Going About this Whole Life Thing...

BACKWARDS.

I think I've spoken about the whole "changing careers" thing already, right? I'm too agitated to look. Let's just pretend I've linked to something and nod in agreement.

I had a short conversation with the head of HR for the library job I applied to. You know, the one where I bombed the interview far worse than even I feared? Right, that one. There was a mistake in the FORM letter they sent. I get to apply again after November 8th of 2007. How nice. After today's telephone call, however, I'm sure I've been tagged as a "DO NOT HIRE, EVER" or something.

See, I asked what I did wrong. I had to. How does someone like me, with 12 or so years of library experience NOT get into a Library Assistant pool. What more do I have to do? Her response was that it was felt (by the first interviewer, I think) that I get "frustrated" in multi-tasking and fast-paced work environments.

I laughed so hard into the receiver that I think she thought I was a bit insane. (Yes, I am going to say what I think she was thinking, why not, I mean they obviously they feel free to state what I must be feeling (frustrated), so touche', bastards.) I went on to say that I must be some kind of masochist then as certain jobs I've held (Hi, MIDDLE SCHOOL TEACHER jumps to the forefront) were filled with multi-tasking and making fast-paced decisions that are 10xs as difficult as what I experienced working at any library on my list! In fact that as one of the reasons I felt I could do the job of a library assistant so well!

But no, they didn't think so, thank you very much, enjoy your snow day!
(insert plural expletive of choice here)

I've been on the verge of a migraine all day. This kind of news is not helpful. I spent a few hours sitting in the dark (yey winter with your 2.374 hours of sunlight a day) reflecting on what it is I'm trying to do with my life. And why I am so not wanted in the job market right now.

Then I laughed some more.

You know I'm one of the few number of people I know who became a teacher right out of college? Most of the teachers I know and love and have adopted (or adopted me) were once high level accountants, Longs Managers, SAHMs, Computer Techs/geeks, Novelists, fish packers, factory workers, you name it...they went from a lifetime's career of that to teaching and no one raised an eyebrow! In fact they received accolades and laurel leaves...or something.

All I get are sideways looks and questions up the wazoo. Why don't you want to continue teaching? Why the big career move? What is wrong with you???

Cuz you know, it's okay to do "something else" for lifetime and then become a teacher, but woe and sorrow unto you, teacher, if you decide otherwise. And that just bites, people.

So I'm living my life backwards...why all the flak? So what if I did spend all that time and energy on a degree and credential I no longer wish to use, why do I get persecuted for it?

Please, do not tell me to go look into teaching night school, or adults, or becoming a teaching assistant, or a tutor...what part of the "I don't think I want to be a teacher anymore" do people not understand? Please oh please stop giving me the names and numbers of the private schools in the area as you ignore me when I say, "I'm thinking of looking into something else."

I blew it the other day when I said it was too stressful to teach. I was told that being an executive assistant was VERY stressful, in one of those defensive tones. Not when compared to teaching. The telling pause (I was on the phone), I was about to get it. I had to justify what I had just said. "Dealing with the lives of 160 12 and 13 year olds on a daily basis with the drama and the hormones always on the edge, and then trying to teach them grammar? You've got to be kidding me. How will assisting one executive be worse than 160 drama queens AND their parents?" Laugh, laugh a lot. Laugh it off. Did it break the tension? A little. What it tells people is that I'm a failure. I couldn't make it in the classroom so now I'm looking into trying something else that I will probably fail at as well. Again, my thoughts.

But really, why else would I not be teaching? Not be pursuing my career? Not be wading through the mounds of paperwork in order to get that Washington State teaching credential and going back into that classroom! Come on! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!

If I can't even land a job as a receptionist, what makes anyone think I will land a teaching gig when HI, I don't think I can do it right now? I have said this before, countless times I think, I don't have it in me. If that makes me a loser, so be it. If I've disappointed you, find someone else to live your life through. This has not been an easy "throw away" decision. I'm not sure why I'm being made to feel like it is. Like I'm wrong, wrong, so terribly wrong.

I never promised anyone I would be anything other than myself. Label me what you will, just don't expect me to live up to who you think I should be.

So Many Finished Items...

...but not for me. See this hat? This is what I've been working on for the last...forever.

Like the background? No, that is not a pin for scale, that would be one strong blade of grass that is fighting the good fight against the SNOW. We got dumped on. Did I mention I live in Seattle now? Did the snow gods get lost? Tahoe is 800 miles SE or so, people....

But where was I? Ah yes, the hat. Or the Barbie dream debutante skirt...or the Hello Kitty Hell Bonnet...which name is actually growing on me. (Whose name is actually growing on me?) I am too OCD for this hat. Really. I have ripped it apart almost as many times as my failed attempts on my older brother's (OB) hat. Not for size issues, either. I thought matching hand-painted/striped socks was bad enough for me...but no, not only do I rip back when I make the stripes too narrow (to my eyes, anyway), I must have the colors in a certain order and the placement of the slipped stitch "dots" has got me drinking chamomile tea and thinking calming thoughts.

I'm not using a pattern, I think this might be my main problem, it's totally on the fly "grab a ball o'yarn" and go for it....well, hi, this is me we're talking about...I don't "fly" that way AT ALL, it seems.

I was about 10 rounds shy of finishing the (insert unseemly word here) thing when I thought that there were too many decreases in the wrong places and really, NO REALLY! that third row of (what used to be) burgandy slipped stitches between the white and the pink should be purple (as you can see, three rings of purple, yes, much much better, make the voices stop!)...that's what I ripped back to this morning.

As for the size? It fits my noggin a little on the tight side, so it should fit my niece's 3 yr old head, I hope.


IN OTHER NEWS:

A finished object.
I finished it a WHILE ago now, but today was the first time I saw my camera in a while...must clean my desk off, soon. The details:
Noro Silk Garden 217 A, X 2 minus 18". I only had to do minor surgery to make sure the colors did what I wanted them to do...I'm not sure if that's OCD or anal retentiveness...either way, it's done.
US size 10 needles.
Pattern: The same one as my dad's scarf...One Row (not) Handspun Scarf

After washing it a second time, this stuff is SOFT. Happy Dance for me...It's been a really really really long time since I had/used a new scarf...we're talking 6th grade here. It's such an easy pattern I might have to make more...but first...Must finish those hats....Urgh.

Kiwi Animated Video

I was shown this a while ago and would like to share it.


But I'm not all that good at embedding YouTube videos so it's here in case all you see is a blank spot up above :).

***
And it's snowing. It's 80-cajillion degrees in Los Angeles, according to my father, but it's snowing in Seattle. Well, people from the Great White North would laugh at what I'm calling "snowing" and "snow." Heck, had I lived longer in Tahoe, I too would be scoffing. But I'm cold and there's crunchy white stuff on the ground that looks kinda like the fake snow on the xmas tree at the mall, and more is falling...well in fits and starts.

Fancy Cooking, Tactless Style...

So you know we're cooking fancy when one of the directions call for "deglazing." I think I pretty much scared Andy out of the kitchen with that one. It also convinced me that any meal that involves such an act should be part of a PBS cooking show. I could host it! I have the perfect chicken apron and matching timer! It could be my trademark, you know like that Sally Jessie lady with the red glasses?

Though before I go planning shows I should make sure I can do other fancy things the, um, right way. So carmelized? That doesn't mean carbonized, right? Didn't think so.
Next year I'll have to cut the onions thicker.

Aside from that, I think things went well.

So it's officially Fat Man season. As Nordstrom has put up their decorations, I guess I should start thinking about what I'm going to do this year. I'm very low key, if last year is any example of it.

Bezzie from Random Meanderings reminded me of xmas music I thought I might not have anymore. A few years ago I put together a CD or two for a friend of mine who was pretty much sick of all the xmas music she owned. She owned a fair amount. But she absolutely could not stand Handel's Messiah/Hallelujah/etc. et. al., so I went and spent far too much time wading through the internet until I'd collected as many alternative xmas hits to fill her days. You know, things like: David Bowie and Bing Crosby singing The Little Drummer Boy, or Frank Sinatra and Cindy Lauper singing Santa Claus is Coming to Town as well as things like Dave Matthews' Christmas Song (love the Spanish guitar) or Sound Garden singing Ave Maria (oh that one makes me cry).

So I went "hard drive diving" and I think I may have found them all. Well, at least a hour's worth. Maybe I'll burn that collection up and spread it around this year? It's a thought.

1 Year + 1 Day, and a Turkey

Hi.

So it seems yesterday was my 1 year bloggiversary. See how bad I am
with the dates? Even I didn't remember. Good one, me.

Anywho, today is Turkey day. I'm supposed to whip up dinner so I
best get at it. I'm making green beans for the first time in my
life. Yes, I do this, I experiment with cooking on big occasions.
No biggie, if I flop there's always a plan B. Just what that would
be tonight, I'm not at all sure. I got desert covered...there was
some punk-in pie bakery happening last night. You know, to celebrate
the bloggiversary, yes, that's it. See, I didn't forget, nope, not
me :).

Thanks for reading! Happy T-Day to everyone.

25.5 Inches Around...

Mutant hats.

Yep, that's what I'm gonna have to make.

Does anyone know how often one can rip Dalegan Falk yarn before it just hates you and won't play anymore? I think I might be at that point.

Remember back when I said I had an almost completed hat for my older brother? Ah yes, ancient history that I'm too saddened to link back to. Best forget. Yes.

Did I ever mention that my older brother and I are about the same height? But he takes after my mom's side of the family with the delicate looking ears and high cheekbones I could have killed for as a teenager. The skinny cutely crooked nose I could ignore...at least until I got my first pair of glasses that outlined the honker on my face enough to be yet more proof that I was not the favorite in the house of the almighty.

Anyway, when I went about trying to make my older brother a hat, given his height, delicate-looking features, etc., et. al., what-have-you, I felt rather secure in the knowledge that a hat a smidge bigger than mine would be fine. In the end the Camo-hat I made him last year was a smidge too big for Andy, so yeah, no problem-o! Right?

I've already posted my thoughts about those hats, we shall not speak of them again, we're working on the idea of MOVING ON after all so THIS time, when the call came for some bonnets for the family I decided to make something that would at least LOOK warmer so that they might actually be used. Okay, I'm hard at the "letting go" bit, I think we all realized this a LONG time ago.

So I got the Dalegan Falk and started trying to figure out the best way to fulfill the, "long enough to cover the ears and the back of the neck" request. After some test knitting and lots of ripping I came up with a 4 X 2 rib that I thought would be great! Only it really was looking kinda skinny. Upon closer inspection it turned out that I'd be able to get my head, 22" around, in and it fit me great, but we were looking for a little bigger. Yes, I ripped back. No, I'm not one of those people who believe "it'll fit someone" and just keep knitting on. I don't have the funds to play that game. Especially right now so close to the holidays and being "between assignments" (read as "between paychecks"). So rip back with impunity I say.

I dug around some more (the internet is my best friend) and found a pattern that might work super-well. I cast on to aim for a 23" head...That seemed like a good number... That's when I remembered the Rules. Wasn't there something in there about measuring hands for head sizes? So I emailed my brother and asked for the "palm to tip of middle finger" measurement so I could get an idea how "deep" to make the hat. 7.5 inches. Wow, that'd make it about 9" deep, give or take. That seemed rather deep. So I asked for the "width across" measurement...8.5". Which gives us the 25.5" around. Which makes his head almost 65 cm around...which gives him a US size 8+ head. If I poof up my hair I can fit a 7 1/4 hat. Did I mention we're almost the same height? (My mom insists he's taller, my little brother confirms I am--he should know, he's taller than both of us and can easily eyeball it...)

Where did that head come from??? That was my first thought. My second was: I'll start on my niece's hat. She is only about 4, yet I'm told she's outgrown all the "little kid" hats...I guess she's taking after her dad.

Mutant hats, I tell you.

You'd Think I'd Blog More...

With all this time off, I mean.

It was actually SUNNY today, but I'm starting to feel under the weather, so I hid until almost nightfall.

So what comes first?  Feeling down cuz you're sick, or feeling sick cuz you're down?  I think I might need to dwell on this a little more.

I have two Finished Objects to show...but that would require taking pictures and the like.  I can't get motivated to take pictures with a camera that is well, actually, buried somewhere under all the junk I picked up off the floor and TEMPORARILY placed on my desk (that's cleaning for you).  I feel terribly disorganized right now.  I think it's the upcoming holiday trauma.  Even if it isn't, I feel like blaming it rather than no one, or worse, me.  I tend NOT take it out on my friends that way.  Combine that noise with feeling pathetic and underemployed and we have such a recipe for disaster.  Good thing there's knitting to keep me away from all the ingredients to make high explosives.

Yes, I've been watching MacGyver DVDs again.  I swear, that man loves blowing things up!  All you need is a little solvent and talcum powder, or something.  Which is truly funny, who keeps that stuff around anymore?  I'm getting feelings of inadequacy in the carcinogenic household items department.  If that show happened today all he'd have to work with would be biodegradable cleaners and water.  Oh, and maybe Desitin.  I wonder how flammable baby butt cream is, really?

I need to go lie down now.

Pissed.

No, not in the good drunk way either.
Observe:

This would be the Yarn Aboard box I mailed off last Thursday. Seeing as it's heading out of country I thought I'd get right on it. Proof of mail date:
And yes, that's what it cost to mail the sucker out.
Yet behold, it was returned for one very important reason:
I know, it's fuzzy, I'll reprint it:

We regret that your mail is being returned to you because of heightened security measures. All domestic mail weighing 16 oz or over, that bears stamps and all international military APO/FPO mail weighing 16 oz or over MUST be presented to a retail clerk at a post office. Postage that is affixed to the returned mail may be used for remailing the items.

Urg. Heightened security? I mailed it off through work and filled out all the required paperwork, but nope, no dice. The lovely lady behind the counter said it wouldn't have mattered what paperwork I filled out (I had to fill 2 different customs forms for her), it still required her taking it. Her magic hands were the special security needed to fulfill the box's trip, or something. I got to spend some fun time at the ole P.O. In line. JOY! Great use of my time since it's not like I'm updating my resume or applying for jobs or anything. Urg.

So THAT's Why They Fit Wrong

Ahem, yes, I am a dumb ass. I am a big enough person to admit it, this time :).

So, um yeah, remember those footies I was working on for forever that became my CWP (Computer Waiting Project)??? Well, I'd been wondering why, if I just lost 7 lbs, they seemed to be awfully tight little socks. (Well, one awfully tight sock, another 3/4ths tight.) I thought maybe they'd loosen up with the blocking magic or something...

Tonight, as I finished my Noro scarf as well as the muppet experiment (okay, there's still some weaving/blocking/trimming of muppet fur to go, but the needles are put away so I consider it almost picture-ready) I took out my Trekking XXL and decided to try starting a pair of socks for me again. Believe it or not, I swatched this time! I know, shocking! In perusing which needles to try next, I noticed that my US 00s were not in their pocket. I looked ALL OVER. How could I misplace a whole set? It was bad enough when I couldn't find one missing needle, but 5? That's just wrong.

I found them, they were hiding in plain sight...in my 3/4's done footies. My best guess is that at some point I must have needed my US 0s and used the smaller needles as "place-holders." I think I can almost make out where the finished footie starts looking a bit thinner than normal. What really stands out is how the second footie is just that much smaller than its brother, as I apparently used the 00s from the start. Urgh. Why didn't I notice this earlier???

I guess it's a good thing I'm more interested in winter socks right now. I have months to go before I will want footies. Yet, the idea of ripping out what I have done makes me sad, but it's not like I'm the first to have to deal with such trauma. It was bound to happen. A sign really. Time, maybe, to change the CWP, or something. Sigh.

Progress...

When did I become such a multi-project knitter???

I think this coming week of under-employment should, maybe, possibly, force me to work on started and semi-abandoned projects:
My brother's hat. Yes, it looks REALLY long, but it's ribbing (4X2), so it's not. I'm working in colors from his kid's hats. It was rather hard to figure out how to NOT use pink or purple to represent my niece's hat, so I threw in some cream and dark/Burgundy-esque red instead. I just have to remember to work in the same red in the kiddie hats.

Then there's this guy:
Mom's stripy socks. As she really liked the cotton/wool socks gifted to her earlier, I went with more cotton. I have come to the realization that I can't stand cotton. But forge ahead I will if my mom likes them. Hmm, more ribbing...3X1 I think, maybe I'm into ribbing right now. I just LOVE the way the socks are striping though. Easily amused? OH YEAH.

I wanted to include a few more "on the needles" pics, but it is dark and dreary...just know that my scarf is a little longer now. I'm on the second skein of the Noro silk garden...it's not going to be a long scarf, I see that now. There are also bits and pieces of other projects that I should buckle down and finish...like the basketweave black scarf I started FAR TOO LONG ago...or a muppet-fur scarf I was fiddling with. You really can't rip that stuff back very well...so I should finish or burn it...ick, the thought of burning muppet doesn't appeal. Then there's that sweater I started last winter, for Andy. I stopped as it just got too hot...well, hello 45 degrees...I guess I can start it up again, eh?

Yep...stuff...

*****
So I did blow that first interview enough to not get selected for the Library Pool. I don't know how much of a form letter I got, but they did say I could re-apply for the next pool. I just have to start ALL OVER again. Fun times. Good thing I kept a copy of the original application. Now I just have to suck it up and do it again.

Changing careers is not for the meek, okay people? My xMIL and I were talking about this last night; really, most people don't know what they want to be "when they grow up." You fall into something when you're young enough and BAM, 30 years later you're retired and was it really what you wanted?

My mom cleaned toilets, emptied trash cans, and vacuumed millions of miles of carpet for 27 years. I honestly don't think she did it cuz she wanted to, you know? I highly doubt her little girl dreams were to become a janitor at a ritzy high school...I don't think my mom thought of her job as anything else but a way to earn enough money to buy a house (or two) and see that her kids got everything they could get. We weren't exactly rolling in the dough on maintenance and janitor salaries, people, but I was fed, housed, and educated.

I think I've been pretty lucky. I went to school and then went on to use my education for what it was originally intended. I went to school to become a teacher. I was a teacher.

But I don't want to be a teacher anymore. At least not right now. I don't have it in me. I have no patience for departments of education and their little dramas and inner politics.

I think I've said this before, several dozen times maybe, but you really DO NOT want to be teaching if you DO NOT WANT TO BE TEACHING. You will suck. The kids will know. Hell, the kids could easily tell when I was teaching something I felt so-so about or just didn't like. "A Raisin In The Sun" comes to mind. Or the dumb ass "Peer Pressure" Life Skills lessons that had NO basis on reality. Or anything to do with Social Studies. I love history, I really do, but past students will tell you that I have ABSOLUTELY NO BUSINESS trying to teach it. Facts, dates, and important figures get jumbled in my head. And that jumbled mass of chaos gets passed on to the kids...it's a bad scene, man, really bad.

Moving on?

I'll probably go back to teaching when I can have an ESL classroom or three where I teach both Language Arts and Literature, and the goal is, GASP, for the kids to LEARN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE! Not take a stupid federal test where they fail and fail and fail because, HELLO? They don't know the language??? I think Special Ed teachers would back me up on this one. They are running into the same brick wall. How do you expect a "Special Needs" kid to compete with Joe-average student? Or to be judged by the same ratings category? You don't! Yet they have to take the same federal required tests and "pass"/improve buy the same number of points, learning disabilities be damned!

Cleaning toilets sounds like a less frustrating and more satisfying job at that point.

FO: Dad's Scarf

My father's birthday is coming up. I think I may have mentioned that a few-many posts ago. As he is still a "workin' man" (my mami has been retired for a about, wow, going on 4 years now I think...) I decided he should have something for the nippy LA mornings on his way to work. Go ahead, laugh. Their blood is thin, living in the global warming cesspool that is LA, I know, I know, 90 degrees in November, but still, it's chilly in the early AM, what, about 65? 70? So I present you:

Dad's Scarf

I shamelessly stole it from the Yarn Harlot. One Row (NOT HANDSPUN) Scarf in Cascade 220. I used US 10 straights. Here's a close-up:
I liked the pattern so much, I'm making one for myself:
It's being made from my very last purchase at Jimmy Bean's Wool in Truckee, CA before I moved from that neck of the woods to this one... It's true what they say, you know, yarn bought as a souvenir does hold that memory, much more than I thought it would. Noro Silk Garden.

I'm a little further along as I took these pictures, and others for future posts, on the last sunny day before the flooding started. Yes, yes, I'm fine. I live in the city. That I know of there are no creeks, streams, or rivers nearby. As I'm posting I'm obviously still alive.

And for those who have been on the edge of their seats?
No word from the library, but word from the place where I'm temping...they found their Receptionist, and it's not me. My last day? Friday. So much for the two weeks notice the one HR person promised...as she's on extended leave it's a bit hard to hold her to her word. All of my virtues were "recognized" at a meeting I had this afternoon. Thanks. Really. No, really. I'm just finally glad to finish the assignment at this point. Maybe, gasp! I'll take a week off??? What a trip and a half that'll be.

To celebrate? Sushi!

CAR!

Great time to move here, eh?
Yet, yesterday the sun actually shown for a little bit:


Now we just need a name...

But first I must see how well I can drive through the "urban flood plains!" Ah weather is such a fantastic phenomena.

YARN ABOARD 2 POST!

Guess who showed up at my doorstep late Friday night?

All the way from Portland, Oregon! Wow Deb! I'm, I'm, wow...WOW! Interjections! Thank you!
I wish I had been more patient when I opened the box...I started looking immediately and then when I remembered, OH YEAH, TAKE PICTURES...it was all out of the box and um, yeah, how did she fit it all in??? Magic! Elves! Yarn gnomes!

So in the box:
Wildfoote in Tom Cat! Which I love working with...NEW yarn: Dicentra Designs in Mazarbul as well as Crown Mountain Yarns in Opal. So cool.

YUMMY chocolate from Vivani...never had, can't wait to rip into them. A matching Lady and the Chocolate magnet...so cute!

Here Be Dragons Sock pattern!!! So fun! Yes!

And tea for both the brain and the body! Foxfire Tea and "A Warming Bath" Tea Bag.

You have no idea how spoiled I feel.

Okay, now I have to figure out the magic used to fill the box beyond capacity for Chris's next stop!

My Mother? I'll Tell Ya About My Mother...

-Leon, Blade Runner

 

The interview yesterday went about as well as that one...well, the first one anyway. 

 

Well, okay, I didn't blow her away from under the desk with my hand laser revolver or anything, nor am I a replicant, that I know of, but I might as well have been as aware of what was going on with the interviewer as ol' Leon.

 

She "broke the ice" by talking about sailing.  However, it wasn't until she was pointedly ready to move on to the real questions that I realized she was not on the same side as I on the whole sailing/motoring fence.  Oops.

 

Then there were the questions, where the goal was to only speak about my current position.  That was distressing.  I mean, really when I'm trying to answer something about the "most fulfilling thing" I've done here?  Ummmm, I'm a temporary receptionist. (Sigh.)

 

Interviewer #2 just jumped into the questions and I was happy to oblige with answers.  After realizing I had more library experience than the two listed in front, he was happy to hear about all of them.  Our connection/ice breaker happened sometime during the questions when he realized I went to high school across the street from his university.  Small town feeling even in the megalopolis I grew up in.

 

~~~~~

 

It's about as rainy and dreary as the setting for Blade Runner so I've opted to wait on pictures until it's not so wet that my camera will drown.  And it really is such a lovely feeling to turn the key in the ignition and not have the "will it start today" feeling.  Or rev the engine on the freeway and not wonder if the timing chain will decide now is the time to kill all the humans...

 

Ah the little things.

 

Happy Friday!

Have Car, Will Travel

So, super-fast no picture post cuz not only do I have to get ready
for work...I'm prepping for an interview...

But no worries about driving out to Outer-Mongolia for that interview
today, as I picked up my BRAND NEW CAR on Halloween night!

No kids, none. Our street must be full of evil old men like in
"Monster House" or something (fun movie by the way.)

Okay, gotta run, more later, promise.

1 for Socktober

I thought I might have time to post today, no such thing.

And now I'm being whisked off to Mexican food, ole!

But look! Socks!

Dublin Bay
Made from Fleece Artist sock yarn. Green.

I'm rushing, can you tell?

They took forever, they feel so comfy. Happy me.

What a Difference the Color of a Room Can Make

Not the best at keeping up with the blog these days, mea culpa.  So a super-long post to appease the masses!

 

I do have a rather valid excuse for the absence though...it hurt too much to blog.

 

So I am on cipro for the next...8.5 days now.  Urgh.  They'll know exactly how bad it is on Monday or Tuesday, but the immediate results were that I have some kind of kidney/bladder/tract infection.  FUN TIMES!

 

Yes, I did indeed venture forth to find a new doctor in these here Pacific North West lands, and find one I did! 

 

So now I guess I can tell my nightmare doctor story:

 

I would like to preface this with:  I DID NOT just open the telephone book and blindly choose a random doc with a female name.  I asked my pharmacist, whom I THOUGHT I was developing good rapport with, for a local doc who she'd heard good things about.  This was how I got the name.  AND I called the office WEEKS before the actual need for the appointment (for a yearly), and spoke at length with the receptionist and tried to get a feel for the doc.  I got good vibes from her though there were a few weird things I really should have considered before proceeding.

 

20/20 hindsight is a beautiful thing, isn't it?

 

First: I couldn't just make a "meet and greet" appointment where she would get to know me and treat me for something minor, say checking on my skin condition and refilling my migraine medicine, etc., you know, an easy appointment, low stress, etc.  I was told the doctor made all new patients do a full "whole nine yards" physical as the first appointment.

 

Second:  I had to have $200 cash to pay/as the down payment (?!?) for the appointment, as physicals are uber expensive, and would have to be prepared to pay the balance due before I left the office.

 

So that would be the week we found out the car was DYING, yes?  Let's say it was not a stress free, well-rested night.  I woke up late, felt miserable, was not allowed to drink my morning tea, and, thanks to misunderstood directions, "No food or drink after 8PM, brushing your teeth is okay though,") I was really thirsty.  (Really though, when they say "brushing your teeth is okay though" doesn't that make it sound like NOTHING TO DRINK means water too, right?  Whatever, if I'm naive I'm naive.

 

So I get stuck in traffic and am going to arrive later than the "show up 10 minutes early to do paperwork" so I call them.  I'm told that if I don't show up in the next 5 minutes they will cancel the appointment and bill me. ?!?  I was about 2 minutes away and the appointment wasn't for another 8 minutes...so that was weird...besides that, how exactly were they going to bill me if they hadn't taken anything more than my name and home telephone number? 

 

Right, so I was obviously in the best state of mind for the appointment. 

 

I run in and...wait.  There is a LINE of people in front of me.  They are all either 20+ years older, or 30+ years younger than I am. 

 

Then I get the paperwork -- all I am asked to fill out are two sections: who I am stuff, and who is going to pay for the appointment stuff.  NO MEDICAL HISTORY stuff.

 

Again, that 20/20 hindsight...

 

As soon as I sit down I'm whisked into the area and follow the nurse down this long skinny CROWDED hallway to the room where I drop my stuff and then follow her almost all the way back to get weighed and measured, then we go all the way back for my blood pressure reading.  Sure, have a patient RUN back and forth and find out how much she WEIGHS, then take her blood pressure.

 

I think their machine is broken...but the first reading was astronomical, something in the HIGH 140s over 100-something.  Shouldn't I be dead?  So she writes it down and I say I usually read high the first time, and added to that I'm super nervous, can she take it again later?  All she answers is that she'll have to ask the doctor, but such a high reading was a bad thing.

Really, do you tell someone with high blood pressure that it's a bad thing in such a situation?  I'm a bad first appointment patient, but this is ridiculous!  So she leaves me to get undressed and wait for the doc in THE ROOM.

 

It was a dark turquoise...like it needed a new paint job about 5 years ago.  Shiny near the ceiling.  But the walls were covered in paintings/pictures/clocks, etc.  It depressed me.  It did not calm me.  It reminded me of the puke colors my elementary school was covered in.  I hated my elementary school.

 

So in storms the doctor telling me (actually, pontificating at me would be a better description) about how my high blood pressure was extremely dangerous and who was treating me before her and etc., but not actually letting me answer any of the questions.  When I did try to say that no one was treating me as I did not have high blood pressure she gave me a "look" and said, that's obviously not true, and then continued to say things that did not apply to me because I DON'T HAVE HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE!!!

 

Whenever I tried to give her my 2 cents she would act affronted and tell me to stop interrupting her because she was trying to give me information that could save my life!  And then someone knocked on the door.  

 

The doctor finished whatever she was saying, I'd stopped listening and was planning my escape by then...so she gets up and walks out, LEAVING THE DOOR WIDE OPEN.   I'm sitting there in that "gown" thing and she leaves the door open?  That was it.  I reached over and slammed it shut, jumped off the table and started to get dressed.  She came back in as I was pulling my pants on and was all, "What are you doing!"  So I told her this was not going to work, I wanted a doctor I could communicate with and not be treated like a child by.  Or words to that effect.  She responded with a fine(!) and tossed the file aside as she reached in and grabbed her instruments in such a way that I actually thought, 'she thinks I'm going to steal them...or vandalize the place, where the hell am I!?!?!?'

 

I was so proud of myself though, I didn't break down and start crying until she closed the door and I could sob and wipe my nose on the gown.  As I was leaving the nurse said I could pick up my "co-payment" and I was all, NO F-ING DUH!  (And that's another question...co-payment?  Did she mis-speak?  Or was I going to have to plop down $200 in cash for every visit?  Not that I'll be finding this out or anything.)

 

Which brings me to:

The new doctor's office is very bright, and there's carpet in every room.  Oh, and the rooms?  They're pink.  I don't do pink, but it is amazing how much nicer it is than greasy turquoise.  Oh, and my blood pressure?  120/80 thankyouverymuch.  That would be WITH my kidney trying to kill me. 

 

I didn't get my yearly, the kidney bit would have probably thrown all the blood tests, so we'll do a "take three" later, instead I had a "get to know you"/make the kidney stop hurting appointment.  It was very calm and I was encouraged to knit on my scarf while I waited for doctors and nurses and/or my UA to be looked at, and etc.  I could put the whole appointment on my credit card and no one looked at me as if I was going to steal the instruments or said I was interrupting if I answered a question. 

 

It really is the little things that count.

Mental Note To Self

DRINK WATER. OFTEN.
Especially when you are training people to do your job. You tend to
talk, a lot. It takes way more energy than sitting there doing
nothing. The super air-conditioned spot where you sit has the "added
advantage" of wicking all tell-tale moisture off you before you
sweat. DRINK WATER. The goal is 1/2 a liter here, you failed,
MISERABLY. FOR TWO DAYS.

If you go without enough water for a couple days your kidney will
wake you up around 12:30 AM to let you know YOU HAVE BEEN BAD ABOUT
THE WATER.
Your insides will remind you what you felt like 11 years ago when you
thought you would die BECAUSE YOU WERE NOT DRINKING ENOUGH WATER and
FENCING!

Jill would have called you a "dumb ass" by now. AND SHE'D BE RIGHT.

DRINK WATER!

All Quiet on the Non-Rhinebeck Front

No, my absence does not mean I'm frolicking with fiber lovers wherever Rhinebeck is being held. But now that I've caught up with all my blog-reading again, it seems a grand chorus of the knitters I stalk will be gone for longer than the weekend. Isn't that nice? For them? Right.

So I am on the ultimate yarn diet. Not that I have a roomful of stash--this is where a picture would be handy, but I'm lazy too--or have been spending my life-savings in the yarn store. See, what with A BRAND NEW CAR winging it's way to Seattle, I'm gonna be strapped for cash until I get myself a real job.

I did it. I signed my life away and will be the very nervous new owner of:

A 2007 Toyota Matrix

But mine is in some color called "Phantom Grey Perl" or whatever. Lightish Gray people. Whatever, it means I get to give Toyota money weeks before I see the car...scary scary, and call me silly/lame/or stupid, but according to the poll I took at work the next day, it's how it's done now. Even in the big ol' city of Seattle, dealerships ONLY have small quantities of cars in stock/on display in the most usual colors and models, I could have walked--driven away with a black one...but somehow...you know? I'm pretty much over my black phase I guess. You won't see me in bright orange or anything (well, until I finish those socks...) but I can start with grey.

My brother and Andy convinced me I'd be happier with a new car. I've never ever ever owned a new car before. I decided that if I could get the dealer people to give me a reasonable monthly payment plan (i.e. less than one weekly paycheck's worth) I'd do it. I almost got them to go down to 1/2... 60-some percent actually if I did the math right. No I'm not gonna double check, cuz if I'm wrong my blood pressure will shoot through the roof, we really don't need that at Casa de Tactless. But this gives me the chance to afford insurance...and nothing else...sniff...

So yep, my days of champagne and caviar (yes I'm laughing) are over. Okay, Sushi maybe once a month, and eating in 99% of the time...that's more my style anyway. If it hadn't been I'd have never saved up for the down payment to begin with!

Sadly, however, I'll have to delay adding to my sock yarn collection for a few months, until I'm used to the new "money-flow" schedule (ALL OUT, nothing to the savings account...eep, I need a real job). Not a biggie, I've got hats to knit, and more socks than I can count...and, maybe later this week I'll take a picture of my dad's scarf. I think I'm almost done, a few inches to go...It will need blocking though, which is why I'm not showing it now.

How long should men's scarves be? Is it the same rule as women's scarves? I.e. their height? Must look that up.

What Makes You Delete It?

It's not just me is it?

I write out a long email, or even a post, explaining, describing, going on and on...and then I select big chunks, and press the delete key, ON PURPOSE.

I just did it now, well, not now-now. I wrote to a webmaster to report broken streaming links in the archives of This American Life, I won't say I was devastated, but "upset" would be a good descriptor...I'm a bit on the edge...long story, maybe later when it hurts less. Anyhow, I'm a HUGE fan of that show. My first year teaching advisor turned me on to it back in 1998 and I listened almost religiously until 2001, when I sold my car and 90% of my possessions, and took off to Mexico, and parts elsewhere.

The other day I was listening to the NPR station in the car (yes, the dying one) when a commercial for This American Life came on!!!! I was so excited and told Andy I was going to go out and buy a radio just to get that show! (Addict, I know.) I also bemoaned about all the years I missed out on Ira Glass's very distinctive and eerily soothing voice.

Andy gave me this weird look, hopped on the internet, and found me ALL THE SHOWS. Right there, all mine for the free streaming...aaaahhhhh, heaven. Except now, like the 90% of things surrounding me, this too has gone all wrong.

So I wrote and mentioned the links and could they please be fixed...and then kept writing, about my love of the show and the happiness I felt finding it and the utter sadness of it being broken, and how my life right now...well, kinda what I just wrote above to the world...except this was being addressed toward Elizabeth, the webmaster. I knew she didn't care; she just wanted to know the errors so they could be fixed; my life is not anywhere near her radar. Yet, I could not stop myself! I wrote and wrote until I got it all out...and then I reread it, fixed a few lines, saw it was good, then selected all but the first bit about the broken links, and deleted it. Again, on purpose.

Elizabeth could care less that the 'rolla is on it's last breaths; that it was far too rainy and icky to go out and find a new car tonight; that the doctor I went to yesterday was a NIGHTMARE and so bad that I walked out in the middle of the appointment; that everyone on the interview committee for the position I'm temping for is avoiding me because they are interviewing someone this week...and it's not me; that listening to the archives bring me a sense of what and who I was back when I was younger and so much less jaded; that I will be so utterly inconsolable if I can't get my dose of a This American Life archive stream on a regular basis until I've caught up again.

It's been a trying week, can you tell?

I guess I really really really needed to get that out, somehow, at least once. You know, have it "said" and acknowledged (at least by me) and then there is no need to actually send the information on to anyone else. Didn't we all do similar things like this as kids? Say, write out letters and them BURN them? (Please say you did stuff like that last bit too, sometime in your youth. I feel crappy enough as it is.

That's probably why the woman who was covering the desk for me yesterday morning let me rant about my awful awful doctor's visit. It was the first step in dealing with it. Or something...

Bedtime calls, but I'm not selecting and deleting, at least this time.

I Need to Buy a Car

Like yesterday.

I'm about to lose my wheels, which I've been expecting for eons really. What kind of car should I get? Anyone have any favorites? Me? I've only ever owned two cars, ever. My first, a 66 Mustang, is still sitting in my mom's car port.

My second, an 89 Camry, Edgar...is tooling around the Santa Cruz/Moss Landing area with a good friend.

I've been beg-borrow-or stealing since...but it's time.

Any suggestions?

Too Much Going On!

Let the randomness begin:

I feel like my Saturday has officially been sucked out of existence. Especially as it's almost 7PM and I just don't feel like I've done all that much "weekending" yet. I hate that feeling, it really blows.

***

Andy and I went out for Indian food yesterday. Usually, almost religiously, I order the Palak Masala Paneer. Ummm, Spinach Curry with Cheese for those translation-seekers :). Usually Tim is with us and he gets this yummy orange colored curry with peas and cheese. I know, sounds yummy, but it really is. I usually am able to sneak a taste or swipe some with the naan and I am good for another couple three weeks and happy with my spinach.

Well, I was really craving it last night so I ordered my own serving. I really was in heaven it is yummy! But the restaurant was SO CROWDED it got to the point of being hard to enjoy. Then the Spinach found out I was cheating on it, I swear, cuz my dish met my pea coat and favorite pair of jeans...so not happy.

We did have left-overs though and I had 'em for lunch today, and yes sir, that fork FLEW out of that bowl and spilled on the table! The Spinach has farther-reaching powers that we give it credit for, really!

***
My father's birthday is coming up faster than I anticipated. (i.e. I forgot about it until this morning...) I don't know what to get him. Andy joked that I should buy him beer. Ha ha...that triggered a memory: my older brother and I wrapped up his 12-packs for xmas one year. "Do No Open Til' Xmas" or something right on the package. We had Christmas early that year.

So yeah, ha. Ha.

I'm thinking he needs a scarf. I just don't think I'll be able to pull it off in time. I literally fell asleep while knitting it just a few hours ago. I've got weeks to go, it's not until sometime in the second? week of November...must check the dates, several are floating around in my head.

***
Did I ever mention my family is REALLY BAD at remembering dates? I think it extends to the furthest reaches of all cousin-dome, really. The only reason I've ingrained my mom's birthday and mom's day into my head is so the rest of the people sharing her house-space might GET A CLUE when the package arrives and go out and get her flowers, or something.

***
Last one:
I've found that I try to limit my commenting to like one comment per week per blog...Which is super weird...I only just noticed this about myself today as I finally caught up with everyone's posts. I totally limited my comments. Even if I agreed...Mostly, I think, as I'm commenting on things that they wrote about DAYS ago.

I mean, I don't mind, especially if I've actually posted more than once a week, to have people comment on things that happened days ago. But I did get an email not too long ago about my second or third post, like ever? And that threw me into a time warp of sorts. I had to go reread it to see where they were coming from. As this is my main journal now, it's funky to see where my head was back then. It's even more funky to think that if someone reads my blog from start to today they'd get some sort of big picture of who I am right now. I do tend to leave out big swaths of my life, but there is definitely me staring back at me when I go through my old posts.

---
Okay, if I want any sort of Saturday that does NOT include the sound of the dryer in the background, I should go now.

Just Call Me Sucker...

I should not be thinking this way, I really shouldn't. I want to believe that I can create a reality where I'm not jaded, bitter, and use sarcasm to hide my true feelings. Auuuuummmmm.....

But try as I might, I keep hearing my "bad me" no matter how much I try to "let it go" and "move on" and only listen to "good me"--or at least as much "good me" as I can stomach.

I will paraphrase so that I can not be too incriminating...
SIL's email: It would be so nice if your brother and my children had beanies made by you! Cuz nothing could be nicer than having something made by their auntie and his sister protecting them from the arctic LA morning weather (I did mention sarcasm, yes?)

Good me: (to myself) Oh! She wants me to make hats for my uber cute (to me) niece and nephew (cuz everyone's baby nieces and nephews are uber cute to them.) Awww can you see it now? 3 matching hats, complementary color schemes...(Good me thinks in pastels with lollipop trees and chocolate streams sometimes...eep)

Bad me: (who ALWAYS sees the negative side of the picture, always.) Ya, okay, so what about the ones you knit for these people LAST year? Remember what happened at the birthday party? We saw HANDFULS of beanies and not a bloody one was one you knit for them. NEVER AGAIN, remember???

Good me: But she ASKED this time. Remember that bit too??? Only if they ask!!! She's asking!!! Let's go to the yarn store! No harm in looking. Maybe we won't find the perfect shades of pinks for little A, and maybe some grays for baby B, and a big daddy hat with both colors combined!!! (I sometimes make myself sick, yes.)

Bad me: This will all end in tears, I just know it.

And a big WELCOME BACK to the Fischer Price Camera Pictures. I know you missed seeing fuzzy images on this blog, I try to oblige all my readers. I'm starting with Daddy's Hat. That would be the blob in the center, in black. The pinks (and maybe a little red) will be Little A's Hat. The grays (and maybe a little black) will be Baby B's Hat. It's Falk Dalegan SUPERWASH yarn. They are indeed size US 3 needles. I'm playing with a 4x2 ribbing pattern.

Yes, I know, I sign up for Socktoberfest and then cast on for a hat. I'm good that way.

I have cast on for socks...Lemme think now...about 7 times in as many days. It's just not happening. Either the needles are wrong, or the SELF PATTERNING (urg I thought it was self-striping) is wrong or the pattern I want to try (Pomatomas anyone?) is all wrong for me.

I'm trying yet again tonight...Some cotton/wool socks for mom. In Sockotta with "mostly" blue (but lots of primary green, yellow, and egads, even pink...you know, to match her granddaughter's hat, yes, that's it.) Maybe 8th time's the charm, or something.

So...do you think I can get away with a little bit of pink in Daddy's hat??? Hmmm, didn't think so...

Remember When I Used to Have Pictures?

The wireless mouse upstairs needed AAs STAT! So I stuck my camera batteries in there until such a time as more appropriate juice providers can be procured. Besides, it's not like I took a picture of the green socks all finished or anything...cuz they're not. They have some toe-grafting-goodness that I really must get to so I can start wearing them. It's chilly in the evenings, to say the least.

I was going to answer the "sock history" dealie from Lolly's Socktoberfest idea-fest...but I'm not in the right mind-frame to go digging up and dusting off both memories and pictures. It's not like I've got much of a history...as my first socks were finished this year and all.

Speaking of socks, and some of the first that I knit up...I think I need to find someone with more narrow ankles who wears an 8.5 ladies. My "Classy Slip Ups" really are a bit tight under the Dock Martens. This blows, but meh, yet another excuse to knit up the pattern, which I did like. But now the quandary, how do you go about giving away a pair of socks you've worn twice? Kinda sticky situation there. I'll have to mull it over more. I KNOW they are too big for my mom. I suppose I could GAK, take the toe apart and shorten them...but I'd rather not.

Any suggestions? I'll take any suggestions on stretching them out that have worked for others as well. They were knit on 68 stitches and I've come to realize 72 is my magic number...sucks to be me, I know. Such is life.

Workin' It Nun-Style

It was recently brought to my attention...by my "inner Sybil" more than anyone, that I have hit the nail right on the head if I wanna be chillin' it Nun-Style with the threads, if you know what I'm sayin'.

I dress like a nun.

I really do. By choice, this time, it would seem.

Sad, really, but so very glaringly true as I sit here and watch the fashion show that goes on every morning in this place. If they don't hire me? It'll be cuz of my wardrobe, I swear. I mean, what kind of hip biotech company is gonna want a nun at the front desk?

Before? When I had hair long enough to wear in a bun? Yup, school marm. I just needed the really itty-bitty metal framed glasses like the teacher on Little House on the prairie and I'd so bust out with the gingham. With the shorter 'do I tend to clasp half of it back in a barrett...so it's still pulled back, only now it almost looks like I'm, yes, wearing a habit.

Yep, that's what greeted me in the bathroom just now; so I have literally just let down my hair. The conservative black sweater and scarf? The drab dark pants and plain white blouse? The Venetian glass that looks like a crucifix? "Hi Sr. Mary, how's it kickin'?"

I just don't think I can pull off the bright orange scarves I see cruising by, or the OH MY GOD THEY ARE POINTING AND HURTY LOOKING high-heeled shoes the other admins are clunking around in. Or even the cute little crochet-looking/open-lacework knitted-looking little cardigans some of the scientists sport. It's just all so "fashionable" and "in." As it's women's fashion in particular, it's probably just "in" for the season as well. Momma didn't raise a fashion-conscious daughter, uh uh. We live in "durable" land here. How many years will this work? Not how many weeks.

How did I make it through 18 years of LA-livin'? Very simple really. My mom, being the "po' messican cleaning lady" at the ritzy high school was yearly given BAGS AND BAGS of cast-offs by the secretaries, teachers, nuns, and even students. Really. 99% of my wardrobe came out of those bags. I sometimes wish I had been a more out-going popular kid, I could have started the "retro" movement decades before it happened. DECADES. There were complete outfits that could have brought back the 60s, 70s and sometimes, even touching on only a few YEARS behind the current style. My mom would pin and hem and down-size the most hideous and fabulous things out of those bags. If it fit, she didn't care WHAT shade of avocado green it was, it fit!

I cared. Maybe just a little. Maybe just enough to always dive deep in those bags and only choose the really dark and plain colors. That must have stuck with me more deeply than I cared to admit. Now that there's no "bag" to dig things out of I try to find the "timeless" outfits I can get away with wearing for years and years...so not the fashion queen.

I really should have known I did the nun thing for forever though. As I sat here and began this entry I remembered a story. It's not a happy story. I'm trying to make sure I remember and tell it just the way it happened. This would classify as a "horror of horrors" moment:

I was in high school by then, the same one where my mom cleaned the toilets for a living. Had I a tatoo that read, "Yes, I am the janitor's daughter," I would never have had to open my mouth or nod that first year. Ah that first year...so I was in the school choir. On the day in question we were singing at a mass/tea. We had to appear in black skirts and white blouses for the horrific event of my recalling. I had plenty of white blouses. A mountain of them, I had about 5 or 6 of the same style even, but various sizes. (Some of you know where this is going already, don't you?)

Right. So after the performance we were asked to go into the dining room and mingle with the guests (we were trying to get some donations or something, I've blocked that part out). One of the nuns comes up to a group of us, a group I'd just really started relaxing around, maybe even considering myself, oh I dunno, LIKE them. Sr. Celine finishes telling us how wonderful we were when it happened...One of the girls raised her hand and whispered behind it to one of the other girls, there was a deft but unmistakable pointing to the Sr., and then to me...and giggling. Oh how I hated the giggling. I looked over to Sr. Celine and wished I could disappear. She was oblivious and had started to turn away, but (and of course it was me) she had been patting my arm, near the wrist, and it was there that I saw the matching edging. I looked up the arm at the blouse itself, we were wearing THE SAME BLOUSE. In fact, ha ha, ha ha, we can all laugh about it now, yes? 18 years on? Because not only was I wearing the cast-off of one particular nun, OH, NO, no no no no. My eyes had jumped to all of the nuns scattered around the room in a very "Carrie" moment, Under blazers, or staring right back at me from each and every one of those nice little nuns...the same blouse. I was wearing part of their old "dress" uniform (they didn't wear the penguin suits, but they still wore a kind of uniform).

The rest is kinda fuzzy.

I did not burst into tears. I did not break into a run. This much my mother can attest to...I do know I did turn very very very red and maybe had a hard time breathing. I know that the the first chance I got I snuck into the big school kitchen and sank down on my favorite chair and imagined all the different ways I could get out of returning to the school, ever.

Right. That was not going to happen. What did happen? Hmmm, obviously not traumatic enough for me to remember. Or maybe so bad I don't want to remember? 18 years is an awfully long time. I know one girl stopped speaking to me. She had this knack of pretending I didn't exist, you know, if someone was standing behind me she'd talk to them "through" me? What fun.

I also know my mom and I went shopping for a white shirt of my own.

----

Hmmm, I'm wondering if I go for the dark unassuming outfits now cuz I don't ever want to be pointed-out like that again? Doubtful. I didn't stop dipping into those bags until I pretty much left LA. And boy did I go hog wild and pull out some bright red blazers and OH-HOW-VIVID "hawaiian-esque" blouses. I found it much easier to go "goofy" with the clothes than to hide under a rock. These were free, afterall.

Ah, there it is. I can't afford to be goofy with the fashion. So I guess I'll keep dressing like a nun until my pocket-book runneth over, or something. I'll try to refrain from quoting too much scripture in anyone's direction.

Peace out!

Socks Anyone?

Yeah, yeah, you knew I'd sign up, didn't you?

I'll be working my hardest to finished socks I've been bad at finishing...these fine fellows:
Started back in, um, May wasn't it? Yup, the one on the right is the same one the Yarn harlot herself held while still in progress. Yes, I've hidden the un-woven ends. Yes, I will be washing it :). I'm down to only a few rows before decreasing for the toes on it's partner. I'm having a hard time not starting a new sock. Would that be SSS trying to catch hold? The fight goes on.

The black and grey booties have become the "computer waiting socks," so I'm in no rush for their end. Besides, now that the weather is turning, there's no need for ankle-lengths, now is there?

After these I'm starting another pair for my mom. Another cotton combo. She seems to like those. With my super jet-fighter speed at knitting, ha ha, I think if I'm planning any xmas knitting I should start those ASAP.

She's Okay

A quick update as I'm supposed to be cleaning and baby-proofing. We have visitors of the 15-month old & 2x4 legged variety coming today/tonight/soon.

First, and most important, I found out about the Irish Rose. She's in good hands. She has not been abandoned and will, hopefully, one day find herself in the water again. My friend Kiko filled me in. No rumors, straight from the source.

Oh, and me? My neck is sore, but not trying to kill me anymore. I did catch the cold that's going around work. You just KNOW that once one person gets sick in a company that has "blast doors" and central air, that everyone else is gonna get it too. Just a matter of time. It was fun answering the phones yesterday with that "sick" voice people have, trying to pronounce the words as your nose decides at JUST THAT MOMENT to become so stuffy that you can't pronounce anything correctly. Of course I have froggy living in my throat right now, but that too shall pass.

I did lose all sense of taste and smell though. Let me tell ya that was a ball of no fun. I can just barely taste my tea this morning, so that's getting better as well.

Okay, back to our regularly scheduled baby-proofing.
Happy Saturday!

Poise, Grace, and Advil

Maybe I should rename this blog Damage-Girl! It's definitely a nickname I cannot seem to shake.

So this week's adventure involves much poise and standing up straight. Maybe I'm in training to become a super-model (stop laughing). Or maybe if I refrain from moving my neck AT ALL it will STOP HURTING. I don't remember doing anything strange that would tweak it so. Notice I say "remember." I could have chosen to use the word "imagine," but we all know I have too twisted an imagination for that to be at all useful as well as G-Rated for our reading audience.

Ahem, moving on.

As I got up, BEFORE DAWN to go do my morning stretches (you would too if you had my hip) and the cagillion "scrunches" to try (in vain) to control that tummy area, I felt more than heard this little "thing" go off on my right shoulder, and now the right side of my neck and accompanying earlobe are trying to kill me. Or at least drive me stupid with pain.

I stole the Advil liquid-gels (only the smaller bottle Andy, the Costco-sized bottle has been moved to your bookshelf), and have been very good about medicating myself every 4 hours on the 4 hours... that doesn't quite sound right, but as I've still got another hour and 14 minutes until my next set of pills, I could care less about grammar at this point.

I thought I was going to DIE when I had to stick the telephone receiver "under my chin," bend over, AND move my arm in just the right fashion to pull some papers out of an envelope to read off the names over the phone. I saw stars, my eyes actually crossed, oh god, oh god, let me die, it hurt so much.

Urgh, I need to go practice looking down my nose at the computer screen so I don't keep hurting myself. I've just about perfected "drop-shoulder-dip" turn. Yes, poise and grace, though touch-typing, a swivel chair, and NOT bloody dropping my pen (again!) under the desk also help out loads.

I know I don't look anything like her (I hope), but you know what if feels like? Or maybe I just imagine myself as? That really scary Grace Jones video from the 80s, remember? She's sporting her freaky crew-cut and her head is rotating very oddly and at one point her mouth opens up extra wide... remember what I said about my imagination?

Must. Go. Find. Scary Grace Jones. Video.

It's About Time!

So a miiiiiiillion years ago, Crafty Modster put out the word that she was getting rid of some stuff from her sewing area. If anyone wanted it, give a holler. She had trim/bias tape/edging on show and I wanted it:



To receive it I had to say yes to everything:



That was hard, eh?

Like I said, that was a miiiiiillion years ago and I'm so sorry I'm just getting around to posting and thanking in a blog-ficial capacity. Cuz you know, it doesn't really happen unless you blog about it :).

Now I have absolutely NO excuse not to rehem a pair of work pants that I thought I'd gotten out of the petite (hi I'm short AND fat big boned) section of Macy's when in reality I seemed to have gotten it out of the "OH BOY WE GOOFED ON THE LENGTH" section of rejects. Of course I didn't realize this until I wore them to work for a while and wondered why they looked funny in the front when I wore them at "off-waist" level (the crotch drags like all get-out) and came up just shy of my ankles when I wore them at "gramma" waist level. Stylin', I know.

Some day I will wear clothes that actually fit right. It's a goal I have. I think I might be 50, but dang it! I mean to have me a regular wardrobe by then...even if I'm a bag lady, I will dress in style! I mean, well, if all the pan handlers I see 'round these parts can drive nicer cars, wear more expensive sneakers, and don waaaay more expensive coats than I own, then I too can pull of tailored suits while pushing my stolen grocery cart! Or something.

Of course if it took me this long to post the edging pictures...well, let's just say that my most immediate goal is to take some pictures of the leaves changing colors. Seattle has like, seasons! Well sort of. Autumn is currently being usurped by a mini um, what's the PC term? "Native American Summer?" Right.

g'night Gracie.

Summing Up My Weekend:

This bit of conversation should explain it all:

Andy: You know, in all the years I've hung out with Tim, I don't think I've ever seen him sick.

Me: That's funny, I have, remember, when we all lived together? He was all "stuffy sick." But he doesn't have the habit of going room to room and coughing and sneezing and just feeling miserable. He stays in his room, away from healthy people, so that they don't get sick...

(Of course I added the coughing and sneezing sound-effects for emphasis.)

I'm not sick yet, but it is only Monday :).

Cultural Literacy and Keeping it Real

I'm not all that sure why "Keeping it Real" is stuck in my head. Not as a song or anything, just the phrase. As I'm a bit culturally illiterate about the latest "hip hopping" happening, um jive? I really don't know why it's in my head in the first place...la la la...ignoring it.

But the first bit? Yeah, so a not-so-recent lunch conversation popped up when everyone in the room had finally seen "Pirates of the Caribbean-Dead Man's Curse" (or as I started calling it, "Dude! It's my dad!") that I've been meaning to share...but yeah, where have I been?

Moving on:
One person in particular simply HATED it. Every single minute was torture as she understood little to none of it. The line that made everyone look at each other and wonder if she really had been transported here from Mars was, "I mean, who was Davy Jones? And what locker? That was a chest! They didn't explain anything!"

Yep, that's where that there "Cultural Literacy" comes into play. Someone else asked if she'd ever watched the old Warner Bros. cartoons, you know with Bugs and Elmer and such...that would be a no. They were no longer playing them on regular ol' TV when she was growing up...eep.

Right. Well, I don't know about you, but if it hadn't been for those intriguing cartoons from the 40s, 50s and 60s (most of which I didn't get until I was WAAAAY older--esp. the placards that various toons would hold up showing a screw + ball? Yeah, anyway) I think I probably would have been deep in the dark cave of misunderstanding myself. I grew up in a Mexican household. I had no idea music in ENGLISH existed until pretty late in the game. Didn't everyone answer the phone "Yell-ooo?" Didn't everyone put their daughters' hair in braids and learn to dance around in big skirts and clunky shoes (okay, maybe that was just my kindergarten), didn't everyone know English as their second language?

How weird is it gonna be for the future generations...and sometimes I do have to consider someone a mere 4 years younger than me in the "next" generation...not to have those, um, what would you call them? Pointers? Clues? Connections? That bind us all as goofy Americans.

So what makes me laugh out loud now is the fact that those old cartoons are being beamed all over the planet now...so if you do not have a satellite dish in your backyard, you will never be exposed to classic Marvin the Martian and Bugs Bunny hijinks...but someone across the planet from you might be. Does that mean they will be more Culturally Literate in American ideology than, um, us?

How scary is that?

Sea Pup!

E.T.A.: NO, he's not hurt or dead or anything, honest! He was totally sunbathing and having a roll-around when this picture was taken. We have others, I just thought this one was cute! No Sea Pups were hurt during the walk, honest! Around the other side of the beach you can hear where the CROWD of lions were howling it up. He probably just wanted some peace and quiet.

This is the pic that wouldn't load last time.

Down at the South beach end of Discovery Park we came upon this little guy. No we weren't the first to discover him by a long shot. As we approached a PACKED area we saw that there was this park ranger all set up with a tripod and what I thought was some measuring tool or camera or something...then we got closer, at it was a telescope. How odd, looking out at the ocean? Spying on ships? But it's not pointed to sea....it was pointing at the little guy on the beach.

The ranger was walking a perimeter around the little guy to make sure no one got too close. If you wanted a closer look, ta da, telescope. Sweet huh? Yeah I wanted to take him home too, but where would I keep him?

It was really funny to see all these people around us snapping pictures with their cell phones. I am so gonna be the little old lady who still has a "real" film camera that, my god gramma, it only takes pictures? It's not an mp3/phone/email/ereader/star trek data plaque? What good is it?

Yep, and I'll probably have funky Noro afghans in every room, doilies covering all my furniture, and wear bunny slippers out to the corner store when I run out of cat food, or whatever. (This would entail my actually procuring a cat or 7 first...)

Random Friday: Discovery Park

Man, I hate "errors during upload," especially when I'm trying to do stuff "under the table" at work and such...sheesh!

Anyhow, moving on, one picture did upload so I'll share:
This is the view rewarded to you if you make it past the sewage smell on the "loop trail" at Discovery park. Cool huh? I cut some of the picture down as there were random people sitting on rocks and on the trail. Oh yeah, the wonders of Photoshop...some of you with the nicer monitors and the telling eye will be able to tell that there is a "ghost" on the path. There was a jogger/walker lady SMACK in the middle of the picture...so I um, edited her out. When I was doing it I got this erie "science fiction/double feature" feeling, like I might be editing her out of the world or something (this is what living on little-to-no sleep will do for you, people!)

My talents know no bounds some days. Yes, I'm so humble to boot, too!

I wish I knew what was up with the other picture I have to post though.

Where was I? Ah yes, scattered. I mean, the lighthouse!

Sitting at the edge of the water there, I felt the same wonder and awe that I've always had with the whole water/ocean thing. Less with rivers and such, unless, say they're as big as the Sacramento River. Or as wild as the American River can be. Lake Tahoe was rather big, and if you squinted and blotted out the other end sometimes you could convince yourself it was the seashore. Okay, sometime I could. I'd never lived so very far from the ocean as I did in Tahoe. I'd never lived so very close to the ocean (on land) as I did in Hawai'i. (Cuz on the boat? yeah, you're living ON the water...inches away from the water, now that's close.)

The best advice I ever got about the ocean was to never underestimate her. Oceans can't be "it's." There is too much life and character to them to relegate them to non-beings.

Yeah, I remember this really calm, wonderful sail to Monterey from Santa Cruz with a return trip the next day...Oh boy, the next day? 15-20 foot seas in the Monterey BAY. What had been a 5 hour trip there turned into a 15 hour trip BACK. The food poisoning or whatnot I picked up from the breakfast out did not help one eensie bit. (I started getting sick almost exactly 6 hours after I'd eaten, and WAY before the storm hit so if I was seasick? It was 5,000 times worse with my upset stomach, you know?)

Out at the lighthouse I also got to watch all the sailboats out for the day. Andy took a few pictures of them as well, but that really made me feel bittersweet. I'm still a little sensitive about the whole boat thing. Oh, and the "Irish Rose"? She was SOLD. Now I just have to get my nerve up to ask the right people as to whom. I feel like I'm in high school...or junior high more like. I could cut to the chase and contact my X (shivers up my arms), or I could ask a friend of a friend of a friend...which is what my 12 year old self is saying is the absolute best thing to do! (Urgh, my head hurts thinking about it all.)

But it's FRIDAY...and I have the "It's aloha Fri-day, no work til' Mon-day" tune in my head and 4:45 is not coming soon enough for me today...I have "Lost" and some "Stargate SG-something", and a number of knitting projects waiting for me at home...(eep! sock! I'm down a needle! I had it last night...but...it's not here now...the day really can't end soon enough now...)

Where do I begin?

The title might mean a long post, which I will try to avoid...but there's just so much...

Let's start with the fact that I love Andy's camera. I must find a way to steal...I mean BORROW it more often. At least until I find a remedy to my lack of digital means of photography.

Okay, since I got, um ahem, several comments from Aloha & Oreos Jill, let's go there next.
These (yes, I went for "more than one" since you last saw it), are the wooden sock suitcases that I first saw on the Yarn Harlot's page (scroll down a bit).
I dutifully emailed the address she'd first posted but, alas and alack, the email bounced! So I searched high and low and up and around until I tracked down (scroll WAAAAAY down) the latest and most viable email to date: jhd [at] atlanticbb [dot] net (change the words in the brackets to their appropriate symbols please).
So her name is Joan Debolt. She's in Pennsylvania. And for $20 plus shipping, you too can have a wooden sock suitcase. Her hubby cuts them to the length you need. As you can see, I have an 8" and a 7" one, as my 6" needles are really almost 7, and my 7" ones are happy in the 8" tube. Go figure.

Only one cap of the tube comes off. That's why I have the hair tie on the "non-removable" end. Cuz you know I'm the type to try until I wrench my hand...or damage myself in some other silly, but permanent, way. Prevention is the something or other...right?

The wood is not finished. I took a super fine bit of sand paper to one of them, there was a "scratchy" spot. I'm also thinking of coating them with Tung Oil, at least the outside bit, to keep the wood looking nice and prevent any sticky fingerprints, mine or others :).

You can also see that I've progressed on the greenie sock a bit more than the second bootie, eh? I've realized I really really really like US1s over US0s. The sock seems to grow so much faster, and as I stated before, the yarn is much softer. I so took a break. Now that I'm down to toe decreases in the green sock I've gone back to the bootie...I couldn't stand the guilty feeling I got every morning that I packed my bag for work. Poor bootie...so I'm working away on the gusset decreases, today at any rate. Because I'm trying really really hard not to look at this:
In fact I have to wrap the yarn back up because I just want to touch and touch and make a skein and maybe get some needles...Vesper Sock Yarn! Again, from JILL!!! It's my prize for the 10-15-20? week-long Swatch Contest she held. I think I was last place. I never expected to get anything and it's just so awesome! The colors are 10x brighter than what you see above. I'm thinking this will be perfect "dead of Seattle winter" knitting. When the gloom and grey get to me, I'll have CANTALOUPE in bright and soft and squishy colors to make it all seem better.

And see, Jill? I still have the box of Meles there. Though, um, I'm not quite sure how many are left. The package arrived on an UNUSUALLY warm day for these parts...maybe in the high 80s? The metal mailbox may have been a tad bit warmer...right. So the packaged smelled yummy(!) as there was mele soup inside that little box. Happily it was all contained. But when the temperature came down, it um, became, um, one big mele. So I've been chipping away at it little by little, always so very happy when I get a piece of macadamia nut...man I miss Hawai'i like you don't understand in those seconds. You know, before I remember why I needed to leave so very badly.

So much more to share, but I'm stopping here as I need to run those errands I avoided yesterday. Besides, Andy chopped all my hair off and I need to see what it looks like after a good shampooing. No, he's not a hairstylist, he's a computer programmer. Yes, I trusted him to cut my hair. I wanted a trim as I've not had one in about a year. He, um, yeah trimmed it. I was thinking 2-3 inches. As he said, "I thought it was going to be 3 inches, but that's the length your hair wanted to be." So it's just a tad below my shoulder now...about 6 inches worth of hair on the floor of the bathroom. What's funny here is that it really is no biggie. I got over that "long hair" trauma when a college housemate cut my 20" of tresses. I don't think I've had my hair that long since. I think it's that "long hair is for little girls" thing that my family has. They were all a bit shocked and amazed when I did it.

Aack, diarrhea of the fingers...I'm gone. Happy Sunday!

Sleeping In...

What a treat!

Of course I'm behind on the laundry and everything I wanted to do today...but most of it has to be called on account of, yes, RAIN. What? Here in Seattle? Rain? No. Way.

Instead of running around town I will listen to the gods and their declared "crawl back into bed" day. Yet another reason it's nice to be selfish and awful and not have kids. Aaahhhh. Besides, I woke up with a nasty headache. Not a migraine, just my sinuses wishing me a happy rest-filled weekend! Gotta love them.

I owe postings and pictures and I was gonna try to deal with that today, but Sudafed and my pillow keep calling me. So I'm off to take a happy little red pill or two, and crawl away until the pounding behind my right eyeball settles down.

Better living through chemistry.

Short Weeks Throw Me Off...

Wading through heavy traffic does not help the situation.

School started.
Did you notice?
I did. My commute just lengthened by 10 minutes. Each way. No, I'm not dropping off any Tactless-minis on the way to and from my drudgery. I simply get to endure that many more people on the road at the same time I am. Honestly, if they stagger "start" times for jobs so as not to have 10 million people on the road at the same time, why don't they take schools into the same kind of consideration? What good is it to start work at 9 or 10 AM (I wish) if these people are out on the road at 7AM, along with us working stiffs, so as to get junior to class on time? Someone forgot to take their logic pill that morning.


Either I'm running a slight fever or the drive home put too much sun on my face...either way I need to go have a lie down.

Peace out!

Your Mom Is So Cool!

Generally I have to scramble and scrape for blogging material.
Not as such today. I think I have to start with just now and work my way backwards...


Well, actually a few days ago:Can you all read this?
I got it on about Wednesday when I took a side trip home from work to check out the "local" bookstore (it's in a different city and about 3.7 miles from my house). Dare I plan to attend?

We-e-e-elll, I penciled it in. Couldn't hurt. You never know with a 3-day weekend.

Then after the migraine recovery and the dead-tired feeling and the laundry and the "let's go to Discovery Park," and the "let's walk (hike) the 3 mile loop trail" (my idea, I blame only myself), and the "man I'm hungry let's go get a burger!" I wasn't all that sure if it was gonna happen.

And yet, somehow, Andy got me home by 4:50 PM.

I'm starting to hit the "rum-dummy" stage (it's been a LOOOOOONNNNGG day), so I'll type faster...

I ran in, packed my copy of Knitting Rules! (which I got at a discount from Norma's Yard Sale), my green sock, and a couple bucks for a mocha, cuz man, I was hurtin' for a nap and caffeine is my friend. I arrived in time to order the mocha and hear them announce the "5 minute warning."
I borrowed Andy's camera. This is the ultra zoom mode as I was sitting (mocha in hand--thank you Egyptians and my Aztec ancestors for giving us the ingredients for such a lovely beverage) in the very last row in the very last available chair.

It's not so much a "reading" as a talk, which was really cool. Having worked in bookstores in the past I've gotten a chance to hear a bunch of authors read from their work. Yeah, well, they are called AUTHORS and not READERS for a reason. Stephanie basically gave a talk focusing on or around her and her writing. Most of her material did come from the latest book and it's such a trip and a treat to hear it straight from her, this is not always the case, mind. Now it's really neat to put a "voice" to the words I read.

Oh, and be able to knit while doing so, and it NOT be considered rude? That was just beautiful.

You know what I wish I could do? I really wish I could tell her kids how cool their mom is. This of course means JACK coming from me, as I am not exactly the epitome of cool. Anyway.

But look! Star-struck me says, "SHE HELD MY SOCK!
And I somehow remembered the English language when I told her I finally found the wooden sock suitcase I'd been searching for! (Another topic I should blog about, but time/energy...you know how it goes, soon. If you've been looking for it and/or Joan's new email address, and just can't wait? Here: jhd [at] atlanticbb [dot] net--replacing the symbols for the words in the brackets).

I don't know what else I babbled...Cool? No, it's definitely not MY picture by that definition. Maybe I should look under "dork." Somehow I was able to ask for this:
See, during the question and answer section of the program, someone asked about what to do with snarky comments from people who say that it's rude that we all knit AND do things like have conversations and watch the sights and all.

Her advice was simple, we have to communicate the fact that we ARE listening/looking. We're actually multi-tasking and really we should treat the yarn as "enhancing" the experience. OR, she said, she could write this woman a note.

I decided to go for the note.

I am in desperate need of unconsciousness now, as the adrenaline has just about finished dissipating. What a trip today has been! Woot! (I think when they put super-mega-dork in Webster's? Yeah, my picture, definitely.)

Sleep for Healing

Or maybe I should call it "Crashing?"

I'm not sick, yet.
I think my body is shutting down to make sure I don't break down any more than I have already. Or that's my pop psycho answer to my need to collapse at the end of the workday yesterday AND today.
Although yesterday?
MIGRAINE.
I had no choice. I miscalculated. It'd been so long since I had a real full-on "M-word" that I didn't catch it before the sparkley lights invaded. Fellow sufferers will be nodding their heads at this point. I took my 800 mg Motrin anyway. I think it may have kept my head from splitting at all it's old concussed seams, but only just barely.

Today? I just crashed. Again, probably because I was running on adrenaline and caffeine. My body HURT this morning from the unrealized "clenching" it was doing last night. I really should have taken a second Motrin dose, but I was too busy being semi-conscious and denying the fact that I was going to sleep WITH the MIGRAINE still raging. Yes, I know, why didn't I just slit my wrists while I was at it. I was just so tired. I didn't want to ride out the pain anymore. (For those of you wondering? I'm the kind that has to stay awake until the pain subsides or I go all hardcore "fetal position" with tensed muscles, ALL OF THEM, throughout the night. This didn't hurt so much when I was twelve, but at 32 going on 90? O-U-C-H!)

Suffice to say? No knitting. No finished bootie. No August Project Spectrum.

Oh well. I'ma gonna use September to "finish up," yey for "make-up" days :).

Happy 3-day weekend! I'm not sure I'm doing anything, but I'm all full of wishful thinking!