Checking In to Hermitlandia

It's started again.

 

You know, I hope, that feeling of just wanting to hang out by myself and do nothing/read/maybe, gasp, knit?  The prevalent words being, by, my, and self?

 

A sure-fire way of getting Andy to laugh at me is to bust out, "All By Myself" by Eric Carmen in my best Eric CARTMAN voice whenever he's leaving me home alone for the evening.  Not that I really want to go out carousing with the guys at 9 PM on a weeknight, but you know, just to remind someone I'm there to hang out with too!  Just not as cool, and maybe not enough testosterone, nor do I drink as much as everyone else.  Right, that would be why he goes out.

 

Anyhow, I've really just wanted to chill by myself both at work and at home.  You know, eat lunch at my desk so I don't have to talk to anyone, actually say no to Andy when he asks if I want to go out and hang with people. 

 

I usually get this way in the middle of winter, though.  Maybe I'm having "climate changes" in my head to match what all is going on in the world?  I'm not what you'd call a big people person, but I'm not a hermit by any means.  I kinda need to talk to people to stay on the sane side of the spectrum.  Yet, if I talk to too many my brain feels too full and I want to go hide.

 

I think that's what's happening right now.  And maybe I'm not too far off the calendar either, if I consider the fact that in mid-July, if I was still doing the teaching thing, I'd have very little contact with anyone of any age in the middle of summer!  I'm justifying my feelings right now, I guess.

 

But see, even when I'd rather be all alone, I still post to keep my peeps in touch, homey, err, sorry, my inner gangsta' possessed my fingers just then.  Okay, going to go find a quiet place to take a break now.

 

Don't Say I Didn't Warn You

IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM IS THIS IS SAFE FOR WORK!
Read a Book
DO NOT PLAY THIS AT WORK! THERE ARE (as my students in Hilo would say)
PLENTY SWEAR WORDS!
And maybe really awful animated girls dancing in ways your bosses would not appreciate.

I actually first ran across this "song" while looking for that song Andy has been playing over and over and over and over...Then it was "dugg" the other day and well, I could not get it out of my head.

It's one of those times where I have to shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all, and then, having had 160 bright and shining "in the throws of puberty" faces in my classes...I shake my head even more and say, "Yeah boy!"

If all of my students had been told straight out by someone that they admired to read, drink water, take care of their kids, wear deodorant :), and BUY LAND, my job would have been done, or at least 1,000 times easier.

I've gone off about role models in the past...and am actually too lazy to link to it...but really, can't those wrestlers/rappers/sports people/movie stars/et al just stop and look at their fan base and drop a couple pearls of wisdom for their teaming masses? Or maybe just get caught by the paparazzi reading Dante, Cervantes, Bronte? Hell, I'll take Robert Ludlum even. "Not the sports page, not a magazine..."

Sigh...every day I get one step closer to being a full blown fuddy duddy adult, huh? eep.

It Could Be Worse...

The pageantry, the spectacle, the noise, et. al., went on until after 1 AM. (Andy and Lev took some great fotos of the event and I will share them with you as soon as I can...)

I need to be at work right now...but am waiting for the signal from my brain saying it's safe for me to handle a vehicle this morning.

I didn't sleep well, and I need to be at work now...did I mention this already?

But it could be worse. I could be the candidate that agreed to come in and interview this morning...

Expiration Date-Nazi

Who knew I was so anal?

 

Wait!  Don't answer that!  RHETORICAL QUESTION, peoples.

 

So one of my coworkers needed some sugar, NOW, and found an old box of those 1000% sugar meringue-thingies in the little kitchen.  It was in the cabinet for food that's pretty much up for grabs.  She offered some to me but the cookies LOOKED stale so I read the "Best Before" date.  October, 2006. 

 

Her response?  "Twinkies have a 7 year lifespan."

 

Right.  Well.  When you gotta have it, you gotta have it, I guess.

 

Did I mention I don't eat Twinkies either?

I Love the Internet

How did we get by before having access to all this information at our fingertips?

I'm so glad I grew up in this age...although I'll bet it's what would have steered me to be a reference Librarian in days of old. Or Maybe I'd have thrown my back out when last I moved, as I'd have to drag a library with me instead of my mini mac...(it sounds so much less McDonald-zy that way).

Ladies and Gents, the heretofore unnamed "etude" that Andy has been practicing vigilantly every day now is:

Beethoven - Ode An Die Freude / Ode to Joy #1

Let me just say that the fellow singing? He doesn't sound all that happy to me...kinda angry actually...but then, it is German. It's bound to sound at least a little odd to me.

Besides, to me, Hawaiian music? It all sounds really melancholy. Beautiful, but very melancholy. I mean, they could be singing about how happy they are to be hanging out at the beach with their family and friends and the beautiful flowers (cuz there's always something about beautiful flowers in those tunes), and to me it sounds as if they are lamenting something big.

Yeah I know, I'm weird that way.

daaaa da daaa da daaa daaaa daaa daa...

So Andy's taking a beginning acoustic guitar class at the not so local community college and they have assigned them this song...an "etude" that I know I know! He does not do the "classical"music scene and so seemed almost astounded when I started "da da-ing" to it, and then beyond the one page he was given and into the next stage of the song...but for the life of me I can not remember what it is called.

Da da dit do dum da da dum da
Da da da daaa da dum de doo....

It is going to bug me to no end until I dig out my CD's and try to figure it out. I think it's Bach or Beethoven...I can hear drums and cannons in my head...But it's usually strings that play it. So very frustrating. Especially as they've used it so often in commercials and movie previews...urgh...oh! Movie previews!

I think I know where I'm navigating to next...much easier than trying to figure out which box my CD's have gone to.

Happy weekend before the explosions!

Days Sneak Up on You If You're Not Careful

How did it get to be Thursday already?

I mean, I've still got last week's paycheck in my bag...my laundry has yet to be put away...the one-box-a-day of unpacking has come to a standstill...I have yet to go grocery shopping for the week!

 

Wasn't I just wondering what I could fake for lunch for Monday?  And now we're almost halfway done with Thursday?

 

It boggles the mind.

 

On the positive side of the spectrum, the weekend is only hours away...well, about 30 hours away, but that's nothin' compared to it being a whole week away, right?

Also, HELLO, I have a whole paycheck in my bag!  I must be doing better if I'm not living paycheck-to-paycheck anymore/just yet/for now.  Come ask me how I feel after I fork over the money for the gum surgery 3 weeks or so from now...or for the crown a month after that???  Eeep.  I will never look at even shoddy dental coverage offers with anything but the respect they deserve.

 

A coworker of mine is also having vast amounts of work done on her teeth.  The comment she made that has stayed with me as I think about the upcoming bills is: I don't know how my parents prioritized all this with FIVE KIDS! 

 

Cuz we are both running into the same nice big realization...we are single with no dependants (not counting the friends I've adopted as family) and yet the idea of spending gobs of money on ourselves is just, eep!  What do you cut to keep making things go?  And if you did have to do it for 5 other people on the same salary?!?  INSANE!

 

Now of course for the reality...our dollars are not buying the same amount that our parents' dollars were just 20 years ago.  That is becoming so painfully obvious with every stop at the gas pump and every quarter gallon of milk I buy. (Which is STILL more $$ than my mom spent on gallons for us.)  The canary in the mine shaft for me was always milk and bread prices.  That little bird has been dead for years now.  I used to be a vegetarian in college cuz I just couldn't afford to buy meat.  Tofu they sold by the ton for pennies...if it came down to that again, I'm not all that sure if I could even afford tofu.

 

There was a blip I heard on NPR about some Senator/Governor/person in politics going on the "Food Stamp Diet" to prove a point or 20.  It used to be that food stamps guaranteed you the minimum daily allowances as placed forth by the government.  So you had that pyramid we all grew up with covered.  (Which, I remember being told, is what a pregnant woman should be eating to ensure the health of her fetus and all that jazz.)  Well, such is not the case anymore, apparently.  To cut back, the gov'ment's been subbing carbs for veggies.  This is appalling.  Why on earth would the government want to keep a section of their people hungry and dumb?  Look, if you aren't eating right, you're not thinking right.  Send a hungry kid to school and they are not going to learn jack, trust an ex-teacher on that one.

 

I think I'm thinking too much.  And Andy thinks I should pay attention to politics and what's going on in the world?  I'd go bonkers.  My blood pressure is happy where it is at this point, thankyouverymuch.

 

Now, what next to tackle on that never-ending to-do list?

Quantity vs Quality

Reader, emailingisaformoflurking*, writes:
"Are you cheating on blogger? Why haven't you been posting?"

It's called, "Just shy of being over my head at work."

Right now, this is not quite a bad thing. I'm enjoying the challenge. I am learning to say, "NO." I am learning to successfully NOT say, "Why don't you go and do it your own damned self." But only rarely find the need to even think it. That's when I just smile that half-smile and nod as I jot your task on my "things to do" list. No, it will not be the next thing I do. I may not even get to it until tomorrow. I am very much still a 7th grader at times. I wouldn't mind doing everything for everyone if it wasn't for the one person in the office that does it all for herself. What this tells me is that either she doesn't have enough work, or (more likely) the others? They could also maybe do it all themselves, but choose, instead, to send it my way.

The other day some of my logic slipped out before I curtailed it, so I'll share it with the world now. Andy boiled it down to my not minding/hating/wanting to kill "stupid" people. They're okay in my book. (Really it's more like "people who make stupid mistakes.") It's the competent ones that are assholes that I have a problem with.

I mean:

• If you're speeding in a residential area cuz you didn't realize the arterial speed had changed from 40 to 25 or something, that's one thing. If you are speeding cuz you can? Screw you.
• Oops, you got on the freeway using the carpool lane cuz you've only lived here a few days? That's fine. You use the lane because you're so special, and besides, you think your penis is big enough to be considered a second passenger? Kill you.
• You cut in front of me at the grocery store because you didn't see that the line split to make room for people to pass by? No problem, bonus if you look all "deer in the headlights" and apologize. However, if you feel like it's my tough luck for not pushing grandma out of the way so I could cross the "passage" aisle and now I'm stuck behind you? Don't be surprised when my grocery cart wheels have savaged your ankles.

Better picture of it all, nes pa?

With that in mind, is it any wonder just how I prioritize stuff at work?

Speaking of which...

Happy Tuesday.

I promise, more than once a week postings from now on. I'm not dead in a ditch. Just buried under paper.

*No, not their real name/persona/email.
Even I am not sooooo mean as to call someone out when they are so shy they email instead of commenting directly on my blog.

Choosing Your Music Carefully

Some advice that I really should remember to follow in the future:

The next time you are on the fine line between depression and just plain exhausted uncertainty, feeling like the world is crumbling all around you, or just not quite right in the head due to life, hormones, the alignment of the planets, etc., DO NOT LISTEN TO PETER GABRIEL.

I don't care if the album is called "UP." This is not short for "up-beat." This is not how you will feel as you sit in traffic wanting to pull your hair out as you wait for the traffic, lights or weave out of an almost accident. You will scream at the top of your lungs, and really, even in Seattle where everyone is busy talking on their cell phones as they drive? They'll be able to tell that you, actually, are not on the phone. They will turn and look at you at the stop light; there will be fear in their eyes. You will scare people. You will scare yourself.

Aaauuummm.

What to listen to instead? I'm not all that sure. There is so much to consider.

Music and memories are very much tied together for me.

For Example, I was telling Andy today, as we drove up to the Alderwood Mall, music blaring on the stereo, that I have the most inappropriate songs tied to guys I've dated. I don't think I've ever really been "into" the same kind of music as the fellows in my life. So when one of them, (who loved Erasure and certain other bands that I was kinda "eh" about) and I happened to "discover" we both really liked Closer by Nine Inch Nails? Yep, it kinda became "our song." (I can't believe I'm admitting that one to the world.)

It's not like it gets any better with age. The X? Well, we were driving around Stanford-town/Redwood City. Possibly to go to Beltramos for some lambic. The Butthole Surfers happened to be playing on the stereo. He hears Pepper for the first time. Right. Our song. "They were all in love with dying and they were doing it Texas," baybeee. I know, I know, how romantical and all.

I will always associate Duran Duran with the X. That kinda sucks. I liked them way before him. Alfred can back me up with that one...we had cassette tapes of those boys long before X really got into them. He was all about the Queensriche, Iron Maiden, Styx, and Rush. On the flip side, I will also associate the Go-Go's with him. Yep, he loved the Go-Go's. I wonder if he's admitted that one to the new "I only listen to angry punk rock music" girlfriend? My absolute favorite memory associated with "Our Lips are Sealed" would be him speaking to Richard over the telephone and asking him if his liking of the Go-Go's (which included dancing and singing along to them) meant he was maybe gay? Richard assured him that no, this was not the case. Then immediately sent him an email with just one word:

FAG!!!!

I love you, Richard.

I can't listen to Tori Amos' "Little Earthquakes" without remembering countless miles between the Renaissance Faire, Lake Arrowhead, and LA in my best friend from high school's little Corolla. As PG above sings, "Life carries on, and on and on, and on..." And it scares me to see just how much time and distance and everything has gone on since those days.

I bring this up as I recently "lost touch" with my best friend from HS. Kyra posted a while back about relationships and that Seinfeld episode (which I never saw) where they discuss "dumping" friends? Yep. That's exactly how it feels, like I've been dumped. And then what? All these memories that are a part of you...and that's all they can be now. All part of the past.

So do you sink into that past and surround yourself with the things that remind you of the good times: They Might Be Giants' Ana Ng? The Bobs' My Shoes Are (on top of the world)? A slew of Ren Faire ditties? ("Johnny Be Fine" to be precise)? Or shake it all off and look to a future with one less person in your life? And maybe listen to too much Peter Gabriel in the process?

Quien sabe. But I think I might have to open my ears up to new music, to maybe create new associations so I can take a break from the past.

Blank

My brain is so full of "stuff for work" that I am totally blank in the creativity department.

 

Isn't that just bizarre how work can do that to people?  Suck their brains of all but that which must happen for work for we are Borg and must work for the collective...or whatnot?

 

Is it really only Tuesday?

 

Random.

 

Okay, I need to take a creativity break...or something.  I'm a little weirded out by how I feel right now.  Mind-numbing isn't the word.  It really is more like a "Workmentor" coming by and sucking all non-work thoughts from my head...like I'll never be able to think about anything non-human resources related again...

 

Andy and I went to the IMAX theater last night.  We live dangerously close to it and had no idea.  Spiderman3 is there until mid July or whatever the exact date is when the next Harry Potter flick shows up...in 3-D!!!  I gotta say though, if you're gonna go out to se a movie, IMAX is the way to go.  Andy thought it was way too loud.  Back when I had full use of my hearing I probably would have felt the same.  Instead I thought it was just right.  That makes me so very sad.

 

Anyhow, if you haven't seen Spidey3...well, I'd wait for video...unless you really just want to see CGI after CGI scene.  Which is a valid reason to go in its own right.  It fell prey to the same thing the "I'm Batman" movies did.  Too many villains and too many lessons to be imparted all at once.  Give me one hero, one villain, one damned climax and following denouement in a shorter movie and I am a happy camper.  So many "you know maybe you should reconsider what you're thinking" scenes could have been cut...but the powers that be don't seem to think that the audience can figure things out for themselves anymore...urgh.  The dumbing down of America really pisses me off sometimes.

 

Okay...enough of this foolishness...a little more HR stuff and then I get to go home.  It's just sad when your afternoon break happens at the end of the day...must learn to monitor my breaks a wee bit better.

It's Official!

I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHERE ANYTHING IS ANYMORE.

Andy and our landlord will do that final "walk through" thing today and the house at the edge of town will go up for sale. Or something. By the way ladies, Andy is doing the last of the cleaning, as I gotta work. He's already there, been there since like 5AM cleaning BATHROOMS and mopping floors. (See Andy, don't say I don't advertise for you, free market economy and all...)

Back at the ranch:
In the same vein as the "you know you're a" redneck/knitter/geek lists, I share with you that which is set up and in use in the apartment:

• The coffee maker.
  
• Andy's computer.

(Obviously the bathrooms as well, but technically, as most of the bathroom stuff is in a box "somewhere," I don't consider that "set up" yet. Don't even ask about the bedrooms, I live in BOX HELL.)

Hmmmm....what does this say about the dwellers of this place? Archaeologists would have a field day if Mt St Helens pulled a Pompeii on us today.

But yes, there is once again connectivity "in da house," or what have you. Now I just have to figure out what box my computer is in...then some day I will set up the kitchen, maybe the living room. It's all about priorities, people. :)

Happy Friday!

(BTW, for those who watch my every move...and noticed my flagrant usage of style in this post...I'm practicing my HTML skillz. I've been in need of such at this latest assignment.)

Chubby "Afrodite"

It's all running together....I can't remember where I took this picture...I want to say Ostia Antica, at their mini museum. But it might have been Naples...Or was it on one of our self-guided museum tours?!? So unless anyone knows different? Let's call it umm, somewhere in Italy.
This was not the only "chubby" Aphrodite (Afrodite in Italiano) that I ran across. But I believe it was the first one I could take a picture of -- many museums have a no-picture no-movie rule.

I think I mentioned this when I posted "on the ground" in Italy, but I shall restate it with some visual today. Skinny was SO NOT IN during the height of the Roman empire. The beauty queens were chubby! I am so down with that.

Pale was also in fashion. Women, well WEALTHY women who could afford such a luxury, would bathe in donkey's milk and the like to try to bleach their skin. I was reminded of one of the "Dracula" stories I found when I was in school. I can't remember which crazy queen it was, but she used to bathe in the blood of virgins or somesuch nastiness to keep her skin young, and pretty, and porcelain-esque.

There's this one beautiful sculpture of Hades and Persephone in the Borghese gallery (no pictures allowed, scroll down a bit here and you can get a fuzzy picture) that depicts the moment where Hades is dragging Persephone with him to the Underworld. Once you are finished being simply in utter awe of the mastery needed to show Hades' strong god-fingers digging into Persephone's supple flesh? And it does look SOFT! You start noticing that Persephone is soft all over! She too has a couple places where maybe she had one pomegranate too many. I LOVE IT!

All of this makes me laugh and laugh as, wasn't it the Italians that recently put out that law that their super models can't be too thin or something? Aside from just being rational, I think it might come from the idea of what beautiful was to their ancestors. And that beauty included a little chub!

Okay, time to pack up the computer. See you all (my three loyal readers :)) sometime next week...or whenever the cable gets installed.

PS: I will be in the middle of moving but wherever I find myself with a spare moment, I will gladly pull out my mom's mom-day-gift and at least knit a few stitches. How did this day sneak up on me?!? Follow the link on my sidebar for more info!

I Was Going to Title This One Yellow

Because that was the color of my car this morning.

I understand that it is still 14 days until it's "officially" summer and all, but people! Or should I say TREES! Stop with the pollen producing already! My head is so ready to explode that I am strongly considering stopping at the "Discount Gun Store" on Lake City Way and seeing if I can help it out from the outside.

The stuff gets EVERYWHERE...and it is STICKY. My lungs hurt so badly right now. And yes, eeeeeuuuuuuwww I can feel it in my lungs! That is just so very wrong in so very many different ways.

I thought nothing could be worse. I really did.
Then I found something that is:

Writing a cover letter.

It is official. I am Cover Letter challenged.

I hateses them with every pollen-clogged-pore in my being. Seeing as I am surrounded, literally, by files that contain ten million applications, with said cover letters, (I did mention I'm temping at an HR department this time around?) you'd think I'd be able to just become instantly inspired to create a valid one of my own, right? RIGHT!? WRONG.

Has everyone but me read The Shipping News? I'm on the first part just as he's getting on the boat to Nova Scotia or wherever. But you know how he was a reporter for that guy Punch, or whoever, and no matter how many times the copy editor dude slashes and burns his stories and tells him to add moxy or whatnot (can you tell the sudafed has started to kick in?) and he nods like he knows what all that advice means and stuff? But really? REALLY? He has no clue?

Right. That would be me and the sea of cover letters.
HATESES them.
But I need one. Not necessarily today, but the job I'm applying for closes on Monday, and I'm taking my computer down today, so scratch that...NECESSARILY today it is. Urgh...HATE.

Okay, break's over, back to the grind...

Moving Sucks

I'm sure I'm doing the very human (as Douglas Adams would have said) thing of stating the obvious.

We get to go clean the bathrooms and kitchen tonight! Woo hoo! I know, exciting.

The hardest bit is the "smoothing out" of unforeseen folds/problems...like the P of the ad. There is parking! Sure! But I don't seem to be able to, without developing an ulcer, actually park my car in the space. It's just too narrow! If I actually achieve this feat, then there is the problem of not being able to OPEN the door so I can get out, seeing as my "neighbor's" car is a mere inches away from mine when properly parked.

Yes, obviously, phone calls are going to be made today.

Not a big surprise here, but I'll be taking a web break possibly as soon as tomorrow. Andy has to start switching utilities and all that FUN stuff. And I really should pack up my computer stuff. I'll see if I don't post my absolute favorite picture of "Afrodite" that I found this morning. Think: chubby. Tee hee.

Downsizing...

So when I first agreed to move up to Seattle, friends in tow, I had absolutely no clue where I wanted to live, save for one itty bitty caveat: NOT DOWNTOWN.

The fact is, up until I officially clear out of here, which is pretty soon now, actually, I was literally one block away from the city line (Seattle/Shoreline). Seriously, in my first year+ here in the Emerald City I have been living as far north as is possible while still being able to keep the "Seattle" in my return address.

Today, this has officially changed.

Andy and I have signed our lives away to an apartment complex down near Gas Works Park! Talk about a 142 block change of venue! The way we were going about looking for a new place to live, though, I honestly thought we'd be on 137th or even 100th! Things were going less than splendid in finding new digs. Finding housing with people can really be trying on a friendship, lemme tell ya.

At one point we thought it was us and that maybe it was time for us to look for 2 different places to live, you know, on our own and stuff.

I found a CUTE basement apartment with a black and white checkered floor that would be both cheap and awesome! Well, as long as you were about my height...which neither Andy nor Tim, nor Lev, James, well, pretty much anyone but the aforementioned girlfriends' really...the ceiling? Kinda low. The highest point was 6'4", according to the ad. According to one of the girls I work with who actually saw the place? Well, that was actually only in one spot in the entire place. I.e. a "not safe for Andy" to visit place as he's kinda on the 6'3.75" side of the vertical spectrum.

Then came June 1st. Did you all know about the mass exodus of people come summer in Seattle? I sure didn't. Well, all of a sudden all of these 2 bedroom/2 bath W/D, NP, NS, P(!) ads were all over! The best part? They were popping up in places where we actually wanted to live...or at least close enough for my NO DOWNTOWN self.

See, I have this awful feeling that if I am not very careful, I will become very much like the old man in "Monster House." I like it quiet. I like my space. I hate kids being loud and obnoxious...be they 3 or 33, I have found myself counting to 10 so as to not say things like, "you kids be quiet!" "Get off my lawn!" "Turn that horrible music off!" Etc. and so forth.

So while the place is just around the way from Fremont and all the fun places Andy likes to go hang out? It is still AT LEAST a 10 minute walk away. The downside? The bus stop? Yep, same 10 minute walk away...if not 15... An upside? I can bike to my latest temp assignment. Down...groceries are kinda far. Up: Gas Works Park! Down: ummm the crowds at Gas Works Park. Up: FIREWORKS at Gas Works Park for 4th of July!!! Down: We're going from a huge 2-story house to an average sized 2-bedroom apartment. Up: umm less to clean?

Obviously there are lots of pluses and minuses. The bottom line? We will have a roof over our heads and be moved out of "Wayne Manor" before the "FOR SALE" sign and all the garbage attached to such things starts up.

Speaking of which, I gotta go start packing now.

Happy Saturday!

Liking the Lull

So what kind of work day works best for you?

 

I'm trying to figure this out right now.

 

Obviously right now I am having a lull.  It's that time just before lunch when things slow to a crawl and people don't really want to start anything new because, well, HELLO, it's almost lunchtime!  15 minutes prior to this, of course, I was racing against time to answer 5 different emails and be in 3 different places at once and was so busy I didn't get my morning break which is why, hi!  I'm taking it just before lunch!  Aaauuuummm.

 

I keep thinking that as crazy as things get around here, anything (ANYTHING) is better than having NOTHING to do and not being "allowed" to go anywhere and/or "do" anything that would seem out of place for the front desk...yep still a bit miffed about playing receptionist for so very long and wasting so much time and energy at a place that was sucking my will to live (ah 20/20 hindsight again), I guess I'm still better off with "crazy busy" than with "twiddle my thumbs and toes" and "look professional" while trying to stay awake.  It must be part of some deep set "Calvinistic" work ethic I keep trying to shake off, or something.

 

Having something to do all day at a constant pace might be nice too, though.  Maybe some day I'll get an assignment that runs in that direction?  Lately I've been called in to umm, would it be called a "pinch hit"?  Basically there is too much to be done and not enough people around to do it with a deadline looming, or people leaving, or a business ending, or, well, you name it.  So I come in and hit the ground running.  I never knew how good I was at that before I started temping.

 

The things you learn.

Bizarre Love Triangle

So my one white strand of hair and I are having issues today.

Well, actually I should just say my entire head of hair and I are having issues today. As I noted to Andy the other morning, for some bizarre reason, my hair has decided to start growing straight instead of it's wavy-going-on-curly usual state of being. I generally just kinda shrug my shoulders and um shoulder on.

My hair and I have never seen eye to eye and it does not surprise me that as soon as I'm fine and dandy with it being as big as it wanted to be (think Rome, think humidity, I shudder to think about just how big and curly my hair got on those last days...) it is now so straight that the only body I have left on the top of my head is coming from that one lone white strand of hair I discovered a ways back.

I'm learning to be okay with the white hair. I mean, well, it's still only the one, that I know of. But really and truly, why does it have to be so obviously there now that the rest of my hair has gone lank?

I am obviously far too vain.

In honor of this vanity I shall share one of my favorite versions of Aphrodite:

This is from the National Museum in Naples. The statue was originally meant to be in the middle/at the edge of a fountain so that Aphrodite/Venus could check her um junk/trunk/boootie out in the reflection!
I LOVE that! Wacky Romans.

"Of All the Things I've Lost...

...I miss my mind the most."

-Mark Twain

Andy tells me that he, in fact, did not eat my "ghetto sock blockers."

I guess I have to take that as truth...but honestly, they must have developed space flight and taken off to lands unknown. I HAD three sets going...(10 wire hangers for 50 cents, if I remember correctly) now they are MIA! Along with all the wire hangers I had not converted yet. Did the ghost of Joan "no wire hangers" Crawford come and clean up my room while I was out of town? (If so, she forgot to dust and vacuum.)

The hangers are not the only thing I was running around looking for this past week. I simply cannot piece together a whole lotta things that I thought I'd "put in a safe place" before I left. I'm thinking of my checkbooks. If they didn't make my skin crawl, I'd love the idea of tracking devices for all your stuff. You know, kinda like being registered at Target or somesuch fancy place and going shelf to shelf scanning all the junk you want? Do the same at home! Then your BladeRunner-esque computer tracking system can tell you exactly what happened to that pen you JUST had in your hand!

I think I know just which brain cells died between my pre and post Italy trip. Who says drugs are the only things to damage your brain? I laugh heartily at them! Stress, travel, and information overload are just as deadly to those scorpion shaped neurons (they really are, look)!

Now, add to that what was supposed to be the dental appointment to deal with Phase 2/finish that little root canal thing I had BEFORE the trip...yep, my brain is puddy. Did I fail to mention this little bit?

Right, so last Tuesday, instead of making money, I spent some at my wonderful dentist's office. (He really is very nice and gentle, and not out to cause me physical pain...mental? Well, you'll see.) I was supposed to get my "bling" put in...the gold crown that I was still trying to figure out how I could afford after spending so much on the root canal itself. Dental insurance is a beautiful thing, I hear. I wouldn't know of such things personally.

Well ladies and gents, the tooth is so gone that there is not enough above the gumline to provide sufficient anchoring space for any crown. Right. Well. What this means is that I get to meet YET ANOTHER SPECIALIST! A gum surgeon. They are going to "lengthen" my #18 molar.

Did I already mention I was given permission by my previous dentist's wife to blame this whole debacle on my X? Have I already relayed to you all that if it hadn't been for him and his running off with his campaign manager and her two kids and making my life extraordinarily unpleasant on the Big Island of Hawai'i that I would have kept my next dental appointment and regular cleaning schedule and maybe, just MAYBE all this would have been caught before it all, literally, EXPLODED in my mouth?

AAAaaauuummm, big exhale, big inhale...

Right.
So, where was I? Yes, the gum specialist tacks on another $1400 to the current "how am I going to pay for this" neuron that is slowly growing and destroying weaker and happier cells in my overcrowded cranium, like where the hell I put those stupid sock blockers, check books, and maybe a secret chocolate stash... Not to mention that whole "oh my god they are going to cut out pieces of me" nightmare that is beginning to really freak me out.

At least my allergies are settling down...before I forget the memory, here's another Italy picture:

I am such a snot...we traveled to the medieval city of Erice to see a medieval castle and have lunch at a park from which, on a clear day, you could actually see Tunisia, Africa. This would be the view MJ and I had from our park bench. See everyone, Africa is right in front of you!

All Fun & Games Until Someone Gets Run Over...

Maybe "bowled over" is a better phrase.
Not quite overwhelmed, yet.
My sleep schedule is now back to PST and I've even started a new temp gig (that I actually kinda like after day 2...we shall see). So what's wrong? My sinuses are playing catch up. I missed out on the first round of pollen around here didn't I? Well, rest assured, it found me. That yellow awful sticky stuff was all over my car...and apparently in the vents. I turned them on yesterday morning for a full face blast and spent the rest of the day snifflie and FEELING my sinuses actually SWELL to unusual sizes.

Lovely pictures I paint, no?

So this morning I feel like how the above juggler from Palermo might when his act goes longer than the light. Italian drivers are not exactly known for their patience. Sicilians? Well, anyone from the island can chirp up if you like, but the autobahn experts have nothing on you, seriously.

Terminal 8

JFK's Terminal 8 is the terminal that time (and the renovators/decorators) forgot.

Seriously, there is money to be made by turning this idea into a TV show or something. I'll have to iron it out with the writing team, but I'm thinking a darker "Wings" with nuances of "It's a Living"/"Alice"/whatever other 70s/80s situational comedies we can throw in--without a laugh track.

The main characters HAVE to be the two obviously overworked, yet wonderfully sweet "counter attendants." I would definitely keep the rude and too-cool-to-talk-to-you stewardess who flashes nasty looks at waiting passengers when they come up to try to ask a question. "I am not a counter attendant!" That would definitely have to be her catch-phrase. The effeminate steward with the suitcase whose wheels light up different colors as it roles? Also a keeper. I could not make this up if I tried. As I never saw him, he must be a "first class" steward. Or all they all called flight attendants now? Whatever. The pilot? I don't know about him. He was a little too apologetic during the flight. HE APOLOGIZED FOR THE TURBULENCE. Not as in, "I'm sorry we had to fly through the turbulence," but, "I'm sorry for the turbulence." Ummm what? Maybe his ego is too big...that's it. So I guess we do need him.

How is it I got to know this terminal so well on Saturday?

Well, after arriving at 2 ish New York time, dealing with customs, and saying goodbye to Mary Jane at the very swank terminal 9...I still had about 2 hours to kill before my flight. As it only took getting lost 4 times before finding the correct terminal, I figured this would go fast.

As soon as I stepped through security, I changed my mind. It was like stepping from clean crisp newly painted outside of a house into the haunted mansion. Old, black gum all over the carpets, lights that need new bulbs, arcade games in the hallway with dark/broken screens, no water fountains or working bathrooms within 7 gates or so (I was gate 53, if you've been there, you know what I mean).

When the flight was announced, the counter attendant was yelling to be heard over the wimpy PA. It couldn't have gotten any worse.

And then it did.

After boarding First, Business, Children, and Groups 1 and 2, they had to empty the plane. Grounded, mechanical problems. We would get the next plane coming in, could we all move to gate 55? Thanks.

At 5:55 PM, my original boarding time, my brain already told me it was 11 PM (Italy time).
We didn't take off until after 8:30 PM...there were 6 hours to go to get to Seattle...my body hated me so very much for insisting it do all this horrible traveling when all it wanted was to be fast asleep. Did I mention the babies and turbulence? 4 babies.

We arrived at 10ish Seattle time...or 7 AM in Rome.

Yesterday was a blur. I remember drinking coffee with Andy...and watching multiple episodes of "Lost" while tending the washer and dryer...but man it was hard to deal. I'm told I ate breakfast...and I remember sharing the last of my Italian dark chocolate with Andy when I should have been hungry for dinner, but wasn't...and not much more.

And now it's Monday...instead of flaking it off or even starting a new assignment with the temp office...I get to jump into finding a new place to live. The landlord let us know he wants to sell (while I was in Italy), so I have a lease termination form to sign and a new place to live to find.

Nothing like jumping into real world problems to shake off the jet lag...

When You're a Boy...

Do you all remember that little-played David Bowie song about how everything is easy when you're a boy?

I don't think he ever lived in Italy.

Sure, boys are prized possessions and mama's love their bambinos and are more than happy to have them at home for the rest of their lives...but if they ever want to actually get out and live their own lives...wow, there are some challenges, especially in the "amore" department.  Girls here are great at playing the boy-girl games.  They seem to be the ones in charge...or so the guys I've spoken with tell me.

Here's the secret to getting things done/making things happen, if you are female and are dealing with a guy: be cute.  I don't mean you have to look like Punky Brewster or anything, more like: smile, giggle, play the girl.  Really.  The guys seem to be trained to respond to that.  They might snap out of it if the interaction goes on too long, but when you are trying to get directions, find a good restaurant, cross the street, buy stamps (or even shoes) it puts the ball in your court.

Girls 'round these parts do not make things easy for the guys, ever.  If they are "interested" in a guy they used subtle hints not understood by this here tactless wonder.  Use your blatant American smiles, winks, and jokes to your advantage.  Girls are trained early on to push the boys' buttons to the limits and then somehow in some secret Italian girl way, not take it too far.  I am unschooled in such teachings.  I very squarely fit into the role of unsubtle American woman.

Yes, there is such a role.  The Sicilian tour guide we had even said he has given up on Italian girls and will wait for an American girl to hit on him.  See, in Italy, it is expected for the guy to put himself out there for all the rejection and/or wine and dine and win the girl.  Apparently, in his Sicilio/Italian opinion, American girls are the ones who are trying to catch the attention of American boys and do most of the work in the relationship.

Don't be offended, that was just one man's opinion.  He has obviously not observed ALL American relationships, but popular movies, TV, and his short observations in the states have made him come to that conclusion.  Let's face it ladies, in this day and age of empowered females, we aren't exactly taught to sit around 'til the boys call us.

And before you all drop all your boyfriends and husbands to go find an Italian boyfriend to buy you chocolates and flowers? Remember this: (as told to me by the Canadian guide who has lived in Italy for 9+ years)
     The "Latin lovers" are in for the chase.  Once he as you, the chase is over, and they get bored very quickly.
A con to every pro...turn, turn, turn.

So, it is Friday, my last night in Rome.  I am not displeased.  Rome is a very big city with more big city problems than I want to deal with.  I avoided getting "accosted" by "this" much; was involved with helping MJ and a busload of us NOT get pick pocketed; observed what a purse snatching looks like in real life; but had loads of fun nonetheless.  I really hope I can come back and revisit some day, there is far too much to see in just 7 days.

Most of you are just waking up...as Andy said not too long ago, I am on the wrong side of the world right now, but will soon be traveling back in time to be nearer you all once again.

Italy's Weight Loss Program

I only have a minute as the Rome City Tour began yesterday and so we're back to being on someone else's schedule.

If last night was a taste of what I am to endure these next five days?  I am so going to be losing all the weight the guys on the last tour made sure we gained.  A "casual strole" for this guide is more like you and my idea of what a "power walk" is.

Hmm, the guide this time is a cutie named Stephanie.  I wonder if the guy/girl theory I am thinking up applies to non-Italian guides who have lived for too long in Italy???  If it does...I really am in for an experience.

My guy/girl theory will be posted later, but for your perusal, some advice on shoe buying:
If you want to buy something out of the norm, say really really wide yet not too long shoes...FIND A GUY to sell them to you.
If you do not heed my advice there will be stares and sneers and really awful tones of "Those are MENS shoes!" and lies "Of course we carry your size!"
If the woman cannot find something IMMEDIATELY, she will say they don't have it and start helping the next customer without even saying good bye.
You must hunt down the girl to ask any questions.
Guys will walk around all the displays with you to at least get an idea of what styles you like and then take as much time as necessary to find something that might fit AND that you might like.
If there is nothing at their store, a guy will suggest somewhere else to go, cuz you know the ladies?  Apparently THEIR store is the only shoe store in all of Italy, or something.


More later.

Blue Suede Shoes

So (and I will be misspelling this, possibly on purpose as it is still kinda early in Italialandia)...the Borghesie Incident.

Our first full day by ourselves in Rome, MJ and I trekked up to the B-Gardens to waste time until our room was ready.  Once there, aside from sitting in the shade hoping for some relief from the sun and the heat...it is rather hot and humid in Rome, especially when you have gotten much too used to Seattle weather (my farmer's tan is doing excellently, thanks).

Across the path from us was this "bicycle" rental place.  As I snoozed MJ was planning...And once she saw the three groups of people come in and rent these "car-bikes" (four wheeled, pedal powered, electric motor helped vehicles) her mind was set that we too should join the masses and ride one.

The teacher in me saw all the problems right off the bat--no seat belts, hand powered brake that only kinda worked, a half-stroke of the peddle shot people forward about 5 feet...hoo baby, what fun! Not.

But it was her dime, so I said I would come along, as a passenger.  I would not be responsible for crashing the thing...I did not say this out loud, but maybe I should have.  Either way I was jinxed and I knew it.

All went well as we zoomed around the park and went places I am 99 % sure we should not have been, but this is Italy, we were no less maniacal drivers than all the people in real cars out on the street!  Crazy!  Then came the phallic symbols.  They are everywhere.  I joked during our tour of Pompeii and again at the National Museum in Naples that "I came to Italy and all I saw was penises!"  They really are everywhere and are "jinx breakers" and good luck charms, I'm told.  Maybe it was me making fun of these things that aided in the bad juju?  Quien sabe.

Anyhow, MJ was maneuvering around one of these things when she cut it a bit too close...and my side of the bike slammed into the 3 foot penis-thing in the path (probably there to keep these bike-cars out, I would think...but everyone else was doing it, so MJ insisted we could go there too...whatever).  All I knew was that all of a sudden my foot REALLY hurt.

Instinctively I'd pulled in my knee...the busted one of course, but there wasn't the time, energy or instinct to pull in my foot, apparently.  We surveyed the damage to the bike and saw that the peddle was mangled...that meant...right.  My foot was already starting to strain against my Keen Mary Jane strap.

Of course the very first thing we (I) did was slam on the peddle (with my other foot) until it looked sorta okay again...it still worked, it's good, right? (so going to hell) And we got the bike going again.  Only half helping we got the bike back and the guy actually did a look over and nothing seemed amiss and MJ got her passport back (cuz you had to leave a "document" with them) and SLOWLY we got ourselves away...(so going to hell).  Limping back all the way to the hotel was an experience I don't feel like repeating any time soon.  We picked up ice and I sat and iced and not iced and iced most of the night.

It's not that bad.  I was already swollen from too much salt and carbs, so a little bruising was not going to kill me...we just had to make sure my foot wasn't, you know, broken...my Mary Janes are not fitting too well...the strap is cutting into my right foot...so instead of a trip to the emergency room....we went shoe shopping.

That has to be another story in itself...(I'm good with these cliff-hanger-type endings eh?)  Suffice to say I am now the proud owner of a pair of real Italian blue suede shoes...ka-pow, I feel so very cool...especially as they look an awful lot like bowling shoes.

When In Rome...

...have a Guinness

So do you all remember those times in high school when you felt the outcast?
Maybe your shoes were out of fashion or your hairstyle too uncool or maybe even your sweater was just the wrong color or somesuch similar nonsense?

Well...

That would describe the feelings the "Single Ladies Club" had about me on the Sicily/Southern Italy tour.  While calling home to make sure Andy had mailed off my mom's Mother's Day card (it's not that I don't trust you, just you know, being my paranoid self, sorry), I mentioned to Andy, and now I mention to the world at large, that I was so very happy to finally be one dinner shy of being done with the high school shenanigans.  I was not invited to any of these ladies' reindeer games.  Neither was MJ for that matter.  We were not cool enough, it would seem.

Or maybe some jealousy?

I was the youngest person on the tour.  No two ways about it.  The fact that I got along famously with both the guide and the assistant did not help matters, especially as the aforementioned SLCs were after them.  (Both males, in their 40s/50s, resembling actors, really.)  Rumors started:  I had two boyfriends, I was in trouble with the law, I had had an affair and that would be why I was traveling with my ex mom-in-law...or something similar...it was all so very strange.  I think there was something about the mafia as well, I was obviously persona non grata.

Funny thing?  Unlike those SLCs, I left high school 15 years ago. 

So I had a blast the last night.  After dinner?  After watching all the ladies throwing themselves at the guides?  Buahahaha!  I was one of the select few that was invited out to the Irish pub, not them.  Okay, I may have left high school, but I am still 12 years old. Naany nanny na!

No, I did not sleep with the tour guides to earn my place at the table, thankyouverymuch.  Though I am quite sure if the tour had gone on a few more days, that would have been the next story on the bus to travel down to me.  SIGH...

Anyhow, I am now in Rome, one day away from joining up with the city tour with MJ.  I would be wandering around like a mad woman, but there was this thing with a rented electric motor bike/car, MJ driving, one of the ten thousand phallic symbols in the Borghesie (sp) gardens and my ankle that I will recount at a later date as there is a line for this computer (free internet at the Hotel Italia!).

Laters!

Positano

So....what day is it?

 

Okay, we are in lovely, overcrowded, tourist trapped Positano.  A beach resort town...or something.  I will try to get down the the beach to verify with a picture some day, but "beach" is not a word I can use to describe the small bit of sand that the non mega-bucked turistas can use to sit on and access the water.

 

The hotel is lovely.  Really.  I have decided to take the day off today to rest and maybe give my swollen feet a break...cuz they are, VERY swollen.  I need to use my overpriced internet time (three Euro for half an hour) to find a quick cure.  I would ask for suggestions but I know that I will not get a chance to check back before we take off again. 

 

Did I mention tours go too fast for me?  Though I did get to see Pompeii.  Wow.

 

Okay...off to find a post card...

Italy...

Bon Giorno!

- Okay, so I do not know where the apostrophe is on this keyboard; I have not gone all formal on you all, more like I am making the best of it.

 

- Not all of the keys have anything marked on them.  If they are not traditional letters, I am making due.

 

Okay, so, day 6, 7?  What day is it anyway? Saturday? Friday?

To say we have been moving non-stop since the tour began would be an understatement.  I do not work this fast.  I am exhausted but happy.  This is more work than work...and the trip is only one third over....or something.

 

I am writing to you all from Taormina...if that is spelled wrong, sorry, I am working on very little sleep and 1/4th a liter of wine from dinner.  I dunno if I mentioned that I drinking has not been my "thing" lately.  When in Rome...or um Sicily at any rate.

 

I kinda feel like I am doing something naughty by being on the Internet.  MJ is not a "interwebs" kinda girl.  She kinda scoffs at it all.  She is also much older and did not grow up with it the way I did, so I do not blame her.  As she is doing her laundry, however, I feel I can ditch out for 15 minutes to get caught up at least with you all.

 

I have taken 346 pictures according to the camera which belongs to Andy (who said apostrophes were not useful!).  I need to go through and cull some...but not the Greek ruins...yes, in Sicily.  ALL OVER Sicily.  Tomorrow I get to see yet another...

 

My feet hurt.

I am not complaining, honest, just stating a fact.

More as time permits.

 

Arrivaderci

T-Minus 9 Hours

I'm pretty much ready to go, I hope.
I'd have really liked to have taken my knee brace, but it seems to be
MIA. I'm taking it as a sign.

I still have to figure out the TSA lock. But as I'm not checking
anything in, I'll have the flight for that.

Oh yeah, I should clear up that misconception. Somebody wrote me
asking if I'd gone completely over the edge over the liquid/gel thing
and what all was my problem, etc. Just put it in the bag that I'll
be checking.

Weeeeeelllll, there be the problem...MJ signed us up for the Rick
Steves Southern Italy tour. I don't remember what it's called cuz
um, right much reading to do on the plane. Rule #1 for ole Rick (and
therefore for MJ as well) NEVER CHECK BAGGAGE. So you're only
allowed one carry on, and one personal item/bag. I've fit 3.5 weeks-
worth of clothing and personal items for that time frame.
Toiletries??? Well, that's gonna be part of the adventure, it would
seem.

Okay, I've got a couple more places to look, and a couple more things
to stuff here and there...and a couple more projects to scratch my
head over.

My flight leaves at 6AM, urgh...so I'll be getting up in a few
hours....more urgh....
I'll be officially back on May 19th, but if I can sneak some internet
time...maybe I can keep you posted.

Ciao! (That and "No capisco l'Italiano" is about all the real
Italian I got from the Italian CD I have on my iPod...I am in
SOOOOOOO much trouble.)

It's 10:43PM

So, how's my list going...

I literally (just now getting the confirmation email) clicked a few buttons and am 10 days away from having my California Teaching Credential renewal processed (or whatever they want to call it, it's renewed, that's the bottom line). I'm a bit weirded out by the simplicity of it.

Used ta' be you filled out eleventy-hundred forms, got all the i's crossed an t's dotted, made copies, mailed it off with your check, and 6 months later, Bob's yer uncle: your credential was renewed. I'm feeling rather old fashioned about this new-fangled "click here" and no signature required. I suppose promising to keep all the original forms and signatures for a year should placate my messican 'form and stamp loving' nature.

That sounds so horribly generalizing/stereotypical of me doesn't it? I am going to hell, but if I'm lying maybe someone can call me on it. I swear I LOVED playing "office" when I was a kid. Nothing made my day more than piles of "important" papers that needed signatures or stamps. Decades later I'm in Mexico dealing quite regularly with bureaucracy (port captains, immigration, lawyers, banks, random fellows with rubber stamps in their suitcases) and I'll be damned (there's that going to hell bit again) if they didn't like papers and rubber stamps as much as my 7-year old self did!!! Heck, I still love it! Stamping and coding was possibly my favorite part of being an Accounts Payable Coordinator! (I keep telling you all, I am not a well person.)

Okay, enough about my tentative grasp of reality here.

T minus...I think I was wrong my last post...cuz I'm still counting over 25 hours to go...though, maybe I was wrong on purpose/subconsciously? You know, to actually kickstart my procrastination-loving self? All I know is that I'm 3 shirts, 1 pair of shorts, and some tights away from finished with the clothes part of the packing. The quart-sized bag/liquids thing is starting to annoy. Who knew I relied so heavily on such liquidy/gel-ly things in my daily routine! I almost feel like a girlie-girl!

Has anyone else noticed that the pictures that go with the 3-1-1 rule all have 1 oz or smaller containers? No wonder my 5 items (shampoo/conditioner combo-2 oz, body lotion-2 oz, sun block-3 oz, face cream-1.7 oz, and hair gel-1 oz) seem to take more than their share... must rethink this a bit more. I will leave that until last.

Tomorrow (which is in 1/2 an hour now...I keep getting distracted as I think of other things, like bug spray and hats for example) I must focus on these last things (as well as finishing up everything else):
- buy, write up, and make ready to mail my mom's mother's day card
- finalize the sock/pattern/etc I'll be taking aboard
- photocopy important papers and such

Good night/good morning :)

Some Socky Goodness

My loyal knitting readers are today rewarded with pictures:
Technically these would be officially named: "Cantaloupe Ribbed Socks" to follow the Nancy Bush/Knitting Vintage Sock naming tradition...but you already know what name I gave them before blocking:

TOO BRIGHT FOR THE SUPERMARKET SOCKS!
Yes, that's right! THEY FIT!

Here's a better reality/true color picture:
I swear they GLOW. Today is so gloomy/half-light grey that they really are a little bit of sunshine for my little footsies. Or as I've come to accept them, the the wider than they are long hobbit feet I've been given.

SPECS:
Pattern: Loosely based on "Madder Ribbed Socks" by Nancy Bush from Knitting Vintage Socks
Cast on with 5 US 2 DPNS and then after a couple rounds changed to US 1s.
Yarn: (I HAVE THE INFO PEOPLE!!! Yes, I had to dig around to find it again...) All Things Heather 100% superwash merino "Cantaloupe", a prize from Aloha & Oreos/Keohinani's Swatch Contest.

They were too small before I blocked the bejeebus out of them. I let them soak forever in (yes I am a heretic) Woolite and some vinegar (to keep the colors in check). Then I grabbed my oh so 'spensive one-of-a-kind, couture as it were, plastic coated wire hanger homemade sock blockers, in teal I believe, and stretched the buggers on there, then crossed my fingers and went away to hem some pants (is it me or are pants just ridiculously too long now-a-days???)

My toes seem to be okay so far (I'm still wearing them). I think, however, that I shall learn from this experience and cast on a sufficient number of stitches for my next attempt at socks...which idea I stole from NotScarlett! I'm going for Monkey by Cookie A.

According to my grand calculamifications (the sock calculator I downloaded, the very first offering), I need only add one more pattern repeat (i.e. up the cast on to 80) and I will only be 4 stitches shy of what the "sock calculator" says I need. Given the fact that this is already 8 more stitches than I usually go for, I think I'm in a good place... Yes, I am convincing myself that I should still cast on LESS THAN I SHOULD. It's either that or figure out where I can sneak in those 4 extra stitches, which I am also doing, seeing as I have SO MUCH TIME (less than 33 hours before I will be on an airplane headed out of the country... Go ahead, ask me if I've packed yet. HA HA HA HA...

I also have to:
Renew my California Teaching Credential (I hope I can still do this online...)
Pay my credit cards
Check to see when my next car payment rolls in/leave a check for it
Figure out if my "gel caps" (Advil and Cranberry pills) are considered "gel or liquid" and need to go into the quart-sized bag, which is getting kinda full, hmph.
Call my banks/bankcard people to let them know it's okay if someone, hopefully me, uses the ATM in Palermo and maybe Rome...and places in between...
Physically go to my banks to deposit money...some day I will get a Washington Bank Account...really

And other things I'm sure the Internet really doesn't need to know about...like finding the underwear that fits, stuff like that :).

Can you tell I'm shy?

Okay, gotta run, none of the above seems to be getting done by itself, the nerve!

Root Canal Schmoot Canal

Happy Saturday!

My face hurts.
My eyelids are swollen.
My jaw is sore.

But I'm alive and talking.
Phase 1 of the root canal (the big drilling and digging and killing of the inside of my tooth) is all over and done with. They put in a temo/permo filling that's supposed to last my out of country experience and then I can get Phase 2 (the little drilling and the crown) done. If I were to have the crown done before I left I think I would die. There is a reason they give you a temporary filling: so you can go home, snuggle in your favorite place and NOT think of drills or dentists or that scary way that one shot makes your heart pound like you just ran a mile.

So they let me watch a movie during phase 1. They had a limited selection so I decided to go for visual over anything I might not be able to hear over the drilling, "Finding Nemo." Yeah, I've watched it a dozen times or so...Now, why did I NOT remember that a good third of the movie takes place in a dentist's office? That the very first procedure that happens in the office is a bloody root canal?!?

I don't remember the other movie options, except for "Freaky Friday", and I don't know which version they were showing, I think maybe the new one (has anyone seen it? Is there a dental scene in that one too???) but I have my suspicions that there might be a sick and twisted common theme in the list. But that would be just me being paranoid again.

I'm sure we'll all be happier when all this dental stuff is behind me and I can once again get on to posting about things NOT related to my mouth, dentists, or drills. Did I mention I really really really can't stand that dental drill sound?

Next up, marathon packing (3 days? Where did that week I had go?) and last minute craziness I'm sure. MJ (xMIL = MJ, thanks Richard) is not all that hip on the cyber cafe thing, so I might be MIA for a while after Wednesday, we shall see. I just thought I'd warn my loyal readers...there are about 4 of you now, right? :).

My Brain is on Emotional Overload...

Have I mentioned just how traumatizing it is for me to deal with dental work of any kind? Those of you readers who have known me long enough to have endured my having to go to the dentist, I apologize for the way I acted even up to several days beforehand. I am so not myself and all I want to do is run away rather than face a dental chair where "things" with compressed air and drills and my mouth will be involved.

So I bring you:
Things I ran across the internet on my way to fully waking up this morning. Both to distract you and myself until all this root canal business is behind me...that would be after Friday, yes. Urgh.

Here's a page that's just fun to look at. I wish I was that clever with photoshop.

Giant Puppets! Why can't we have cool stuff like this?
The Sultan's Elephant
Little Girl Giant
The Grand Finale

This is brilliant! I don't go for 90% of his humor, but this one, right up my MLA alley:
This Blog...

Okay, this isn't all that new...but I thought I'd share it anyway:
Jib-Jab's "What We Call the News"

While looking through YouTube's Most All Time Viewed selections I noticed that the "Kiwi!" video has far outstripped "The Last Knit" on viewing. So I'm linking to both again.

Okay, let's see if this will like up directly: (Watch it through to the end, I missed the ending the first time...)


With that I wander off to go make some tea, and maybe take some Advil as that pit of decay? The one I wasn't even feeling? Yep, it's started to hurt now. 24 hours to go...

My Kingdom for a New Tooth...

Yup, 2 posts in the same day...must be big news...

The tooth with the jagged edges? Dare I even call it a tooth anymore if it's mostly, to quote the dentist, "A hollowed out pit of decay!" Well, maybe I exaggerate just a little.... whatever the case, I get to have my very first Endodontist appointment on Friday.

Did I mention I have NO INSURANCE?

At this point in the game I might be able to take pictures of things in Italy in lieu of actually buying them. Okay, maybe I exaggerate with that as well. I am nothing if not so paranoid that I have "emergency" money for just such a situation. Yes, enough even for a root canal, it would seem.

I don't so much hate the dentist as am super fearful of the whole practice...with good cause it would seem, as this new guy's favorite phrase about past procedures he could see having been done was, "how barbaric!" I didn't have the heart to describe just how my cuspid (canine tooth) went "missing."

Aside from the bomb that is ready to go off in my mouth though, I have a really good set of choppers.

(Sigh) When it rains, it pours.

A Little Tea and Sympathy...

I am old enough now to consider myself a professional procrastinator. I leave for Italy when and am I ready? Heck no. I still have a couple guidebooks I'm expected to have read and have a list of places I want to see ready for xMIL (mom²? still looking for a better name for her) ...that's what the plane ride is for, right? Yeah yeah, yeah, they say to sleep to avoid jet lag, etc., ...unless I pack my ambien I'm too much of a nervous worrier for that to happen.

Besides, I'm still at the "I have over a week" stage (8 days to be precise), PLENTY OF TIME.

Yellow socks? What yellow socks... la, la, la, out of sight, out of mind....for now.
Instead let me distract you with this:

So two things:
First: I've progressed beyond "swatch" on my mom's new socks. Whether or not she realizes it, she's going to be representin' some Harry Potter with the Horcrux Socks that are developing on the needles. I am so subversive, I know.

Second: I am so out of the loop of things that I had no idea Opus was modeling again! Somewhere in all my backed up data is a scanned photo of a grey-scaled "gap" ad with Opus in his whitey-tighties looking so very cool. The original adorned my school binder about 9 (gasp) years ago--I wasn't still in school though...I was umm, teaching it. My students never for a second doubted my insanity, "Seriously, Teacher, a penguin in underwears?" (They were second-language learners.) The back of that same binder sported the infamous "Bang Head Here" sign:
Lemme tell ya, if you were me back then? Your school binder would reflect similar tastes, of that I am certain.

Anyhow, I was beyond tickled to see Opus out and about again. I am a Berkeley Breathed fan of old. One of the many many many things that utterly convinced my mother I could not be hers, was the trend I had of cutting out the Sunday comics of "Bloom County/Outland" and taping them up on my bedroom wall up around the ceiling until I had ringed the entire room (this wasn't too hard as I lived in the closet had the smallest room of the house). When that occurred (often) I'd replace the older ones with newer ones...one of my favorite "series" being the one where Oliver pretty much holds the world hostage with his "Banana Jr" computer...amazing what my brain thinks worthy of remembering, yet last night try hard as I might I could not remember more than a few blips and pieces of childhood trauma (crying my eyes out in pre-school) when thinking back to the earliest memories I had of school.

Okay...three things:
I have to go get ready for a dental appointment now. I seem to have broken one of my favorite molars with my super powers; the work of Damage Girl is never done, boys and girls. No, I didn't lose the filling; that seems to be the only thing holding the rest of the tooth together. I've actually lost a segment of tooth. Where and when and how? I couldn't tell you. But hopefully they will be able to do something about it and the accompanying jagged edges that are ripping apart the inside of my too chubby cheeks today.

Onward and upward! Or something.

Just Call Me Stumpy-A Plea to My New Socks

I have almost finished yet another pair of socks (need the close the toe and weave in ends) and I'm crossing my fingers that after blocking they will not be too tight.

Yup, again.

It's the same two reasons...always the same two reasons...I'm a bit peeved and I have the feeling I may have ranted about this before, but I'll do it again as it doesn't seem to be sinking in:

#1 - I may have underestimated my ability to knit so tightly that these socks could double as tiny buckets and actually CARRY water.

And of course, the primary reason I decided to knit socks in the first place:

#2 - I forgot, again, that I really don't have ankles...my legs kinda just end with a foot. No delicate anything down there. My tee-tiny "ankle" measures 10.5" around... that would be the smaller of the two. No I'm not 6 foot 5... I am, however, descended from good solid ranching stock. I am the runt of the litter at my 5' 3.75", but my arms, wrists, bust, butt, waist, and especially the aforementioned ankles don't seem to realized this. They are delusional. I wear a sized 8-ish shoe, my feet think I'm fine, thanks. Everything else sees itself as the amazon that I should have been -- from my dad's side of the family (width-wise), and not the "delicate flower" tendencies (length-wise) I got from my mom's side. (At her tallest? She was all of 4'11"; her heaviest? 112lbs. We shall not speak about how heavy my bones are...or I'll sit on you.)

Why why why why do I do this to myself?
I must get it into my head that I am not a pixie with delicate features. I have very strong legs. Mostly due to the grand amount of muscle that really belongs in someone about 5 inches taller than me. My calves start pretty close to my non-existent ankles. One of the reasons I make kinda "short" cuffs and legs of socks is that THEY WON'T FIT ANY HIGHER unless (as I finally measured and did the required math for the, ick, gauge) I start casting on almost 100 stitches...(14" of solid muscle, baby--the fat happens a little higher :).)

So why don't I? Cuz I'm delusional. That must be the reason. Add to that my lack of swatching, and the fact that I got a perfect fit with 72 cast-on stitches using Fleece Artist Merino Sock yarn. PERFECT! I wear the same two pairs of socks over and over and over and am love love loving them to death...holey death.

Lana Grossa, Sockatta, Wildfoote... whatever my first pair was made out of.... they're all at my mom's house now. Learning curve, or something. The Lorna's Laces footlets fit...because they don't go past my ankle!!!

So now, I beg of you "Too Bright for the Supermarket Cantaloupe Ribbed Socks," after I graft your toe shut and give you a nice LOOOOOOOOOONG bath, please please please forgive my simplemindedness and don't cut off the circulation to my toes. I swear if I ever get the chance to knit with your kind again, I will swatch.

Did you see what I'm doing with the Socks that Rock that I won on January One's blog? Yup, that would be me casting on 80 stitches and swatching a full-sized cast on. How about the Lana Grossa for my mom? (Cuz I do knit things for her on purpose too.) That would be me frogging the too tiny SWATCH and trying again. I am learning, slowly, painfully learning.

From top left: Fleesce Artist cake for "computer waiting sock," footlets under "knit check" ruler, 80 stitch "swatch" for STR, my (I hope) forgiving lovely Cantaloupe colored socks with what was left of the yarn, the "computer waiting leg-in progress" under the Lana Grossa and what's left of it's too-small "swatch."

God Damnit, You've Got to be Kind

Kurt Vonnegut has passed away.
BBC Obituary
BBC Announcement
NYT Obituary
NYT Annoucement/Life

Free at Last!

Hello fellow unemployed!

Well, technically I'm not unemployed as I do work for a wonderful temp agency, well, that is, when they can find me work. Otherwise I do feel like one of the "under employed" of America. The reason I chose them is that they get long-term contracts so I don't have to worry about a day here, a day there, hours here, a half day somewhere else...

This is all well and good as long as I don't have a 3.5 week trip to Italy with my XMIL looming. No one wants a temp that will NEED a temp in the middle of their stint. I was supposed to still be at my last assignment...but then they sold the company a million times and the 10th became EVERYONE's last day, instead of the 23rd...or whatever perfect last day that had been. Timing is everything. So now they are struggling (or so they say) to find me something to "fill in" the time, you know, to "keep me busy." Else I go insane...

I'm having my doubts anything will be coming my way until after I'm back from my sojourn. So I might have to go to Italy 2 paychecks poorer. Good thing I've been saving for the trip, eh? So I'll be able to pay my bills (cuz they don't care), but maybe not do any shopping while in Italy. (sniff) I know, I know, you all feel soooooo sorry that I'll be in ITALY that way.

Does it help if I tell you all I've decided to call the trip my severance package? You know, my "reward" for what still feels like almost 8 lost years of my youth married to a guy who would dump me like yesterday's garbage? A fellow I'd known for over 12 years and had come to regard as literally a part of me. That sounds kinda corny, and maybe a little awful, but it's how I feel some days, like maybe this morning as I look over what I still need to do before I go.

Don't get me wrong, I do love my XMIL and can't wait to spend time with her. I'm not "cutting her off" after this trip. We have so much in common it's unreal. I need to find a new name for her though. My "friend" is not enough. Hee hee, I could call her "mom," but now that I'm not married to X, it might confuse people into thinking she's my mom and X was the SIL :).

I think I rely too heavily on labels...or maybe others rely too heavily on them and I'm just trying to make it easier for everyone. There's a thought to explore about myself, eh?

Okay, my room isn't doing well in the "cleaning itself" department, so I should go hurry it along. It is amazing how messy things get when you're not at home to keep an eye on the encroaching detritus.

No, They Really ARE Laughing AT You

It boggles the mind, really it does.  Well, my mind at any rate.  I have to get out of the "third-person-omniscient" mode.  I was writing up some stuff for work and they wanted things STATED in that "all knowing" kind of way.  You know, where there is no doubt that you received the information from the gods and therefore simply CAN'T be wrong.  Can you tell I was a Lit. major as well as a teacher?

 

Where was I?

Right.

 

I admit that I am off in my own little world a great deal of the time.  It's safe and warm there.  However, I seem to have built plenty of windows to keep an eye out on what others are doing.  Maybe to keep me on my guard, maybe to keep me aware, maybe so people won't laugh too long or hard when they look in my direction?

 

Andy and I experienced vastly different "growing pains" years.  I realized this when he pointed out a couple people in the last few days that he couldn't help but chuckle at and ask (me, not them) if they actually chose to dress the way they did.  I replied that it really is the difference between trying your hardest to fit in, versus trying your hardest to no look like a carbon copy of everyone else.

 

Can you guess what I dressed like on my non-uniform school days?  Remember the kid who wore isotoners to school?  How about a Hawaiian shirt over a summer dress?  Umm Renaissance garb at the graduation practice?  Yup, that would have been me.  In all those years and outfits though, I always kept an eye and ear out to make sure I wasn't the BIGGEST weirdo.  There are limits.

 

I guess that's what makes me different than the "bubble" people.  Those around me that are so focused on their own thing that they don't realize they are the "class/office/bus joke."  Their blinders are cinched on a little too tight.  They don't necessarily have to be "leggings" lady with the Pat Benetar hair cut, or "hiking" woman with the Heidi hairdo, or even Harley Davidson man and his awful mustache and bandanna.  Granted they are fun to look at.  The worst bubble people, the ones I almost feel sorry for, are the "normal" looking ones that I just can't stand because they are so deep into themselves they don't realize no one is listening to the same story they've now told for the 10th time.  Let's face it, if you are not my grandparent/parent or older relative (adoptive ones count too), I have no need to hear the same story over and over and over again.  (I have the messican guilt about respecting those others on my list, you see, besides the older they get the more interesting their same old stories seem to get).

 

I think I'm still ranting about a particular office nuisance, can you tell?  But now, really, today? On the last day here?  I'm realizing that she honestly thinks people are laughing WITH her, and that's just sad, really.

In-Digg-nation

Why does this bother me so? 

Is it yet another clue-in that I am on the fast-track to becoming my mom?

Eep.

 

Do you all know about Digg?  When I'm all out of blogs to read (I don't subscribe to all that many, relatively speaking), and the BBC has nothing new to share, and I've seen all the previews on Apple.com, I turn to digg for some edutainment.  If I'm knitting?  I go straight to their video page.

 

However, I really really REALLY have to be careful of what link I click when I'm happily watching inane links to South Park (I am twelve years old sometimes) or stuff that certain post-ers find "cool."  No, I'm not talking about the 13-year-olds who post Brazilians shaking their butt cheeks.  I'm not too easily offended, if the moniker above didn't clue you in.  I'm talking about clicking on the "comments" for posts from the tiny percentage of "digg-ers" who are over the age of consent and have maybe ventured out further out than their parents' basements, or something similar.

 

Case in point?  There was a "quasi" video (more like a slide-show with operatic background music) about the birth of an island in the South Pacific.  The pictures were not taken by National Geographic, or the people behind the Encyclopedia Britannica (one commenter referred us all to watch their version of the new islands being daily created near Iceland--cuz you know, Iceland is in the South Pacific and all....), but by a couple cruisers who were probably on their way to or from the Marquesas.  This was them sailing THROUGH the volcanic ash that precludes the underwater volcano that would be "somewhere" near.  They don't exactly sell charts of such things, you see.  I found the pictures both fascinating and frightening in that "I've been out there" feeling.  Crossing from Mexico to Hawai'i on a 32 foot boat, you feel small.  Tiny speck does not begin to describe the feeling.  Alone is another word that crosses my mind.  I was with my X then, but what with sleeping and watch shifts, you spend DAYS "alone."  Running across an underwater volcano could mean, well, certain death as the water does weird things like not letting your boat float through it and stuff...

 

To be out there, feeling that alone and tiny and then running across an underwater volcano and then SEEING the birth of an island?  I have no words to describe how that would have slammed me down and changed the way I viewed my world.  All that Carl Sagan-y Cosmos-y feeling of place and time and awe-ness was tossed out the window, of course, when I clicked on the wrong link and started reading comment after 13-yr old comment about how "this isn't a video" and "my little sister takes better pictures" and maybe one too many "this music sucks."  People?  Boys?  GET. A. LIFE.

 

I would really love to see what THEY could come up with.  Arm chair travelers and directors (and grammar policemen it seemed), leave your Dungeons & Dragons world for a spell and THEN come back and share what you've been through, so we might all have a chance to tear you apart for just trying.

"For 3 Strange Days..."

Well, more like 3 and 1/2 frustrating ones to go...

Then I'm done with this assignment...finally.

Actually then the company is done with being a company...finally.

"Not with a bang but a whimper."

Actually...not even that, more like with lots and lots and lots of bitching & moaning mixed with lots of complaining & whining. I'm so glad I'm a temp some days. But really and truly, people? I understand it's all about you, you, you. I should know, as it's all about me, me, me in my world. But you will really will have to excuse me as I go get some work done instead of listening to you go off about something completely unrelated to my life here or elsewhere, period. As much as you might like hearing the sound of your voice? I really need to clear off my desk before the movers show up, so um, yeah, see these iPod headphones? That's right, they're going in my ears. That's right, that means I could care less about how much cleaning up you have to do. The less time you spend at my desk whining about how you're never going to finish, the more time you can spend actually getting your stuff done. Amazing concept, eh?

But you're not listening to me, you just want to vent some more. So I will just ignore you as you talk and talk and talk and talk. I know they won't be firing you for NOT doing your work at this point, but really, with all that severance you keep talking about getting? Maybe you can hire someone to listen to you and acknowledge all your woes.

I think there are some boxes I need to make up at the other end of the office, 'scuse me.