Post #401

(hm, I missed a perfect round-number opportunity for something silly like a contest or something...oh well, maybe in 98 posts I can come up with something...)

I've been so distracted lately and I can't even tell you why.

Well, I could try, but aside from the continuing feeling of unease, the only other outcome will probably be the disappearing of the already sparse comments and emails to my "tactless" account. As much as I enjoy reading and deleting the spam folder? Really, I kinda like real messages too. (hint, hint, stop lurking already! Say HI :).)

Though I've said this before, I'm not here for the comments. My irregular postings and regular rantings and perverse subject matter tends to prevent a large following. Those of you who have stuck with me, I wanted to say thanks. I'm not too good at responding to comments. In fact I'm terrible at it...probably yet another reason there has been no fan club or book deal.

This blog started out as a way for me to make sure my friends and family had a place to check up on me seeing as I'm not as stable as everyone keeps hoping I'll become. In the last 10 years I have lived in 8 (loosely defined) cities, 2 countries, 3 states, and too many dwellings to count. I have been a bookseller, AR coordinator, teacher, sailor, librarian, receptionist, AP coordinator, HR assistant, and AP Assistant. Yes, still talking about the same decade... I grow old...but man am I racking up experience.

I am reminded very much of my age today as it's a friend's b-day which yearly reminds me I have 3.5 weeks until I tick off another line, grow another ring, mark off another year, grow longer teeth...or whatever. For the next 3.5 weeks though, she'll be older than me...and if it's bad, I hope she'll let me know.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUZANNA!

Cuz Sweater Backs Are Boring...

Right, so I do still knit:
Only, well, can we say gray, and dark, and plain stockingette gave me a Bart-Simpson-passes-the-4th Grade moment when I realized I was very much like Odysseus' wife Penelope as I knit, knit, knit through a whole Saturday, only to rip, rip rip, that night before bed... Okay, so she was weaving and also maybe post-poning declaring her husband dead and taking on another husband, or something...but yeah, there used to be more to this sweater...like maybe a whole sleeve. And if I hadn't kept ripping back, I might have been done with the front by now as well.

What this told me was I needed something new and maybe not so mindless that doesn't care about gauge and increases and counting. Yup, sounds like a scarf to me.

So I went digging in my paltry non-sock yarn stash and found:
But wait...can you sing it with me? One of these things is not like the others, one of these things doesn't belong....

Did you guess real hard? With all your might? (I heart Grover.)
One of these things was bought back in Truckee, just before I moved out of the Lake Tahoe area. The other I bought when I gathered supplies for the scarf and mitts I made a bit back...

An obvious sign that I should stop starting something new (and green! and simple! and what I wanted!) and soldier on with one of the many many many "already started" projects (more on that later) like oh I dunno, what about these:Sorry, over-exposed, but it only makes them BRIGHTER than they actually are...but yeah, I'm at the second gusset decrease and no, no, no, 100 miles of plain stockingette follows and I thought I would cry if I had nothing but that or reach to the other end of the spectrum and pull out the stuff that still has me staring at a pattern.

Action was required:
Maybe I cave in much too easily...I dunno, it works for me. I liked the look of the mistake-rib on the cuffs and ends of the aforementioned scarf and mitts that I am making this scarf entirely out of that stitch, for now...cuz um, yeah, you all know what happens when boredom strikes:
That would be everything I could find this morning...I think there might be some experimental stuff hiding under paperwork on my desk...but I didn't feel like digging.

And I know most people hate it, and it has bad/sad memories for me as well, but if I have to "get over it," anyway? I'll start with this:

Happy Valentine's Day

Not Geekie Enough...

I kept thinking of a super-cool appropriate title for today's post...but I can't...

My brain died last night.

That wonder of wonders that keeps track of long-term calendar events, lets me know SEVEN DAYS ahead of time when someone's birthday is afoot, reminds me of making such things as doctor and dentist appointments...and most importantly, WAKES ME UP EVERY MORNING.

Dead.

I had no time to sit up and try to fix it, so I went for plan B...my ol'school gramma cell phone. I vaguely remember there was an alarm somewhere in there...I'm silly, I kinda only use my cell phone to like, call people...they way I only use my palm pilot for it's calendar/alarm function. And my camera? Yup, just use it to take pictures...rarely.

And people still wonder why I haven't jumped on the "all-in-one" bandwagon? I don't even own a dvd/vcr combo player here, people!

If my electronics were any older people would wonder what the big glass tubes connected to everything were for.

Man, I am cranky. Did you know that your cell phone alarm may not be the same pleasing little sound you chose as your ring? Instead it is a blaring evil sound that gets louder and louder? I missed my brain's little nudging.

But not for long! This morning, instead of like, you know, getting ready for work and stuff? I geeked out and found several solutions to my dead device. I didn't even have to use my torque screwdrivers on it!

Memory-wise though...I think I might have lost some data.

If you updated your info. with me in the last um, 5 years...you might be getting an email from me...or maybe you should just email me cuz I just checked a couple entries and I could have sworn Andy's birthday was a day before mine, but my brain is telling me it's now in April.

Gotta love technology...

Talisman

When does something as innocuous as a piece of jewelry go from being an accessory to a necessity?

You miss it terribly when it's not there, even just for the day. You keep touching that area, unconsciously adjusting something that is not there, shocking yourself when, nope, nothing but air...

I used to think it was my ear cuff. Yes, I am a child of the 80s, I have an ear cuff firmly sitting around my earlobe which my students used to think made me super cool cuz they thought it was a piercing and wow, what teacher had they ever run across that had something like that... Um, no, I am not that cool. Frankly, I am so very far from the cool that I would be considered warm. I would go through the pains of showing how uncool my non-piercing actually was so they could see how, yes, it is merely an ear cuff, I am sorry. Please do not tell your parents you want to be like Mizz Tactless and get a cool piercing cuz you would be lying. The saving grace in Hawai'i was that at least it was a plumeria. (Picture me wiping the sweat off my brow in relief, or something.)

But there are mornings where my ear cuff was maybe wedged improperly during the night and screw it, I can leave it at home and no one is the worse for wear.

Then there was the bracelet.

Which really became "a" bracelet. I have always worn something on one of my wrists. Habit more than anything...from the cool (ha, we've been over this) gold name-bracelets that my family made me wear, you know, in case I forgot who I was, to the plastic black and then neon (hello 80s) o-rings that were the fad, to pieces of broken chain clipped together with more broken pieces of chain and baby-pins...cuz I was so punk-rockin'-gothy...or something...to the bracelet my mom gave me so I could please, god, please, take off that "porqueria" that both of my parents hated...and therefore I must wear and make many copies and maybe get my friends to wear...what a rotten kid I was, I swear...

Then I learned how to drive and take directions and lord if my bracelet/watch/thing on my wrist du joir (sp?) did not save me from turning right when I should have turned "my other right." I officially cannot tell my left from my other left. Part of my mild dyslexia. Whatever I wear, be it silver, gold, or rubber, it's on what I've come to know as my left wrist, cuz when you make the "loser" "Ls" with your thumbs and forefingers, it's the one I can "read." (Yep, can read the letters just as easily backwards...so it's taken some training.)

You'd think I'd be lost without the bracelet...but um, I can deal, it's not something I keep reaching and touching and making sure it's there...

My necklace however...the one I've had and worn since I was a little braider at the "Braids for Maids" booth at the Southern Renn Faire? The one that is constantly confused for the "hellraiser" box? The one on a getting-to-be-ratty piece of leather that I should replace again...I totally forgot it at home and I can not stop thinking about it and reaching to adjust where that little box should be touching that groove that your two collar bones create.

It's driving me batty!

I once almost lost that little pendant. My mom, SIL, niece, and I were at Babies R Them or something and of course I was goofing around with my neice and in one of those times where I was lifting her into or out of one of the demo sets of furniture...I looked down to do my necklace readjust and the little pendent was GONE. The ring that attached it to the leather was twisted open...I was not a happy camper...

Yes, we scoured the store. Yep, got on my hands and knees and went back and forth and back again to all the places my niece and I had been goofing at...yes, it was indeed underneath one of the big pieces of furniture I'd lifted her into/out of...the amount of relief...I can't even describe.

It's unnatural really, my attachment.

But it's one of the few things from the last days of my childhood that I still have. I've gotten rid of so many things over the years...so many things...and they really are just things...except for this little talisman of mine.

And I Would Walk 500 Miles...

Or maybe just 5...or errr actually 4.86 according to my pedometer...

So Andy is at the age where he and his similarly-aged friends of old get together to have fun by signing up for such things as "hike-and-climb" adventures in the middle of deserts, or something.

As he's older than I am, I kinda wonder how I've skipped that aspect of life, cuz, um, when my friends and I get together we tend to sit around and drink and BS about the times when we were younger and did silly things like drive to 80 miles to Ghirardelli Square for ice cream and frolicking in the ocean when we should have been studying for our finals. I'm sure there was minimal walking and climbing involved even then...okay, there was that time we crawled into the skeleton of College 9, or 10? Sure, but we were WAAAAAYYYYY younger. I won't say we could still bounce when we fell or anything, but we definitely healed faster.

Anyhow, so yeah, Andy's trip requires a 4 mile hike the first day, rock climbing, and then a 1 mile hike, climb some more, then hike 5 miles out...WHAT FUN! (Yes, that thar would be some ripe sarcasm from the sidelines...)

As Andy wanted to see if he could actually do the hiking (remember that "healing" bit? Yeah, he messed up his knee pretty bad the last time he did one of those meet and hikes...) we packed a bag with 40+ lbs. for him (I carried nothing, I am not stupid) and set off on a wee walkie that took us through and beyond the silent hilly streets of Seattle. (And no, no clue it was superbowl sunday until I saw other blogs posting about it. The joys of no tee vee :).)

I. Am. So. Out. Of. Shape.

The 6 lbs. I gained while in Italy did not help...they were once muscle folks...walking 6 miles a day builds great calves and thighs...but abruptly stopping those marathon-like treks...wow...those calves and thighs...

My legs were wooden and useless last night and I honestly feared my ability to get up and walk around today...but I have a reprieve; ahem, at my age it's, usually the third day that really sucks, right? FUN TIMES!

I think it's time to "ped" myself and see just how little exercise I do get throughout a normal day of work...this has got to change...

Happy Monday!

(PS: Anyone else having trouble with the spell-check on blogger?)

Blogger's (Silent) Poetry Reading, Year 3

Here for details.
In honor of St. Brigid/Groundhog's Day/Cuz you like the Poetry stuff:

by William Carlos Williams

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Someone is Creating Realities for Me

So...still no word...and I'm not surprised, really, not after a long telephone call from the friend in Hawai'i who was in that first snippet of scary boat/muck-filled dream.

Apparently I have lived too long away from the Islands...because I was reminded that it was furthest from silly to feel odd about speaking/writing about the supernatural with a Hawaiian. Of anyone in the world, they are in league with my culture, the line is blurry at it's darkest between the two realities, or so he said. Living in the world of numbers and logic, I tend to forget.

Back to the ethereal world? Yep, boats have trumped lost contacts... I'm still wondering about the mish-mash of the dreams though...is it because both friend's names begin with "K"? Both have spent time on my boat? Both are very far away?

The reality? My boat is about to go on the market in a very unofficial way, and he wanted me to have first dibs...and as he said, my X never need know.

I'm posting the picture of her at her worst...for a reason...

I need to alter the way I'm thinking of the Irish Rose. She is not my boat anymore. Neither legally nor in her present physical form. This is what keeps my rational brain from saying, "screw you hippies, she's mine!" And plopping down every single penny I've saved since the big "D." I've mourned her passing as I did many people and things during that break-up.

She was my baby...but she stayed with him, and he, he changed her; altering her to fit his new lifestyle with GF and kids. Goodbye engine! Goodbye marconi rig! Goodbye and good riddance to anything that he and I had done to her because it was a new life, and god-damnit it would be a new boat...or something.

Suffice to say, she's no longer the boat I fell in love with. And even if I could get her back in the water...with no engine and no windlass (I believe he sold it) and Chinese lug sails...I'd literally be dead in the water until I figured out how to sail her all over again...or row a 15K lb. boat...7 tons. She was a big baby.

At the same time, it doesn't mean I don't still love her...but it's more of a "my baby has grown into someone I don't know anymore." I wish her well, and like a mom am making quiet inquiries to those in the boat community I know to see if anyone would be interested in giving her a good home...it is shattering, but I just can't/won't do it.

Unless, of course I throw all reason out the window and hop a flight to Hawai'i this weekend...

I am not well, obviously.

Anyone in or near the Big Island interested in a Chinese Junk Rigged double-ended engine-less sailboat with it's own cradle, send me an email, yeah? I'll get you in touch with the right peoples.

It Can't Hurt, Much

I wish I could blame it on the drugs...but I haven't had anything stronger than that sip of wine that made me break out in a rash this last weekend--and no, Beth, that is not the usual reaction I have to alcohol. Maybe super flushed cheeks, but being as pale as I am, that comes with the territory. The rash is obviously a sign that hi, maybe I my body is fighting too hard?

If I want to use my logical brain, I can chalk all of this up to fevered dreams...Vivid, fevered dreams....that somehow are connecting with real life far too well. Okay, let's scratch the logic...I know, I can easily blame it on my superstitious upbringing. But it's only superstitious if you aren't a part of my family or culture, cuz if you are? It's just what happens.

The ghost bull really does roam around my dad's town, and it really did once burn his horse's flank as it was chasing him home. My mom can curse me forever with just a foul thought, cuz mom's curses stick. If you give a child "el ojo" they will get sick and we'll have to dig up an egg and do that ceremony to make the bad go away...

Seriously, people, Mexican Catholicism accepts all that...and more, is it a wonder I can't just shake this all off? It's not too strange a thing for a series of my dreams to keep touching this world, is it? And really I want to very much to believe cuz the latest one...it might bring someone back that I really miss and worry about.

It's all a jumble, and I wrote it down as it came to me...and I'm just going to share, especially after a friend just called...and he was only a part of the first bit of the dream...so here's to making things come into being:

I'm on a boat that drives on land, and if that's not odd enough, my X is there but he's not called by the same name. The friend whose message I just got was helping us move the boat, my boat, to a new "parking slip." It's raining and horrible, and the air is filled with the muddy smell of the Elkhorn Slough as a tidal way of muck comes up out of nowhere to cover 32 feet of sailboat; it comes down through all the open hatches...cards and posters my students gave me as going away gifts, begin to melt in the muddy stew that douses the boat. I run out clutching the only thing that survived the deluge--a letter from a childhood friend that told me to go away until I "grew up." The smell...I didn't know I could smell in dreams.

I jump to one of too many nights arguing about subjects that have nothing to do with the real world while sitting in a restaurant in my pajamas having my hand massaged to avoid a terrible migraine...she's sitting next to me and I almost shock myself awake.

Then I jump again, back to when I was fourteen and so is she and we've just met in our English Lit. class. She and another girl are wondering what a song is called, the other girl sings a bit..."When in Rome," I answer as I'd just heard it that morning in my dad's car.

Then I'm intruding in my own dream...am I really remembering such detail or is it the answer I'm supplying coming from me as an adult...as someone who still might have that song as an mp3 cuz sometimes you need pop songs in your life. But I'm doubting the memory, it's a dream, I know it's a dream and I feel so young and stupid and sad. Before then, though, I don't think I could have told you about the moment...and did I know the answer or was it supplied by someone else...

I dwell too much on it, but don't wake, instead the scenery has changed and we are older. We're at a friend's house. Was it a birthday party at Carla's that I got to go to? Or a Saturday night at Lily's? Lily is there, french braiding her hair. Perfect part, perfect sections of hair...I interrupt myself almost crying out that it's not a wonder how creative and brilliant they both turned out to be, but instead we talk about...I'm not sure, I'm losing myself in the moment, so happy I have them around again, where did you go?

Out of time and place now, we're speaking like adults, but still seem school-aged. We might even be younger than we were when we first met. It's getting harder not to think about what's going on, and I'm so afraid to adulterate the dream. I want it to continue but can't help crying and asking why she asked me to stop contacting her. What horrible thing did I do to make her want to put space between us. What horrible "mess" did she get in that made her break contact with so many others. The things we say are awkward. I can't understand her reasons. It's obviously the first time we've spoken since that email...

And then I wake up, a jumble of emotions fighting to take hold...

And if you've made it this far, let's keep going to the brink of absurdity: when I went into my gmail account to fish out that last email from her, to look at the date? The ad that pops up is for Madam Zola, Voodoo Worker. Because I might need her services to be a spiteful wench? Or is it to make me laugh, like the spam recipes that pop up when you're cleaning out that folder?

Okay, it's out there so it's time for the holding my breath/screaming out "I believe in fairies!"/third time is the charm bit...maybe? Please?

On the Mend, I Hope

The reality is that I really just hate being sick. This must be why my body keeps fighting whatever it is I'm not quite catching with such vehemence. It's doing it in rounds; sometimes winning the point, sometimes, um, not so much. I was so run down on Friday night that I thought that this might be it! All the signs were there! My gut was not my friend, my head, my eyes, hell, my nose was against me...I even started to feel like my skin was on fire...there was a definite ripe red rosy rash on my legs!

Then I was up and able to do my laundry Saturday morning...then...not so much...and hello! Is it really Sunday already?

Seriously, I think I really would just like to come down fully with whatever it is that's haunting me just so I can get over it completely. I'm starting to get really tired of only being kinda ill on the weekends and just mending enough to go to work on Monday and then get progressively worse until it's Friday night again and hello comfy pillows I think we'll be spending all weekend together!

Andy says I should just go on a terrible-for-me drinking and staying out all night, exhausting spree and destroy all of my defenses so I can catch whatever is slowly killing me full bore. Right, cuz that sounds like a good plan... Trouble is, I took a sip of some wine last night and I broke out head to toe in a rash so horrid I jumped into the shower too cool off. Shortly after I had to ask if it really was only Saturday night, because I could not tell how long I'd been cat-napping/dying in the bathroom/trying to focus on a sock/reading/collapsing/checking on the laundry. Hmmm, mild fever perhaps?

So, since I was stuck in bed 20 hours a day (I am so thankful I don't have anyone/thing/pet I have to be responsible for during these times), I caught up on most of my library books. The timing of my long-awaited library book could not have been better:
What a life-saver. As fun as it is to knit things in bed, when you don't have a TV, a working ipod, laptop, or a radio at hand...it can become rather dull and/or make your brain want to ooze out your ears. Just plain fun Terry Pratchett reading? Especially when you know you have a fever and yet are in denial at the same time? Lovely.

So yeah, now I'm done with it and maybe I read it too quickly...sigh.

Ah well, I think it's time for another nap anyway.

Pictures of Pietra-Men and You-u-u

It's been a while since there was a picture, so I dug something up:
I believe it's called "Pietra di Palermo" and it's some ancient Egyptian thing they found in Italy. Or something. I took a picture of the explanation as well, if you're super curious or fell on my page because you're writing a paper on ancient Egyptian ruins in Sicily, just scroll down and you hit pay dirt without having to fly to Palermo yourself.

Thanks to the glass, you couldn't actually take a picture of it head-on unless you really just wanted a picture of you with a camera in front of your face. I was more liking the way I could get a pic. of MJ on the sly.

We were having a ball at that museum. I was learning how to use Andy's camera, it was pouring rain outside, it was our first official day in Sicily, and we were having many heart-to-hearts and just cracking each other up.

I have a video of her explaining a copy of the copy of a statue with Laocoon & his sons being killed by serpents, and I can totally see how she would have made a fantastic art history teacher...except for the bit where she sighs and then compares the artist to her son...you know, my X. She caught herself and I told her I'd erase that bit later, you know, when the compilation DVD was made, or something....

Which brings up some guilt. I told her I really would compile all of our pictures and simply haven't. Hi, it's coming up on a year since the trip...The idea of sitting in front of a computer actually working, when like I'm not getting paid? Well, yeah, not so hot on that when there are things like books to be read and stuff...

I am soooo lazy...

What is it about Wednesdays?

Or maybe I should say Tuesday nights? Or maybe it's just my life right now.

-How random is it that when you think/talk of things the night before, suddenly the next day the same things are presented to you... That doesn't sound too clear...how about concrete examples?

Just last night Andy and I and a bottle of South African wine were conversing about the motivation/lack there of that we have when it comes to things we want/can/don't have the energy to do in the span of our days. I waxed poetically about my brain-dead job. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, more than I can say! But really, when it comes down to it? Trained monkeys could do 90% of it, really. In 10 years when technology makes smart scanners that can fill in simple forms accurately, I'll be saying hello to the unemployment line at the federal building, or wherever one goes for that...

Anyhow, the lack of firing synapses during the day means I come home and I am starving for such things as reading the news (we have 3 channels of tee vee...most gnus is read gnus on the internets), do math for a sweater, come up with presents for small fries, read something other than easy escapist fiction. (Yes Ms, LizBeth, I even picked up a Brit.Lit.Theory book in my last foray into the used bookstore in Fremont; kisses to the wee one.)

So how do you think I felt this AM when I found out that my boss-guys have been talking behind my back? They want to shift my brain-dead work to someone else, and, sniff, give me things that involve such things as, eep, THINKING. It's like they have plans for me or something, I dunno.

It's all talk for now, but you know how talk turns into action eventually. Le sigh, my days of mindless work are numbered...


So if that were the only thing? Then I too would be spouting the coincidence tack. And yet, there is more.

In my travels on the internet, I received word of knitted mouse creatures...Like I need another project...but that led me to think about people with cats, and that one went to thinking out one particular cat that I think quite handsome, and his owner who works in my building but I've only shared about 3 words with her since her house-warming party back before turkey day. You'd think we worked in a 100-story building, with me in the basement and her in the top floors or something (They usually hide accounting somewhere obscure...though I suppose I was on the 39th floor of the Columbia Tower that one gig...where was I?) Right, so I wondered how she was doing. Then, BAM, this morning? An email from her. Granted it was a group email, but still, weirdness prevails.

Am I calling these things into being? Ah the power...Maybe I should start talking to people about how the levels in the Accounting department need to be reevaluated (so that salaries too can be updated, you see...).


And totally off topic...is it me, or are the chocolate chips they're putting into trail mix these days just totally too big to be real? (These are the moments I wonder if a cell phone with camera isn't that silly a thing), cuz these "chips" are bigger than brazil nuts! Crazy...Did one of you do that???

HAPPY RANDOM WEDNESDAY!

K.A.Y.E. Advertising

As Bezzie said, back by popular demand, another year of Kootchie Awareness Yarn Extravaganza, or K.A.Y.E. if you don't like the word kootchie. Obviously I don't have a problem with it. Kootchie!

Anyhow, all last year Bezzie held this contest to promote the health of knitters out in the world and now it's back for year 2.

As my head is threatening to explode on me again, rather than bore you with the fact that I still feel like poo, I thought I'd share something good for women, knitters, and well, women knitters. If you read the rules, you'll see everyone can play, even if you don't have a, tee hee, kootchie. (Okay, I know, I am twelve.)

Title? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Title...

Norma mentioned the trials and tribulations of "pre-blogging"--that is, writing something up to post maybe later in the day, if not later in the week.

How quickly our weeks can veer off course and that post you had planned on say, the memories that bombard you when you taste something, turns into: "How I Kept from Killing Anyone Last Night," and even that turned just as quickly into: "A million Cats in my Nose this Morning."

I don't know if I can write it all down anymore...Not without mushing it all together...especially after my brain started oozing out of my ears about an hour ago...

Oh, let's begin with that one, shall we?

I am allergic to very little, or rather, I used to be. My older brother was/is the one with the uber lung problems. I'm not saying I ever did, or anything, but as a kid, I probably could have snorted the layer of dust on my dresser and still skipped rope and run a mile without missing a beat. Yes, that's right, I grew up in LA too. It is amazing what your body can get used to.

Then I moved to Santa Cruz, CA and the fresh air just about killed me. What doesn't kill us though, takes us to the brink of death and makes us weak as kittens...(Ah thank you Simpson's quotes I misremember...) Just as I thought I could possibly continue my college education without falling over dead from such things as non-polluted air, SPRING hit me full in the face. Lord almighty, you have created a number of things I am in awe of...but pollen? I have to say I'm not a fan of that at all, not one microscopic bit. In fact I might hate you a little bit for that gift upon humanity, just what were you thinking?

I went from hardy kid to seasonally miserable faster than you can say Jack Robinson, or maybe just A-CHOOO. My allergies bloomed (HA!) and became the gift that kept on giving. I was suddenly really bothered by burning ashy things, diesel fumes, VOG (volcanic fog, highly sulfuric), and my old comrade DUST! The travesty!

With such a long preface, I'm afraid I might let you all down with regards to the million cats in my nose...I'm actually only *nasally allergic to a handful of cats...those with the flying dander, but it's the closest analogy without bringing up the VOG and the pollen and the stuff that makes your eyes feel all scrapey and scratchy...yeah, fun times, people...

See, today? (or whenever it was planned) Someone had the BRIGHT idea of having all of the heating/ac filters changed during business hours--without telling anyone...like, say, ME! So we could have come in all happily Sudafeded up, or maybe brought in some of that cool saline nose stuff to keep the dust from hibernating in my nose...

It is so nasty in here right now...four floors of floating flotsam. I mean, you know when you change the filter at home how, as careful as you are, there is always spillage? Well, I checked out the guy doing the job...and let's just say I'd love to see what his house looks like after he changes those filters... I've been sneezing all day...my head hurts.

You know what I feel like? I feel like that pathetic-looking fellow from those NyQuil commercials of old before they hand him the happy bottle of love...It actually hurts to close my eyes...

*Then there are the ones whose saliva make me break out in hives. Or how about the ones whose oil give me that nasty rash stuff. Or the ones whose hair make my eye-balls bleed...

Knitting Much?

So, you'd think I would have used today's rare showing of sunlight to take pictures of those finished items I mentioned, oh I dunno, a few weeks ago?

No, no, no. Of course not. A nap was far more important. Besides, I gave away a few things before the sunlight showed up...so all I have is a last minute, just before wrapping picture that I made Andy take (doesn't he just look so very happy to be alive? What a trooper.):
Right, from top to bottom...or shoulder to hands?
A pair "Mitts of the Dystopian Future," on each shoulder, and "Gwen's Scarf" around his neck made from Lambs Pride Superwash in Lichen for "L." Made on US 7s & 8s. For matchiness I put the same mistake rib that's on the wrist bit of the mitts at the ends of the scarf.

Then we have Lev's socks. Finally. It took me months to break down and deal with the kitchnering...and then there were all the ends...urgh...see, I used the bits and pieces and leftovers to make the black and grey one. Unmatched as he likes 'em in Lorna's Laces Pinstripe, Safari, and Charcoal; for contrasting on toes, heels, and tops. I used garter rib on the leg, plane knitting for days and days and days on the foot. US 1 needles, yipes, took FOR-EV-ER.

Don't they look so itty bitty in Andy's hands? Right, well, they are miles long in the foot area. Which is great practice as Andy would like his own pair to model...urgh. I need to figure out how to bend space and time and knit it into a pair of socks so that the foot length can be a mere 10 rows in my universe, but as long or as wide as they need to be in their universes...or something. Maybe I've been reading too much science fiction lately?

I loved knitting the scarf...it was so very therapeutic. J & L had to endure me pulling it out at xmas, but I couldn't help it. It was that and this one below that kept me from popping a blood vessel:
Yes, yet another "One Row (not) Handspun Scarf." This time in Noro Kureyon, in numbers I could not tell you as well, hee hee, yeah, no clue where the ball bands are...and that is frustrating cuz I just had them... The two ends are the same number, which accounts for the lovely purples. The middle actually used to be a panta that I never wore, so I reappropriated the yarn. It is super long and super warm and super comforting. When simply draped over my neck it's very much a Dr. Who scarf, coming down to my knees...love it! US 8s.

I'd forgotten how much larger needles and easy patterns can be so very healing, calming, and yet so very hard to take anywhere...not that my life has been at all conducive to travel knitting--as noted by no mention of any of the other socks (2 pairs, if you're keeping track) that have been marinating on my needles for MONTHS now.

Even so, I've started something else:
This will be heretofore known as ATTEMPT #2 at garment knitting. Or maybe it's 3? Or does the first one even count if it's been more than 4 years since attempted??? Attempt #1/2 was the sleeves to a sweater in the same yarn...but I ripped them as I could not do increases back then...so do I count that as part of this one? Oh the dilemmas.

Whatever, this is the back to a sweater. Not for me though. A sweater for me kinda requires such things as shaping and darts and do I really have to cast on THAT many stitches for it to actually fit over my hips? Um, no thank you, I'll pass.

Not only is this my first garment, but instead of following such things as, oh I dunno, an established pattern, I'm kinda whinging it off of the closest pattern that kinda works but is still too wide and possibly too short for the intended recipient.

You know how we all complain about not being able to find clothes that fit due to thigh, waist and/or bust issues? Cuz we're too short and too short-wasted and possibly too well proportioned for the fashionistas? Lemme tell ya that the other end of the spectrum doesn't have it any easier. Multiple trips shopping with this individual and dude, I really have to wonder just who exactly they make "off the rack" clothes for...cuz even the mannequins are cinched and tucked to make things look like they could fit.

Not a Crisis, More a Change of Venue

First---thank you so much for the King Cake/Rosca de Reyes compliments. It did come out much yummier than I thought it would...see, it's not a recipe from mom, or Mexico, but from one of those 1960s Americana "Mexican Food" cookbooks that insist such things as "cumin" making any food instantly Mexican.

Also, as I decided I really was done after the 6th; there was no marble, baby, lima bean or porcelain anything either baked in or added in later. First because I did not have any of the above on hand, and second...cuz I am lazy like that, and third? Well, as J had to work, T was in the process of moving, L&L still in the bay area....it was just Andy and I. No real need to make one or the other plan a party for Candlemass/2/2.

On with the title!

I may have spoken about this before, especially in my more freaked out extra long posts at the beginning of this blog/therapy. But I bring it up again as my conversation with an older generation brought it up to the forefront again...the idea of the ye olde' mid-life crisis.

I told him that for the generation I'm a part of, especially those with no kids and tenuous connections with familia? We've already had mini-ones and will probably have lots of mini-crises/changes of venue over the ONE, BIG, MID-LIFE shenanigan.

Hi, I took off to Mexico on a 32' sailboat when I was 26. People (mostly those outside of the sailing community and/or around my age) either thought I was insane or the coolest thing since jello-shots. A friend from college up and moved clear across the country to become a security guard in New York City about the same time. More recently, well, my X did a 180 as to who he thought he should be, and friends of mine have been dropping off the face of the planet cuz they're off doing their own thing and no longer want to be burdened with such things as memories of what their old selves used to be. The latest--my roomie from college is taking off later this month to move to Istanbul for a year or so!

I was feeling very sorry for myself late last year when I realized I don't know where the hell anyone is anymore and what they are up to...one of the reasons I gave up on the xmas cards. I had to stop and reevaluate. I really reevaluated after hearing about Istanbul and then having my defensive crisis conversation. (The gist being that his generation did it the right way, waiting until a decent age to go buy their Ferrari's or whatever.)

My mom calls it "going a little crazy." She reserves that right of mini-insanity only for the men-folk, though. It doesn't happen to women, or something. I think she's dead wrong there. It happens to all of us at varying times. If we do the math and chronology of her generation, of how old you were supposed to be when stuff is/was usually happening, women were pretty much married and having babies in their 20s and 30s and didn't have TIME to freak out...or maybe they did...hi, remember the Valium craze? But couldn't do anything about it. Or if they did it was rare...

By the time it got to us, um, how many kids did you know where mommy and daddy weren't together anymore? The times they were a-changing.

It's still shocking to hear the plans and plottings of people after the decision has been made, especially when I'm no longer a part of their everyday happenings (you'd think you'd have a clue that way, especially if you're I dunno, living with them, or, say married to them...trust me on this one, if they are planning on you NOT being a part of their "new" life, you won't know).

At the same time, should I find it shocking? Hi, I did it to them. Though I did have the sailboat for a while...I guess the idea of pulling up anchor and leaving the country wasn't entirely IMpossible, just maybe not what everyone was expecting.

Some people (my mom) think maybe I'm still in my "crisis" (or as I like to call it, "change of venue--it would explain the constant moving. ") Or maybe I started another one on top of the first one? I mean, in a sense I kinda gave the impression of settling down by buying a house and teaching on the Big Island of Hawai'i and that's all normal and non-crazy, even with the boat in the front yard; yes the 32' boat in the front yard, yes, that was me, on Kinoole ST.

When the divorce and the move and all that noise came up, she was not prepared (well, hi, neither was I, I was still in "save up to get the hell out of Hawai'i and on to New Zealand change of venue mode.") And now, flitting around the west coast of the US, am I done? Am I finally ready to stop and settle down again? Maybe just for a little while/i.e. until my retirement fund vests? Who knows. Nothing is set in concrete. Besides, even if I am, there's always a next time later...

Anyhow, if you're reading?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PHIL!

And

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND BON VOYAGE, JEN!

Yum.

Irony of Ironies...

Happy 12th Night!

My "Rosca de Reyes" is doing it's last rise before baking and I was going to try the picture taking thing, but I think I'll wait until it's done...but I don't promise anything as it is rather past my bedtime.

I would have started earlier but was distracted by a big shiny thing in the form of going down to the Pacific Science Center and watching "I Am Legend" in their iMax theater.

Note to self: You are not, nor have you ever been a suspense OR "zombie" movie fan. They creep you the hell out and now you are anxiously waiting the return of Andy and Tim cuz the apartment is too eerie and quiet and man is it dark outside and how the hell are you supposed to fend off attacks if there are so many windows...urgh.

To distract myself I put in the one "holiday-eque" movie I rented this season...and I actually didn't plan for it to show up around this time either, really! "The Nativity Story" was put on the queue shortly after returning from Italy in May as that and "The Last Temptation of Christ" were both filmed in a part of Italy where we stayed, the Sassi in Matera and I really wanted to watch at least one of them. You really gotta see it to believe it. It really is more "ancient Jerusalemeque" than Jerusalem, that's why they keep using the area to shoot those kinds of films.

So yeah, on 12th night/the night the 3 kings are supposedly to have come to visit the baby Jesus as he lay in the manger, asleep on the hay (12 years of Catholic school, I know all the lyrics); as I'm baking my King's cake...I watched it happen on TV...this from the girl who was told by Sr. Holy Water (she must be dead by now, let us not speak ill...and all that) in the third grade that I was going to hell if I did not immediately begin believing in the Holy Spirit.

Thank God for blogging, that kind of shit could haunt me for decades and make a therapist a rich man.

Where was I?

Right, the movie, the second one that is. I was rather disappointed in "I am Legend." They went for remaking the 70s action-blood-and-gore movie version instead of basing it on the book...from the 50s I think. I'm putting that on my Library queue right after this.

"The Nativity Story" though, well, same story, new interpretation. I repeat, 12 years of Catholic School. Every xmas and passion play I honestly wondered why did they all go through with it? Why not change it?!? It's like that scene in "Our Town" when the girl is trying to "relive" a scene in her life and it's just that, a replay, nothing changes and everything goes too fast.

My 8th grade year I got to play Mary (both plays) and my friend Jesus got to play, you guessed it, Jesus (just the passion play), we added a scene at the end. AFTER the Crucifixion they wrapped up Jesus in the white linen and laid him in my arms, no dialog, no narrative, just the thought that we should end the play the way it began back in December; we made people cry that day.

Well, seeing Mary holding the baby as all the shepherds and magi appeared? It hit me more like that DeVotchKa lyric, "You already know how this will end" but we're not going to show you that bit, just how it all started...kinda like the opposite of JC Superstar where you only see him as an adult and know so very little about his mom and dad...so maybe it's more like Weird AL's "Little Annikan Guy" song, (to the tune of American Pie) "Maybe Vader someday later --now he's still a young fry." Cuz you need something to make you smile, otherwise it's just too easy to sink into the dark and sad place that would take hours of typing and/or hundreds of therapist dollars to conquer. And I really did appreciate the humor. It made everyone seem more human. Sure, they all became saints and stuff later, but they too were just small fries too, in a sense.

Okay, I smell bread...So don't forget to leave your shoe out! You never know if the Three Kings will come a calling...better them than the rabid zombies.

The Wonders of the USPS

This time I have nothing but love for the USPS.
(With all these mood swings, should I worry about my state of sanity? Maybe we're all a little bi-polar? Quien sabe.)

Anyhow, I really was in the most foul and grumpy mood during XMAS. You can look back if you want to, I know I don't (la la la, not going there). I was most especially mad that my family's gift box had not arrived. Next year I am so mailing off small light things throughout the month of NOVEMBER....ri-i-i-i-ight. I am just not that on-the-ball. Hello? I use a palm pilot to remind me of such things as MY birthday...le sigh.

Well, come xmas eve afternoon, they did indeed get the package and all was well, at least in regards to the USPS, in my book. Hazzah and hurray! Xmas was saved! I dunno, I promptly went and got started on some heavy fizzy drink drinking and happily put it aside in my brain.

And remember how I said I'd decided not to send out xmas cards this year? Well, for a while there I thought that maybe all of my friends and family had decided the same...cuz, um, yeah, my mantel was rather bare this year.

Again I must pipe up for the USPS! I feel like a PSA today maybe a little...but MAIL FORWARDING ROCKS!

I moved SIX months ago and went online and paid the USPS a dollar (and was maybe kinda grumpy about it at the time...A DOLLAR!?!?!) to have them forward all first class mail.

I don't know how much of my mail is still at my old residence...I should write them and thank them for not tossing stuff in the trash, but what they set out with "NO LONGER LIVING HERE" marked in big fat marker was sent to my NEW address which it seems...as I did some investigative reporting...I actually did send off to like 3 or 4 people, but um, in the rush of xmas maybe? They didn't use either...

AND YET! Here I sit happily surrounded by envelopes with yellow stickers admonishing me to get on the ball and tell everyone (including my doctor...which is weird cuz I both called that one in AND refilled the patient contact card when I was last there...) that hello! I've moved!

So instead of silly holiday cards...COMING SOON...maybe you'll find an address update postcard or something in your mailbox, sorry everyone! But I am getting your cards!

Recipe Box Contest Entry

It is such a rare thing for me to enter a contest that requires such things as "pictures" and being on time with the entry and really, just even trying. But with that whole "more pictures on the blog" push for '08 it was one of those, "may as well start now" kinda things.

So over at Mason-Dixon there is a call out for showing off the recipe box/binder/etc. of olde that you store your cherished favorites in. You know, the one passed down from mom to kid to kid to kid, or somethin'.

Welp, I don't actually have that. My mom does not write down ANYTHING. And neither did her mom, and before then we're actually not sure, but that's a long story best told over warming alcoholic drinks and knitting.

Being the "first" then to have a box? And given my past as both a library nerd and boat person and teacher? These are my recipes (I mean the containers at the front, the cookbooks do actually live behind them):
A Trader Joe's tin that once contained yummi-rific mini cookies just a little over 2 years ago, my not-so-blank book where I keep trying to compile recipes since 1999, and a plastic 3X5 card holder that I've had since I was um, maybe 12.

Come in an have a peek at my logic:
So the recipe comes into my hand via the internet, friends, my mom's head. I scribble it down/print it/cut it out and stick it in the tin.

I try it once or twice straight from the paper and get it super greasy/dirty/wet and if I like it, I write it out on a 3x5 card to file and use on a regular basis. (These too get pretty messy.)

If it's something I really want/need to keep around, I pull out my permanent ink pens and add it to the book.

Anal much?

From the looks of the tin, I've obviously fallen behind on the "move from tin to 3x5 card" and beyond...

And now, for all the world to see, my mom's simple yet effective recipe for Frijoles de La Hoya (Fresh Pinto Beans) that I snagged from her just before leaving for college:
Yes, very narrative, that's just how I roll. The bit in Spanish:
"Si hacen macita, ya estan. Si brincan para el cielo, handan buscando a Dios" translates to:
"If they (the beans) make a masa, they're done. If they jump to the sky, they are looking for God (um, not done)."

Explosions In the Sky

I should have made Andy bet me that there'd be no fireworks, I'd have made at least a nickel in this new year already!

If you are fond of fireworks, living by Gasworks Park is key. People of all sorts ignoring the wee bitty fact that the park closes at 11:30 PM is most excellent. We got a clear view of the needle in all it's red, gold, and green glory. (Yes, yes, I do happen to have "Karma Chameleon" stuck in my head, why do you ask?) Doped up on Sudafed and Advil for the last two days, I was finally able to stand the size of my head long enough to wander out into the dark and follow the buzzing and excited voices to the park. Sparklers and those zippy semi-illegal fireworks filled the void of the needle. There must have been technical difficulties, but as no one actually brought a radio to fill in the commentary, the world may never know.

Let me add this tangent, have any of you ever been stuck in a QFC (Quality Food Center)/Market doped up on Sudafed and Advil? My god, the horror. We had a moment of panic in the dairy section as I desperately tried to remember in which of the eleventy-million pockets of my jacket I'd stuck the sacred shopping list. Why I was allowed control of the cart I don't know. However, if I hadn't of had the cart to support me, I might have taken a nap in the produce section. Then, just as checkout time appeared, oh curses on you over-the-counter ibuprofen, running out on me that way, leaving me to suffer a pounding headache as I heard the incessant "BEEPING" of the checking out procedure....It's no wonder I spent the rest of the evening glued to the couch wondering why my head was three times too large, and very very tender.

Right, so who all spent the night before new year's eve watching "The Sound of Music" on TV? It was all scrunched and grainy and so nostalgic I couldn't resist. But maybe it was the Sudafed. I couldn't tell if I felt like an old lady as I sat knitting on the couch humming along to "My Favorite Things" or if I felt like a little kid as I remembered all the sexist lyrics to "I am Sixteen Going on 20" (or whatever it's called.) I'll tell you where you can stick that haughty, "I-I'll take ca-are of yoooou," Rolf. I never liked him, what a, a, well, a Nazi, actually.

If that wasn't exciting enough, how many of you took your blood pressure this morning to make sure all the decongestant wasn't causing you to have blood pressure problems? I know, I am so hip and cool that I own my own BP reader. Shall I just have DORK tattooed across my forehead now, or later? (110/75 BTW, so I'm doing okay, for now.)

Right, so it's much closer to 2 AM than I've seen in a rather long time, and I'm using words like "rather" as maybe I had a couple glasses of sparkly stuff.

Happy New Year!

I hope you got to see/hear fireworks where you are and that they weren't gunshots (I so do not miss LA with regards to that "feature" of my neighborhood).

I resolve to take some pictures of my knitting, possibly as soon as tomorrow. But that's as far as my list has gotten...Though I have been thinking of like writing letters to people, but haven't resolved to do so yet. You know how it goes.

Random Thoughts for the Last Friday of the Year

1. Swiss-Cheese Bread.
What is the point?  You can't make sandwiches with it...unless you want the jelly dripping out, what fun.  It makes me seriously wonder why I go out of my way to favor the "smaller" bakery (which equals HIGHER price) if the quality is going to be just as, um unpredictable as the big (CHEAPER) boys?  Frustrating... The hole goes through almost the entire loaf, urgh.

2. Dressing for Success.
What do you think the assistant tells his wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/husband that he actually does?  It is Friday, casual friday which can become Dilbert-frightening, especially at the end of the year on a short week where I've seen more casual than usual, he's dressed to the nines!  In my head I've already come up with a story invovling treachery and hope.  But still, today of all days when even the suits are wearing so much denim you'd think it was still the 80s, lordy, that is just too much.

3. On that note:
I used to make some serious fun of a friend of mine when he used to match his light blue denim shorts/pants with, you guessed it, a light blue t-shirt.  Black pants went with a, right, black shirt.  Wearing things that "matched" or "went together" meant exactly that, down to the same dye-lot if possible.  What is it about boys and where they get that idea?  Cuz as I sat here thinking that the aninimity factor is crumbling hard as I relay this story I stopped and said, well, not really, as I think EVERY SINGLE GUY I've ever been friends with, and maybe even including my brothers had some time with me and showing how "this" shirt might go with "those" pants, even if they aren't exactly the same shade of slate grey.

4.Cuz I can't let a topic lie once I've started to overthink it...
I think the whole clothes thing might be due to some "color-blind" issue.  Really!  They say men are more likely to be color-blind than women, right?  Just earlier this summer a couple of friends came up to visit and Andy and he took a "color-blind" test online.  Andy already knows he is color-blind, and yet, poor soul, I'll still ask him if an outfit "looks right."  But it brought out a revelation or seven to our friend.  So it makes sense in the "better-safe-than-orange-and-puce" world to pick two colors that "match" in the strictest sense of the word, right?  Work with me here.

5.I HATE Being Sick
So did you hear about the possible snow hitting Seattle sometime yesterday?  Never happened near me.  The pressure system never dropped low enough and the magic of great big bodies of water kept it freezing cold and wet, but no white.  IN MY HEAD, however, the pressure system did a number on my sinuses.  Holy mother of all that is wintery grey and dismally wet, my head feels like it's about to explode and I really don't feel like taking the maximum allowed number of ibuprophen gel caps in a 24 hour period.  Last night as I was falling asleep on the couch--too much advil does make me sleepy...hmm mayhaps my blood is too thin?--my eyelids felt as if they were wee little balloons hitting against the glass of my spectacles.  (Glass of my glasses just sounded dumb.  And really, how often do we get to say "spectacles" now-a-days, eh?)  What's worse is that I wake up okay, feeling good, "can-do" attitude, the whole deal.  By about oh, I dunno 10AM I WANT TO DIE.

--with apologies to T.S. Elliot...
This is the way the year will end,
This is the way the year will end,
Not with a bang, but a whimper....

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year...

There is nothing like rolling into work at 8-almost 30 and finding you are the third car there.

I'd feel all bitter and put out, except, I got a whole bunch done!

I'd also feel nostalgic about the whole "xmas/holdiay/winter break" I got as a teacher, except, yeah, I always found myself going in, if not yesterday, then definitely today to get caught up or (gasp!) get a chapter ahead of the game.

And it's Thursday already!

To Good Friends and Bad Xmas Specials...

BIG SIGH.

It is Wednesday, I am still here. There's still left-over posole AND tamales AND egg nog cake (right L?) in the fridge and wow, I honestly didn't expect any good comments or emails after my last post.

I had no idea I was voicing the frustrations of strangers galore, thank you for the acknowledgments and the reinforcement. Hear that Universe? I am not alone!

I feel a wee bit odd to be one of the only people out there who can blast it all out in the open instead of bottling it all up. I blame it on the holidays, you really can cut the stress with a knife in some places...take the grocery store last Thursday... I think if more people were able to vent and not be afraid of the consequences? (Cuz really, I'd rather face the consequences than go on blood pressure medication any day.) We'd probably have fewer naked people getting killed on I-5 when they start hitting cars with their belts and attacking state troopers. I can't make this stuff up, really.

But take heart, we're in the home stretch. What?!? Right. most of you are done, hurray! I call it all over with come the morning of January 6th when I will much on "Three Kings" cake and hazzah, all go bye bye until next season.

So did you all catch "Christmas Comes to Pac-Land?" Apparently I'd blocked that atrocity out of my conscious thoughts, quite happily, mind, for all these years! This was created in the era of "bringing to life" video game characters, I get, this, but Pac Man and familia? And the threat of being "chomped?" Pac Man eats everything, I got that, I mean, that's the point of the game, but the whole ghosts threatening to "chomp" you? I don't remember the ghosts eating anyone, I kinda thought they sucked your pac-energy or something, but no, they chomp and leave you a crumbled mess, ewww.

And speaking of ingredients for nightmares, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" was brimming with them. Not the obvious ones: Abominable, ice flows, getting beat up by punk reindeer. I'm taking about evil Hermey the Elf/wanna be dentist. Talk about the foundation for the Little Shop of Horrors! HE PULLS OUT ALL OF ABOMINABLE's TEETH! Or how about the "Island of Unwanted Toys?" How easy it would be to threaten young children with sending them to the "Island of Unwanted Kids" if they won't let you watch the show! Not that I did. The only ones under the age of 30 at J & L's would be their kitties, who are warm and sit on your feet, aaaahhhh. I need me a foot warmer.

Okay, time for work and stuff. I'm hoping everyone took today off, that would be a wonderful xmas gift for me.

Happy Wednesday!

Can it Be Wednesday Already? Please?!?

This is my disclaimer for the following: If you are easily offended, or delve far too quickly into the world of depression, or really can't remember that this blog is indeed about me and my feelings and my reactions and I give a shit what you think about it or me, find something else to read.

I'm writing this post to help get all of this out of me, it has nothing to do with you.

The problem with holidays is that too many memories are formed around them and feelings and stress levels and everything are at an all-time high. This is why spending this particular holiday in Mexico where the point is being around family and the highlight is midnight mass, or at a Jewish friend's house who used it as an excuse for a huge meal for good friends, has always been more my liking.

Unfortunately those are also the reasons I would really much rather skip today, tonight and all of tomorrow and just be sitting in front of my computer doing data entry like it was any other day. Cuz when you're dealing with all the craziness of my past? And especially these past few months? Yup, today has been much too hard already, and yes folks, it's not even noon yet.

This morning I could not sleep in. Simply could not. My body said, "Hello! It's Monday! GET UP!" at about 4 AM and I thanked it for remembering it was a weekday but lo and behold, it is xmas eve and I can sleep in! Really!

My subconscious had other plans; as for the next 2 hours it barraged me with horrible nightmares, culminating in the one that finally made me get out of bed--one where my XDH (Demon Husband in this case) was at my door demanding that I let him and his "Fill-in-the-blank for woman who leaves her husband to sleep with mine and oh yeah she has 2 small children and when his mom comes to visit them she high-tails it out of town with her kids because my XMIL is too horrid a person to be around her and her kids) "girlfriend" come in and stay at my place because Andy has invited them and what the hell am I still doing here as I am not allowed to even be in the same breathing space as "her mentioned above" (I'd give her a name, but that would mean that I A) Care enough, and B)Would bring my PG rating down to something fierce).

Yes, I know that obviously in the land of Nod I have many unresolved issues. This is ME we're talking about, remember?

So I get up and I wonder if I can really make it today. Cuz you know that friend I mentioned not too long ago that passed on? Right. I'm still not over that one. I mean, last Wednesday when we all went out to celebrate a friend's birthday and they started gabbing on about the wine, I nearly lost it.

I equate wine knowledge far too much with him. As I do most holidays as I spent far too many years helping with Turkey day preparations in his wee little cabin and big family style xmas dinners. Cuz when you're not Catholic you can spend hours and hours and hours on the food and not worry about wrapping paper and tinsel and trees and Santa Claus and all that other stuff that made everyone miss their families. He also hosted an awesome Easter dinner.

And the last xmas I spent at his house we made tamales, and by god if we didn't end up finally sitting down to eat until almost 2 AM and stayed up far to late watching all these conspiracy theory DVDs and how will I make it through tonight? (I love you L, and I hope you forgive me if I start crying in your tamales.)

With that in mind I fire up the old mini to check the USPS website cuz there just has to be word on that damned package right? -- no information as yet, thankyouverymuch, when I get to read the comment my brother left on my site. OOookaaay. Thanks. Berate me on my website, today, of all days. Thanks. I mean, you couldn't email me? You had to post a comment? WTF?!?

I know, I'm over-reacting. It's what I do. I really really can't help it. Today of all days! And yes, I'm ranting about it on the blog for all the world to see, cuz when I read the comment, I lost it. I could not hold it together any more. But I emailed an explanation, an apology, and edited my blog. Then another apology as it seemed I apologized for the wrong thing, and yes, I lost it again. I did mention emotions running kinda on the high side?

All before 8 AM.

After 8 AM the anger started filtering through.

I hate being an adult, having to remember to keep calm, to breathe, to look at the other person's side lest I really lose it and overreact over something so small, so insignificant when compared to everything else going on... Everyone is living in their own megalomanaiacal universe. It really is all about me, me, me. And how dare you offend my sensibilities! How dare you die and leave me to feel shitty?!? How dare the world be all commercialism and presents? Why the fuck isn't that box delivered yet?

But anger is tiring. It's just blame-storming and all I want to do is crawl into bed and make it all go away. Is it telling that one of the thoughts that keeps me going at this point in time is that I must outlive my parents, after that, all bets are off.

If I have shocked or offended you with this post, you really should have taken my disclaimer to heart. I am leaving town in just a few minutes and so I ask that if you feel the need to tell me what a dumb ass I am, just email me. I will get back to all on Wednesday or so.

And yes, believe it or not, I feel much better now.

Happy Holidays!

My Lack of Faith Disturbs Many...

I am trying so very hard to not be both too cynical or disappointed, but it is most difficult. See this:
I keep telling myself that it is not the last vestige of their existence. That their physical selves are in actuality still whining their way South and that there will be post on Monday and that my family will indeed get their gifts and goodies.

Cuz no, Virginia, the package has still not reached my folks in LA. Yep, mailed it on MONDAY. The website, and the read-out at the PO said WEDNESDAY. Hello? IT IS SATURDAY now. Priority Mail, Delivery Confirmation, AND Insurance. It's that last one I think that has screwed me. I have never ever ever used insurance for any package I've sent LA. Even the 18 sent from Hawai'i in '04.

Murphy is not my friend.

I would really rather not have to cash in the insurance. Please oh please all that is holy and unexplainable in the universe, I am begging here, do not make it so I get to see what it's like to fight the postal system for a hundred bucks! I'd really rather my family got their gifts. Really. Even if it's not until next Friday.

ETA: I'm told the "website" and PO read-out at the counter were both "estimates." If I cross my fingers any tighter I won't be able to type anymore...

My mother has become rather positive in her um "mature" years. She honestly thinks Monday will be the day (!--her emphasis). I'm ready to light a candle over here. I really wish I could be as sure as she is, unfortunately I also have a very active, dark, and NEGATIVE imagination. I blame reading Animal Farm when I was nine years old. A fairy story indeed.

Anyhow, yup, those are the hand-made stockings. I spent over three weeks of my life on them. Three very long weeks that I will never see again. But instead of dwelling on that thought, or maybe the one about some POS that has the stockings hanging in his house and/or sold the gifts for xmas meth, I will delve into some details about the stockings for you:

The dark, dreary one is for my wanna-be-a-goth little brother; best described as "very unique" by my SIL. Personally I just think he's a big weirdo, like his older sister. Long nails and black nail polish indeed. I almost gave him satanic jewelry and black eye-liner, but really, my parents had to deal with all of my shenanigans 18 years ago, why put them through it yet again? Besides, all he'd really have to do is find the box filled with things from my teen years and he'll be in wanna-be-goth heaven. I love my lil' bro, really I do, but um, I at least have the translucent skin that never required the white powder make-up. My LB? Well, um, let's just say he did not get that trait. Let's also just say that people NEVER asked my parents if he really was theirs or had they stolen him from the white folks up the street.

I thought it apropos that it be right next to my niece's OH-SO-PINK stocking. Yes, those are "princess" patches that I made myself. (I did say three weeks?) Double-faced interfacing is a god-send. Tracking down princess fabric and waiting in a line longer than anything the Apple Stores have ever seen was not the best task for one such as me when all I needed was a strip that contained the 4 princesses. (Snow White and um, Ariel maybe? are on the other side, yes, with more bells, I really liked the bells.) Instead of pulling out the scissors in my bag, though, I waited and bought way more fabric than I needed, cuz you know, with my luck? If I'd only gotten exactly what I needed bad bad things would have happened and the patches would have flailed hard core. Instead? Perfect first time around. (PS, if you get that glue stuff on whatever you're ironing on? Use the same trick as what you would for candle wax, iron a piece of paper bag over the goop, and presto, no more icky-glue stuff on your favorite towel.)

In blue was going to be a Thomas stocking for my nephew, only, I could not find the fabric. So sad. And I am not so creative as to go wild with the felt and make one from scratch...I leave that to the experts. Besides, there was, hee hee, Christmas Pooh to be had (I am twelve)! Also double-sided and yeah, more bells!

Older brother and SIL get the mixie-matchie pair. I almost really mixie-matched them by sewing the wrong pieces together...but thanks to the fact that my scissoring skills are not what they once were, one was a teensie bit bigger than the other, so the mistake/idea was shot down pretty quickly.

Okay, I'll end it here.

I'm listening to Cheech & Chong's "Santa Claus and His Ole' Lady" and all I can wonder is how all the terror laws would have changed the lyrics...but we're practicing thinking positively, so instead I'll leave you with a little Bing Crosby:

Mele Kalikimaka!

My Father's Daughter

-OR-
The Christmas Spirit is Strong in this One...Not!

So you know that scene in "El Norte" when the old man is telling the young Indian guy the secrets of how to not be accused of NOT being Mexican if the INS/Police catches you? (I'm feeling an odd sense of deja vu here, did I already spout this maybe same time last year? I am far too lazy to check so I'll solder-on instead, tee hee.) Where was I?

Oh yeah, so when my dad watched this bit of the movie he got very angry. The old guy pretty much told the young guy to swear up a storm. Cuz those Messicans swear just about every other word! (And my dad, oh my dad, got so mad he swore up a storm right then and there WHILE DENYING that what that old man had just said had any *#!$-ing truth to it...hee hee.)

Why do I dredge this memory up again?

Picture it, Scicily 1921...I mean, Wallingford Post Office 2007...
I go to that post office for one reason and one reason only: They have not 1, but 3 parking "lots." (Wee little things, but we take what we can get around here.) But all is lost if you turn at the wrong time and/or a white suburban decides to ruin your evening, or bring out the Mexican in me...

$&%!-ing xmas spirit!

Really, I could not believe how mad I was.

The entrance into the first two itty bitty parking lots are down a skinny little street that is barely wide enough for the two way traffic when there aren't cars parked on either side. But we who have lived in Seattle (and any small towns with skinny roads due to the 15 feet of snowbanks 9 months out of the year) are becoming experts at the "one-at-a-time" "see-the-space, be-the-space" maneuvering that happens down these mean little streets.

So, after having fought tooth and nail to get out of work early, and then more fighting, dodging and weaving to even get as far as that little street near the post office, I turn to find my way blocked by cars cars cars. That's okay, I think, we're all going to the same place anyway, right? There is no other reason to turn down this wee little street unless you intend to go to the post office and/or drop off your mail in the mail boxes. We're all good.

Um, wrong again.

The cars in front of me wanted to go to the post office, as did the CARS going in the opposite way. But the HUGE, WHITE, SUBURBAN? No no no no no. She wanted to just pass on through. This would not have been a problem if we had not been the ones partnered to do the "little street shuffle." See, I wanted to turn RIGHT INTO THE DRIVEWAY where she had decided was the perfect spot to slip out of the way in and LET ME PASS.

Okay, so if I hadn't had my turn signal on, I could have let this one go. Understandable mistake on my part, etc. But I did just mention I HAD MY TURN SIGNAL ON? There was only one place I could turn into...her driver's side door - that oh so convenient driveway.

So I just sit there, wondering how to work this...and I look at her and point to myself and then to the driveway in that "Me, Jane, need go there" way.

She responds with, "Me, dumbass, need go where you are, please pass" hand gesture.

We were close enough so that she saw me frown, because she frowned and repeated that "go ahead and pass" thing, only, not so nicely.

I shook my head and repeated where I needed to go.

She began laying on her horn and pointing for me to get out of the way.

I lost it.

I don't remember how many different languages and ancestors I channeled, but every ounce of my Mexican nature (a la that whole swearing thing) burst forth (cuz really, if I honked? With my cute little Toyota horn that goes "eep eep" -- against her Suburban horn? So not worth the embarrassment. But remember how close we were? The look on her face even before I showed her the very obvious hand gesture that I was not pleased before I gave up and moved on, was so worth the scary left turn and extra couple u-turns so I could try again with her far far away.

AAAaaaauuummm.

Right. So that little bit of fun made my waiting in line for forever seem not so bad. I mean, really now, everyone INSIDE the post office was once again, all just trying to do the same thing and mail off packages and not piss off the postal workers.

We were all so deliriously happy to be there and not at home frantically trying to finish--or worse, still shopping for gifts that need to be mailed that we were in our own little euphoria.

Had this not been the case I might have used my metal DPNs to show the smelly couple behind me what personal space really means. Cuz really people, I don't care how much smoking has killed YOUR sense of smell, mine works, far too well and I really don't want you to keep pushing your legs against my bag, it's not going to make me move any close to the person in front of me!

Did I mention xmas spirit? Right. Wake me when it's over, I am so very burned out about it all.

....And We're Back!

My mom and I seem to be playing a game involving the USPS, I'm calling it, "This Ole' Box."

Mom received a package in what she considered a sturdy box. So sturdy that 'hey, this would work to mail off something to Seattle' (from LA). I got it, and before I'd even finished unpacking the box thought, 'hey, this would be perfect to mail off my nephew's birthday gift.' Back to LA before the priority stickers had a chance to get dusty. That is the game at it's most competitive. I mean, really, we'd have to take the "ole" out of the game title if the boxes took so little time to make the rounds.

Tonight, however, I have a more descriptive and fitting entry for the game.

I put the finishing touches on a box that was originally mailed from Hawai'i to LA filled with some light fragile things as I sent it priority (everything else was parcel post and nothing says deteriorated box like 6 weeks from Hawai'i to LA) back in 2004.

Of course mom kept the box and put it aside for later use. By me, again, from LA to Kings Beach, CA about mid 2005.

I take after my mom far too well, because not only was it around to move from Kings Beach to Seattle, WA, but was used for the move from the farthest reaches of North Seattle down to my current locale, just north of downtown.

Well, tomorrow night the box begins the return trip home, its 2 year circumnavigation of the Western United States to end in LA, well, that is, unless she's made a friend in Hawai'i, then, oh yes, the circle would be complete.

Whatever, all I know is that it's filled to the brim with xmas gifts and taped within an inch of its cardboard. What with the storm brewing outside, this might be a rough trek for our seasoned traveler. We wish him fair winds and calm seas....oh wait, sorry, lost myself there.

Right, I'm hefting that 12.5" X12.25" X9" box off to the post office in hopes that it won't cost more than a Jackson to get down to LA. Is it me or did they change the dimensions of what is considered a "small" vs "large" box on the USPS website? I know their boxes have shrunk a bit, which is why I had to dig deep to find a box that would fit my required dimensions.

NOTE TO SELF: Take a tape measure when you go shopping next year.

***
The contents of that box are what have kept me busy for the better part of the last three, maybe four, weeks. There is not one stitch of knitting in it. There are, however, hundreds of stitches of the other sort. I will post the picture soon, promise, but the thought of lugging the camera over here and fiddling with photoshop is just too much (nope, not my camera, still Andy's...but soon, oh so very soon) after all the wrapping and packing and box hunting and re-packing that transpired today.

It's very freeing, to be "done." I just wish I'd finished last week...I am a stress monkey and my doctor was worried.

NOTE TO SELF THE SECOND: DO NOT SCHEDULE YOUR YEARLY DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENT ON THE LAST DAY OF CLOSING OUT THE MONTH DURING THE HEIGHT OF THE HOLIDAY MADNESS! Your blood pressure will be too high! You will be agitated! You will talk too much cuz you know your BP is too high! RELAX! DO NOT STAY UP MAKING STOCKINGS THE NIGHT BEFORE! Crafting is not supposed to make your life MORE complicated! It's what you do to chill out!

And as such, there is still some clean up before I can guilt-lessly go nighty-night, but I just had to share that feeling of aaaaaahhhhh as I put the last piece of tape on that box (which then had to be removed, along with a whole bunch of its mates as I forgot to pack a crucial gift in the box...aaaarrrrgh.....Never, ever easy...).

Oh, and as a PS/PSA of sorts: Babes, peeps, and countrymen? I am THIS close to ditching xmas cards all together this year. It's not cuz I don't love you, but I think my next free day will be December 23rd and I'm really tired of sending "New Year's Cards" with xmas trees on them...so instead of feeling defeated, I am liberating myself of that bit of guilt all together. Let's just pretend I'm in Mexico/out of country again, 'kay?

We're Floating In Space...

This post brought to you by the letter X and the number 12,000,000.

As in, that's how many little pieces of paper I have to enter, pay, and then file before we close the month...

Is it telling that my iPod battery died during the lyric:
"Do you realize that everyone you know, someday, will die..." (The Postal Service)

Or that last night at 6:30 PM everyone with the word "Associate" or below in their working titles was still working away as hard as if it was still 3PM as the lyric "Never comprehending the race had long gone by..." from "I'll Stop the World & Melt With You" (Modern English) was blasting away in my ears (as I, in vain) pretended that it was 3PM as well.

I am very grateful that I can sit and listen to my music (via ear buds of course) as I wade through the sea of paper before me, but I really need to change the play list. My songs are sad and morbid for working late into the night or being here far too early in the morning (yey overtime).

So the big downside to all this extra work time?

I have not even started with the xmas shopping...I am so dropping the ball here....hello malls that open until far too late into the night...cuz yep, that'll probably be me, maybe even tonight, scurrying around trying in vane to find a short-sleeved woman's polo-style shirt (with the three buttons, mija) in a petite.

You know what? NO SUCH GARMENT EXISTS IN THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST IN WINTER!

sigh.

Ahem, okay, back to work...

Happy St. Nikolaus Day!

There is something calming and palindromic about St. Nick's day and "Little Christmas"/"12th Night"/the Epiphany both falling on 6's and exactly one month apart...ahhh the numbers....(okay, both are "eve'd on the 5th, really)

Today marks my Official Start to the "Holiday Season." Cuz one month? I can do one month. Tonight I start cutting out patterns and wrapping some gifts. Today I start worrying about having enough xmas cards and tee hee, enough stamps to mail them all...(Yet another year I wish all of my family and friends were as geeky as me and I could get away with eCards...) Tonight I begin the search for my mom's gift...which seemed a simple request at the time...

More to come...