline for ordering a work calendar for next year. I mean, really, duh! But hellooo, I had my choice of all sorts of conservancy/wildlife/painters of America/etc. and so forth! Free!

3) I have come to the conclusion that if you tell me to be somewhere at a particular time, I am preeety good at almost being there on-time. I might be 15 minutes early or 20 minutes late, but really, who (except for Andy) is really counting? Yet, if I say I will leave at 7:00 AM to go somewhere, I am out the door at 7 AM, or 6 PM or whatever time I have decided upon in my head. Now the trick is going to be to figure out how to judge how LONG it will take me to get somewhere so I can show up on-time on that end...it never ends does it?

4) Growing up I had turkey and ham once a year every year. Yes, on Thanksgiving and Christmas respectively. It's what my mom was told you served your family. Man did I find it strange. It's like having Chinese food in Italy. I mean, well, you have my mom who is an awesome cook, when she makes her award-winning (in my mind and heart here people) mexican meals. Yum! I am craving her enchiladas as I type. American food and my mom? Not really something that meshed well in those early years. And then there's my dad... Nothing is stranger than having the whole turkey-day spread: bird, potatoes, cranberry sauce (only once, and yes, from the can), green beans, et. al., the tortilla warmer--filled with, yes, that's right, corn tortillas, and the tired-looking tupperware filled with hot salsa, yes, really. Why? Well, that's what my dad requires on the table to eat ANYTHING. Oh the memories of my dad pouring chile over his turkey dinner and tearing away at it with his corn tortilla. I kid you not.

5) "If You Care" products. I must dig out a picture. I think their main ad campaign centers around guilt. I was just sleepy enough this morning to read the label of my coffee filters. I thought at first that "If You Care" was a slogan or some-such thing. I was wrong. I'm not sure if I should be angry, offended, or "right-on"-ing them, but they made it on my list this week as they kinda freaked me out this morning.

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!

It's Not a Meme...Just Wednesday

And/or the most random of random lists that has been building since I'm obviously not posting enough:

I. On Six-Degrees of Separation:

I live over 1,000 miles from where I was raised (and no, I would not walk 500 miles, nor 500 more to be the one that knocks upon my mo-om's door, but yes, I do indeed have that little ditty stuck in my head and as the words are so inane I've obviously already changed them to fit my needs, hee hee). Yesterday in the lunch room, not only did I meet someone who grew up not 10 minutes from my house, but actually went to the same "family" of high schools as my Alma mater; my "brother" school, no less. 'member, I'm a product of an all-girls catholic edumication...shiver. Now, what would have made it just plain nuts is for us to be in the same department, not as such, no.

When you're a product of the kind of education that supports a school of 300 people? It's so very rare to find a random person who can high-five me about such a past. The only time I thought it was just too much coincidence for words was back on the Big Island when I attended an elementary/middle/high school "team" kind of conference where we met the counterparts at the other levels of education in our teaching area. We did one of those silly get-to-know yous that involved telling people where you went to high school. Hawai'i is technically one big school district, so this doesn't seem as bizarre when you end up going to one of like 10 high schools across the state. I ended up paired up with a lady who, yes, graduated from my very same high school 11 years before I did. She knew my mother back when...it was "turn your tummy" creepy. How did we both end up 3,000 miles away from, um "home?" Wait, what made it super creepy actually was that she was breaking her contract as she was in the middle of a messy divorce...one month before I went through the same thing.

II. On the Whole "Work" Thing

Being the second car to arrive in the parking lot at work makes me feel very lonely at 7 AM.

Driving to work before the sun rises feels just as crummy as driving home after it has set. When both of these occasions meet in one day...urgh...I must keep reminding myself that the overtime is worth it. Really.

III. Michael-Douglas-Falling-Down-Mad

I'd never watched it before last night! Yes, of course I used the phrase before, early and often. Didn't we all when that movie first came out? Or maybe it was just me and my weird-o circle of friends. Whatever. I'd seen the previews and read the review, pretty easy to figure out what the movie was going to be about right?

Guy flips as he's going home + baseball bat + L.A. = Fun for the whole family!

So not what I expected. "Michael-Douglas-Falling-Down-Mad" also implies mad in its various connotations. I had forgotten how crazy LA was in the 80s/90s/now. My, am I mellow in comparison. Stop laughing.

IV. Family

My niece is a little girl! Okay, what I mean is, the last time I saw her she was barely putting words together and speaking to her over the telephone was an exercise in trying to figure out baby-speak combined with her insistence that one whispered over the phone. No idea where that came from...but amusing nonetheless. Last night when I called to wish my dad a happy old-man's day---I mean birthday, she wanted to TALK to me. Like, real sentences! Like telling me about how her brother was asleep and that her parents would be home later and that's why she's at granmas and...and...super-freaking out about how she's like not a baby anymore. And speaking of such...

V. Babies

No, not mine. Don't even go there. A friend from college just had one though. This is going to sound odd if you are from Washington State...but being "old enough" to have friends starting families is odd. Why the premise? One of my many observations of my new plodding grounds is that people tend to marry and reproduce rather young 'round these parts. It feels like everyone is married/partnered/etc./et.al. and has been for a really long time and maybe already has one or two little ones around and did I mention they're in their 20s?

My peeps? We must have, um, blossomed late or something. When I got married at 23 my friends all looked at me like I needed therapy. Well, I probably did, but I was "first"(Phil, am I imagining I got hitched just before you, or just after?) and there was no "second" until years later when friends already older than I were tying all sorts of knots and it's just telling and no surprise now, I guess, that as I'm approaching my mid thirties my cohorts have reached the reproduction stage. (Okay, again, Phil, I think you might be the exception, as your kids have some years under their belts now...but I blame your having been exposed to too much Orange County as a child.)

Yes, I know, it sounds like we're all bacteria on petri dishes...with all the world views out there, it could theoretically be one of them. I mean, really, remember the MIB marbles?

Movie PSA: Idiocracy

Watch this movie, period.

Okay, yeah, I know, you want reasons and stuff. I'm down with that.

What seems like years ago, the first 6 minutes of Idiocracy was "leaked" on YouTube. Or so I thought. The conspiracy theorist in my head now thinks the crisp and clear 6 minutes (which I can't find anymore) was from the producers of the film, trying in their own subversive way to "outfox" (wink, wink) their distribution company who DID NOT MARKET THE FILM! No previews, no releases to movie critics, nada.

The bottom of the wiki-entry does not help quell the rumor-mongers in my head either. Scroll down to "Release Issues" as the synopsis is actually a play-by-play spoiler. If they got "good" reception at screenings, why only release to 130 theaters? Why shoot themselves in the foot? You must watch it to find out.

On the top-most level, this movie is another toilet-humor-beevus&butthead style flick. It will make the masses laugh out loud. I hate those kinds of movies. They make me feel like my brain is leaking out of my ears. However, if you listen to the narrator, and really pay attention to everything that's going on in the screen? OMG you want to cry with just how easily the utter ridiculousness of the plot line could actually come about.

There is major speculation as to why they tried to bury the film, aside from the whole use of swear words and changing the friendly current-day chain stores into big-brothers and brothels as well as the movie making big fun of the mega-corporation that was releasing the film. Did I mention the screenings all happened in the UK?

What sticks with me is the sense that this is one of those "he can see"/"the sleeper has awakened" movies that the 80s prepared us all for. It's like, "Hello America, this is your future if you keep going at the current rate!"

So, watch the film. Spread the word. Don't let the future name their children after snack foods.

Taking on the "Way Back Machine" Challenge

KitKatKnit is having a contest that was just too good to skip, but maybe a little kismet-ish too:

Basically you go back to one year ago today and post about what you were knitting back then.

As you all know, I am not the most daily of bloggers. I call it my sine-wave blogging cycle. There are times I will regale you with daily musings, then a week goes by and I'm all "move along, nothing to see here." So the little voice that makes me partake of contests to begin with said, "If yee posted on the 8th, do it!" (Yep, my voice was being extra weird this morning.)

Low and behold, I did indeed post on November 8, 2006. (ETA, oopsie, thanks, Bezzie in my head it made sense... :))

I had just finished my father's scarf, and was barely making his birthday deadline...and had begun my constant winter companion:



Which became:


Pattern: One Row Hand Spun Scarf

OMG! That is snow!!! In Seattle! At the END of November...let's see if history repeats itself :).

To clarify about the fine print regarding the contest? Cartoon what? I just remember eating far too sugary cereal and watching the Rocky & Bullwinkle Show ("Hey Rocky, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!"). Mr. Peabody and his boy, Sherman, were not as funny to me then as say 'Fractured Fairy Tales.' But what can I say, I was um, young and stuff. Maybe it was the speed of the narration...English is my second language after all.

WIP-ing it up for the Masses

-or-
Do I Need an Intervention?**Be forewarned: Picture Heavy and no I don't know how to do the "jump" thing.**
So Andy and I were talking about creativity in our lives and whether or not I should just up and become a computer programmer. This is what happens when we both stay home on a Saturday night.

I was struck down by the mother of all sinus infections beginning about Thursday with the stabbing pain in my right eyeball and culminating in Saturday morning's lack of equilibrium. Seriously, I rolled out of bed and I thought I was drunk cuz my head just kinda kept on going and I could focus on nothing...not even the floor, much less the stabbing pain behind both my eyes. I hadn't felt like this since I was in the midst of sailing away from hurricane Kenna off the coast of Mazatlan. Yeah, try having no balance or sense of where the floor is when you're on a 32 foot sailboat in uber-choppy waters! FUN TIMES!

Right, the gist of the conversation had us wondering if there were enough things going on in our lives to stave off both boredom and senility. Let's face it, my new job? Not exactly rocket science, but I do love solving the little problems and issues that come up when reconciling accounts. It does indeed, "float my boat." Andy was in the middle of fiddling with a robot he's trying to program. Yes, Andy is a computer programmer/software guy for work. For fun? He designs and writes programs. That is his creative outlet. Me? I, um, yeah, I tend NOT to do anything even remotely associated with accounting, no. When not reading, I knit.

And that's where maybe I might need some help. This morning when I woke up with only a wee little headache, I was ecstatic. When I found I could look at the little picture on the camera without wanting to vomit, I began to chronicle what I affectionately call my knitting promiscuity:

This bag contains all of my current projects. As I could not focus enough to knit yesterday, I gathered all of my errant projects together to scare myself, I mean, see just how "creative" I'm being currently.

I really did used to be so very good and only have one project going at a time. I did, really. Scarf by scarf, hat by hat, then I met my match:
This is the oldest WIP (Work in Progress) in my collection. I have no base of comparison but believe me, it's STILL not long enough. And no, no end in sight as there is yet another ball of debbie bliss wool/cotton in my stash, so I can't even just end it because I'm all out of yarn. Let me just say that basket weave makes my brain want to eat itself. But as the blog as my witness, I will work five rows every time I sit down put in any measurable knitting time.

Like Birdsong, as soon as the season is over, I put things away and pick up the next new shiny thing...
On a whim, I knit my niece and nephew's fat-man stockings last year. I thought I could do better, seeing as they were kinda holey and maybe doubling all of the yarn would help, so I practiced on one that I didn't have a person for. I got as far as midway down the leg and then it was January so I put it away. I actually got to where it is now by taking it out about the end of August and making it my "computer time" knit. But now it needs finishing, and doubling the yarn made it kinda stiff, and the froofy white is kinda angora-ish and makes me sneeze...I'm not sure what will happen with this one. Moving on:
Yes, I tried my hand at Monkey Socks...back when I went to Italy. It was my "bedtime" knitting. I also had my mom's Horcrux socks with me...which were my bus knitting. Obviously I was more into the bus knitting than staying up to do one more row...

I've lost the love here. The pattern was not going to fit my stumpy legs so I tried to do some maths and add a repeat instead of oh, I don't know, maybe going up a needle size, and then that required getting rid of some stitches and now I think maybe the foot is actually too wide and...and...yeah, I think I might rip this one. (Andy thinks I'm insane, so close to being done with it and I'm ready to make it into just yarn again...my mom would probably agree, but my tia Raquel? The one who taught me to knit? Yeah, she knows what I'm talkin' 'bout. Besides, unless I lose a foot between now and ripping it? There is a WHOLE OTHER SOCK that I'd have to suffer through...no thank you.)

Speaking of almost being done:
If these were for me? I'd be decreasing for the toe by now. Sadly, these are Lev's socks, and his feet are about 4 inches longer than mine. Yes, this will be a pair, as Lev has no love for matching socks, he is my lone-sock yarn ball hero. I just wish his feet were smaller.

So yeah, instead of casting on for say, my nephew, I cast on for Andy's size 13's:
Cuz, you know, if you make socks for one of them, the other starts piping up about cold feet...and yes, I've already gotten word that somebody might need a hat soon, since you know, I just made someone else TWO hats in a row...children, I swear!

So what do I do instead:
Pretty socks for mom. Cuz my mom's feet? A very petite size 5, thankyouverymuch. And if I made a hat for her? Sheesh, I'd have to check out some baby-hat books! I have mentioned my mom is tiny?

These are the "Ripples Socks" By Anni Design for Sockamania. Yes, I joined. These are the first pair I've tried out since really and truly, aside from the Jayne Hat of last post, I have not had time to look at my knitting since I started applying for a real job. I leave with with an artsy shot that I may just have to cross post over at the Sockamania blog, but I might be bloggered out for now:
Yes, doing both at the same time. I've learned my monkey-lesson.


If you've read this far! Wow, thanks! This is a long post even for me, but I figured the pictures would entertain a little :).

Happy Sunday!

FO: Jayne Says...

-or-
The Anatomy of a Photo Shoot: The Jayne Hat

"Man walks down the street in a hat like that, you know he's not afraid of anything."

-Wash, "The Message" Firefly

So I finally finished something. And boy is it a winner! Andy was so excited he wouldn't even let me take his picture:
He grabbed the camera from me (it is his camera after all) and decided self-portraits would be the best route:

Andy: Should I be smiling or growling or what?
Me: Nice smirk. Do you have to use me as the tripod?

Andy: Yes. Okay, how about this:
Me: Ummm a bit gassy looking, actually.

Andy: (Laughing.)
Me: Hmm, post-gassy self-satisfied face? If that isn't Jayne Cobb, I don't know who it could be.

Andy: Okay, now:
Me and Andy both: This one is screaming, "Something smells bad."

Of course I warned Andy I'd be posting them all. How could I not!

Specs:
Pattern: I ended up reading several Jayne Hat patterns and then adjusting it to my own wicked Vanna-White-LionBrand ways. See, I tried following the pattern I'd originally linked to a few posts ago, but it was far too large, maybe even for my brother! Instead I did something like (cuz did I take notes? ha ha ha, funny) this:

• Doubling up the yarn (I knit from both ends) CO 52 stitches on size US 11s double-pointed needles (like knitting with 1st Grade pencils!) with the "rust" color.
  
• Rib (k1p1) for 5 rounds
• Knit straight (gayly forward, I am 12) for about 3.25 inches.
• I switched to "mustard" and knit for a while, constantly bothering Andy to try the damned thing on to figure out when to start decreasing.
  
• Then I decreased one stitch per needle every other round until I had about 8 or 10 stitches. Gather and pull through.
• Put the thing on Andy to figure out where his ears are, then mark out about 14 stitches each for the flaps. The space between the flaps is bigger in front than in the back as I'd like him to be able to see if he really does use this for snowboarding.
  
• I picked up and knit the stitches that were just above the ribbing using the "brick" color.
  
• Knitting back and forth now, I figured out how to attach the flap to the edge of the cast on to strengthen the flaps a bit.
  
• Then knit to just above his jaw line and decreased pretty fast...two each row until there were 4 stitches, then bound off and left an uber-long tail that I made some fancy knots with.
  

The strings are longer than a real Jayne Hat for the simple reason that they needed to be long enough to actually tie. (Again, in case he does use this puppy for snowboarding.)

So I mentioned the needles, but for posterity: US 11 double-pointed. Possibly the largest needles I've ever used, aside from actually using real pencils, maybe.

The yarn: Vanna White's LionBrand collection. I tried so very hard not to lose the ball-bands just for you! See how much I love you all: Rust (135), Brick (133), and Mustard (158) all for less than $3 a ball!

Dressing Room PSA

Yesterday: (And I apologize if it gives anyone the heebie-creepies...)

When you go to say, Victoria's Secret to try on, say, a bra? Take note of two things:

1) Is this a VS where the color scheme is gloss black and matte white? If so, are the dressing room frames painted in glossy black? If so, can you see the person who is trying on undergarments via aforementioned glossy blackness (ETA:) that perfectly reflects the person in the fitting room when you are standing in the doorway to the room waiting your turn? As I found out yesterday, that same glossy fabulousness is the way the VS helpers check to see if the room is occupied or not, especially when the line is rather long for trying things on.

That wasn't actually the creepy bit, cuz, yeah, hello, we're all women here, we all have boobs, whatever. However:

2) Is there a guy "waiting for his friend" sitting in the dressing room area in that chair usually reserved for bored teen-aged daughters/elderly shop-mates/bored husbands keeping control of toddlers, etc. who is maybe stealing glances up at the glossy black door frames? No, I don't think he was checking to see if the room was empty either.

I got directed to a dressing room far over in a corner and was just thinking if I should mention something to the VS worker when she scurried away to deal with one of the too many people shopping that day. I'd put down my bag and taken off my sweater, looking warily up at the frame and thinking about the guy when I heard the commotion:

Older sounding female voice: "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"
Male voice: "Um, waiting for my friend."
OSFV: "WHO IS THIS GUY'S FRIEND?!?"
-crickets-
OSFV: "WHERE Are you goi-..." fades to lots of female voices.

I'm not a regular VS shopper when it comes to buying bras. I've been a die-hard $9.00-on-sale-at-Sears kinda girl since that padding and push-ups stuff became king (queen?). I don't really need any more help at making my girls look bigger. But every once in a while I like to see what the fashion is. And somewhere deep in my tom-boy nature a real girl lives and it's nice to have nice underthings, at least one, you know, for special occasions. Besides, I'd gotten an email saying they'd once again, finally, came out with a full-coverage bra. Lemme just say that diction is a beautiful thing in advertising. Just because the new cup covers more than their current styles do, does not make it "full" coverage in my antiquated sense of the word.

Anyway, I just thought I'd share about the creepy VS fitting room door frames, and what trouble they can cause.

"I Learned to Drive in LA"

I am simply amazed at the varied reactions I get when I mention the above. It swings from the reverent looks young Catholic school kids give to visiting Bishops, to annoyed teens looking at their parents like they are the biggest dweebs in the multi-verse.

Whatever the case, it seemed that the group I went to lunch with yesterday was more of the former than the latter group. I mentioned the two almost accidents I'd gotten into in the last two days and I seriously felt that all that defensive driving (and posturing, must remember the posturing) early on in my training kept me from limping to work in a demolished vehicle, yes, knocking on wood and lighting candles about it.

WEDNESDAY MORNING:
I live in a building with a mini parking garage. I think I've shared the tidbit that I consider it "mini" because the spaces are actually TOO SMALL for even the non-SUV cars? Right. Well the path in and out is really only big enough for 1.5 cars to fit side by side. Great planning I tell ya. To spice it up, the first 1.25 of our two level garage is reserved for the businesses housed on the first level of the building. Mostly lawyers.

Doesn't this sound good?

Right, so as I am grandma-ing my way out of my mini space and crawling along the path out to the exit, this Mercedes barrels in and starts honking at me. I'd come to a stop and they were screeching to one (concrete floors) and yeah, had been going to fast. Slipping into reverse I eased back to give them room. I do the jazz hands asking "WTF?" And she looked at me like, what are YOU doing here!? As if the tenants of the building are scum compared to the people who work in the law office. She could not keep going forward, and you know what? There was no where for me to go, because by that time another car was waiting to go out. More jazz hands...really, I so wanted to pull a "finger" but it reminded me far too much of LA driving and my dad and traffic on the 10...urgh...so I pointed out one of many Law Office parking spots she could take so neighbor-guy and I could get on with our lives.

Only after she had parked and I was out of there did I realize I was almost hit head-on. What a way to start a Wednesday.

Statistically speaking, the rest of the week should be wonderful.

THURSDAY:
I like my neighborhood, the major streets are far enough away from one another that you can easily and safely drive the speed limit without needing to deal with people on your ass or being fully awake to deal with the pedestrians I've described before running willie-nillie asking to be mowed down like some PlayStation video game.

Apparently the absence of high-speeds also gives me the extra maneuverability to swerve around people who misunderstand what those big red hexagonal signs placed at the corners of the smaller streets mean. The fellow came to a stop half-way into MY lane. I saw him and knew stopping would mean him slamming into the driver's side, so I crossed my fingers and hoped that all that wave/cosign/tangent stuff I learned in school would apply somehow.

I think I missed him by inches. Well, my failing peripheral vision saw him far too close outside my side window, but the operative word is MISSED. I was too busy with the steering wheel to produce hand gestures of any kind, but in my head there was an explosion of reactions.

Friday:
As our department was trying to figure out who could drive to the lunch outing they had planned...I buried my car keys. Something about "third time's the charm" kept floating in my head. I definitely did not need it to happen with passengers, that would be too much.

We did, however, contemplate the coming winter, and winter storms, and just how bad Seattle-ites are at driving in snow. I think I need to time how long it takes to walk to work. I learned to drive in the snow in Tahoe, but it won't matter how awesome my snow-driving skillz are if the other 599,999 drivers in the tri-county area can't deal.

Absentee Blogger...

Here is a non-post post/list of why I am not being a good blogger/blogging on a regular basis right now:

1) I'm bored with posting sans pictures.

That is just the tip of the iceberg, actually, but it's the first thought that came to mind as I logged into bloglines to check out what the haps in the tube-world was tonight. My blog sucks prune-twinkies when it comes to the whole picture thing. I should be out and about with Andy's camera. (On a related but tangent-like note...has anyone ever used their AMEX points to get a free "thing" (read as digital camera)? After nearly 5 years, I might actually be at the point of being able to cash out my points on something I actually want, but need to find out how to do this so I might finally once again have a digital-capturing-device that is all mine mine mine and I don't have to share....yes, am three.)

2) I've been staring so long and hard at a computer screen all day that I am typing with my eyes closed. "Training" consists mostly me watching people do their thing and the person I'm "assisting" in our department of three, showing me examples on his computer. Let me just say it now to get it over with, these people are all super nice, but fall short on the teaching techniques. I learn by doing. I've mentioned this a number of times to them, but they seem to be afraid to let me fail. I'm okay with getting things wrong the first time, really! How else but by correcting my mistakes will I learn?

So after a day of squinting at a monitor that is too far away from me to look at comfortably, I really don't even want to be in front of my own reading up on the world and/or my imaginary internet friends' worlds. Addiction is a scary thing...online newspapers are the gateway sites, taking you on to the world of blogs and then blogging and then....aaaaahhhhh!!!

3) My brain is fit-to-burst and if I spend too much time thinking of something brilliant to post, I will lose something I need to know for work. Maximum capacity we have not reached, but enough of my short term memory has been filled up and my brain just won't work as fast as it once did to convert all those loose synapses into long-term jobbies (tee hee I am twelve) mainly due to that aforementioned "I learn by doing" thingie so I have to figure out more creative ways of remembering what seem like useless pieces of information...which is filling up even more space...vicious circle time...

4) I have too many things on needles and the guilt is overwhelming. What am I doing typing meaningless symbols on the screen when I could be freeing up needles so I can cast-on more stuff???

5) I need to clean my room/pick up after myself. My desk is messy and that's just how I roll. But my floor is piling up books and tools and cables and yarn and needles and bags and bags of bags and old junk mail I can't seem to get rid of and my plaster teeth keep asking me where they should go---Did I ever mention I got to keep the plaster cast of my teeth from the root canal/gum surgery/there-goes-xmas-for-the-next-five-years experience? I let them throw away the aluminum shell of my temporary, but no way were they tossing my teeth! They're worth thousands! And they are hinged :). I need to post a picture...but um, yeah, see #1 above...

SO!

Until I tackle my list? Right. More of the same random-not-too-timely postings from me. Unless, of course, something juicy falls my way. Like say, zombies taking over Fremont.

It's beginning to look a lot like Halloween 'round these parts :).

Kickin' Butt & Takin' Names....

Well, at least on the subconscious level.

The other night I had one of those nightmares. You all with 7+ years together ex-relationship histories might know what I mean without my having to delve into much detail. It's kinda hard to put into words that don't involve my breaking down and wanting to run away, but let's just say soul-wrenching is in the descriptor. As well as maybe "wake up crying/upset/ready to hurt someone." Moaning in that "she's trying to wake herself up" kind of way is also in it. Let's just say I was not all chipper and happy and well-rested when I finally did wake up in the morning.

Right. Well, had I been keeping up with my dream journal I could have told you exactly what the dream was about, cuz it really was haunting me. As I was showering and telling myself I needed to write it all down...and then while drinking coffee I thought about where I might have put that journal but instead started to get my lunch ready...we've been through all this just a few posts ago.

Slowly and surely the dream has vanished...and good riddance, really. All I can tell you is that my X was in it and there was a house and lots of fighting and maybe even another woman, I can't actually tell you for sure by this time as my conscious imagination will happily fill in any and all missing details with it's overactive self.

Well, last night? Apparently it was my turn to be triumphant.

I woke up and the dream was already vanishing! I could not for the life of me tell you what I did, but I was smiling about it. I had this feeling of utter jubilation and I just knew it was because I had bested my X. Just totally won! It was CHECK MATE! JENGA! YAHTZEE! BINGO! All rolled into one! It was my Return of the Jedi finale. I had totally blown up the Death Star and yeah man, it looked just like him! (Wow, if he really has gained that much weight...sorry, I did mention overactive when describing my imagination, after all.)

I think everyone needs a morning like mine at least once a week.

Happy Friday!

Up from the Fog...

You know that medicine-heady fog you live in when things go bad in the sinus department and your nose has utterly rebelled and your eyes hurt just thinking about them and scare others around you with their lovely red patina? Or is this just me? Whatever, I'm doing about 80% better this morning and I'd like to thank the academy and my mom, and especially the makers of the NON-PE nasal decongestants and 800mg ibuprofen. Without you? I'd be lying near death in a gutter from my earlobes and brain exploding, or something. And whatever deity kept me from sneezing yesterday? I light a candle to you.

Too vivid a picture this early in the morning, sorry. It's that last 20% that is keeping my sarcasm at a decades-high level. I am trying to convince myself that my muscles WILL BEHAVE. The best way to describe it is that they've all become rather excited to be doing their muscle-y thing all at the same time and going in opposite directions; straining so hard they cramp up! I have muscles in my butt I had no idea existed! And when they cramp up? There you have me, sitting in my shared office, rubbing my butt.

Lovely, I know.

But even that seems 80% better than yesterday. I mean, I got out of bed without making the "old person" noise, and that is such a bonus! (I am so sad.) I even did 10 of my half-assed "sit-ups" to make sure my back was not just playing around with me. (Seriously, I lie down, on my bed, and using my stomach and thighs--two areas that are not doing the muscle-mambo btw--I sit up, then touch my toes. I never said I was an athlete.)

My neck and shoulders are the only places holding out. That's fine. I think this post might be the most "computer-work" I'll be doing today. That is, unless they have finally gotten a log in for me. Kinda hard to do computer-based accounting if I can't, heh heh, use the computer.

Have I mentioned I love my job? There is something to be said for my being able to train in the state of mind I've been in the last two days. I took notes I don't really remember taking, but that's okay, not only are they legible, the job itself is not the most taxing right now--again, probably due to the fact that I can't do much in the data-entry/look up department and there are such things as "training manuals" floating around the department!

The most taxing thing I was able to do yesterday was stuff envelopes. Come Thursday I might be singing a different tune. Apparently that is the "worst" day of the week due to actual time-lines that need to get met and people running around and bugging you to meet them. We shall see.

Okay I'm Sucking at the "Regular" Posting Thing

I'm fighting off the flu, or so I hope it's just the flu.

Diseases and plagues take on new meanings when I think about the fact that I work for a global non-profit and people are coming back from the field offices all snuffly and such. No really, whatever you brought back with you? Leave it at home! I don't really want the New Delhi Surprise Virus, or whatever.

I shouldn't really blame the field offices either. Most of these people are also coming back from vacationing. Hawai'i seems rather popular. Having lived there for a couple years I can tell you point of fact: it is a nexus for all sorts of fun nasty diseases! There are people from EVERYWHERE in Hawai'i. Cruise ships come into port 4 of every 7 days of the week! Sailboats rest up for their next big jump! Tourists do day trips! Think of the thousand different plagues they can spread!

And this is just the Hilo (read boring) side of the Big Island. I don't think I'd have had a well day if I lived on Oahu...I have a tendency to catch every cold known to man...or be in the midst of fighting it.

Whatever this is, I feel like I've been hit up and down my spine with a baseball bat. I won't even describe how badly my eyeballs feel. Yes, eyeballs! FUN! TIMES!

Lest I be just a wee bit more dramatic...and today? Today is my first day with my new group. In a little less than 2 hours I have to be all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to meet with my new boss! Timing is everything!

Speaking about timing...I've been trying to post at home so I could upload this button:

Tana at Constant Evolution of Things, nominated me forever and a day ago for "keeping it real in Seattle." I rather liked that tag line. Here is the actual post. I apologize for taking so very long to acknowledge this. And ask everyone's forgiveness for the even longer delay I will have in passing it on. From what I gather, I must nominate 5 new people. As I am late in the game to so very many things, the ones I'd have nominated already have a button...so, this will take longer than I thought. I will keep you all posted though.

Thanks for reading...more when my flu-weary self can deal with the bright white light of blogger's posting page...I wonder if I can get away with wearing my sunglasses in the office...hmmm

I Can't Remember What Newspapers Call it...

You know that wee little space they have to tell people they goofed on an article and stuff?
Yeah, pretend that's my title.

Last post I linked to the wrong Jayne Hat, but I want to keep that link "live" as I seem to need all the help I can muster these days.

This is the pattern I'm trying to use -- yup, gauge hates me; Andy's head is not 32" around. Though I suppose I could have ditched the whole hat idea and be just about through with the body of a baby sweater or something...only, well, even I would not make a baby wear this much plastic. If I ever get my hands on the camera, I'll take some pictures of this wonderful monstrosity.

---
I am training my replacement yesterday through Friday. Exhausted was and understatement last night. Teaching one willing but sorely inexperienced person to do your job is a whole lot like teaching 30 unwilling bored kids. Their eyes glaze over from too much information at the exact same rate. I have 2 weeks worth of information to cram into 3 days...fun times people!

Eating Ice Cream when it's Cold Out

I feel like I'm a walking contradiction.

 

All this year I promised myself I'd "experience more color in my world" by taking advantage of Project Spectrum, I knit:

• One pair black/grey socklettes
• A pair of muted striped wonders for my mom
• A dark blue hat with some bit of subdued color for Andy
• And then miles upon miles of brown/black/tan sock legs for Andy and Lev (which I still haven't finished...and don't even have a picture to show.)
• Oh, and I continued on my black basket weave scarf.

I know, COLORFUL.

 

As October peaked it's head and everyone was starting to talk about Socktoberfest?  What catches my attention?  That's right, HATS.  Yes, yes, 5 different socks on the needles and I'm figuring out hats...

 

Again, picture-less, but I don't think you want to really see what my poor Noro Kureyon looks like after being knitted up and ripped out so very many times.  I think it wants to be a scarf, so I've put that poor over-stitched yarn aside for the moment.  The problem was I couldn't make it so the hat fit right.  I am not immune from my family's mutant head problem, it would seem. 

 

Size is not the issue so much as my ears. They are far too big--or rather, long, or maybe just low on my head.  That sounds SOOOOOOO attractive, doesn't it?  All I wanted was a hat that would cover my ears, lobes included.  I tried pantas (I can't find it anymore, but  this one is similar.) and wondered hard about calorimetries (not ready for short rows and buttons and button holes) but decided a hat would be best cuz I don't really own one and head bands have the same problem with the covering of the ears/sizing issues with the additional fun of falling down over my eyes problem.  At hat, at least, would eventually stop slipping down as it has a "top."  Even Andy noticed I was ripping that poor Noro far too often and offered a suggestion, why not just add earflaps to whatever hat I did make!

 

The concept is not new here...but my need for a hat that won't make me look too much like a dork keeps me from going there just now...it just doesn't get THAT cold!  Then I remembered a hat I'd thought hard about making...with earflaps, one that, yes, I'd make, but nope, not gonna wear.  If I did play around with its construction, maybe it would be the training I needed for the too-expensive-to-mess-with Noro that I was felting just by looking at it wrong.  But such a waste for a hat no one would wear...Then Andy piped up again, he'd wear it, sure... The Jayne Hat.

 

The best part of this hat, aside from just being, is that even if Andy backs out of wearing it?  Due to the fact that we're all about matching colors and intentions (you get the feeling Jayne's mom is an aluminum-needle-wielding-wal-mart-yarn-buying momma, or maybe it's just me, I mean look at her son) vs. heading straight for the super luscious yarns AND the need for it not to make Andy's head itch (wool is harsh on his noggin'), I found the yarn I wanted to use for this hat at Jo Ann's for a little over $8, total! 

 

Now that I've bought the yarn, printed out the pattern, and dug out the needles, Andy does not know if he will actually wear it about town, such a slave to fashion, that man is; but I think it would be an awesome snow-boarding hat for him.  And if it gets lost?  Who cares!  Although, with the color scheme?  Orange/yellow/red?  And the pom pom I'm hoping to top it with?  Unless it's buried under a ton of snow?  I'm not worried about it being misplaced that easily. 

 

Hmm, the year's not over yet...orange, yellow, red...kinda spectrumy, dontcha think?

I Gotta Start Writing Good Title Ideas Down...

Half asleep in purple plaid pajamas, I had a brilliant idea of what to title a post!

Then I drank my coffee, showered, made lunch, and yeah, gone....

You'd think with the number of notebooks and pens I own (shush, Andy, best not comment), I'd be able to write anything down no matter where I was in the apartment! Big sigh.

And isn't it weird how from a brilliant title an even more fabulous post ensues? And the inverse of course...cuz now that the title has slipped my addled noggin', remembering the brilliance of the actual post is nigh impossible.

And like wearing the best clothes you own when you have run out of clean laundry, it seems I pull out my 25¢ phrases when I run out of things to say....(I reserve the $.50 ones for obnoxious people at work.)

OH WORK! I haven't really started, and I have. Or rather, I'm still finishing up in my temp department and will some day "transition" into my new one, maybe it will start with an orientation! It's day 4 now and I still haven't gotten one of those...but joy and glee, I'm already being paid at my new LOWER rate to do the harder work I was doing! Fun times! I do have to wonder how they come up with these things!

So, when I rule the world? Right, we'll scrap that idea right off. At least it's not too grand a demotion. I heard there was a director that decided to become an assistant (their decision, not the company's) and the "transition" was about a month long. Yep, got paid at the "new" lower scale while they finished up their director duties...my neck hurts just thinking about that one.

Anyhow, I should get going before all the parking spaces are taken. It is amazing how many vehicles magically appear in Seattle when the rain appears...

Salmon, Bananas, and Sushi...Oh My & About that Job Thing...

With rain on the horizon, Andy and I trekked out to into the sea of people that were "ready to rumble..." or, er, whatever you do at a Soap Box Derby.

Red Bull is hosting a series of Soap Box Derbies, it seems, and didn't realize where they were; that is the only way to explain it when the announcer was getting the crowd ready for the races, pumping them up to cheer for anything and everything. Only, well, this is Fremont, and so when he asked if there were any NASCAR fans in the crowd? I'll not say you could hear a pin drop, but the roars and the hollerings and the cheers of the previous minutes were, um, missing. Hadn't he just been going on and on and on about how soap box derbies were all about people and gravity power? Hadn't he realized how excited the crowd of PNWers were to be a part of a NON-dinosaur burning exercise?

Then they started the actual NASCAR race car and people were even quieter. Of course that may have something to do with the tremendous roaring of the car itself. The car powered down the course and did it's thing, as fast as a NASCAR race car will; pretty much making any of the "human/gravity" contestants look slow and sloppy in comparison. WAY TO GO RED BULL...

Does "know your audience" ring a bell?

But you all want pictures, so here are the few shots, in no particular order, that we got in before running away as the water started falling out of the sky. "Sugar melts, honey!"

There was a very decent-sized crowd there, this really and truly is only the "starting line" crowd. The course ran for .5 mile down the hill and the place was packed. Yet another reason for me to leave earlier than later. People in that quantity make me nervous.
What you see, way back there is the starting ramp. The first test of the soap box machines was to TURN A CORNER. It was quite a way to weed out a number of vehicles.

Speaking of such:
"Captain Running Man" lost his soap box on said turn. That didn't deter him from finishing the course. The problem I have with this purple-wonder is that all I can hear in my head is "Captain Caaaave Maaaaan!" The powers of television, people, are stronger than anyone ever imagined.

Speaking of TV, or maybe just my twisted childhood...each team had to do a "skit" and take off to their own theme music...case in point, there was an A-Team, and yes, they shook their money-makers to the A-Team theme. These guys? I totally thought they would do something to that "Abba Dabba Dabba" song a la "Laverne and Shirley." Alas, they did not:Monkey Power!

Here's where you could tell that the sponsors were a little out of touch with the PNW. They actually thought it was above and beyond weird that someone should make their vehicle look like a Salmon. In fact, this guy got the lowest score of the day! I wish I was kidding...A bit odd that the Salmon is going down hill as it's that time of year when they're desperately trying to go upstream...ah well, we all have some odd balls in every community.

What derby with a Salmon vehicle not be complete with a Salmon Roe vehicle?

YUM!

And that's all she wrote for me. I was hungry, tired, cold, and then the skies started opening up. Umbrella-less like a good Seattle-ite, I was ready to go get lunch somewhere warm and dry. I know! How silly I am!

So this was a great way for me to start my last unemployed weekend.

Yep. I took it.

I already gave my reasons to a number of individuals, but now I'll tell the world, cuz yeah, I know you're all interested in my boring life...

It came down to that whole "changing careers"/experience/ability/coolness problem/wall I've been running into since I hung up my teaching hat. If I was in it for the money, I probably wouldn't have gone into teaching in the first place, duh!

So the more I interviewed and spoke with people, the more I resolved that whatever I want to do with my life right now should pay the bills and not make my neck and back ache or turn my hair gray. That kind of job is not going to have me rolling in money.

The goal is to be in a business that doesn't make me cringe at the way it is negatively affecting the world, as well as doesn't make me want to cry cuz I have to go and deal with my coworkers that don't think I'm cool enough to be in their presence every day. (You get to see and experience a whole lot as a temp, lemme tell ya.)

I was kinda shocked that I found both of the positives in one place. I'm literally starting at the bottom of the totem pole again, but the beauty of that is, of course there is nowhere to go but up. (Which is why this position was actually more attractive than the higher paying one...why go from one pigeon-hole career to another???)

I start Monday, but will be transitioning out of my department and into the current one over a two week time period. I actually get to train the new temp! Yes, I am weirded out, but hello benefits and vacation time...sure, I won't actually be able to afford to go anywhere, but that's not really the point, or something. My mom said it in a way I was happy hearing, but um, it gets lost in translation.

A Call for Votes

Yarn-A-Go-Go chica, Rachel, needs everyone's help. She entered a competition back in August, wherein you send in a manuscript and chapters you've written get voted on all American Idol style.

Chapter 1 came and went, and Rachel was able to move on to the second round.

Now she's at Chapter 2 and is in 4th place. Please go to her page and read all about it. Hopefully you will go on to register with Gather and give her a 10, cuz the winners of this round get their manuscript read by a real publishing company!

I did it, registered, voted, then a few days later made sure I declined Gather's daily mailings. Use your "junk mail" email address if you are wary or lazy like me and aren't going to bother with the "settings" of your account until you realize they will indeed send you your daily Gather and something about orange juice.

Whatever, go, register, and please give Rachel a 10!

And tomorrow I'll post about jobs and soap box derbies.

Tired, but I Can't Sleep

They've offered me a job. The lesser paying of the two I applied for.

Now I have to figure out if I can afford to take it. Back when I applied for it, this was not an issue. One new-and-improved root canal/"bling" crown later, I'm feeling rather poor and stretched to my monetary limits.

But it's a real job. Bennies. It's been years since I had those! Though I will lose my doctor...I can't afford to do the PPO thing. I have to check on my dentist. Lord help me if he's not on the list, I will cry.

Vacation time! Though as I told my mom, great! I'll have time off, but not be able to afford to go anywhere! And my do I love my mom, she said something like, "So you stay home! You can sort though your junk and really clean up!" Ah mamacita, my "junk" lives in her storage room...she was channeling the pit that was my childhood bedroom I think. Messy I will always be, but not so much the pack rat I used to be.

I make more as a temp., technically. But as I never actually accepted the fact that I got a raise a little while ago (to help with the aforementioned bling/lessen the stretched out feeling), I really won't miss it, much. I really liked seeing the fatter checks I guess.

What is it that is keeping me waffling here...

The job is not as hard as what I've been up to these last few weeks. WAAAAY fewer responsibilities, more of a chance that I'll learn a new trade. I really should just go for it. The guilt is that I start on Monday. What about my huge to-do list?

I've been told I should just be selfish and damn them all. I need to sleep on it.

Ah, I think I know...it's that feeling of first tendrils of a root maybe? Yep, that may be it. I've been transitory for so long that this is kinda scary. Next thing you know I'll have lived in a place for 2 xmases in a row or something...

And how many times can I reknit the crown of a hat without going bonkers??? 3rd try is the charm, please?

Because of My Wide Readership...

So Purrrl-Plexed (I love the name of her blog) is holding a contest for her friend Nikki.
Part of it involves linking to her page AFTER voting for Nikki's kids book illustration. Link on and vote for Nikki!

She's hoping someone with a strong "readership" will come along and spread the word. As we all know, I, um, don't resemble that remark, but hey, worth the try.

The link to the book site: abcbookcompetition Go to the 3rd book competition, it should be the biggest link.

The book: "What's Wrong With Mud?"

If you link and blog about the competition, and vote, let Purrl-Plexed know and you too can be entered into the yarn raffle.

How Many Licks Does it Take to get to the Center of a Tootsie Roll Pop?

That's the best way to describe the feeling I'm having regarding how many times I can rip Noro Kureyon yarn before it's in no condition to be used for knitting a hat or any other knit-purposes.

Non-felted knitting purposes at least, cuz nothing gets tossed in Tactlesslandia if I can help it.

At least, not when it is yarn and I am poor and the dollar is sinking so low that soon I'll be out of that whole "affording new yarn" market and will, as the Yarn Harlot described in her talk a couple Friday's back, be in my own little yarn apocalypse, with only the current yarn I have on-hand as the only yarn I'll ever have, knitting something, getting to the point where you are almost done, then taking that end and pulling it all apart and winding it all back into a ball only to knit something new and almost finish it, pull the needles out and, yeah, there's that end again....unraveling it all into a pile on my lap and winding it back into a ball as my Autistic cousin would, no matter how much new yarn I bought her...

Aaauuuummmm. I think I may need a wee bit of a break here.

It's 10 p.m. on a Sunday night and I have absolutely nothing to show for the 10+ hours of knitting I've done since Friday night. Why so much couch time?

I am fighting a bug. Andy came back from visiting his family in Cali with "gifts!" By Friday he was bed-ridden and sure enough, come yesterday afternoon I was napping in between reading, knitting and napping, as my body said, "Uh-uh, uh-uh, no way" to anything that involved such things as getting up, living life, eating, you know, silly things like that.

I think I'm winning. I'll know for sure by tomorrow after work. If I caught whatever bubonic plague Andy brought with him, I'll be running a fever by then. I usually shrug these bugs off like yesterday's pestilences, but I think I'm a little overworked and underhealthy right now. Something about working those 9 hour days. As much as I love the overtime pay, I think I'd rather have my health, silly rabbit that I am.

On a completely different train of thought, I had my last dental appointment for a bit, the final crown placing, as well as a cleaning.

HURRAY GENETICS!

Hate me all you want, I am proof positive that tartar does not build up on everyone. (Thanks dad!) 2 years since my last cleaning and I am not a candidate for a "deep clean." Nor did she have to scrape for two years' worth of build-up. Though I did finally get the last of my braces cement taken off my teeth...19 years later.

Yeah, we were all kinda surprised that all my other hygienists just kinda never said anything or went so far as to ask about my braces and stuff. Though, benefit of the doubt and all, maybe it takes a couple decades for the cement to show itself? Could be. I wouldn't know, as a society we don't really go around asking people about their teeth, braces, and decades old stains that might be cement, and stuff, right?

Okay, so all you crown people...how long before I get used to having a tooth again? I think it's because it's been over 4 months and some gum surgery since I had a full-on tooth back there, but I can "feel" it. I'm going to give my gums more time to heal, but I'm not supposed to feel anything there, right? I mean, I push down and it is sore! My jaw, that is. But just in that spot. I'm supposed to let my dentist know if it feels "weird." Does that qualify?

Okay, I need to go see if the latest cast-on and style works for the Noro. And yes, I do have that tootsie pop commercial stuck in my head. Would you like it? I aim to please.

"The world may never know."

I Miss Tahoe, and Moss Landing, and Hilo, and...

So I've been asked to gather some references...yes, things are getting kinda official.

I was kinda caught off guard!

No really! See, I've been so caught up filling-in for so many people that it didn't dawn on me that things were still happening in the "getting a real job" world. So all of a sudden I had to remember where my list of "peeps who have nothing but good things to say about me" was. And make sure their information was still up-to-date!

Finding the list was easy. Striking out was easy too.

Lord knows I have moved more times in the last decade than anyone else I know, except maybe Andy who seems to be competing with me. But email? I've kept one email the same since...ummm well, 1996 when my undergrad email was taken away and my grad school email was too temporary for me to feel like I could give it to employers. I've added other addresses over the last decade +1. So now-a-days it's my "junk mail" catch-all. Not spam, no, these are the "weekly flier" kind of emails. The coupons and ads and all that bother that comes from signing up to places where your "log in" isn't your email. Or you know, the email address you use for complaint letters to store managers and such. And of course, for people to always be able to find me.

I was getting kinda nervous after my second "Mail Delivery Subsystems" response. It hadn't been that long since the last time I used my list, after all. But I persevered and dug deep into the bowels of my 3000+ emails hoping for a trail to follow.

Boy did I fall into the nostalgia pit. I really must learn to delete emails. There were quick snippets from a co-teacher in Moss Landing, awful humor from Tahoe, rants and complaints from my students in Hilo, letters from my mom when I was in Mexico. I'm amazed at all the stuff I've been able to keep.

Then I really flipped...I have 4 in-boxes worth of stuff that I still have, by pure chance. I have lost more to hard drive failure than I really care to think about, but as all these emails are web-based, it's all still there (for now, knock on wood, salt over shoulder, touch iron, etc. and so forth).

So yeah, I think I've found everyone, again. The down-side is that I'm weirding out about the job situation now. Looking back at all the places I've been and all the people I've met...I want to go back so badly. I want to slip back into that life and those friends...and yet...I know I'm not that same person anymore, similar, yes, but not the same.

At the same time that I want to go into the way-back machine, I want to stop living in the past and really look at where I am in the here and now. Which sounds so very grown up of me, doesn't it? So very progressive and stuff? Almost grounded? Yeah, I'm not fooling myself, either. This is probably why I DON'T delete any of those emails...aside from being rather useful when I have to track someone down? I'm far too susceptible to the "what would have happened ifs."

Big sigh....

Losing It...

My nerves are fried. Frayed? Whatever. I can tell because I have a letter to write:
***
Dear Fish Guy at Ballard Market,

There is a term in the retail world that they never taught you. What for? I am obviously a dime a dozen customer, and this neighborhood and the quality of the food in this store gives you the leisure of having the "one-horse-town" kind of feeling in this little city of Seattle.

YET, never, not even once in my real one-horse-town experiences have I ever had anyone treat me the way you did today at 6:05 p.m. this evening.

I was the woman standing there listening to you explain crab cake cooking to the lady with the tiny package of I'm not sure what. Fish of some sort, I suppose. I was the one who, when I asked for 1/2 a pound of the salmon right in front of me, the very piece you were adjusting to look nicer, yes that one, you said, "Ummm, for that amount we have the pre-wrapped self-serve fish in the cooler over there, and you pointed, as if I was not aware that there was a section of fish that lived on Styrofoam and cellophane. As if maybe I was new to your store and did not know the secret rule that you must order a certain amount of fish in order to make it worth your while. (There isn't one by the way.)

Did you even look at me? Did you even see that I was pointing to a particular fish? One I'd been eying as you explained your crab cake secrets to that woman there? No, you didn't. I know you didn't because instead of following your finger to the pre-cut fish that weren't even the same kind as that behind the fancy glass of yours? I was looking right at you. Dumbfounded.

You didn't once look at me and realize that maybe you'd made a mistake and I knew perfectly well that there were plastic covered Cohos over yonder that people had been sorting through all day. That maybe I was pointing at a particular piece for a reason? That maybe the customer is always right and you should shut up and cut 1/2 a pound for her? No, instead you looked over to the guy behind me and began taking his order for 1 pound of whatever it was he wanted, I didn't hear, I'd stopped listening. Was this really happening?

So I walked over to the pre-cut fish. Verified that no, these were not the salmon I was looking for, and stepped back to double check. It's always good to double-check. You were gone, off going above and beyond for some other customer that probably asked for 5 pounds of something. You then saw me standing there and it was confirmed that you didn't give a rat's ass who your customers were because you asked again, "How can I help you?" Cuz you didn't even realize it was still me. 1/2 pound of fish girl.

"I doubt you can help me, seeing as you didn't want to earlier," I said. And your reaction? Was it one of, "Oh no I've offended her somehow I need to find out how?" Was it, "Oh god, she's gonna tell the boss I pissed her off?" Or even, "I don't know who this lady thinks she is, but I'll get rid of her by giving her what she wants?" No. Not as such. Instead you blatantly deny your actions! "I didn't do that! I was just telling you where you could get fish in that amount, ma'am."

And maybe I should have kept my mouth shut as I was shaking my head, but hi, I'm me, "That's not the fish I wanted, and that's not really the point." I could have said more, but that's when you're friends ran up to you and started talking about the mussels they had/wanted/etc. and I was once again a forgotten bother.

That's about the time, Fish Guy, that I walked away and put back everything I'd had in my basket. You guys obviously don't need my money.

I hope the mussels you got are rotten and they give you a wretched case of explosive diarrhea. Not to mention I hope a fish scale embeds itself so deep under a fingernail that it causes you pain and anguish and that nail falls off for calling me ma'am in that tone, you ass.

Sincerely Yours,

1/2 lb. Salmon Girl

***
Aaaahh... That feels so very much better! Blog ranting is so much more the "new Yoga" than anything else I've heard.

Where did the Weekend Go?

Right, so it's Monday morning already...whaah I dona wanna go to school!

I mean, um, work? Sheesh, I guess it really is that bad.

Friday they almost had me, but I escaped! Buahahaha! I was so happy to be free and have just enough time to dash home and change then head for the bookstore/Harlot affair that I totally forgot I had not dug out my fisher price camera. Andy had been so good at lending me his camera that I have totally lost track of my 1.3 mini-pixel-no-good-for-indoor-shots camera since my most recent move. (Did you all know cell phones cameras have better cameras than this thing?) And Andy is in California right now, with his camera. Right. Well. Ummm... so no pictures.

The fact is/was that I had only enough adrenaline to actually get me to the bookstore. I headed straight for Lake Forest Park/Third Place Books, do not pass go, do not collect $200, and absolutely do not tear apart the apartment to find the crappy camera. Once there I dragged my feet straight to the coffee slingers; with a short mocha in hand, slumped down in the last chair in the last row (all else was pretty damned full) and sat and listened and sipped until all was well with my energy level.

I actually do not own a copy of the latest Harlot book. So there'd be no signing line for me. Instead, after the listening, which was rather funny, I spent the next couple hours looking at all the new new and new old (they sell used books) stuff on the shelves. I picked up three books for the price of one new one (well, one of those fancy soft-covers, not a mass media print or anything):

Mexico and Peru - Myths & Legends

Fantastic Alice--This is "fan" fiction by science fiction authors about Lewis Carrol's Alice. I think it'll go nicely with my very tee-tiny collection of Alice books...I've got "souvenir" Alice books in Spanish and Italian.

And a cool covered version of Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur.

I usually don't buy books unless they are screaming at me to take them home...these definitely were. I almost got out of there for under $12. Then, right by the cash register? In their display of latest used book acquisitions...the latest Jasper Fforde novel stared right at me. USED. Hardcover. Impulse buy. Totally. I'll regret it later when I can't sell it. But right now? MINE!

So I spent the weekend finishing up my Philip Pullman re-reading of His Dark Materials series, and have PLENTY to keep me entertained in the reading department for a while. Ah escapist literature...

Can She Make It, Folks?

There is a light at the end of this tunnel!  Or is it a carrot at the end of the stick?

 

Stephanie Perl McPhee is going to be at Third Place Books tonight.  I know I don't need to advertise for this lady, I'm advertising the bookstore itself, really.

 

I love Third Place Books, the one in Lake Forest Park (I haven't been to the one on Ravenna yet).  Back when I could put holds on books in the King County Library System?*   I used to list  what I wanted by walking the shelves of Third Place and then going downstairs to the library and placing my order!  Cuz I am both poor AND cheap :).  And did I mention there is a library DOWNSTAIRS from the bookstore?  That's what I call convenient.

 

Since we moved way way way down closer to "the action" I don't get to Third Place Books very much at all now.  It's my treat for going to my dentist (he's just next door).  Except tonight?  There is a reason to leave work at a reasonable hour!  (We're talking over three hours of overtime this week, people.)  My brain was just about jelly last night and I don't really feel like a repeat performance.  So, we'll see.

 

Anyone else going?

 

*Long story, I ranted about this some time ago, basically I live in the Seattle Library System, but my nearest library was in the King County System, it didn't used to matter...but then money had to be saved so King county cut off it's biggest reciprocal privilege--putting things on hold.  No ILL, no ebooks, no Rosetta Stone, no nothing except being able to check out a book that was on the shelf.

"Not A Problem..."

I must remember to stop saying that.

 

You know it's bad, but really really bad, when you go to post a job on an online newspaper site that you've gotten really really good at using, and you nearly break down and cry when you see they've "upgraded" and all of your posts look like poopie.  As that wonderful tour guide that MJ and I had in Rome would say, "Willow!  Willow!  We must learn to bend with the winds and the currents!"

 

Deep breaths help too. 

 

I have miles of html to post before I sleep...but just wanted to check in and say I've still got my nose above water.  Sure, I'm standing on my tippie-toes, but really, I have not gotten to my 34th year of being alive without knowing when enough is enough.  Let them tremble before the stomping down of my foot!  Cuz it's come down twice already.  Yes, I even used my teacher voice.  It was not a friendly encounter and I didn't mean it to be.  And scowling at the monitor as people walk past wondering if they can dump more things into my inbox?  It works wonders.

 

At least, maybe, I've discovered yet another super power I posses.  I CAN be two people at once, no problem (that was last week).  Three people?  Well, we'll see what I look like at the end of the week.  Overtime has been approved, lists have been written, les'see just how much I can really accomplish!  Without cracking that is.