PlazaJen: Passion Knit

Well, That Wasn't So Bad...

2008-07-07T22:33:00.003-05:00

I turned 40, and nothing fell off, broke, or careened off-kilter.

In the spirit of moving forward, I'm going to start blogging over on my website. It's not done, it's not even close, but hey - we're all friends, and why wait for something to be "done" before having friends over, huh? So, if you would be so kind, grab a paper cup of the box wine perched over on that pile, and redirect your browser, bloglines, blog reader, bookmark, and links to here:

http://www.plazajen.com/blog

Ta-Da! We'll be eating cold pizza and potato chips for a while, as I have a jammed-full couple of weeks, but eventually, some of the other pages under the plazajen.com umbrella will actually have some substance and order. Until then, (glug, glug, glug) have some more of that tasty wine, won't you?

You'd Want to Call It A Monday.

2008-07-03T12:47:00.002-05:00

My poor husband. He had a rough day yesterday, and I can only hope that whatever planetary-star alignment thing he had going on has been swallowed up by a black hole and the crazy has moved on to another block, city, or continent.

His truck has been... finicky. It's got over 190k miles on it, and as many things do when they get older, has taken to making its own decisions here and there about what it will or will not do. Like start. Or turn off. It reached a point that he just routinely would hook & unhook the battery to co-operate with the truck's New Method of Running. But yesterday, the truck decided it would not play with the routine any more. And this decision took place in the Lowe's parking lot.

Now, as James observed, if you're going to have a vehicle breakdown, the place to have it is in the Lowe's parking lot. Three men immediately appeared to help, and they pushed the truck down an incline so he could get it into gear & rolling again. (As someone who is only knowledgeable about car styles and names, this is all very magical.) I was telling Beth about it today, and we were joking about other sorts of breakdowns, like what the best parking lots would be for those. I think a nervous breakdown would be best in a Target parking lot. Anyway, he has determined it's the starter, and is outside installing it as I type.

But that wasn't all. Last night, we had major storms - lots of lightning, thunder, rain. I went to bed a bit later, and it was challenging to fall asleep, what with the noise and flashes of light. And the dogs kept barking. Mostly Polly, but she'd get Suzy going and Tripper, who stays in his kennel & has the StopBark by him, just whined, because he knows barking=ultrasonic badness. At one point, James asked me if I'd heard the doorbell. I hadn't, and replied as much. But the barking continued, over hours. I started incorporating all the noise into my dreams, and finally awoke as James, beside-himself-crazy, flipped on the hall light and asked me where the doorbell chimes were. I directed him to the old ones, which he'd already investigated & ruled out, since it didn't have all the batteries inside. I then remembered that a couple years ago, I'd replaced that unit with a plug-in device. I found it, unplugged it, and went back to bed. Apparently, something with the storm was setting off the doorbell, which in turn set off Polly, who set off Suzy and Tripper (Bark & Whine). Suzy finally gave up, because that's how she rolls, but James said that at one point, Polly GOT UP ON THE BED to get our attention. (I have no recollection of this, as I was in my dreams wandering around complaining about "all the racket".) She's vigilant, my dog. I'll give her that. But man, we're both tired today! And the power's out at the office, so I can't check my email from home. I think I feel a nap coming on & a fresh start to the weekend in my future!

Umm, Yeah.

2008-07-02T15:41:00.003-05:00

So, I was hand-wringing and worrying and making myself nauseous over my little Devil Duckies and Cutie Monsters that had gone off to The Loopy Ewe as DPN holders, hoping fervently that they'd eventually go on to sock knitters everywhere. Mostly because of that last part, "going off to other knitters", because WHAT IF NOBODY BUYS THEM.

I even posted as much (more diplomatically and hopefully exuding a :little: less angst) in the Loopy Ewe group on Ravelry, and some kind soul pointed out there were only 6 left. Out of 40. In one day. There are only 3 left today. Day two.

Uh, ok.

I let myself spend five minutes worrying that people are going to hate them when they get them. And then I slapped myself. And ordered some more ducks.

YAY!

Birthday MONTH

2008-07-01T10:39:00.006-05:00

James was laughing at me last night, as I was chattering on about my birthday present to mahself, which I bought with Christmas money I'd tucked away. (It sounds far more noble that way, and, bonus, it's true.) I was talking about what additional things I'd like for it, and he asked how much those cost, and I quickly tabulated "about $75. And I am WORTH $75, James." Oh, he noted quite quickly, I'm worth much, much more. ;) He laughed about me having a "birthday week" and I immediately corrected him: "Birthday MONTH, my friend."

So here it is - I got one helluva deal on this, too.

It's the KitchenAid 6, which is the biggest one they make. (Well, I think the parent company makes industrial mixers, but really, we'd have to convert the dining room into a bakery. And have a serious discussion about upgrading the oven!)

Anyway, I got it in the color shown above, pearl metallic. I bought it at my local Mar-Beck, which is a treasure trove of refurbished items, and it came with the same warranty as if I'd bought it new. They told me most of the mixers they sell have just had dinged-up boxes or missing a beater or something, and besides, they're the place it goes if it has to be fixed under warranty, anyway. The price was fabu, AND I had a coupon! I know they are offering free shipping on orders over $200, so if you're in the market for one of these, consider buying from them. It's bad-ass. I can't wait to make some dough and not hear the sad grinding of my little KitchenAid's motor. I may save the mixer to give to one of our nieces one day, just to keep it in the family, or else we'll see what CraigsList can bring us...speaking of which, SOMEone is now the proud owner of a fishing boat! Yep! James came out while I was floating in the pool (yes! A pool! I'm spilling all our purchases) and informed me he'd found his dream fishing boat. He did a little negotiating, and in keeping with our plans to stay-cation, we spent the money on something that will be around for years and didn't make us feel queasy to buy it.

For whatever reason, a trip to Mexico just left me nervous...queasy... it just didn't quite feel right. So, the first compromise on staying home was to buy one of those inflatable pools. Of course, that in of itself required compromise, as I wanted something like this:

How can you not love a pool called the "Parthenon"??? Ok, OK, it's a little ... big.

SO, I came home from Wal-Mart with this pool:

It's 12' wide, it's 36" tall (but the water is about 29" at the deepest spot - we have a concrete patio that's slightly slanted for runoff). Relaxing and fabulous. I've been in it every day since we put it up - yep, even when it was just being filled, straight from the hose! I've always been a water junkie. I love pools, I love swimming, tubs, water in general. Something peaceful and transcendental happens when I float around in a tub of water, and I decompress. It's nice. I've always wanted a pool, my whole life, and would lobby for a motel with a pool whenever we traveled. I even wanted a pool more than I wanted a moped, which is saying something. Alas, it was never to be.

So there you have it. We've actually been pretty frugal lately - dining out has taken a nose dive, and it helped that all of the above were really good deals. Someday - maybe someday - we'll have the Parthenon, but that will require a pool boy. (I'll work on the application process! And we'll have to convert the workshop into a pool house.) OH, and before you even ask, NO, the dogs are not allowed in the pool. It would be fun for about 30 seconds and would turn into a major nightmare, not to mention the fact they'd tear up the vinyl with their claws and there goes the pool. It's just high enough that they can't really see in it, and they've left it alone. So, here comes Summer, and for once, I'm ready.

All-in-All, A Good Day.

2008-06-30T19:53:00.002-05:00

The beginning of my day had someone telling me they thought I was brilliant (and no, they weren't from Dublin, where EVERYthing is brilliant), and it came from someone I respect, so it definitely meant something. The end of my day (well, the sun's going down, anyway) contained an email from The Loopy Ewe, informing me of a sneak-up, and my DPN holders are in the store. I hope they sell at least one or two, so I don't throw up in horror and embarrassment! No news on the scarf exchange, but I appreciate the sympathy and shared frustration with the situation. It's a bummer, but what can I do at this point? Nuttin', honey.

There's lots of other good news, but if I stuffed it all into one blog post? It'd be like eating all your movie theater candy in the first five minutes. But hinty-hinty, we have done our part to stimulate the economy in the past three days, and someone just might have herself a fabulous birthday present! :)

Just slightly addicting....

2008-06-30T09:22:00.003-05:00

Try it yourself here!

Oh Hope. One of these days.....

2008-06-27T15:50:00.002-05:00

So, ya, regular readers will remember that last Fall, I did that whole International Scarf Exchange, and as the due date neared, my secret pal bailed on me and never communicated a reason why or anything. But I was fortunate enough to get an angel in Taiwan, who swiftly knit something up for me, and sent along some lovely goodies as well.

I decided I could give it another go, despite all my bad luck with swaps. But now we're back at the "email us if you still haven't gotten anything" point, and I just feel stupid. STOOPID. I even volunteered to be an angel this go-round, because I thought HOW could it happen again? And who knows? Maybe something happened, maybe there'll be a package arriving tomorrow, maybe maybe maybe. But I hate writing like I'm a petulant 14-year old, and it's stupid to get my feelings hurt, but there you have it. And the only way to prevent this from happening again is to STOP participating. I apparently have terrible luck with these things and I can't keep thinking "this time will be different!" So. I'm not doing another one of these. I'm doing a swap with my 'net friend TussahSilk, and we'll get around to sending each other care packages of yarny goodness. (See, we don't set a deadline or really any ground rules? But I've already gotten her a couple of things, and eventually, I'll reach the point where I say, "Yeah, that's good", and then we'll email some more and then we'll both fulfill our respective ends of the deal.)

Grumble. I'm sooo glad it's Friday. Hubs finished summer school today and he couldn't be happier. I'm gonna get my toes done tomorrow, and prepare for my last week as a 39-year old!

Revisionist History

2008-06-26T15:49:00.005-05:00

I used to want to be Madeleine Kahn when I grew up, because she wasn't a standard measure of beauty or aspiration. Of course, she was beautiful, but mostly she was hilarious. The sort of gal who would throw you for a loop when she opened her mouth and cursed like a sailor or something, but you didn't have time to be shocked because you were already laughing. Then she died at the very young age of 57.

So, now I want to be a blend of a couple other atypical women. Swoosie Kurtz reminds me of Madeleine Kahn, to some extent, and Kathy Bates is flat out talented, funny, and scary as hell if your name is "James Caan".

I know, I'm going to always be... ME. I'm ok with that. But I get flashes of the women who've influenced my life, and who I want to become as I age (gracefully or not), and I am keenly aware of how Hollywood makes women my age "disappear". I'm just not comfortable blending into the wallpaper. I never have been. It's a joke I love to say, "I'm shy." Of course, I can be, I can dislike talking or dealing with people or situations and want/need time to myself, but I'm the girl who wants to charge forward when something feels scary or intimidating. Beat it down and smile like a fool.

In other good news, I think it's finally safe to announce it: I'm capable of truly being happy. I made small talk with a stranger at Sweet Tomatoes the other night and laughed and realized from the inside out, it didn't have an iota of "cover" or lie in it. You wouldn't assume it to be true - I've cried more the past two days, between blog posts and NPR stories (oh my god, you have to listen to this one - I had no idea, and it's so heartwarming. And such proof that one person can make all the difference in the world.)

But I think a part of me is finally buying into the idea that it might, after all, be ok. I know I'm going to have my dips, my nose-dives, my hull will drag on the sandbar and I will be buffeted into rocky outcrops. But in the end, I want to be someone who made a difference, and didn't give up. Always with some laughs along the way.

I'd prefer "Jaguar", please.

2008-06-24T14:42:00.005-05:00

So, I'm turning 40 soon. As in, within a couple of weeks. One of my friends was sending out a happy hour email, and I got served an ad in Google, apparently because "40" and "birthday" were in the same message. What was that small text ad?

"Cougar Bars"

What did I think when I saw it? Some sort of granola energy chew. Followed immediately by "Hrm, cougars IN bars?" And wondered how a meat bar really worked and would it be good for sack lunches? Then the rest of the text battered through my fogbanks: "Find Local Cougar Bars Near You. 100% Free. Join Now!" Yet still, I was trying to figure out if this was like, say, a Dachshund enthusiasts group. But the web address finally dismissed every doubt or nuance of confusion: date a cougar, dot com.
Holy carp! Holy crap! I don't want to date a cougar! I don't want to BE a cougar! I am NOT a cougar! WTF?!

Aging is great for all the wisdom and perspective but it totally sucks for advertising and hearing about all the things "wrong" with you. I'm supposed to buy all these creams and collagen-enhanced lotions for my skin. (I'm sure the collagen comes from cougars!) I'm supposed to start taking soy. (Comes from pumas, I hear.) Eventually I will burst into flames on an irregular basis. Meanwhile, men just age gracefully and become more... distinguished. Nobody ever calls them "an iguana" if they parade a young hottie on their arm. Matter of fact, I think we should start the trend right now. If women over a certain age are dating younger men, and society insists on calling them "cougars" (I mean, can't you just see the wildcat tearing out the frat boy's throat?) - well, I say we start the Iguana Movement as our own counterpoint.

Jack Nicholson, I'm looking right at you, my friend.

Is a Knitting Hangover a YarnOver?

2008-06-23T11:07:00.004-05:00

Wowza, what a weekend!

Saturday was the Sunflower Knitting Guild's Kansas yarn crawl. Laura volunteered to drive us, and Carmen, Jen & I gallivanted together. Carmen is the (self-proclaimed) Ghetto GPS, and at some point, I had to point out she didn't have an "off" button. She retorted it done broke off and you gotta get the pliers out if you wanna change it! Well served comeback, my friend. There was a lot of laughing, needless to say, in between our shopping.

We went to Knit Wit, where I bought two skeins of beyootiful laceweight yarn. (You get so much yarn for the moneh, oo oo, oo ooo) It's in BlueBlood Red.

Then we went to the Needle Nest, and I didn't find any yarn there that had to come home with me. I picked up a couple of Amy Butler patterns, and admired some fabric, but it was getting pretty crowded inside, I was starting to overheat and it seemed like a good idea to get outside and out of the way. Laura took this pic of us under the vine-covered arbor in front of the shop:

(Nobody was outside with us, so we couldn't get a foursome shot. And my picture? Did not turn out. My little Kodak gets fussy if you don't let it whir and think for at least 15 seconds after you take a picture. Grrrr. But, at least the Canon behaves & all the rest of the pics were taken with that.)

Back to the narration! After Louisburg, we zipped off to Lawrence, and were 45 minutes early for our visit to Tracy Bunker's studio, so we trekked over to the DQ, and had us a snack. I love the DQ. We arrived back at her studio at the same time everyone else on the crawl got there, so we all descended at once. I bought some Rayon Ruffles in Dragonfly - the colors are atypical for me, and it was really reasonably priced. The only downside is that I noticed her sweet dog Ruby had a bunch of little black bugs on her tummy, so I'm quarantining the yarn until I'm sure I didn't bring home anything unwanted visitors for our dogs. (We use Advantix on them, but still. It's a battle I don't need!)

The last stop was the Lawrence mecca, The Yarn Barn. I wasn't going to get anything, actually, until I saw a shop sample of a cute cotton tote bag. They didn't have the pattern, but I got some cotton yarn, and it's a crochet pattern, so I figure, why not, I can single stitch crochet like a mad woman, maybe I could crank something out super fast?! Who knows. It looked like a relatively simple shell stitch, and it's for their learn-to-crochet class. Famous last words, I know - but it shouldn't be :that: hard?

We went back to our carpool meet-up spot, and then Carmen and I went on to Joann's, because I had to get more candy melts for the next day's activity! Yup. We had a Ravelry meet-up at The Studio, Sunday afternoon. And because cupcakes are practically the official dessert of Ravelry, we had a cupcake contest. Boy, did we get a lot of cupcakes! It was awesome! Mine were simple - white cake, chocolate frosting, edible glitter, and then the toppers were the Studio's daisy, made out of colored candy. I was inspired!

Then, since I was on a roll with the candy-making, I made dipped and molded pretzels as well. (Those did not go to the event. The Wo loves 'em.)

We had a GREAT turnout, with around 45 knitters & crocheters & spinners showing up!

It was a sunny day, and everyone pretty much clung to the shade.

There were all sorts of cupcakes:

My cupcakes won for Manager's Choice, and I got a fabulous "Ripped" shot glass. I also won a Studio goody sack, and then my name got drawn AGAIN, but they picked another person, because seriously, it would have looked rigged at that point. (It wasn't! I swear!)

The best part about yesterday is this:

We got an entire table full of food donations for Harvesters. Knitters are good, generous folks! And they can bake like fiends, too....

Now I need a weekend, to recover from my weekend. Oh, and I'd be remiss if I didn't give a posthumous shout-out to George Carlin. He was just here a minute ago! Man, what a funny, funny dude. He will be missed, and I can only aspire to swear as much as he did.

Lotsa Pics!

2008-06-21T07:28:00.002-05:00

OK, first off, I'm going to show you the cake I made last weekend for Momma Linda's birthday:

It's a Peach Upside-Down Cake, from AllRecipes (I love that site). The cake is from scratch and it's deeee-licious!

I love to garnish.

Now, here's how Tripper looks when I'm giving all the dogs some treats. I realize it's blurry, but you get the tractor-beam stare, nonetheless.

We give them treats in order of pack status, so we say their names, and then toss them whatever they're getting. (It goes, "Suzy!", "Polly!" "Tripper!") What's funny is that the other two dogs sit and remain utterly fixated, watching your hand. Tripper, however, does this in-place bouncing, keeping his back legs grounded, but lifting his front paws off the floor in this sort of horse-rearing-back motion. He does it quite enthusiastically (to each dog's name), and it usually results in his ears flopping completely inside-out, but he continues to perk them up. And it makes me laugh, and laugh, and laugh! I had to stage these ear pics, but you get the idea.

I like that his lips look a little caught, too. Doofus.

OK OK, you've had your fun..... now knock it off, Lady.

Last, but not least...
Grammar Update!

So, it really is good to know someone. And I used to work with the guy who's now a designer at one Ace Hardware's agencies. I didn't want him to get thrown under the bus, in case it was his work, so I sent him the photo of the egregious shelf-talker. Turns out it was done corporately - and nationwide. And he reassured me that they'd have to reprint them all. (He's on a one-man mission to eliminate bad letter kerning. He understands.) And, the Wendy's boards have been fixed! To say I had a triumphant week in the war on bad grammar and spelling would be an understatement. Never underestimate your own power to change the world!!!

Betrayal of the Sisterhood

2008-06-19T11:12:00.000-05:00

I am all sorts of salty right now. Between all the grammar errors around town, and life stress, and a couple crazy situations, and people not using their manners, I am very .... salty. Sharp. Yet blunt. I recall a dinner long ago, with a group of people, and one fellow said every single thing that came into his head, regardless of how inappropriate or uncouth it might have been. I had had just enough wine at that point, and I finally turned to him and said, "Joseph! You need a FILTER!" Which I then explained to him meant he needed a filter between his brain and his tongue.

All of us have layers of filters - we insert more proper filters for business settings, sometimes we remove several and sometimes alcohol renders them null and void (note to self, shouting "Fuck" while seated at the Pope Table at Buca can alarm the elderly walking past). When my buckets of joy are not full, I notice that my filters wear thin or sometimes disappear. This doesn't mean I walk around screaming expletives at strangers (unless you cut me off, but then I'd be driving, eh?) But my patience ebbs out and I can get blunter and I don't call upon my thesaurus of words to couch what I'm thinking. Which leads us to yesterday's blunt transgression, where I pretty much revealed the essence of why men don't understand women.

A friend of mine is going through a divorce. At first, it appeared to be a pretty simple split, he initiated the process, but she agreed it was best, and really didn't seem to be too upset. But then she started talking to friends, who convinced her she should get all sorts of money (he's not rich) and alimony to boot (she has a stable job). Understandably, he's frustrated, because he's not made of money, and he just wants to move on with his life. So on his daily candy visit, he asked me, "What is the deal with women? Just tell me!"

I paused, and I folded my hands, and I decided to just give it to him straight. I said, "Every woman has an abyss within her that will never be filled."

It blew his mind. I qualified it, that every woman's abyss has a different aperture size, the degree it controls and influences varies, and that a lot depends on the coping skills and self-awareness of the individual - but that there is always going to be some piece, some part of us that is never fully satisfied. And ultimately, it's no man's job to fill it. (I think a lot of women think it is their partner's job, which is only a recipe for heartache.) Maybe I'm wrong, maybe it doesn't apply to every woman. But I know for myself, some of the purpose that abyss serves is to motivate me. It also is the part that questions and wonders and ruminates - sometimes too much, but it does force me to recognize when things in my life aren't matching up, if I'm unhappy with a friend or a situation, it makes me think and search for a solution. Is it negative? Sure, sometimes. That hole inside is where my deepest, meanest, darkest insecurities try to hide and pull their strings.

I was standing at the front desk when my friend returned from lunch, and there were five women there as well, talking, so I did an informal poll. And all of them paused, tilted their heads a little, and then nodded. One co-worker said she's always described it as a desire to continue on to the next thing, a driving force that there is never a "done" or "end" to. That's perhaps a little more palatable than an endless emptiness.

It's not to say we're never satisfied. We can look at a task completed as well-done, we can see something we created and feel good, feel proud. And most women I know immediately start thinking about...the next project.

PEOPLE, PLEASE LEARN SOME GRAMMAR.

2008-06-18T14:52:00.005-05:00

I had lunch with Kyra today. We drove by a Wendy's billboard & I asked her if she'd seen the pic I'd posted on my blog, and she had - we were laughing about it, and she said she'd had an English teacher who had showed them a full page newspaper ad that said something to the effect, "Your On The Right Track".

Two hours later, she text messaged me to look at her Flickr. Yup. This is going to put me in the nuthouse, some folks look for the second coming or a rapture, but my alarm bells are signs like these, pointing to the decline of language and writing in this country. Hell, I almost prefer text-message spelling, because it's at least a puzzle and doesn't pretend to be proper English.

Mrs. Bombastic

2008-06-18T14:35:00.002-05:00

Alright, I think I came off way more despondent than intended in that last post. I got some really nice private messages & I hate thinking I made anyone worry when it wasn't merited. (Last week merited worry. Today I'm just feeling like emotional fly paper. Which I'm actually quite proud to have coined, it's totally who I am. You are angry and you are blue! Whatever you're feeling sticks to me like fly paper glue!) I'm just sick of all the panic and doom & gloom with the economy and hearing the phrase "X prices going up further".

I'm actually in a pretty good mood this afternoon, despite some of the drama swirling.

I think I need a vacation. Or some blender drinks. Maybe both! Together!

Oh, and I betrayed the sisterhood today. I actually explained women to a guy friend at work. His mind exploded in front of me. More on that tomorrow.

God's Little Crabapple!

2008-06-18T10:44:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I find myself thinking about topics for my blog, and I hear the old adage, "If you don't have anything nice to say, say nothing at all." It's a good one, but I'm not known for muzzling myself well, nor biting my tongue.

That said, I'm not writing about every irritant, and instead chalking things up to the full moon, and a general swirl in general of low consumer confidence and a depressed economy with soaring gas & corn prices. It's pretty easy to just skip right along to Armageddon if you think about much of anything too long. Everyone I know is (pick one or more): stressed, irritable, on edge, depressed, angry, morose, unreasonable, bitchy, dissatisfied and probably a lot of other lovely adverbs. In the past week I've been cranky, irritated, frustrated, and I just responded to my co-worker's question if I wanted anything from Latte Land with, "A new attitude?" She's so sweet, she said I didn't need a new one. She is, however, a programmer, so maybe I can get her developing Attitude 2.0?

So on my drive this morning I decided I could be grateful I don't live in Kabul. Or Cedar Rapids. I can be happy that I don't have a 50-mile commute. I am not panicked about paying my bills, and even if they drive us crazy, we have three healthy, lively dogs. Life is pretty good, in fact. I wish the country could collectively shake it off, that things would stabilize and it wouldn't feel like someone was cranking on the Winch of Life so vigorously.

This too shall pass, and even though sometimes (right now) it makes me cry to remember his words, as my father said in almost every phone call before he died, "It will all be ok." I marvel at how a man of little faith could instill it so heartily in me.

Deep breath. Exhale. Believe.

Dana, Clay. Clay, Dana.

2008-06-15T20:20:00.002-05:00

We watched the Dana Carvey standup special on HBO last night. It seemed fitting, since the Church Lady had come up in conversation at work on Friday - and then Wayne's World was on that afternoon.

Extremely disturbing. After about 30 minutes, I figured out why. Dana Carvey has had some work done, and now he looks like Clay Aiken.

Tsk, tsk. Good thing I'm still in love with Eddie Izzard.

Random Orts for Friday

2008-06-13T09:30:00.006-05:00

1. Update on that crazy outdoor board from yesterday. Yes, I did call my sales rep at CBS Outdoor. I figured if the mistake was on their end, better they be proactive about it with the client, and if it wasn't on their end, then they'd look good by alerting the client. Fortunately for everyone, it's not on every single board, but there are a handful that are wrong. My rep was VERY appreciative, and I like building up a goodwill bank for a time down the road when I'll need a little extra help!

2. Rachael of Yarn-A-Go-Go lost her mom early this morning. I've never met Rachael personally, but we've exchanged emails here and there, even as recently as this week, as she's been at home with hospice and her mom and family. Peaceful thoughts in her direction. Oddly enough, there was great cartoon this week in the paper that really summed it all up:

3. The white trash across the street have been driving me NUTS. They sit outside pretty much all day long, listening to their music on their car stereo (with the trunk open). They must be drinking or getting stoned the whole time because I can't for the life of me understand how anyone could sit outside in this humidity and watch the street and call that a full day. However, I did have a nice realization the other morning: they make an excellent layer to our security system. Apart from the fact they fit the profile of someone who would actually DO the breaking in, I figure the odds of someone rolling up on our house and breaking in again are even less with their crazytown circus across the street. If for no other reason than the fact our outdoor siren would drown out their music and that'd cut through their buzz enough (hopefully) to evoke a reaction.

4. Blog Debate. Currently taking place in my head, I can't decide if I should just have my blog be front & center on my domain, or house it at plazajen.com/blog. I'm really leaning towards the latter, because it makes it easier for me, setting up the files and templates and stuff, but I also wonder if it makes it more of a challenge for people. (that extra click! who knows?! I have like, 42 people who read my blog and I'd really like to not alienate any of you.)

5. Storms. I am really, really really getting tired of rain and chances of tornadoes on a weekly basis. I grew up north and east of Cedar Rapids and was just sickened to see the entire downtown under water. Then the Boy Scouts in western IA, and the town of Chapman KS getting hit so badly, it feels like an apocalypse. Good thing I'm not one of those Rapture people, I'd be burning my devil mittens and giving my yarn away to heathens. GOOD THING.

6. Now I should explain the Devil Mittens. I love them. This came out on Ravelry some time ago, where a devout knitter caught sight of a sneak preview of the Subway Mittens, and became convinced the pocket was instead a flap, designed to unbutton and allow the traveler's hand to be scanned for the bus pass micro-chip that had most certainly been implanted under their skin. In fact, they have a pocket for subway tokens. But the ensuing dialogue on the forums was hi-larious. Many spoke of the Rapture and that we would see it in our lifetime. And I refrained from trying to get anyone's car, as a reference to one of my all-time favorite bumper stickers. ("When the Rapture Comes, Can I Have Your Car?")

7. Organization, cleaning and sleeping are on my list for the weekend. And blender drinks, most likely. Are you doing anything fun?

Aight!

2008-06-12T10:25:00.003-05:00

This kind of shit makes me crazy.
Oh, and I thought it was just a goof on a snipe*, on one particular board? (This one's at 73rd & Wornall, approx.) But we were out south last night, and there it was, typo and all, informing us that another Wendy's was, indeed, "staight ahead"....

ETA: *Snipe: Refers to a small added strip along a poster design to announce special or revised messages.

Gummy Smiles....

2008-06-11T14:35:00.003-05:00

Thanks for the notes and comments yesterday. I went home and JWo was a super husband, frying up homemade hot wings (extra extra crispy) and then made me a PB&J sammich with the chocolatiest milk, ever, for dinner. We watched a movie, and just had a quiet night. I didn't want to talk much, so I just did my knitting & watched the television. When I went to sleep, I did what I usually do - stare out the window, looking at shapes and whatever I can see, depending on the clouds and moonlight. One of my favorite visuals that I had a child, and now get in my life because of our big yard, is lightening bugs, twinkling away. I started writing a really kick-ass haiku in my head, and almost got up to write it down, but alas, I didn't, and of course, it's gone. In any event, it was another point of reassurance in my life, as true as a cold glass of milk coats your throat, that life goes on, things are ok, I'm going to find joy and sadness throughout the journey, and it's better to feel them fully than insulate yourself, because without one, you cannot have the other.

It was also interesting yesterday, because a couple people called me to chat, unaware of the date's significance; my friend Shelley called from a nearby park, and I suggested she and Miss Kara swing by if they had the time. Miss Kara is growing up and her personality has grown by leaps & bounds since I last saw her. Holy Toledo! And now, she interacts even more, and treated me to countless enormous, hilarious, gummy grins. So I had to take some pictures. A snuggly, funny kewpie doll, on a day when I could use a little pick-me-up.

I realize I'm biased, but I think she is absolutely gorgeous, and hilarious, and no, her eyes simply cannot get any bigger. However, she may be emulating a Saint Bernard, because LORDY that child can drool. (Her teeth are starting to come in.) It was just the entertainment that I needed!

Oh, Time.

2008-06-10T15:07:00.003-05:00

I remember being about 7 or 8, and my father, who never quite grasped the concept of treating me like a child, informed me that one day, indeed, he would die. And in his atheist belief, that upon death, there was nothing more. He would be gone. I felt terror, and it must have been evident on my face, as I cried, and told him I didn't want him to die, ever, that I didn't want him to leave me. He was the one who was always there for me, no matter what.

He told me, in a mixture of reassurance and dogged adherence to reality and a promise to never lie to me, that we were all going to die, and he couldn't change that, but that he would do his best to be around for a long, long time.

I wish it could have been more than 32 years, but I did have those years. The memories of this time, two years ago, flooded me last night, and I felt every last nuance of sadness and pain. I used to relive those moments every night; now I think I've learned that I'm not going to actually forget them. They can feel as real and present as if they just happened - the film is etched onto my soul.

But so are the good moments. I'll never stop loving you, Dad. I miss you from the bottom of my heart and I ache from the pain of missing you, sometimes. But there is balance as time moves on and puts more minutes on the other side of that day, June 10, 2006. And so, I add a new label to all this that I put out there: Moving Forward.

I've Coded....

2008-06-09T15:11:00.003-05:00

I have been getting my geek on. Only in my case, it's more like "gecko". I am such a wannabe, I roll my eyes at myself! That said, I have been working on my own domain, which I've owned for quite some time, and the battle royale of yesterday was getting WordPress installed - I actually did it, but grew so frustrated trying to run the script that I finally submitted it to WP's fabulous team of "install-for-free" volunteers, and then I got a whole new set of parameters and steps to wrangle with. As in, hello, how DO I get the screen to log in as the admin? I spent at least 30 minutes with the wrong address, getting an error message, so I continued to edit my config file, and then finally, blessedly, something clicked. Intuitive, this shit is not.

So! At some point - now in the not-so-distant future - I will be moving Ye Olde Blogge. Right now, when I think about moving all my archives over, I just roll my eyes. Uh, yeah. Lemme get a few more things sailing smoothly before I take that route, mmmkay?

That's one of the things cookin' here at Chez PlazaJen; the other is that those DPN holders I made? Are soon going to be for sale at the Loopy Ewe! I KNOW. That's one of the aforementioned "SQUEE"s. I about passed out from the sheer excitement when I got that email! And then I recovered, and placed a frenzied order for more devil duckies. Which turned into its own nightmare of sorts, as I selected "expedited shipping", and the seller used DHL at Home, which takes its sweet time to get your package to your local USPS who in turn delivers them to you. Uh, yeah. So instead of 1-3 days, it took 6 days. It goes without saying, I was Not Happy. (Oh, and I got the shipping charges refunded.) So, this little bit of excitement goes hand-in-glove with the website, because even though I don't want to delve into e-commerce, per se, I would like to have a few pages with my photos of the holders, and anything else that might be joining the "Wants & Kneeds" line of quirking knitting panaceas. Because yes, there's something else. (But that announcement needs to wait!)

In other news, because lordy, I have been a little distracted from blogging, we are fully embracing the notion of a staycation. However, I am also highly resentful of the staycation. It's sort of a love/hate thing - I know we're doing the right thing by conserving our cash and we'd be grumpy if we went somewhere and spent too much money, BUT, I'm just resentful of the fact that this is happening, the economy is tanking, and gas prices are being jacked with (because seriously, OPEC says there is no supply issue, so what gives? Someone's making a shitton of money AND having a lavish all-inclusive vacation! That's what gives!) So my answer to all of the above is quite simple: Blender Drinks. They're a mini-vacation in a glass.

And, quite honestly, all that's kept me from throwing the computer out the window this weekend.

More soon, with extra SQUEE! :)

Me + An AK-47 = Trouble.

2008-06-05T13:35:00.003-05:00

I am sure this is one of those statements that doesn't even really need to be MADE. But I had a rough night last night, waking myself up with a surge of acid in the back of my throat, and I didn't sleep well after that point. I haven't had that much stress, but as I lay in bed last night, wondering why I felt SO out of sorts, I realized that I've been ignoring, to some extent, that next Tuesday is the two-year anniversary of my father's death, and that I've made my brain separate onto two planes, of sorts. I have the bulk of my brain set on "good times!" and living in the now, and being in relatively good spirits. And I think that big chunk of brain is set on "put the hammer down" on the other plane as a preventative measure, because I want to be progressing, moving forward, being happy, and I am acutely aware that June 10th is coming, not to mention the wincing at all the Father's Day crap bombarding all of us.

So the lower, squashed plane of my brain is getting back at me in oblique, under-handed ways. Like trying to drown me in stomach acid, or giving me insane, bizarre dreams that stay with me long past the alarm has me up and moving around. I felt like I have been in a stupor for a good 10-15 minutes every morning, trying to shake off the dream memories from the night, sorting out what is and isn't reality, like picking cobwebs out your hair.

Last night? I dreamed my co-workers and I were driving around town. In the Murano, of course, and I was driving. But even though it was Kansas City, it was very, very dangerous. And as we went through an intersection, an oncoming car - like an old Nissan Sentra - passed us going the other direction, and the driver was a crazy terrorist, and he brandished a baby-blue AK-47 at us, and his AK-47 had all kinds of floral stickers all over it. Kind of the "Hello Kitty" version of weaponry.

I went into a RAGE. Because I had MY AK-47, and that fucker wasn't going to threaten me with his flowery gun, mine was black and all badass. And my co-workers were kind of freaking out, but they all got out their guns, too, and we went driving through a cul-de-sac Johnson-County-esque neighborhood, shooting at the windows of the houses, just to prove we weren't powerless.

Someone might have a control issue or three, ya think? I've decided my new solution, when faced with situations I can't control, is to shout, "I'm Right!" at the top of my lungs in the car. It at least makes me laugh and stops some of the obsessing. Plus, it's far less dangerous than brandishing weaponry.

Slightly Combative, Microbursts Possible.

2008-06-03T13:43:00.003-05:00

Well, I'm at least half of that weathercast. I don't feel at all like crying, or bursting; in fact, I'd classify my mood as "good" to "sunny". However, I am feeling quite combative, as related to some work things, and I need to shake it off. Otherwise, I may have somebody in a headlock, and while I haven't read a lot of business books, I understand that putting someone in a headlock (or any of the other WWF moves) is often seen as a career-limiting move.

Speaking of microbursts, though, JWo drove down to Schell City last night, because their duck club is there, and the town was hit by a microburst yesterday afternoon. Their house was affected - the paint on the back of the house looked like someone sandblasted it right off, windows were broken, the deck was pretty well taken out, and they have the neighbor's carport, well, everywhere. He had an enormous carport, with sides, that wasn't anchored to a foundation? It looked like the wind picked it up like an empty plastic grocery sack and tossed it around for an artsy good time, ala American Beauty.

Crazy! James said the grass was broken. Yep. That's how crazy fierce and horizontal those winds get. He was just glad there wasn't more damage. I bet their neighbor wishes he'd put a little more into anchoring that carport....because I don't think he's gonna be able to salvage it.

Popeye Better Stay Off Our Street for A While....

2008-06-02T12:39:00.003-05:00

...James pulled all the spinach last week & cleaned it, giving us about 4 gallon bags of fresh, home-grown spinach. So delish. We were having MommaLinda over for dinner on Saturday night, and he asked if I'd make homemade pasta.

I didn't get any pics of the fettucine drying, but man, it's pretty stuff. The spinach adds so much - flavor, color, and homemade pasta is -to borrow from original Iron Chef- like butterflies on your tongue. So light!

I made a very simple sauce - not even that saucy, per se, but it contained sauteed onions, rough-chopped garlic, italian sausage, baby portobella mushrooms and more spinach. I added some of the pasta water to the pan to give it a little more sauciness; other than that, it stood on its own.

Topped with fresh parmesan, it made for a lovely, rustic dish, replete with fresh garden goodness.

Then, last night, I tried another recipe, involving spinach and ricotta and sauteed onions & garlic - and it completely sucked! Ah well. Can't win 'em all, I guess. I'm able to salvage the mixture to repurpose into lasagne at some point, so at least it wasn't a complete bomb. In any event, we are Vitamin-K,-A, and iron-rich after this past weekend!

Neighbors & a Tease.

2008-05-27T15:56:00.002-05:00

No, our neighbors are not the teasing sort.

I am giddy right now, with antici-pation and delight over a small side project I've been working on, but in the interest of NOT having ebullient vomit all over my face, I'm going to wait until I'm further along. In the meantime, allow me a few random "YIPPEE!"s and "SQUEEEE!"s and "HOTDAMN!"s.

Now, in my last post, I talked about the weekend. Not everything from the weekend, certainly, but I forgot to talk about SCIENCE. We were awakened in the wee hours one morning by a thunderstorm rolling through. To be technically accurate, James was already awake; I flailed myself awake out of fear as a huge thunderclap echoed above the house. He patted me on the shoulder to reassure me, since I was in a panic. After I stammered some "Ohmahgod, ohmah, ohsolouds" out, he said, "Do you know what these storms make me think of?" And in my bleary brain, I couldn't think of anything, so I grunted some sort of "no", and he (rather excitedly) said, "NITROGEN CYCLE!"

I burst out laughing. And said something to the effect of, had you asked me to list FIFTY things, I would never have arrived at that. So there you have it. Lightning returns Nitrogen to the earth, and it's a good thing, and it's why everything is so green after a mongo thunderstorm.

Now let's move on to the neighbors, and how science meets them. Two Fridays ago, our neighbor left their dog out in the yard, all night long. (Can you hear Lionel Richie singing? I can. All niiiight, all niiiiight.) And what did their dog do? He barked. All night long (all niiiiight, all niiiiight.) We both hardly slept, and it was dreadful. Needless to say, no dancin' on the ceilin'. So JWo got a Super Bark Free on eBay, and admittedly, I was skeptical, because "Ultrasonic" could very well mean "Ha Ha You Stupid, You Buy Anything, Including This Plastic Box Shaped Like Horn". (Oh, in searching for the one we got, I found this awesome photo, NOT of the one we got, but I love it. This model turns ferocious, wicious dobermans into happy little pets that won't bite your face off!)

Anyway, it arrived this weekend, and it has two options - you can select "ultrasonic" or "beep". Judging from the reaction of our dogs, the beep definitely was effective - they all hunched down and looked very worried. But how do you know for sure if the ultrasonic setting is working? Well, it was as though Science was on our side. James got it set up, pointing right at the area between our houses where this dog likes to sit and bark? And as he started to walk away, their dog came running up to the fence, and got out one huge bark, and then hunched down and was silent. SWEETNESS! And no more ruined nights of sleep. God bless the Super Bark Stop and the Ultrasonic Waves.

Now, there's one other neighbor story - the wack lady across the street, remember her? Crazy cat lady, got the hose-turned-on-her lady, came over in the middle of the night for James to dial 911? (She CRAZY.) Anyway, she now seems to have two men living with her. And their form of entertainment is to open up the trunk of the sedan, and sit in white plastic lawn chairs while staring at the car. Not really sure what that's all about? But I really don't want to pause and invite any conversation. I can't tell if ultrasonic sound waves would work on them, but I doubt it, since they all seem to be under the influence of something, all the time. Guess that leaves us with the hose. Or me emitting a really high-pitched beep if they approach me.

It might go something like, "SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

Weekend Roundup....

2008-05-26T21:11:00.004-05:00

As this four-day weekend winds down, I realize that I've been a bit lax in blogging. Maybe because I was pretty lax all weekend? In any event, I'd say one of the highlights of the past few days was seeing a precocious six-year-old try out boxing on the Wii for the first time - and while her opponent was knocked down, and all the adults (barely able to breathe because we were laughing so hard) were screaming, "Don't stop! He's getting up!" and she cocked her right arm back, at the ready, to take that mo-fo boxer OUT. Our instincts to survive and protect are with us at the get go, eh?

I took Friday off, to extend the holiday weekend, and spent a good chunk of it "Austin-Powering" my way down Metcalf Avenue. You know, the scene where he's trying to turn a small go-cart around and he's going back & forth (to nearly infinity) in a tight spot? Well, all my little stops on what is arguably one of the most unpleasant main drags to drive on in the area felt exactly like that. I went to Macy's, and was terribly disappointed in their selection of handbags. I went to Michael's, and bought the wrong-sized bags for my DPN holders. Then I went to the Asian market, and that was at least successful, and after that, CostCo, which is always successful. :)

We went to see Love Tusk on Saturday night, along with some other local bands vying to be the opening band at Red White & Boom - egads, a couple of the bands were rather dreadful. And I heard those exact words ala Simon Cowell the entire time. But, our friends rocked our faces off, we stayed out later than we have in eons, and just a tip for those of you who frequent Davey's Uptown? The back bartender makes some very strong drinks! I was inspired by the Bombay Sapphire to treat James to a diatribe on my opinions on government standardized driver's tests. As in, I think we should have them! Did you know that Missouri is one of like, seven states that forbids turning left on red, even from a one-way onto another one-way? Seriously. Everywhere I've lived allows this - Iowa, Minnesota. And I can understand some tweaks - there are sections on snowplows in the MN driver's test, but generally speaking, I think there should be more consistency. It could also be I still harbor some resentment for getting the MO test question wrong, pertaining to how long something must be extending from your vehicle, before you tie a flag on it. Really? How about "just about any amount"? That's logical. And works for me. Anyway, I know my dissertation was a real treat for James... ;) (I thought I should edit this to add: James was very sober & doing all the driving - no worries for irresponsible behavior here! And it freed up my hands to wildly gesture while I made my points....)

My pal in Oxford got his scarf & most all of the goodies I intended to send him - you're so understanding, Stephen! It was a real joy to knit his scarf, as the yarn was scrumptiously colored and super soft. I took some pictures, but I think they're on my external hard drive at work, so I'll post those soon. But! You can go to Stephen's blog & see everything - in a whole 'nother continent! It seems more exciting to me, anyway.

I also did some cooking this weekend, most notably, the first pesto of the season. We have basil running out our ears already, and we've hardly touched the six varieties of Asian basils! I used the regular Italian basil to make the pesto, and was instantly reminded how much better fresh pesto is, compared to storebought. Oh lordy. It was de-lish! I also tried my hand at Mojitos, as the mint has come on in full stride. We ran out of time today, so another round of pad thai will be attempted tomorrow; I may adventure with the stronger-flavored purple stem basil for that! (I really need to take a cooking class from one of my favorite Thai restaurant haunts. I fear a standardized class just wouldn't be the same.)

Now, I just have to try and remember what day it is, and what-all I have to do this week. I love being this relaxed, but I also get a little nervous that I'm forgetting the six most important things I need to do! Like put on pants.

Here's to pants, all week long. What's left of it, anyway!

Safecracker

2008-05-21T13:43:00.000-05:00

I have been having a pretty good week. Moments that border on ebullient, actually. The weather is bright and sunshiney, and the trees are green, there's good breezes blowing, and nothing earth-shattering or negative is forcing my universe to center around it.

Driving home last night, listening to the news, I had a new experience in the coping department. I explained it later to my husband like this.

In the beginning of grief, it's as though you have a thousand sheets of paper dumped all around you, and there is chaos. Everything is laid out and unorganized. Slowly, you start to shuffle and order and find a folder or three, maybe a box, and you put some of the papers away. A gust of wind can scatter them again, but you are moving ahead. More time passes, and you realize you're never going to get rid of all these pieces of paper, but you do have a system and method and some of the more unmanageable papers are tightly tucked away inside a nice heavy safe. By this I mean, "songs on the radio don't make me burst into tears every day." In other words, progress.

So as I'm listening, a report comes on about Ted Kennedy's brain cancer/tumor. I was shocked, but didn't really feel anything, initially. Until the doctor they interviewed started explaining his type of cancer, and that it wasn't metastatic. Click. My father's cancer had metastasized throughout his body, including his brain.
The approach to treatment was described. Click. I heard my father's voice, so small, trying to control himself and be strong, telling me the cancer had, indeed, gone to his brain.
I heard the doctor from the Mayo clinic say, "You do realize there's nothing I can do for your father, right?" and remembered the utter confusion in my mind, because no, I did not understand that. Spin, Spin, Click.
And I looked around and saw a bright blue sky, sharp, fresh green leaves bursting from the trees, smelled fresh cut grass and remembered that day, when I found out the cancer was in his brain, how I screamed at a co-worker and drove myself home, to sit outside in the blinding sunshine and sob, confused and afraid. Seeing my husband's face unexpectedly appear, for of course he would come home to be with me, even though it never occurred to me he would.

And the safe door swung open to pour those tucked-away papers all over my lap. All of this, that's taken several minutes to write, happened in the span of 60 seconds or less. I found myself with tears streaming down my face, struggling to regain my previous optimistic demeanor, and to maintain control, because I was driving. I wasn't crying for the Kennedys, though I keenly know how hard it must be for them. I cried for myself. My loss. My pain. It was brief, and I went home to get a big hug and to putter with my husband in his garden, to pull some weeds and admire the drip irrigation system he's worked so hard on. Life goes on. My desire - almost two years ago - was to get THROUGH all of this. What I didn't know, and couldn't fathom, is that there is no end point. This will stay with me until I die. In ebbs and flows, my love and sadness will visit me, sometimes expectedly, sometimes out of the bright blue spring sky.

Nobody lied when they said time was the answer. So hard to see in those early months, but it truly truly does heal. Heal, not cure. Sigh. I'm learning so so much.

And I Shall Do the Orts, and at Least One Shall Be Philosophical

2008-05-19T13:23:00.004-05:00

Where to begin, where to begin.

1. I'm in a really good mood. Like, really good. I'm finally feeling like some of my old anchors and new irritants have blown free. There are still ties and strings and some remnants knocking into the side of the hull, but mostly, things are good. I had a great one-on-one with my boss, and things are just hunky-dory. I wish I had more work to do, but now that I've written that down, it should pick right back up & I'll be stressed out in no time!

2. Being a Midwesterner. This really rocketed to the front of my head this weekend, as I took several knitting classes, and the instructor is from the East Coast. I hate to make sweeping, general statements about groups, so this feels rather fidgety to write. I'm writing from the perspective of a born & bred & never-left Midwesterner. Raised in NE Iowa, lived in Minnesota, Iowa & Missouri after college, I even felt that I crossed a little into the South when I left Iowa behind to reside in my current state. I know there are parallels between the South and the Midwest - but there are things about being in the Midwest that we claim in our own odd way. Idiosyncrasies, boundaries, just... WAYS. They're "Our Ways". Some things are more extreme up north, I've discovered. I've laughingly called one of our syndromes "Three Times for Pie", because where I was raised, you waited until the third offer of pie before you could accept it, and actually enjoy it.

Why? Because it was the only way to guarantee it was truly ok, and not an imposition on your host, to eat that pie. That pie might be for her family tomorrow night. You never know. Midwesterners don't ever want to be a burden, and that goes double if you're in a guest/host(ess) situation. We have extreme regard for the guest/host dynamic. And it can be easy to violate. We expect to be asked if things are ok to do, you don't just help yourself to things, and in return for your formality, we will do backflips to make your stay as accommodating as possible. Now, in Missouri, I've discovered, you only need to offer pie twice, and sometimes once, and it's readily accepted. But that's among people who know each other well, and if there was a whiff of doubt that said pie was originally destined for another occasion, well, the turning down of pie would still happen.

Now, I know that I don't always fit the stereotype I've just begun sketching. I'm loud (that could be embarrassing, don't draw attention to yourself so much), I speak up and say what I think, if I believe it will result in a good dialog, and I've even made some choices where I know -cognitively, intellectually KNOW - that I am putting the other person in an uncomfortable situation. This is in direct opposition to the MW Way. (And 99% of the time, those situations happen at work, and involve reps trying to get away with something.)

We don't joke about hurting feelings, or say it's a goal to make someone cry or humiliate them. That makes us shift uneasily in our seats, because if you can say it, you might even try to do it, and the laughter is polite (because still, we cannot stop being polite and proper), but it is nervous and has an awkward undertone. Some people can take it - some people can't. Even if you can take it, you automatically feel defensive on behalf of the people who can't. I remembered in a flash at lunch today that the instructor jokingly said to me that she hadn't made me cry yet (or broken me yet, or something to that effect.) I responded in a very quiet voice that it would take a lot more than this, and might just be impossible. It is in those moments that I feel the mettle of my own being, it is a lovely moment of control and confidence and indeed, stubbornness, because I will not be broken for the amusement of someone else. Oh no. I physically feel my heels digging into the earth at the notion of such a tete-a-tete and I see myself ala Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, gesturing "come on, motherfucker" with my hand.

Now, I know that should someone have burst into tears, I believe this person would have felt terrible, never having truly intended for it to get to that point. Why do I think I know this? Because we're all alike under our layers and baggage, and even if you are an asshat day trader who screams all day in the frenzied pit of paper money, we all were infants at one point, who looked to another to care for us, and to unconditionally love us, and we never lose that piece, to feel treasured and appreciated, acknowledged and understood.

And so, when I gave JWo a brief recap of today's drama, his offer to slash everyone's tires, once again, was the brief flash of light that makes me laugh and reminds me that it's all small stuff. And it's all IN the small stuff. How you behave, as a guest or a host, is defined in the small things - yes, it's wonderful if you as the host pick up the check at the $300 dinner, and you take your guest and their kids to DisneyWorld, and you shuttle them to and fro on their vacation. But it's in the small things, the words that dance between mouth and ear, the small kindnesses, the respect, the appreciation of effort: that is where the real measure is taken. I'm not going to go into all the details of the class, I'll end up getting crispy-fried in a flame war, but I think I have a really balanced perspective of it. For me, I got some really good things out of the weekend, but wish it had gone "better" overall, in the nature of the tone and vibe.

Gee, I think after all that, I may have only one more Ort in me.
#3. Suzy made the paper on Saturday, with this fabulous photo:

The KC Star did a feature on Black Dogs (and the correlating "Syndrome", that black dogs suffer a bad rap & are much harder to get adopted) & they encouraged readers to send in their pictures of adored black dogs. Suzy made the paper, Suzy & Polly made the online slide show, and poor Tripper, he didn't make the cut at all. He's young though, and finds his joy in chewing, eating grass, and playing with the other two.

Happy Five Years!

2008-05-15T12:17:00.003-05:00

Five years ago today, the Wo & I got married. Nine years ago today, we met for the first time.

We've had a lot happen in our lives, especially in the last few years. I can't imagine the journey without him. He's my rock, my rudder, my fellow clown, the one person I'll allow to know me inside and out most fully.

I love you, JWo!

Just Another Day At The Salt Mines...

2008-05-13T10:37:00.002-05:00

...well, except Warren Buffet was there.

Not really. But in my dream, he was! Warren & I were in adjoining cubes, and he was having a devil of a time with his computer. I was wildly swinging between cool as a cucumber & frazzled, that I had THE Warren Buffet, at work, sitting next to me! I was trying to switch between work, and writing a blog post about him being there (yes, I even blog in my dreams, it would seem!) My old boss from St. Louis came over & I had to stop blogging, but he was more concerned with Warren's increased frustration with his computer and why things weren't loading.

I leaned back & saw he was trying to do something on the internet. I said, "Warren? Are you using Firefox?" and he impatiently said, "Of course I am!" and I then suggested he re-boot his computer, that usually works for me.

Now, my geek friends, surely you are laughing at this point. I remember having a "Oh-no-he-di-n't" face when he said he used Firefox.

I'm guessing Warren's good friend Bill is going to get some retribution in my next dream.

Done! Done!

2008-05-12T15:35:00.003-05:00

I'm done with several things. First off, I finished the Int'l Scarf Exchange 6 scarf for my secret pal. All that remains are some treats, a note saying hello & introducing myself, and a trip to the post office. Might I recommend the Plaza branch? They are SO NICE, and you don't get hassled. (I don't have great luck with our postal service branches.)

I'm also done with pouring good energy after bad. If I wrote it all out in great detail, then it would stir things up, but suffice it to say, I am not in high school anymore. I cannot, simply will not, continue to find myself caught in the trappings of that behavior. If someone doesn't want to be my friend? Fine. Knock yourself the fuck out, and don't look back. If my emails are ignored, or my feelings, or all the things I've done in the past are overlooked (or overanalyzed), well, then, that's the way it's going to be. I can't keep waiting. I'm almost 40.

These demarcations in life, they give you a sense of what is and isn't acceptable. I remember after my friend Sheila turned 30, she said it gave her the grounds to not take crap from her dad anymore - "you can't say that to me, I'm a 30-year old woman!" Well, 40 is to 30 the way a machete is to a penknife. Does it bother me, being rebuffed, ignored, or otherwise thought negatively of? Yeah. But when my husband starting singing "hiiiiigh school" in the car the other day when I was ranting about it, something inside me snapped. And I knew it had to change! So I'm going to make a concerted effort to stop looking for notes in my locker.

Well, after all that ranting, I'm off to make a cootie catcher. Peace out, yo.

The Door Between

2008-05-07T16:52:00.003-05:00

I've had occasion, a couple of times in the past month, to hear someone talking about a parent's death, or a grave illness & their actions as they cope and brace themselves and prepare for the unknown. I hear my voice and my words and feel my .... whatever it is we all radiate that is intangible to see or often describe, but we feel it, and it couches what we say. "Vibe" is just too... trendy. "Aura" is just too....hippy-dippy.

But I've heard my words and the sounds surrounding them, and I know. I know that I know it now. I know what it is to go through it. To live it, to feel it like a fire raging through your conscious, to wish it would leave your bloodstream in a reverse-junkie rage, to know there are a thousand pitfalls, days on end lost, the emptiness, the pain, the mind fucks, the everything that goes with death. I had a salesperson who came in, her father in the hospital, things don't look good, and I heard myself as I expressed my sympathies - no - my empathies. But not in an overwhelming way. (I still can crack myself, and am learning this language, no matter how much I didn't want to.)

I remember how those who know/knew used their wisdom and experience with me. I remember reading Becky's post, the post that came when I stood on the other side of the door, where I believed I KNEW, that I was wise in the ways of death, because we can only comprehend that what we have lived, and nobody wants to believe they suck at being there for someone else, for simply the sole reason of not having gone through the experience. And in the end, it's not that you suck? It's that you just don't know. You can't have that quiet acceptance inside that says, "Yeah," and doesn't need to say anything else, because it all does come down to time. Time, and love, and patience, and understanding, and lots more time. In re-reading her post, this jumped out at me: "understand that the person may not be the greatest friend for a while afterward" for indeed, I have lost friends in this process. I've even been accused of being a horrible friend, and it felt like being stabbed with a machete. But everything does heal. And I'm struck by how much I didn't know, the first time I read her words. The passage through the door certainly changes you - for better, for worse, for a lifetime.

I miss him terribly still. It's more private, it's quieter. I think of him every day when I get in my car, the car I bought with the trade-in from his truck. I think of him when I look at the grass garden we planted in his memory, freshly mulched and looking lovely as the spikes of grasses rise up through their clumps for another season. I am always comforted when he appears in my dreams, and I see the ways we overlap and I can hear his voice if I listen. For everyone who stuck it out, who listened & nodded & tried to understand - thank you.

Blur, Thud

2008-05-06T15:40:00.002-05:00

This morning flew by in a blur. This afternoon seems to have ground to a halt and is moving forward as enthusiastically as a sea turtle on rocky terrain.

I was thinking about funny PackRat things, how you can tell a true addict - they say things like, "My kingdom for a camel!" or, "SHE STOLE MY PAGODA!" or, "Please don't break my lock, please, I just need this one thing and then I can vault it."

Yeah, it's an addiction. Clever game, even more so in its simplicity and psychological hold.

OK, hubs just called and made me laugh like no other person can. Tears streaming out of the corners of my eyes, because he is addicted to Craigslist, and he has a line on some fencing & tomato cages. So he's off to the manicured lawns of JoCo, with his truck & trailer, only the thing is, the trailer is half-full of crap he hauled up from the duck club, to dispose of on Bulky Item Pickup Day (next week). I told him he might get arrested. He countered with the visual that he was going to change his clothes & put on overalls...with no shirt. And added "Makes for great tan lines, too." Weeping, weeping, what with laughing so hard. I told him he needed to blast the theme to "Sanford & Sons" as he rolls through the calm neighborhoods, and I followed up with sending the ringtone to his phone.

Now, if there was only a Magic Dinner Apparatus, life would be complete.

Deconstructed Pesto

2008-05-05T13:05:00.002-05:00

The growing season feels like it's itching to spring itself on us, at NuWo Estates... the lettuce is up, sadly, the radishes were as well, but some rapacious rabbits utterly de-topped them. James sold all his tomato and pepper plants, to boot! I am delivering the last order tonight. He definitely had a successful seedling season, and I'm sure it will only expand next year. I joked that we're going to end up with one of those high towers...he very seriously responded with an interest in putting one up over the raised beds! So, who knows, maybe I'll get my dream realized - home grown tomatoes, year-round!

I had found some frozen bay scallops at Target on sale - and bought several bags. They're the very small scallops, that, when cooked, are about the size of a headphone earbud. Tiny! but good flavor. We also had a large amount of fresh basil, since we'd potted the live plants we'd bought at Price Chopper a month ago. (Note to self: Never run out of fresh basil again!) After pondering my options, I decided to make something up, and that something would be a "Deconstructed Pesto".

I melted some butter, plus olive oil, until it was pretty warm (but not smoking; combining these two fats tempers the heat point and the butter gives a depth of flavor.) I added about 3 tablespoons of minced garlic, and let it sizzle for about five minutes - it didn't brown, but it was enough to mellow the bite. Then, 2# of the scallops, rinsed & drained, about 2/3 cup chiffonade-sliced fresh basil, 1/2 cup chopped pine nuts, some kosher salt & fresh cracked pepper. Heated until the scallops were cooked, added a few splashes of lemon juice (it needed something to cut the butter, as well as perk up the scallops), and served over hot pasta. We were out of Parmesan cheese, so this wasn't a true pesto-based recipe, but the result was actually quite light & went perfectly with a nice cold chardonnay. A few slices of bread to daub up the garlicky bits at the end, and I am pleased to say, it was delicious!

This type of sauce would be equally good with shrimp or chicken. I contemplated adding some sun-dried tomatoes to it, but figured that might result in too much going on, and overwhelm the scallops. If I were doing this with chicken, I would have definitely tried the tomato addition. Artichoke hearts would also be good, and at that point, skip the meat & throw some kalamata olives into the mix for a nice vegetarian dish.

I love when experiments succeed!

Ever Had A Day Like This?

2008-05-02T15:17:00.001-05:00

Courtesy of my husband. Cracked me up!!!

Scary Night!

2008-05-02T06:35:00.002-05:00

We awoke simultaneously, and instantly. Approximately 1:30 a.m.?
I looked out the windows by my side of the bed & knew instantly that this was not an ordinary thunderstorm. I rarely wake up during thunderstorms. The wind was so loud, and if you grow up in the midwest, all you ever hear is how an oncoming tornado sounds like a freight train. The branches in our back yard were bending and whipping in directions atypical for a regular thunderstorm. James was looking out his window as well, and when I asked if we should go to the basement, I felt sick when he said, "Yes."

The power flickered off and on, going off completely as Polly & I went downstairs. James got Tripper out of his crate, then we both called for Suzy....aaaaabsolutely not. Ms. Suze does not leave her pillow willingly! By this time, the power was back on, and we watched the small television to see the radar & the local weatherman calmly explaining what was going on. I must say, Brian Busby's calmness helped a LOT. Most of the weather people in town get really agitated and alarmed, but when you're standing, blinking, in your basement, wondering if your home is going to rip up around you, a calm voice is really helpful. James is incredibly smart about weather, and when he saw the straight line of the storm, he relaxed & reassured me it wasn't going to be as bad as we both feared. I felt tears spring into my eyes, as the adrenaline slowly waned. My legs were shaking, and I had the image of being 3, living in Knoxville, IA, and the only other time in my life I've been scared out of my gourd about a tornado. My father told us to go to the basement, and as my mother & I huddled together, growing more fearful each second he didn't join us, I remember my legs quivering and shaking. He joined us, with a radio, and that storm passed, too.

There were some areas hit pretty hard by the line of storms - buildings & homes destroyed; we were very lucky. The only funny moment came as we trundled back to bed; James observed we learned who the Captain of our house is: Suzy.

Totally going down with the ship.

Whew!

2008-04-30T18:28:00.002-05:00

Today was one of those rat race days - making me so glad it's almost Thursday. I got lots of unpleasantness done today, which means the weekend approach moves should be a little more relaxed, a little less stressful. I do have one business thingy that will "go down" tomorrow, but I view it as conflict resolution, and I already know what I will ask for in the event things don't go my way. Point, counterpoint. It does help when logic is on your side. I couldn't even explain it all if I tried, but suffice it to say, it's the same old song and dance of salesperson-boss-client-agency, and my job is to make sure my client is happy, and if I can't get them that, I can at least make it clear the lengths to which we went in the effort to obtain 'happy'.

OK, I have more to say? But I'm out of time. I've been away from this for almost two hours! See ya tomorrow - after I kick a li'l ass....

Because You Never Know When Life Will Present You With A Need....

2008-04-29T12:21:00.002-05:00

....to use freezer paper.

I have no idea what this person is doing, but I must say, it was a fresh alternative to beanie babies peering back at me.

Closeted Miracles

2008-04-28T12:44:00.003-05:00

OK, I know most of you know that I can fall victim to the belief that the Next Big Thing can truly change my life in every way imaginable. If I accrue enough plastic tubs and storage items, when the tipping point is reached, then I will finally become organized. Know where everything is. You know .... kinda impossible. But I do keep the hope alive.

That said, I did discover a product that has made a huge difference in my life. And I love it/them. And so far? After two weeks? They're still working for me, and I'm a lot more organized, at least in one small area of my life. What is it? Well, it's these flocked hangers. Prior to these, I was using oversized/large plastic hangers, and discovering that I still had to fold clothing over the lower bar of the hanger for it to stay on. Much of my wardrobe is knits, and many of those are slinky/slippery/smooth fabric and they just won't stay on a hanger. So I found that much of my wardrobe was not visible to the eye and everything took up twice as much space, if not more. And I thought I'd give these a go. Well, hell's bells, they work like a charm. I even got a set of the pant hangers & draped my skirts on them. Now, when I look at my side of the closet, I can readily see all of my tops and make a choice based on a visual cue, versus relying on memory or a vague recollection. You can't use them for wet clothes, so I'm employing the plastic hangers down in the laundry room, and switching the clothes over once they're dry. They're also super skinny, so a lot more fits in the space. And shirts aren't falling off to disappear at the back of the closet! I love 'em. There's my toot-toot for those hangers. (I know, I'm no Billy Mays!) I've seen them at Target, but I know with my 20% off coupon for BB&B, the 50 hangers for $32 was a pretty sweet deal.

In other news, we are still waiting for Tripper to outgrow some dastardly puppy behavior. He loves to chew. Chew, chew, chew. And we have all sorts of bones - real and faux - but left to his own devices, he has destroyed many a random thing. A new rubber rug from Target lost a corner in just a few minutes of being left in the house alone - a plastic thermometer, a screwdriver, and yesterday, he took a plastic milk jug (James uses them in the greenhouse & the coldframe) and destroyed it to a million little pieces. He's like our own live shredder. But does he take the credit card offers and junk mail that needs shredding? No. He had an old paintbrush that was actually pretty comical to see, as he ran around with the brush end sticking out, like he was off to whip up his next masterpiece. And on Saturday, he got ahold of a knife of James' (he likes to go into James' workshed and root around for oddities that an ordinary lab wouldn't discover). So he's running around with this plastic-handled pocket knife (open!) looking like a goddamned pirate, without his eye patch. I quickly got that away from him and into an up-high, inaccessible spot. And we have to put the lid on the trash down, or else he's in there, discovering things like cream cheese wrappers or the ends of baby bok choy. I just shake my head. No magic solution for this except time - and vigilance!

I Barely Refrained from Freaking Out!

2008-04-24T15:00:00.003-05:00

I went to Sung Son for lunch with mah BFF Beth, and we were eager to try out their new lunchtime buffet. It was terrific. At one point, I believe I said, "I don't even know how much this is, but it's freakin' AWESOME!"

For the record? $8.99. Dudes & dudettes? They have SPRING ROLLS on the buffet. And Vietnamese egg rolls, made with those lovely thin wrappers. And a noodle soup bowl selection of like, 10 different kinds. And bun. And a bunch of chinese dishes, too. Hog-freakin-heaven, since spring rolls are my Achilles heel. And a vat of peanut sauce? Died and gone to heaven, folks. You normally pay $4 to get 2 spring rolls. It was phenomenal. And to me, the glorious part of Vietnamese food is that it's healthy (as long as you don't ladle the peanut sauce onto everything!) so I feel pretty good right now. It's very filling, tasty, well-prepared - mm. I'm pleased as punch & it seems to have picked up their business, too, so it should be a win-win situation for them.

As long as they keep that spring roll wrapper person on staff. Man. They're just so good!

A Perverse Delight.

2008-04-23T14:15:00.002-05:00

I really can get quite giddy when people think I'm stupid. Sometimes, I get pissed, or truly angry, or even upset for long periods of time, but there are certain situations when people think I don't see things, or have the inability to perceive things correctly, or that they can outright lie to me while patting me on the head like the Grinch did to Cindy Lou Who.

And while I may bristle a bit at the head patting (condescension is SO not the path of headway with me), I absolutely laugh, nay, CHORTLE when someone thinks I'm blind as a bat (and you have siiiight).
(abrupt subject change)

Speaking of blind mice, have you played PackRat on Facebook? That is the devil's online game, and I am cursing the day Kristin invited me to play. As James curses me, for getting him to play it. Frankly speaking, I need more friends so I can steal things from you, so let me know if you're out there & playing it. How's that for forthright?

Meanwhile, I'm chortling away this afternoon. I may have a gajillion faults and weaknesses, but stupidity is rarely the cause.

Just skim and move along. Lame-O!

2008-04-22T16:37:00.003-05:00

OK, between the astronomical amounts of pollen in the air, and the spectacularly loud hailstorm/thunderstorm/lightening storm last night, I am starting to feel a little mad. Not as in angry, but mad as in "going straight off my rocker and into the deep end of the pool."

I even had to get up mid-storm & put on an eye mask, that's how bright the storm got. Made things glow red behind my tightly shut lids, and I was raspy-snore-breathing because all of my sinuses and eyes felt like they'd been injected with some sort of Hollywood starlet puffy-making thing that would normally go in your lips to plump them, but instead, wound up in the wrong spots. Painful, irritating, sleep-depriving stuff. Oh, and I'm still gimping a bit. Yay! I'm definitely sore and all the rest of the atypically-used muscles are PISSED they have to step up and do more than usual.

Let's see. So. I'm just going to wing the rest of the day. I'm as about as reliable and even-tempered as a hungry, angry goat, which is probably a good indication that Popcorn Does Not A Lunch Make, and I need to get on the stick and get some stuff done tonight. This? This is the worst blog entry ever. Just to make it a skosh better, and to let you see the side of me that loves to post over on Lazy Stupid & Godless (on Ravelry, where we are neither Lazy, nor Stupid, but some are, surely, Godless): I did post something yesterday about the big drama with the FLDS in Texas - and while many were getting a bit wound up about the abuse, and the wrongness of it all, and don't get me wrong, I agree, I just wanted to make one salient point. Couldn't they spring for another dress pattern? For the love of their holy underwear, could we get another style or two into the rotation?

I'm done. Fried, toasted, and fricasseed. My apologies to the chef & the readers.

Did I Fall Off The Face Of The Earth, Too?

2008-04-21T15:00:00.004-05:00

No, but I did fall down again.

Yep.

Fell down again. So we had the first incident on Tuesday evening. Then, on Thursday evening, I let the (very soaking wet) dogs in, and while they danced off their muddy paws in the entryway, they still carried some drippage in on their coats. (This is foreshadowing!) I was sitting down to eat some stir-fry & realized I'd forgotten to put the little packet of cashews on top, and who doesn't love a nice cashew crunch, well, if you're allergic maybe, but I'm not, so I toodle back in to the kitchen & cut the top off the package & stump my way back. Wearing Crocs. (Have you worn Crocs? So comfy. But sadly, the equivalent of ice skates when worn on wet tile.) I hit a wet tile - with my good left foot. Which went shooting out to the side. Leaving me to balance on the bad foot, and I'd :just: taken the splint off to air my ankle out. It was like the Balance Gnomes freaked out, and all the other gnomes just looked at 'em like, "Dudes. You crazy." I didn't even bother to fight this fall. I went straight down (face first!) and caught myself with my knees (ow) and my palms (ow, ow.) And spilled a few cashews, too. So now I'm flat out, face down (prone) (opposed to supine, which is flat out face up), with the wind almost knocked out of me, and I'm surrounded by wet smelly dogs eagerly trying to find every nut that was knocked loose.

Fighting the fall is where more injury happens, I do believe. The fact that I realized in that split second that there was nothing my bad foot could do but get hurt more, probably worked in my favor. I did, however, bruise my ribcage sufficiently - every laugh for a couple of days came with a wince & a twinge. I still get worn out from the gimping, because I'm using all sorts of new muscles to compensate for the sprain, but it's nice to be on the mend, and not have any bones protruding through my skin. It's important to always be grateful, peeps.

I'm happy to report that this blogger has been accident-free for 3.5 days! Woo hoo! However, hard hats & knee pads are strongly encouraged.

Oh, and ETA: P.S., No earthquake jokes, dudes. I may have created some movement on my own Richter scale, but I'm too far away from the epicenter to be the cause. Bitches. Beat you to it!

I'm Fine Until the Drugs Wear Off....

2008-04-17T15:33:00.003-05:00

I realized about 10 minutes ago that the reason things hurt is that I hadn't taken any pain relievers since 8 a.m. And that I'd planned to take some more at lunch, but then promptly forgot.

It's made for a semi-cranky demeanor, not to mention the fact that all the other muscles are a little irritated to be carrying more than their load. I appreciate the sympathy & concern - and had there been a glimmer of worry that it was in fact broken, I'd have gone to the doctor. I still will, if it doesn't continue to improve. According to my at-home physician (JWo) (who is assisted by Nurse Tripper - boys are nurses too!), the swelling had gone down a fair amount in one day. It does still hurt, but I did the "Is Your Ankle Broken" checklist, and as long as there's improvement, I should be fine. I do love, however, how every one of these online checklists incorporates something like, "Do a visual check, and if there are bones protruding from the skin, seek medical attention." Oh, really? Ya think? I'll get to the doctor right after I've recovered from puking and passing out from SEEING MY BONES coming through my skin. Fuuu-uck. I love how our litigious and Darwin-Award-driven society has removed all semblances of common sense. (Obviously, my 1,000 mg of pain reliever has not kicked in yet. Hi, Grouchers!)

I will end on a high note. I've saved this in my Bloglines, because it makes me grin every time I see it. And given the footwear, it feels vaguely appropriate. Except I'm pretty sure this hammy doesn't actually walk around in doll shoes.

(From Cute Overload, natch.)

gah!

2008-04-16T14:40:00.002-05:00

I'm seriously thinking my last moment in life will involve me in the tub. Taking a header. Isn't that a pretty common way to go? My lack of grace and sprained ankle have left me incredibly frustrated today (and in a fair amount of pain that isn't getting deadened from the handful of anti-inflammatories...) I stayed home today & kept up on things at work via email (thankfully!) and now I'm mustering the strength to go out and get myself some gimp-helpers, namely an ace bandage & possibly an air splint. Oh, and if there are any vicodin lying about on the ground, I'm going to pick those up, no matter how much it hurts at the time.

I did put some DPN holders into my etsy shop, and have quite a few more to put in there, so I'm not skipping the big alert/update, I just want the people who are interested to have a full selection! I need to get some more elastic, but .... the gimp thing again. Sigh. Frustrating! Tripper thinks it's awesome though, because he's gotten to sleep out in the living room all day, instead of in his crate. At least one of us is having an awesome day!

Well, I'm off to hobble through the CVS. If you see me, I'll be the pissy lady brandishing a sporty blue cane. In other words, keep back about four feet!

And so my next piece of jewelry will be the "Life Alert"

2008-04-15T21:05:00.002-05:00

It just got nuttier after that last post. Yes, I got my timesheets done. And then I decided to go back to the copier before I left - it was about 6:00 - and what happened? I tripped on the carpet, grabbed at my white board (which, let it be clear, offered NO support) and fell and sprained my ankle. And people were still there, and the huge white board crashing down caused a few faces to poke their heads in out of concern.

Excellent. I'm so graceful and now I'm a gimp to boot.

But! I have a lovely husband. He went and got dinner, waited on me all evening, and offered lots of sympathy. And I finished packaging & photographing a whole bunch of DPN holders, so tomorrow & Thursday, I'll be stocking my Etsy shop!

And muttering under my breath, "I've fallen! Goddammit!"

Ohmygod

2008-04-15T16:51:00.001-05:00

I totally want to blog but the CFO is telling me to do my timesheets before I leave today.
BLEAH!
More later. Hopefully.

Rockin' the Bissell Life

2008-04-14T17:11:00.005-05:00

We had a productive weekend - Friday night, we attended the BotaB3 - Battle of the Ad Bands, 3 - downtown, along with the pre-party that included unlimited beverages, pizza, and Guitar Hero. I did pretty well, though it's really unnerving to do something familiar (play GH3) while a lot of people are watching you and the photographer is snapping 800 pictures of you.

As my co-worker (and bass player for our company band) put it, "Welcome to playing guitar in a band." DUR.

Their band is "Love Tusk" and they deliver on what they promise: To rock your face off. I haven't been so entertained since - I don't know when! And the three Bacardi & Diet Cokes helped make everything amusing. (James was driving.) Because I :did: need a laugh or six - it had been a pretty grueling day, and I had a joyous project awaiting me at home.

The project, you ask? Tripper diarrhea, everywhere in the big carpeted room downstairs. Oatmeal carpeting, if you're asking. Light. Not that I'd ignore dog poo and hope future guests would just ignore the lumps, but a darker-colored carpet would have certainly been less stressful. (It came with the house!)

I had gone downstairs Friday morning to grab something from the laundry room - of course, he followed, as it is against his religion to be separated from you if you leave the main floor, and in the two minutes I was down there, he had an Accident of Epic Proportions. Foulness. And I was already running late. So all I could do was fight my gag reflex and shrug - it's not like the poop was going to roll around by itself. Sigh.

So I bought myself a mack-daddy Bissell on Saturday at Target. I've always skimped in the past, gotten some smaller device that promised undeliverable miracles, and since the last device was stolen in the burglary, we'd never replaced it. It hadn't cleaned the stains anyway. Sigh. Little did I know. I had finally made the right move.

This machine not only got all the diarrhea stain out (and believe-you-me, I went into this project skeptical AND heavily armed: gloves, numerous plastic bags, paper towels). It also got out the 4-year old urine stain from when Polly had peed right in front of the door and we'd unsuccessfully tried to get it out. (We gave up and put a small entry rug over it.) So. I'm happy with it. I did about half the stairs going up to the second level, and I can't wait to tackle the other stains up there. Joy from a carpet cleaner, crazy, I know! I used their expensive Pet & Soil cleaner (I figured what the hell, at that point.) My brain had been thinking we'd have to pay someone professional to come in (and what a PITA that would be, not to mention, NOT CHEAP). So I still feel like it was all worth it. Not that I'm anxious to use it again on any poopy accidents! Bleah!

I also got a TON of DPN holders made this weekend (my lord, if you knitters are still reading me, what fortitude and patience and strong stomachs! Thank you!) and I'll get them up in my Etsy shop in the very near future. Yay! Now, I'm off to hang with the Sock Club ladies at The Studio, and I should stop singing out loud at my desk because, well, I am NOT ALONE here. Just further cementing everyone's unspoken opinion that I'm utterly crazy. But fun! Crazy and fun. Now, equipped with a mack-daddy cleaning device. And available as a groupie for the Love Tuskers when needed.

RaoK, P Nuggy Style

2008-04-10T13:34:00.003-05:00

Well, it's a gloomy day here in Kansas City, spitting rain and overcast. After meeting a couple of pals down at LuLu's for lunch, I really wanted some comfort coffee. I came to this realization partway back to the office, so I pulled into -yes- the megalopolis Starbucks. As I did this, another vehicle entered towards the drive-thru, but stopped to let me go. The guy could've been a real jackass and cut me off, but he didn't, and I was struck, a bit, by the notion of doing one of those Random Acts Of Kindness all the bloggers like to write about, and challenge others to do, but I never do them because I don't want to do something because I've been challenged to do it, but rather I want to do it because it really feels like the right thing to do. Sometimes my heart is a tiny lump of coal, ya know? And maybe my shoes are too tight. ;) And drivers sometimes just bite. Or life is so busy and filled up it's easy to forget to do something extra when you're worried about forgetting the next six things you need to do today. (To her credit, the first place I really started reading about this regularly, Sheri at the Loopy Ewe has to be the kindest person alive, I swear. She does RaoKs all the time and makes the world a better place. Me? I am usually screaming at people from the safe bubble inside Mimi Murano about their horrid driving.)

So I put in my order - nonfat Venti Cafe Mocha, and cave for the whip, because hell, I just made the dang thing nonfat, why not have a sweet li'l whip on top? And pull around to pay. A very nice, hippie-sorta dude leans out the window as I explain that I want to pay for my drink, as well as the guy-behind-me's drink, because he was so nice to not cut me off and I'm blathering about being random, and I'm a little worried he thinks I'm not only crazy but I'm stalking the guy behind me (how hard would that be?) and instead, he nods and takes my card, and says something about how the guy behind me got the same drink I did. (Crazy! And super ESP for a stalker, I'd say!) The windows close, and I see him talking to the barista making our drinks, and then he swipes my card & comes back, and hands me my receipt. And says, "You paid for his drink, but I paid for yours, because you were being nice." And I kinda open-mouth fish gaped and then had the where-with-all to remember to tip him.

Now, I love the independent coffee shops. I met my husband in one, we got engaged there four years later, and I always feel a twinge guilty when I give my money to the 800-pound gorilla. But - but - geeze. What a nice thing to do, and the guy behind me followed me out to the stop sign & honked & waved, and we all went on with our days, a little happier and reminded of the fact that a little kindness and generosity go a long way, no matter what's going on in the world.

And, I guess it shows that even big mega-corporations can have a soul if they hire the right people, hm?

File Under: "Queasy Odd Moments"

2008-04-09T16:56:00.002-05:00

My doctor's office had apparently not updated much of my records over the past few years - they had my old employer & phone number, and so I was leaning over the counter talking to the front desk lady (who's been there forever, too, and knows me by name), answering questions as she went through her screen. It all seemed kind of funny, like all these things from three years ago - or ten - that I hadn't thought about in so long. Then, "Emergency contact still Rick?" as she looked up at me from her keyboard, and I found myself gaping like a fish suddenly removed from its aqueous environment. Uh, Rick? That's my dad. He'd always been my emergency contact, my whole life, until I married James, and even then, we've always joked that he'd totally be pulling the plug on me within five minutes. (I still trust him with my life, but I have stressed the need to MAKE SURE heroic measures had at least been attempted first!) In any event, my mind raced because part of me didn't want to change it, to cling to another corner of my life somehow untouched or sullied by his death, but then the practical side of me woke up and stepped in and had her change it to James. But I'm putting it in writing right here, right now, that there is no plug-pulling unless a team of doctors give me no chance at all. (And I'm also going to point out I've had this running joke long before Will Ferrell did it in Talladega Nights!)

Wants & Kneeds, Kneeds & Wants

2008-04-09T11:11:00.004-05:00

I was delighted to get linked on Stephanie Japel's blog for my DPN holders! I already have a couple people who want to be alerted when my stock is replenished - if you're interested, leave a comment or email me at plazajen AT gmail (dot com, of course). I've got an etsy account & shop setup, but no goods to hang in the windows! Soon, though, very soon, I promise.

On daily life, it's been an interesting couple of days - the Royals home opener was yesterday, and it was horrid weather. I skipped the game, but got my fill of the spirit by tailgating - plenty of fresh air, bbq smoke, and officemate camaraderie (oh and gusting, freezing winds and rain). This morning was my annual doctor's appointment (I always hear the song, "Back in the Saddle Again", in my head when I'm getting ready to head over there for that appointment....) My doctor is not even 5' tall, a little Vietnamese bundle of energy, and I adore her. We talked knitting, and she just had a baby last year, so we also talked parenting skills/style (I figure three dogs count for something) and also James' teaching experiences contribute to the conversation. Hey. Anything to ignore what's going on, I say. They have an awesome phlebotomist at the office, but sadly, she didn't quite get all the alcohol wiped off my arm before starting the draw... I've never had that happen before. I tried not to overreact, especially with a needle in my arm, but I finally said, "So.....should it be burning like that?" It subsided eventually, but she was concerned and asked me several questions to make sure it wasn't something else. Finally, I said, ok, am I in danger of my blood leaking and filling up my arm? (I was trying to imagine what the absolute worst case scenario would be.) The answer, fortunately, was "no." (It would have started to happen already. Gulp. I thought I was coming up with an impossible scenario...)

So now I have some crazy work projects to knock out, and a few things to get crossed off my to-do list so I stop the maddening cycle of "OH YEAH - I've GOT to get that done" and then promptly forgetting to do it. In fact, I keep hopping out of this box to do other things & then I remember, "DUH! I didn't hit 'Post'!" Welcome to my world. At least it isn't boring!

Whizzing By....

2008-04-07T09:31:00.004-05:00

I knew the Studio was taking a bunch of my DPN holders to Knitting in the Heartland - and while I was buoyed by the fact they bought my entire inventory, I was stricken on Saturday by the thought, "What if nobody buys them?" So, it was very exciting on Sunday to come home and have a message from Carmen on the answering machine, telling me that THE celebrity-author KitH teacher, Stephanie Japel herself, had just bought all my devil duckies because all her friends at home were knitting socks!!!! Woohoo! And then James spent half the weekend outside in the greenhouse, tutoring people on the finer points of gardening and growing tomatoes, and he sold quite a few plants.

Now I'm nursing a headache that I woke up with this morning, and wrangling snakes. Metaphorically speaking, of course. It's definitely a Monday!

All Amok, All the Time.

2008-04-04T15:33:00.003-05:00

There's no way I can recap everything that's been going on. Suffice it to say that the highlight of my week has been hearing the story of a guy who left his personal copy of "Balls Deep" in his work laptop, unaware his computer was being taken by IT while he was being laid-off. (Said movie is not about soccer. Or volleyball.) That and the story of another person who was in a freak yachting accident in Venezuela that left her unable to walk, and they had to use a scissors-lift to help her board the plane & it got stuck. I haven't laughed so hard since I-don't-know-when.

We did discover that Tripper also is not a fan of Jane's Addiction. Specifically "Been Caught Stealin'" - the song starts with dogs barking, and he went all over the yard barking and looking for the interlopers. I missed it, because I was out drinking with a veritable gaggle of former co-workers, swapping war stories and laughing at other people's expense. (Isn't that the best currency?)

Oh - and file this under "Like I Needed More Stuff To Do" - I started making double-pointed needle holders. Mostly because I was going nuts with this tie I was knitting for James, and the stitches kept slipping off while I was toting the project around in my bag. Because things with me tend to take on levels of grand proportions, I suddenly found myself, mid-week, in the throes of mass-production. (They are simple to make? But they take time. And drilling. And patience!) Turns out, I'm on to something here, and I sold my first batch to The Studio. I'm going to make more, and depending on interest, put them on Etsy as well. I'll yammer about it more when the time comes! But they're super cute, and I'm calling my little bidness "Wants & Kneeds" (so don't steal the name, it's now under creative licensing copywrite, m0fos) They are "Quirky Panaceas for the Avid Knitter" and I have the line from my dad on the back: "It's better to have, than to want." It feels nice including him on it, in a funny way. And now we have two cottage industries running amok at our house - knitting stuffs and tomato and pepper plants!

TGIF! The weekend's always short, so have fun!!!

The List, It Is Growing.

2008-04-02T10:02:00.004-05:00

We've established a few things that really set Tripper off. Turns out, the list is growing. Daily.

1. Cowboys. We know it's either cowboys, or Josh Brolin. Fortunately, we don't get a lot of cowboys through our south siiiide neighborhood, nor do we watch a lot of westerns. And as far as I know, Josh Brolin doesn't cruise by regularly.

2. Stranger Danger. This is not unusual, and all three dogs have this trigger.

3. Spacial Distance of One Single Story. If Tripper's in his crate, and I have to run upstairs or go downstairs to the basement? He, simply put, loses his shit. Bizzonkers with barking. No matter how much I yell at him or return to provide negative stimulus. He used to be afraid of stairs, and now he's just beside himself with crazy if he can't go with you.

4. Large Yellow Trash Bags. Specifically, large yellow trash bags, full of trash, put out the night before. Normally, we put our trash out in the morning ("we" is "JWo") because otherwise you might end up with critters strewing it all over the yard. But if there's no food stuffs or scraps in the bags, James will put them out the night before - and he'd done a fair amount of cleaning up outside, and we had several bags of trash that he put out front. Tripper? DOES NOT APPROVE. He barked at them every time he saw them through the breezeway door.

5. This last one - and surely, it will not BE the last, but it's the last one for today - is Tripper himself. After James left for work, I was getting ready to put on my makeup, and in a bold and sudden move, Tripper put his paws up on the bathroom counter and stood up, right next to me. My mouth was open in shock, and before I had a moment to react (and yell, and push him down), he caught sight of himself in the large mirror. Oh. Mah. God. He was SO PISSED. And I couldn't stop laughing, and so we had this crazy mix of bad behavior not getting corrected and of course, after I shooed him down, I let him do it again just for the laughs (though I took his paws off the counter and put them on my arm, like I used to do with my dog when I was a kid.) And then he showed an inordinate interest in my makeup, so perhaps he wants to be a little drag queen. He was barking because he wanted to be pretty!

Would You Like To Meet Our Neighbor?

2008-04-01T13:20:00.002-05:00

It's the Crazy Cat Lady, from Archie McPhee. And Archie McPhee is like, the greatest site ever. I had to call this morning because they'd forgotten my Bacon Pennant. I did, however,get two boxes of Double Monkey Gum, gratis. And they promised to ship my bacon flag pronto.

(None of this is a joke. However, to really look like our Crazy Cat Lady Neighbor, the action figurine needs to go on a meth diet, and she would also have an add-on accessory pack entitled "Cop Cars and Bambalances, for Nighttime Drama".)

Google's April Fool...

2008-04-01T06:17:00.002-05:00

Google has created "Custom Time", so you can back-date/time stamp your emails to people and never be late again! Too, too funny.

More later, but this cracked me up this morning!

Pimp My 'Maters

2008-03-31T15:24:00.003-05:00

So, if you're in the KC area & you're thinking about growing tomatoes this year? Have I got a deal for you. Someone (JAMES) went a little - um - crazy this year, with the seeds and the greenhouse and the excitement and the tomato varieties. He put an ad on CraigsList, but I'm also pimping his 'mater seedlings here. Why? Because "we" have over a thousand tomato plants started. (Yes. One Thousand.) And the pepper onslaught has just begun. The small seedlings are in plastic cups, the bigger ones are in pots. You can put them outside during the day - but bring them in at night so they are protected. Here is his sales pitch, and if you want to buy any plants, just let me know! plazajen AT gmail (which is, of course, a DOT COM). If there's something coming up in the "lineup" that you want, shoot me an email or leave a comment & I can make sure you get what you want. As you can see, we're taking on the big-box stores already, first year out of the gate. :)

(The following is all JWo:)

I've got two hybrid varieties, Roma VF (great for sauces, salsa, and pico!) and Better Boy Hybrid VFN: Guinness record holder--342 pounds of fruit from one plant! Better Boy Hybrid (VFN) Tomato is deep red and meaty, up to a pound each. Dense foliage cover, too. Indeterminate. The Roma VF's were transplanted into 1 oz containers this week and I'll sell them for $1 each or 6 for $5. They are small, but are in Miracle Grow potting soil and with some TLC over the next month from you they will be big and healthy and ready to plant in late April or May. The Better Boys have been transplanted to 4 inch pots for about 3 weeks now and are 8-10 inches tall with thick stems and lots of leaves. They could go right in the garden now if you use wall-o-waters or make a cold frame for them. I’d like $2 each for these amazing little guys or 6 for $10.

Now for the heirlooms…I don’t know where to start! All seeds came from TomatoFest and are certified organic. There are detailed descriptions there as well as pics of the fruits.

I have a gazillion Brandywine and Brandywine Red seedlings in the 16 oz containers….$1 each or 6 for $5. I also have some Jumbo Roma and Russian Big Roma plants.

I also have some various seedlings that are still in the seed cells that I planted them in...they haven't been transplanted yet. I'll sell these for 50 cents a piece or 12 for $5

If you’re not ready to buy plants yet, hang on before you buy them from Lowe’s or Wal-Mart! Later on in April, I’ll have Julia Child, Bream’s Yellow Pear, Amana Orange, Super Snow White, Ace-55’s, Martino’s Roma, Florida Pink, Striped Cavern, Hawaiian Currant, and Chadwick Cherry as well as some great bell peppers, banana peppers, jalapenos, and habanero plants. Keep watching CL for when I’ve got those ready for sale.

(Now, back to me - isn't it always "Back to Me"?! All this tomato talk has my mouth a-watering for real, fresh, heirloom tomatoes. And at least half the reason he picks such a variety and grows them is because he knows how much I love love love them, and that? Is just one of many reasons why I love him!)

Cellular Re-Education

2008-03-28T10:31:00.004-05:00

I've had dreams about my father, probably once a week, for the past month or so. He's always alive, and it's as though nothing ever happened. Last night was another one, and it was a bizarre scenario - he was loading up an old station wagon to leave. The thing was packed full. He was also absconding with the neighbor's cat, because he felt it was our cat, since we cared for it, fed it, and it lived in our house. (This has no rooting in reality, but it made for some anxious moments in the dream, as the neighbor got really, really pissed.) I remember that he was planning to leave for ten years, and I went over to him, and leaned my head on his, and felt "our" connection, and I asked him if he'd consider coming back in a year, instead of ten.

I didn't get my answer, just the memory and sensation and feeling of the love and bond we always had together. Those moments in my dreams are so pure and true, that in the waking hours, their memory becomes another part of the melancholy, the bittersweet, the dichotomy between reality and desire. It's as if I still have cells within me that haven't been educated or informed that he's dead. They gather and weave a story so simple and touching and emotionally connected and it gives me such an enormous sense of peace in my dreams. The next day, that peace slowly becomes stained with the knowledge that it was, in fact, only a dream, and those cells must go through the education and acceptance process.

As hard as it is the next day, I love those fleeting moments of connection....

Random Orts!

2008-03-26T16:28:00.003-05:00

1. There are some strange wires sticking out of the wall next to the entry door at work. Every time I walk by them, I wonder what would happen if one were to put them on one's tongue. What can I say. It's always interesting in here.

2. I found out a someone who used to be exceptionally mean to me is sick. One word flashed in front of my eyes, several other thoughts bubbled up behind my lips, and then I just went with, "That sucks." After all, what goes around comes around. Interestingly, the same word flashed in my husband's head, and he chose not to say it (until I told him it had happened to me.) I love how we're alike sometimes.

3. Speaking of reasons I love him, JWo sent me a link to a Craigslist ad, hawking "Antique crochet set - $20". His email subject said, "Maybe It's Not Just For Pussies Anymore", referencing a time when I'd been a bit belligerent about the hooking craft, as it compared to knitting. Despite my previous entry, I don't always know when to zip my lip, and if I think it could be funny, I usually err on the side of sharing. Oh, and the items for sale? CROQUET mallets and balls.

4. I've learned a bit of tolerance these past years. And quite a few other things, too. But I was really delighted most to get an email yesterday telling me I'd shown up in a reader's dream, interrupting a sexual encounter by my presence. With my enormous spoonbill around my neck. Dancing. And laughing! Hey, it could happen.

5. Tripper does not like cowboys. We watched No Country For Old Men the other night - and he was watching it, too, which totally cracks me up. Like he's going to whip out a little notebook and start critiquing the film or something. Anyway, when Josh Brolin appeared on-screen, he lost his shit. Deep rumbling growling, a modicum of barking, he was PISSED. Maybe it wasn't the cowboy role; it could be that he just isn't a fan of bad mustaches. Anyway, one helluva movie. High anxiety. Excellent. Made more remarkable by the absence of music - you don't realize how much music leads or gives away in a film, until it's not there.

6. I need to get a proper battery for my itty-bitty booklight, as I am tired of being Harriet the Spy each night, clutching a small flashlight under my chin to read.

7. I got the perfect yarn for my ISE6 pal, and then after I heard from my spoilee, I decided I needed to exchange it for even BETTER yarn. So now I just need to wind it and get knitting!

8. I do not understand "Milky Way Caramels" - there is no Milky Way inside, just caramel. Now, I'm not complaining? I love caramels? But talk about a brand association and not having it anywhere inside the actual product! (In my two days off last week, the candy supplies plummeted, so I picked a large quantity of post-Easter chocolate to keep the visitors happy.)

That's it for today! Hump-de-Hump and all, and spring fever, and crazy fun connections being made all over the place. But none involving random wiring and my tongue. For now.

So, I've Been Thinking.

2008-03-25T15:59:00.004-05:00

I've been thinking about those 100-things-memememememe thingies, and how I've never done one but what I might say if I did, and that led to me thinking about the Ways In Which I Am Different From Most, and while I know we all have a shared existence and our humanity knits us together, the fact that as a child, I picked out a retro toilet seat for our outhouse still pops up as one of those "Hey-O" yodeling-old-lady-waving-at-the-waitstaff sorta facts that makes me feel a little bit different, a little over on the fringe of the universe. Not that it's bad or wrong, of course. You, readers, you get "it". "It" being "me". You know things around here aren't always uniform, or even partially dressed. And yet, you still return. That's nice! I do try to be a good hostess, and one of the things I was instructed upon, early-on in life, was to never run out of food at a party. To me, it is the Cardinal Sin of Entertaining.

The other thing I was taught, at some point in my teens, was How To Avoid A Masher. That was exactly how my mom put it. And that I needed to learn it. NOW. We were visiting family friends, and I stood there with an utterly confused look on my face. I said, "What's a 'Masher'?" and our friend's husband said, "THIS!" and he grabbed me in a bear hug, bent me over backwards, and pretended to kiss me.

I almost peed my pants in terror. Mashers! Who knew! Where did they lurk? How surprised would they be if they dropped me? (How surprised would I be?) By the time I was back on my feet, blinking at everyone laughing, I realized that most Mashers would ultimately fall into the category of "People You Know." So it was in that small kitchen, I learned how to deftly and swiftly turn my cheek as pursed lips approached me, to kiss the air by the Masher's ear, and pull back, exclaiming in delight while fiercely creating distance between my face and the Masher's. Funny, the life lessons that stick with you. Admonishments to save money? Nah! But how to avoid sneak kissing attacks? Check! And, oddly enough, I recall that on that trip, I purchased an army green overall outfit, and a tan mesh cloth belt thingamajig, plus numerous pairs of delicious plastic earrings. It was, indeed, the 80's. Mashers and Madonna and Michael Jackson.

I also have thought about the Dichotomy of Me. For instance, I am unorganized, I have plenty of clutter, but god help everyone if one particular thing is "off". We were sitting in James' grandparents' living room this past weekend, and they have furniture and items that span the decades. In particular, a very large lamp, with an equally enormous lampshade, sits by one of the couches. James was seated by it, and I picked the recliner on the other side of the lamp. I noticed the lampshade was all akimbo, the bottom of it at a wonky angle to the horizontal plane of the end table. Immediately, I adjusted it back to level. We continued to watch this really cool show comparing Man to Apes, and I turned to say something to James, and noticed the shade was, once again, at a completely strange angle. Almost unconsciously, yet compulsively, I readjusted it and kept talking to him. A small gnome (one assigned to the OCD Task Force) in the back of my brain scribbled on a post-it: "Something wrong with lamp. Shade keeps tilting. May need further investigation."

A few minutes later, I turn back to talk to him and - yep - the lampshade was once again jacked up. Now I'm a bit exasperated, and as I frown and return the shade to parallel the floor, I start to mutter and curse, something about what the fuck is wrong with this lamp, I keep moving the shade and yet it keeps going back and, and my husband is looking at me and then bursts into laughter. Because, yes, of course. HE is tilting the lampshade every time I turn around. Because he knows I am obsessed, and will not let it go. Had he kept a straight face, it may have taken one more adjustment before I clued in to the fact he was messing with me. I gave him that - it was damn funny. (But I still fixed the shade, and it got left alone after that. Phew!)

So, even though I'm not ready for one of those big long lists of how we're all alike and how I'm different, these are the ones floating at the top today....

Uff-Dah!

2008-03-23T13:12:00.002-05:00

So, the collective reaction to the giant fish can be summed up rather easily into "Holy shit" or a variation thereof. I got numerous emails and text messages & comments, and Spyder, your comment about using one of the dogs for bait garnered a huge guffaw from me! (I was quite pleased to be able to access email and the internet (marginally) via my phone while we were down there - just enough to keep in touch, but my inability to and dislike of texting kept me in check.)

Yep, that's the biggest fish I have ever caught! We went snagging on Friday, and were out in overcast, blustery cold weather that turned to sunshine, and we were on the water for about three hours. (I am sporting a fantastic, oddly-shaped sunburn on the lower half of my face, the part that wasn't shaded by sunglasses or a hat. Sessy!) About two hours in, my hook grabbed that fish, and the reeling was on. Grampa pointed out I need to "PUMP AND REEL" or I was going to burn out the reel in no time. Yeah, yeah, right, I forgot in the excitement. It also makes it a LOT easier to wrangle a fish to the boat.

I didn't feel the need to do any more fishing (ala George Costanza - quit while you're ahead!) and the rest of the weekend was spent snoozing, hanging out, knitting, chatting, playing cards & laughing. And eating delicious fish! Now we're back home to reality, laundry, and responsibilities. The dogs had a grand time as well, and it was Tripper's first lake trip and he has some learning to do..... doofus doesn't keep his mouth shut enough while he's swimming with a dummy, so we were treated to much ralfing of water when he'd get back to shore. Good lord! My favorite moment was when he brought James a dead fish instead of a dummy. (I believe I even have a picture, which I'll offload at some point.) Guess he just was getting into the spirit of the weekend!

Happy Easter.....yay for half-price chocolate tomorrow!

2008-03-21T15:09:00.001-05:00

50# SPOONBILL!!

2008-03-19T15:22:00.000-05:00

Fishing Clarification

2008-03-19T15:04:00.003-05:00

Yes, those fish are for eatin'. They are huge. They're called spoonbill, or paddlefish, and they're only in five major U.S. rivers, the biggest being Missouri & Mississippi (the others are tributaries to these two) - we fish the Mighty MO (which goes into/through the Lake of the Ozarks). The only other place in the world to catch them is the Yangtze river in China. They look prehistoric, and the only way you catch them is by snagging. It's a fair amount of work, you have to find them, and basically catch one on a hook by running your line into it. And they fight. And they're good eatin'. So good. OMG. I can't WAIT to get down to the lake to have some!

And if I do? I now have all sorts of bells & whistles on my phone, and you bet your ass I'll be mobile blogging my moment!

This Ain't Fishin' on the Wii.....

2008-03-18T21:54:00.002-05:00

My phone chirped at me, and the message was a photo from James - showing a limit of crappie. For whatever reason, the photo is teeny tiny, but I still got the point:

Then, not much later? I get this picture.

OK, good lord. The fishing? It is good. Less than thirty minutes later, I get another jingle from my phone:

Now I'm just worried they're gonna catch them all before I get there this weekend! Sheesh!

I Can't Believe I Never Blogged This.

2008-03-16T19:25:00.004-05:00

I swear, I blogged about this a while back. But I've searched my archives (even using an external search tool), and nothing shows up. (If you remember reading it, tell me! I'd hate to turn this into the Alzheimer Files.) So, here goes, another 8-Track Flashback!

Back in the day - 1976 - when the family moved onto the farm, and we built our dome home, my dad was extremely eco-friendly. We were getting Back to Nature. We had running water, and electricity, and a two-party-line phone (of course I listened in, once, and got totally busted by my mother). That phone, as I recall, could kill a fellow. Back then, phones were made of lead, or something equally weighty, and our phone was mounted on the wall, complete with the 20-foot tangled cord and the finger-button dialers, that whirred and clicked as you rotated it over to the stopping mechanism and it returned to its original position. Anyway, where I was going with this is that we were pretty rustic. In that we had no indoor toilet. We had an outhouse. Allow me to educate you a bit in the construction of outhouses, as I assume most of you were raised with flushing toilets. Outhouses are best when they're a bit of a distance from the house. Ours had a path that led to it, lined with wood (slippery as shit when wet), and no rail - so if you slipped to the right on your voyage out, you could ostensibly end up 30 feet down in a ravine. Things you consider in the dark of night, in the winter. You truly become skilled at determining how badly you actually have to go.

Anyway, as a kid, I went everywhere with my dad. I remember long, boring trips to the hardware store, where I would gaze around and stare at all the uninteresting things, waiting, waiting, waiting. I was too young to be left to my own devices in the VW bus, or in the store, really, so I trailed along behind him, and I didn't interrupt or ask many questions, because he was always really focused on the job at hand. So all of these trips are one giant blur of DULL in my memory, except for one.

We turned down the aisle that held all of the bathroom accoutrements, stopping in front of an expansive display of toilet seats. My father looked down at me, and said, "You pick it out." I was transfixed. And a little disbelieving. I looked up at him, my face clearly saying, "Really?" He nodded. "You pick out our toilet seat!" Finally, a decision, an option, a choice, and not just any choice, but one that we would live with for the foreseeable future. Keep in mind, I was 8? So my taste was not yet formed into the refined, persnickety influence that tries to govern me today.

I gazed up at the three rows of seats. Mostly white, some wooden, nothing really stood out until my eyes landed upon It. I pointed at The One. It was fabulous. Absolutely tremendous. And exactly what you'd get if you asked an eight-year-old to design your outhouse. I remember he looked at me sideways, the way he did when he was still figuring out what to say, what to do. "Really?" he said. "Yes!" I exclaimed. Transfixed. Hypnotized. By what was the most fabulous toilet seat in the entire line-up.

It was completely drenched in Cherry Red paint.

On the lid, in black, there was a tree in the lower right. With a branch extending out, and a hole in the tree, with two yellow eyes looking out. Foreshadowing! Simply a portent of things to come. Because, then, you lifted the lid, and you were greeted by an enormous 1970's owl, in thick black lines, covering the entire inside of the lid, WINKING AT YOU.

He looked at me, and saw my excitement. My abject love of the bright red toilet seat with the communicative owl. "OK," he said. We bought it and took it home.

I think my mother was a little taken aback, and I remember overhearing something to the effect of "What? This? Really?" (Yes, I got a lot of my style tutelage at her hands, and for all her faults, I'll give her that - she has got style, and she probably realized that day she needed to Start Earlier.) I puffed out a little when I heard my father say, "I told Jennifer she could pick it out." Why yes he did. Jennifer did pick it. Picked out a WINNER. And out to the outhouse it went. Many a cold night, I visited my owl buddy. I remember when a grade-school boyfriend gave me a gold ring, with a tree on it, and then a few days later, asked for it back. I lied, and told him I'd lost it, angered that he no longer wanted to be my boyfriend. I looked at that owl as I tossed the ring through the hole that night. Winking, knowingly. Agreeing that he was a schmuck.

We eventually tore down the dome home, and put in toilets and marble floors and vaulted ceilings and the house became something of a palace, a far cry from its dome home footings, poured over the original concrete. The outhouse, too, was torn down, the path fell away, and the people who bought the farm, who own this chunk of my past, have no idea of the comedy and drama, the style (and lack thereof) that was rooted and grown, interwoven and cemented, in my mind, in my life, in my memories. In addition to the toilet seat itself, my most cherished part of that memory is that my father told my mother we were keeping it. Because I had chosen it. It's why I weep every time I watch Little Miss Sunshine. We all have a little Olive in us, and we all want to be loved for exactly who we are. Questionable taste and all.

P.S. I've looked everywhere for a photo of this toilet seat. I saw one on eBay a while back (wrong color, but same visual), and had no luck today finding it. As they say, they just don't make 'em like they used to....

A New Measurement Tool

2008-03-14T14:42:00.004-05:00

As we were discussing some costs and pricing ideas for a client, talk of how much a television spot would cost to produce came up. (Making television spots is really one of those huge gradations between "really awful Hi-8 filmstrip with badly dressed business owner starring in ad" to "CGI technicolor rainbows and extremely expensive actor as spokesperson". Basically, you can range between $5,000 and half a million dollars, and in most situations, you get what you pay for. (Though, admittedly, there have been numerous, really-expensive ads that completely missed their mark.)

Anyway, someone said, well, start with $100,000? And we're trying to determine how the costs relate to our media budgets, because it doesn't do a lot of good to spend $100k on a tv spot you can't afford to air, and so this conversation was sort of going around and around and at first, I thought the 100 grand was kind of high, until I was struck by a thought (and of course, I said it out loud), "I mean, $100 grand? That's not that bad, when you consider you can spend $80 grand on HOOKERS."

Not that we'll use that logic if the client asks, but I'm still agog at spending the monetary equivalent of a nice SUV, a good boat, a nice chunk in savings and an all-inclusive vacation for two on hos. Or just one ho and a madam, who you KNOW is getting a really kick-ass cut of that money. You get my drift. Many a television spot has been made for less.

Still shaking my head....but I DID love the interview on NPR with an Albany madam, who was pissed he, the governor who advocated keeping dollars in-state, took his business to D.C..... (you have to click on "listen" to hear it, it's not in the article - and it's about 3 mins in.)

20/20

2008-03-13T12:09:00.003-05:00

The light pools in wobbly squares in the back yard, as my eyes strain into the darkness, waiting for a shape to appear. The contrast between the streaming light from the breakfast nook and the darkness of the night play tricks on my eyes, as I peer for Suzy, our black lab, to mosey in from a corner of the yard. While I wait, I feel the cold night air on my skin and inside my lungs. I scan back and forth, but find myself mostly watching the patches of light, because that is where I will know I've seen her, not tricked by a branch dancing in the wind beyond my scope of vision.

I'm struck by how the darkness blurs the edges of what is illuminated. Even when we think we see something, we believe it to be so - it can be something else completely. It's easier to decide - right or wrong - than to live in the blurry, undefined edges.

I had my one-year exam today for my Lasik-ed eyes; my vision is perfect, and it's been 20 years since anyone's said that. I have some challenges adjusting between close-up and distance, but that's just part and parcel with being almost 40. Some things are clearer, others are not, and having excellent vision is only part of that equation.

No Likey The Time Change

2008-03-11T14:45:00.003-05:00

Don't get me wrong - I do love getting home in daylight, without the sun sinking into the west and shadows creeping in along the edges. I am just not enthralled with the whole "getting up" part that bookends the beginning of the day. And yesterday, I discovered we'd forgotten to adjust the clock on the thermostat, so no wonder it was freezing chilly cold when I got up! (And it's why I promptly went back to bed under warm covers.)

I have kitchen duty this week at work (which I only remembered today, so some kind soul did my work yesterday & this morning. The guilt!) and I follow the most fastidious man on the planet. I'm shocked he doesn't clean the kitchen with a toothbrush. He actually dries all the bottoms of the coffee mugs as he moves them from the dishwasher to the cupboard. Dude takes his job seriously. At least the kitchen is spotless before I start my tour of duty....

And, in completely unrelated news (this is practically a Random Orts post but I'm not inclined to edit it...), the Wo and I got new phones when we renewed our contract with T-Mobile. The customer service person I talked to the other day almost got down on their knees and bowed through the phone, because we've been with them since 2000, and that's like, 50 years in phone years. We both got slider phones - mine's a RIZR and his is a Samsung somethin' or other, and now we both have the internets on our phones, and we're like a geriatric duo, figuring out how to browse while Mo-BILE. (not while driving, but just ON the mo-bile.) I'm struggling because Yahoo keeps coming up in GIANT FONTS! BIG LETTERS! Like it not only thinks I'm old, but I'm blind. No like. Don't care for the tiny keys and I'm not going to convert to texting anytime soon (We didn't get that package.) But it was fun to check my email while waiting for my lunch date to show up!

So much else going on - some bloggable, some not, one of my projects is hatching, and I'll show you sooooon. Promise!

P.S. I discovered today that the whole process of consuming Pez is much more straightforward if you rip open the entire paper container and eat them straight away, instead of installing them into the little plastic dispenser. I'm all about cutting out the plastic middleman and unnecessary steps.

You Vett Your Life.....

2008-03-10T13:46:00.005-05:00

I read an E Weekly review of a memoir over the weekend, and I have to say, I had the same reaction (I've since discovered) many other people did - "Huh? Really?" I think in the wake of so many frauds (or accusations of fraud)in the literary world combined with my fervent devotion to The Wire, I found myself a little bit skeptical, especially the part about her birthday party where she got a cake and 9mm. It just seemed too - Hollywood. Unauthentic. A little too perfect. I thought of James Frey, and wondered if someone would discover this author, as he had done, had embellished and overstated the facts. In fact, the author went to a private school in the Valley, and the publisher has withdrawn the book. Do people not realize the truth will out? You can't pretend to be a foster child from the ghetto, no matter how much you may believe it in your mind, when you're not.

The reason I'm pulling the comparison to the The Wire is because of the newspaper storyline and the reporter making up quotes, starting a snowball that only grew and grew under the weight of that original, small, golf-ball sized lie. The entire final season of The Wire ended last night, and I watched it, enthralled and hooked, just as I was every season. Only a little sadder, since this was the final episode, the end of it all. The complexity and layers of writing and character development made this one of the greatest shows on television, and while it took some time to get into - several episodes before things felt like they were cohesive - it was a gem in the rubble of our usual entertainment, where all storylines are neatly ordered, the music rises and falls as we expect it to, endings are tidy, and usually, the good guys win. Not so with this show. But oh so brilliant. I can't wait to watch it all over again, from the very beginning, like a good book, where you catch more of the nuances and see more depth as you read it again. But,(spoiler alert!) there is something to be said for the deliciousness of a first moment that can't be recreated ever again - when McNulty called bullshit on the reporter, even though it never came back around with consequences for the offender - the moment was there and the fraud was seen for what it was. Absolutely priceless. What was really head-shaking was in the last montage scene, where the guilty reporter helps catapult the paper to award-winning status, and the diligent, hard-working reporter (who didn't make anything up) gets shunted to the suburban rag. Ain't that the way it goes.....

Metamorphosis

2008-03-07T10:21:00.003-06:00

There have been lots of changes in my world - nothing earth-shattering, but enough to make a noticeable difference, both personally & at work. Our company changed their name, we all got new business cards, and from what I understand, there's going to be a lot of painting going on in the near future. Yay for fumes!

Outside of work, I've been bizzy bizzy bizzy. It looks to continue for the foreseeable future, too - I taught a sock class at The Studio (Hi Carrie!) and there are lots more classes this month, plus overseeing the sock club for March & April. I must say I had a hold-my-breath moment when I arrived for the first class & Carrie said, "I read your blog!" There's always that fraction of a second when I mentally see my blog flash before my eyes and I wonder, OH god, have I offended anyone lately? Actually, I usually accomplish that in person quite well without a monitor or time to edit.

I also busted in on the UFO crew at MisKnits this week, and of course I can only remember about three people's names. Notably, Carmen was NOT there, furthering my belief that we have a time-space continuum between us. I am still laughing at Laura's comment on my watermelons.......she was referring to the colors in my socks, but of COURSE I took it in a completely adolescent direction.

Oh, and we had a rep lunch on Wednesday, and four girls put away a TON of sushi. Not a literal ton? But a whole damn lot. I took photos, just to torture James. I'm thoughtful that way. One of the platters didn't turn out, apparently I can't turn my camera off too quickly after taking a picture, or else the photo comes up as "damaged".

We ate all but TWO pieces. I think our waiter was impressed.

Speaking of Wednesday, that was Tripper's Snip Day. (Some Day of Beauty! It definitely was an extra-high Brazilian!) I got up early & shuttled him down to the vet - James went and got him, and we are happy to report that not only does he not even seem to notice his balls are gone? He was jumping and being his usual goofy-ass self within 24 hours of the surgery. (I do not understand how you're supposed to keep a labrador from running, jumping or basically doing any of their normal activities for seven days post-surgery. We'd have to put him in a full-body cast.) Tripper appreciates your good thoughts & wishes for him!

In random, and not-particularly-interesting news, my lost earring was found & on my desk when I came into work this morning. It really is the small things that can make your day! We were driving out to a new business pitch yesterday & out of habit, I felt my earlobe - to discover one of my earrings was missing. Since I'd been out at a client meeting that morning, and all over the agency throughout the day, I wasn't overly optimistic I'd find it. Seeing it on my desk made my morning! (Oh, and I did take out the other earring, just to prevent that "I'm A Pirate!" look for the pitch!)

If ever there was a Friday that warranted a "TGIF", this is it. Enjoy your weekends, and I hope my new normal resumes soon!

Tripper Has No Clue....

2008-03-03T11:09:00.002-06:00

....But this week, his balls are coming off.

We've planned to neuter Tripper since we decided we were his forever home, and just haven't gotten around to doing it. It seemed to drop on the to-do list once he stopped attempting to hump Polly or Suzy, and it's just sort of been "out there" on my radar of things I need to get to.

And then Saturday happened. James was running an errand, and I was bustling around the house, engaged in one of those never-ending unfolding projects where you start with cleaning off and organizing one small section and then that leads to X....and Y....and the small section still isn't done so you circle around and then you see, oh, hey, the counter is still cluttered with the 12 cans of sliced beets James bought for you to pickle, and so you start mentally calculating that project into your day, and you go back to the bedroom to ....wha? There's something wet on the floor. But not much. It seems to be right by the Pillow of Power, and that seems to be a little wet, but again, we've had accidents in the house and this looked like a little slosh, not an outright - ooooooooh fuck, as my eyes went UPWARD on the side of the bed and saw a large circle of wetness on my comforter hanging off the end of the bed. There's only two mammals in the house who can aim their pee, and one of them wasn't home. That left only one culprit, and I cursed his furry ball sacs as I stomped down to the washing machine.

And that is how Tripper's Balls moved to the top of my to-do list. The appointment has been made.

Random Orts!

2008-02-27T13:53:00.004-06:00

1. Hope springs eternal. You know how I know this? I signed up for International Scarf Exchange #6. Sigh. I just can't help hoping for the best! And, I also signed up to be an angel, if someone (like me) gets dropped by her pal. Pay it forward and all.

2. Houlihan's has this amazing Margarita Flight. You get three margaritas for under $10, and I'm not kidding, these are basically regular-sized margaritas, all with primo tequila. YUM.

3. It's a small world. My new sales rep is best friends with a couple that we know and see a few times a year.

4. Every time I tell the story of a former boss (told to me by someone who came from there), I am going to cry from laughter. In addition to being a heavy drinker, at all hours of the day and night, apparently this person likes to target shoot (outside, on a farm). And invited some employees to come along and "blow off a little steam". His way is what he likes to call his "Mad Minute", where he RUNS while firing a non-stop stream of bullets from some AK-47-esque machine gun, and on this occasion, TRIPPED and the person who witnessed it thought they were all going to die. (I had to stop typing and come back because this image makes me laugh so fucking hard I almost get a headache.)

5. My buddy Kyra just got tazed, bro.

6. My buddy Beth just dodged a crazy-ass double-murder/double-battery/police-escapee trial. Wait! Correct that sentence structure. Dodged it by not being a juror!

7. I have not been selected for jury duty OR been tazed this year. Sigh. At least it's still early.

8. I think this only makes hedgehogs more appealing. I love any creature that can become as addled as me. By simply a paper tube.

9. I am plotting and cooking up several ideas and notions. It's exciting.

10. Tripper is a doofus and I adore him.

James says I'm giving him low self-esteem by calling him a dope, or a doofus, but I say because I say it with love in my voice, it's only helpful. He's just still incredibly awkward, and he's bigger than Polly now, so everything he does just has this dopiness about it, because it should have its own sound-effects soundtrack. Gallumph!! and Waaaah-woooouuuwwww and SPLAT! He's a good boy. But a doofus.

Polly agrees.

Eyeballs, Boiled then Baked

2008-02-26T15:59:00.002-06:00

That's what it feels like, anyway. I've been staring at excel spreadsheets of email addresses and cross-referencing things so we can send out our new name announcement, and my eyes feel like they've been going through chef prep for some fabulous dish that eventually sees them bathed in butter and served with a side of baby asparagii. In other words, I got the tired eyes right now.

But despite that, I'm still getting things done. The day has zipped on by, and between lunch & cocktails after work, I feel like I'm reconnecting with the world again. I got together today with someone I hadn't seen in years, things between us had been strained by a number of things, and we'd just let them drift. A chance encounter reconnected us, and after numerous voice mails to get together, we spent a lot of time catching up and remembering - some things we didn't want to, other things that made us laugh. One of her friends that I'd known had drifted away from her, and we marveled at how that girl had planned out her life so much. I like to plan my days and my weeks? But I don't plan my life. This girl was a gold-digger, and she married herself a doctor and had herself a baby, and it was all "according to plan". A timetable. A checklist. I observed that living life that way felt to me like a recipe for disappointment and frustration. Maybe I just don't have the drive to script it all. But I really think of all the things I'd miss. Because to be that driven and focused to machinate life events, force them to unfold, meet deadlines and acres of criteria and maybe that's what you do, to acquire the things on that list, but what about all the things you miss? The opportunities that you turn away from, because they don't fit The Plan?

My plan -which I reserve the right to adjust or change - includes something really attainable, like, oh, a margarita. And refreshed eyeballs. Which have been refreshed on so many levels, I wish I could articulate it all! (or would that be OCulate? Har har har.)

A Little Behind

2008-02-25T09:58:00.002-06:00

I judge where I am in Life by how behind on my Bloglines I am. Uh, 558 unread. I got some catchin' up to do. However, the other gauge I use is Laundry, and I'm doing ok on that front!

My BFF, F-4-EVAH girl Lizzie Lou came into town on Thursday, which is why I pretty much dropped off the face of the Internet world, because there's that whole "living" thing you do. Actually, lest you conjure up images of discotheques and club-hopping, we were slugs. Super lazy, we moved at our own pace, we did lots of knitting, we got her going on a new sock project, watched bad movies, ate pizza, laughed our heads off, and generally remembered why we'd get matching tattoos, if we were the sort of girls who got matching tattoos. We also spent good times with Shelley and baby Kara, who is so flippin' cute, and enjoyed the whole true-friends thang.

I think I might have set a record for myself, though, with Fastest Socks Knit:

Gotta love sport-weight yarn! These flew right off the needles, and onto James' feet:

They'd have been done even sooner, but I didn't like the heel flap (it felt too big), so I ripped it all out and did a short-row heel instead. He loves 'em!

And I love him. And my girlfriends, and life in general. Spring is coming, I don't care if it's going to be a meat locker tomorrow!

How To Get On The Awesome Husband List At Our House:

2008-02-21T10:41:00.002-06:00

James went to Bass Pro's big opening event last night, and had teased me the night before about all my studly friends from KC SWAT being there for autographs. (Remember my "lunch" with 'em?) James called to tell me he was on the Awesome Husbands list, but wouldn't tell me anything else.

Probably because this one's even AWESOME-R:

CHIP! And he even wrote about knitting. He told James he was glad to help any husband get on the Awesome List.

As if these pics weren't enough, he also volunteered to go to the grocery store for me AND vacuum. (He has a snow day today). SWEET! Happy Knitting & Awesome Husband, indeed.

The Decline of Benefits

2008-02-19T14:18:00.002-06:00

If you don't want to read a rant about healthcare & insurance, then just keep on truckin'. Go look at Cuteness or KrazyKats. (seriously, I've had that Cute Overload pug in my bloglines since January, just for the laugh!)

I remember when your pharmacist not only looked at the other drugs you were taking, but thought about things, and gave you a recommendation or consultation whether you asked for it or not. As an aside to this rant, there IS a pharmacist at the Ward Parkway Target, who is flat-out phenomenal, and I want her to move into my house and give me advice all the time. But of course, I do my prescriptions through mail order (so as to save money) and therefore, for all I know, well-trained monkeys who managed to survive medical testing are filling and dispensing my prescriptions. Actually, given my recent experiences, I think I may have just insulted the monkeys.

Two months ago, my doctor phoned in a prescription, and the WHOLE POINT of using mail-order is to get a 90-day supply for the price of 60. Do people use the mail order for just one month's worth? I didn't think so, and you would think it might red-flag something, especially on a prescription that had been filled before at the higher quantity. Well, my doctor's nurse screwed up and only ordered 30 days' worth. A call to the insurance company put the blame back on the doctor. And my doctor's office called, multiple times, to ask them to issue the remaining 60 days' worth of medication, but they told them it was THEIR fault and they dispensed it as ordered, and there was nothing they could do. (See how deftly that works? They are responsible to... no one!) The very fact that my doctor's office called me three times to apologize and own their part of the mistake, and the fact it's a generic, made me go, ok, I'm not going to raise holy hell over this, and it's proving once again that our friends in the insurance industry aren't really our friends. (Such a life theme to learn!)

But what really gets me is this last Rx. It's for an acne skin creme, because even as I approach 40, I still get to keep the joyful skin of my 16-year old self. I ran out, and I anxiously awaited the refill - my doctor's office called me to confirm what I wanted, and the form I usually got it in (jar or pump? Jar, please.) And I waited. And waited. So I logged on and saw the order was in some "suspended" state. I call the insurance company. It went a little like this:

Me: Yes, I'm calling to find out what's happening with this prescription.
Them: We are waiting for more information from your doctor.
Me: Huh? What do you mean? What information?
Them: Well, they wrote the prescription for "Benzaclin jar 90 day supply."
Me: Ok.... so what's the issue.
Them: Well, the pharmacist doesn't know how many doses are in a jar. They don't know how many jars to send. This could read as 90 jars.
Me: (Silence. Dumfounded.)
Me: So, usually I get 3 jars, you know, for 3 months. (Imagining myself with 90 jars and restraining laughter at the absurdity of it all.)
Them: (hostile tone) You go through ONE JAR a month? (a jar is... 25 grams. Just under one ounce. This is not a vat of cold cream, people.)
Me: (fuck-you tone) YES.
Them: Well, the pharmacist has to talk to your doctor.
Me: Have you told my doctor this?
Them: They have notified the office they need more information.
(This is a common response - FYI, if an insurance company tells you they have done this? It usually means they haven't. I'm not kidding when I say that I believe my doctor's office does everything in their power for their patients, and if I leave a message for ANYone there at any time, I get a call back the same day. If the insurance company tells me they've contacted my doctor, that means they gave the note to the rabbits the medical-tested monkeys stole on their way outta dodge, and it was promptly shredded. While someone laughed, maniacally.)
Me: Let me alert them to this.
And then they give me the doctor-only phone number, WITH an admonishment that it's a phone line only for the doctor to use, I could almost hear the unspoken warning, "Don't you think you can use that line to circumvent our intricate answering machine greeting, little bitch."

So now it looks like things have been straightened out, and I am pretty sure I'm not getting a freight delivery of 90 jars of Benzaclin, but it's reinforced - once again - that the only person really looking out for me? Is me.

Distinguished. Distinctive. Plus Glitter.

2008-02-18T14:51:00.005-06:00

Saturday night was the Kansas City Addy's - an award show for all the local agencies. This year's event was tremendously fun, especially compared to last year. The venue was great - Bartle Hall - and it was definitely more social. I ran into numerous former co-workers, and people I hadn't seen in years, met some new people and I am not kidding when I say half of these people complimented me on my eyeliner.

Yep. Eyeliner.
(see the sparkle?)

So, I'm almost 40, and I decided to glam it up a bit - the theme was James Bond/007, so I could get away with a little youthful dorkiness, right? I used some very sparkly dark purple glitter over my liquid eyeliner (have I lost my male readers yet?) and then She-Laq over it, so the glitter wasn't going anywhere. Seriously, glitter is the most fun, ever. It's even a really fun word to say.... glitter.... OK! Backing up though, before the event, and before the fourteen-mile walk to the event (hi, blisters), we had a small agency happy hour at a nearby hotel (if by "nearby" you mean "fourteen miles by walkway"), and that is where I discovered my new favorite drink: The Singapore Sling. Honestly, I picked it because the name is fun, and the first ingredient on the bar list was GIN. So few frou-frou cocktails use gin, most are vodka or rum based. When I ordered my :cough: third one (which was also my last), the bartender asked me if I enjoyed it. (Mistress of the Obvious! Yes!) She then when on to say it was a distinguished drink, with a distinctive taste, and not everyone cared for it. Boy howdy, use those words around me and I puff up like a pelican. They're so ... rarely used to describe me. Right up there with "Shy" and "Refined" and "Organized".

Anyhoo, now I want to make these myself, and I discovered this nice source online that seems to be The Authentic Version - now I have to figure out how to get a Benedictine Monk into a bottle, and where one buys the stuff, but I figure my local Gomer's would have it.

Oh, one last FYI about the glitter. It's a bitch to get off your eyelids with that She-Laq. Ah, the price of beauty and distinction.....

(With one photo, I provide evidence to the contrary.)

Happy Marketing Day!

2008-02-14T09:36:00.003-06:00

I know, I'm IN advertising, and I love marketing that's done right, but sometimes the whole commercialization of events and days that are supposed to be meaningful makes me j-j-j-jaded....

I don't like the whole "Your husband/boyfriend loves you THIS much as quantified by the size of a bouquet and choice of flowers". I really hated it when I was single, but being married doesn't really change it. And yes, I do fall into the trap of "If you love me, you'll buy me that" - mainly because it's the entire fabric of my life, and how we did things at my house. Rewards were plentiful if you did what you needed, and to quote my dear father, "It's better to have than to want." I married someone who counterbalances my desire to own everything at Crate & Barrel. The Wo, he is a practical dude. Someday, though, I know he'll buy me that french fry cutter. Maybe?

In any event, I can't get behind the consumerism of Valentine's Day, because flowers are overpriced, and even though I love to shop, I also love me a deal. I might buy myself some flowers at CostCo next time I'm there, because I'm starting to feel the weight of winter, and a bright cheery spot of something resembling Spring would be nice to see.

BUT! In the SPIRIT of Valentine's Day, I'm going to tell you two little stories. The first one made me cry at my desk - a co-worker who sits by me came in my office and told me how much she enjoys hearing me answer my phone in the afternoon (James calls every day when he gets out of school.) She said, "You can hear it in your voice, how much you love him, your voice totally changes, and it's what I want to have, four years, ten years from now." (She just got married this past year.) Despite the feeling (a little bit) of being an old lady, I was overwhelmed with emotion. Tears brimmed in my eyes, not because I was embarrassed, but because she was right. I love James to the moon and back and around it a few times as bonus. He's my rock, my soul mate, my ballast in the horrible storms I've weathered, the one who laughs when I parody Madonna and sing "Wrap you up in MYLAR". Sometimes it just takes the simple act of a different person's perspective for you to see what has become familiar (it often reveals something about them, too.)

So the other little story? I make James a lunch every day. (Lunches made with love!) I started going a little crazy with the sammich-making, all kinds of meats, fancy lettuce, pickles, mustards - I didn't want it to be boring, day after day. He then told me he loves PB&J, and we had an interesting learning moment - for him, they're a treat. For me, PB&J was always the last choice, what you had if you'd run out of everything else, and it symbolized bare bones and boring. Good to know! If the people want PB&J, by golly, give 'em PB&J! Just so I wouldn't forget, I discovered this on the inside lid of his lunch box:

As my dear Auntie Karen once said: Behavior that isn't reinforced is rarely repeated. It's probably why we thank each other constantly for all the standard things we each do around the house. And I know a certain fifth-grade teacher who will be getting a regular rotation of PB&J in his lunches from now on, too. :) As for everyone else - hey, I hear tomorrow's a GREAT day to buy chocolates. Sales and all. Who loves a deal?!

Today Is Hereby Proclaimed "TTFLTDWSIFO" Day

2008-02-13T10:04:00.004-06:00

That would be shorthand for, "Thank The Freakin' Lord The Damned Writer's Strike Is Finally Over" Day.

This article on TV Guide is being continually updated as the networks release the schedules for new shows. Hopefully this will hasten the end to American Gladiators and So You Want To Marry A Millionaire Assmunch On National Television And Are Willing To Eat Bugs To Win kind of shows.

We've definitely been playing lots more Wii during the strike, and I must say, I brought this game home last night:

The animation is amazing. And I have not laughed that hard, for that long, since I can really remember. James pointed out that the games really don't involve much skill. Perhaps that is why I love them so. It's just stupid funny. It will be a great party game, watching four adults "wash clothes & hold them up to check if they're clean enough".... all the while the rabbids are making crazy noises and looking ridiculous. There was one game where you are in an Old West setting and doing a quick draw against a cowboy rabbid. OMG. I laughed so hard I threw James off his game, along with my own. It's not technically challenging or addicting the way Guitar Hero III is, but it definitely has its place! And yes, it does appear from that video box cover that it's rated for users three and older. I'm regressing. But I'm laughing the entire way there.

Whirl Wind!

2008-02-11T15:42:00.000-06:00

OK, there's been a lot going on.... let's start at the beginning, rather than the middle, mmmkay?

Friday Night Fish Fry. Well, this was a bit of a bust. We went back to St. Thomas More's, where it all began for us, and they've changed their fish this year. The baked fish was pretty good, though rather bland, and the fried fish was resoundingly over-battered. And it wasn't "battered" but rather "triangular-shaped fish object" and my first bite pulled away an empty corner of...batter/crust. No fish. Argh. Sides? Ok - your standard green beans, corn, and french fries, plus slaw & buttered boiled potatoes (which I do so love.) Desserts were once again run by the girl scouts, and I must say, the girl from last year who delightedly applied whipped cream decided to get industrious, and created a tray that she took from table to table, upselling people who perhaps weren't going to mosey over to their table to choose a dessert. I had seen pecan pie, and she dutifully went back to get some. Pretty cute. But not worth a return trip, sadly. $8.50 per adult.

Sunday Blogger Meet Up. Well, is it really a meet-up if it's just two of us, and we've already met before? Emma Liar is back in Kansas City, and had a hankering for Hooter's chicken wings. So we got some.

I must say, the 3-Mile Island? Not hot enough. Dammit. It's pretty sad when Pizza Hut's "Blazin' Hot" pack more punch than wings named for a nuclear disaster.

And after we got home, I busted my hump to finish the wristwarmers. I knit on them all throughout The Kingdom, which is a very stressful movie, I think, and if you've seen it, you'll understand the jarring disconnect to turn that movie off & immediately see Jason Bateman introducing the Foo Fighters on the Grammys.

I knit so much, and so devotedly, that all my tiny little fine-motor-skills muscles ached. Even my ear ached, and I blamed the knitting. But I got up this morning & wove in the ends, and Bravissimo, here they are!

I can't wait to knit another pair, but in finer-gauge yarn and smaller needles. Hello, have you met the Masochist who lives on CandyCane Lane? Yep, that's me!

You Know What Today Is, Right????

2008-02-08T15:22:00.000-06:00

Well, OF COURSE it's Friday.

It's the first Friday of Lent! And most of you know the Wo and I do not adhere to a specific faith, except any disciplines that are directly ordered from the Lamar Donut Church of Goodness. But a lack of religious organization in our lives does not prevent us from availing ourselves of any good celebrations. Or food. Thus, tonight begins our 2nd Annual stream of Friday Fish Fry Forays! I'm going to focus on reporting back more on the food and ambiance, vs. my own wide-eyed agog-ness that accompanied me to most of last year's adventures. (We are working on getting tickets to that Cure' of Ars shrimp boil in advance this year, but we are unsure how to get them short of going to mass, and that feels a little...disingenuous...plus I would totally get busted for not knowing the routine.) TGIF, and when I write that, I really mean it. Swear on a stack of Lamar's.

God Forbid We PLOW or SAND or SALT.

2008-02-06T15:06:00.000-06:00

My morning commute took oh- about 40 minutes, when normally it runs anywhere from 15-25 minutes, depending on the time I leave. The main reason for today's slowdown, was, of course, the snow and then the nice sheet of frozen sleet under said snow. If anyone from KCMO Public Works is reading this blog, here's a heads-up: the intersection of Ward Parkway & 75th street? Specifically the parts of Ward Parkway, north-bound, but south of the intersection? NEED SAND. Bejowski. I've lived here 10 years. This intersection is on the gentlest of inclines, but because the incline is there, and it's well-traveled, most vehicles get stuck in their own ice, formed while waiting at the light. So two of the three lanes? NOT MOVING.

Then, I came in and followed up on a rep who wouldn't call us back. A co-worker had been calling for months, and finally flipped it to me, who also was unsuccessful, although I am excellent at persistence. Especially when you are irritating me. Persistence and tenacious. Like a ferret learning to eat live mice. (Sorry, there was an article on ferrets in today's paper. I had no idea. Also, if you're going to lead with the headline, "Ferrets! Just like kittens, all the time," you might want to re-think that whole paragraph that waxes on about food, specifically, "let's feed ferrets pinkies (baby mice) and work 'em up to live ones" because seriously? I lost all interest in having a ferret at that point.) Anyway, this ass munch finally got on the phone with me (after four phone calls, and two emails, in four days) and proceeded to be combative and angry and petulant and then he kinda hung up on me. It was actually mutual. Had I not hung up at that point, I might have said something like, "Sir? You work for the YELLOW PAGES. Do you have a backup plan? Your industry is DYING."

OK, and then let's talk about the sad lunch I had. So so sad. Instant grits. I think I prefer grits for breakfast. I did find a random bonus of parmesan cheese in the fridge at work (and uh, I might have swiped a tablespoon of someone's artificial buttery spread. But it expired yesterday, and there was a lot in there. So my guilt isn't as concentrated as it would have been if I'd say, taken a tablespoon of sweet cream butter that was fresh & marked as being owned.) Anyway, I had several notions of great lunches, but all of them required I leave the building in one form or another. 99% required driving, and after this morning's commute? Nope! Anyway, I finished lunch with some Thin Mints. Yep. Poster child for nutrition, riiiight here. Might explain why I feel a little queasy. That or it's the expired margarine.

Jugglin'

2008-02-05T15:22:00.000-06:00

I've got 3 (THREE) WIP's (Work In Progress) right now. I love them each in their own special way.

First we have Jeanie. The beautiful cabled-drop-stitch stole from the current Knitty. It's gotten way more logical since those first ten rows, when I contemplated chucking the entire thing across the room, deterred by the fact some of my favorite stitch markers on the dang thing. (Cupcakes and penguins from Good to Be Girl!) It will be de-gorgeous, but that requires me getting back to working on it:

Loooove dem cables!

But then I got distracted. Shiny things off in the ditch. Oooo! Looky, looky! And teetering off I did a-go.

These are the Very Terhi Wristwarmers, from Yarnissima. I love them. LOVE THEM. The yarn is Nashua Handknits Julia, in "Coleus". I am fascinated by the traveling stitches and their progression and logic and order somehow click in my brain, way more than standard cabling does. I love the switchy-switchy. I've learned a few things on this, just after the first complete set of rows, and I've even done crazy hitchy things like, go back and undo some stitches that were a-travelin' the wrong way, without undoing everything. These are complex, and I am unable to watch tv as well while working on them. And because both my active projects seem to involve cables, I decided, yes, I need a third project in the air (not counting all those "started yet hibernating" projects) - I cast on for some toe-up socks using ShiBui yarn, in the brightest, happiest colorway you could imagine ("Spectrum").

I always knit my socks (and apparently, wristwarmers) 2-at-a-time, but when you're doing toe-up, it just makes sense to make each toe and THEN start sailing along with them on two circs. (Or magic loop.) I was initially thinking these would be my basic, mindless knitting - standard ribbing & whatnot .... but then I caught myself designing something in my head... something involving.... traveling stitches? :) I dunno! We'll see. I've got a ways to go before I have to commit, but I do like the idea of trying something a leetle different. Seems to be in keeping with most things of late.

ISE Angel Delivery

2008-02-02T10:23:00.000-06:00

Wow!

I had notification that I had a package, and I signed the little form & left it in the mailbox, checking all the appropriate boxes. The next day, the form was back, and another box circled where I needed to sign. DANGIT! No fear, no worries, back out to the mailbox it went, and when the doorbell rang bright & early this morning, part of me knew - my package had arrived! (Part of me panicked, as I looked a bit Bride o' Frankenstein.)

Wonderful angel Kina, from Taiwan, pitched in when my secret pal for International Scarf Exchange didn't send anything. (James joked, "From Taiwan? Isn't that where the Thai food is?" If you watched this last season of Amazing Race, you'll get that joke. We know Taiwan is in China!) My package was wrapped securely and felt very solid. After getting the paper and bubble wrap off, I was greeted by this cheerful box:

Kina can wrap presents, let me tell you. I was impressed immediately! After unwrapping the cheerful gingham, I saw this:

A very, very cool box covered in vintage kitchen fabrics. I'm not sure if Kina made this herself, but it wouldn't surprise me! It's fabulous!

Then I opened up that box, and I have to admit, I got distracted from picture-taking & just started unwrapping. I got so excited! But trust me - everything in the box was fabulously wrapped as well - mulberry rice paper and a brown ribbon encased my scarf - a beautiful lacey wool-polymide blend in all my favorite colors. A wonderful bag was similarly wrapped - made of soft, vintage fabric, lined, and will make a great knitting project bag. She also enclosed a fun beaded fob shaped like bells, made of beads, and a sweet letter.

What a wonderful, caring package, from a person who pitched in without a reciprocal pal herself. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Kina. May your kindness and good karma be returned unto you tenfold.

Thank The Friggin' Sheep.

2008-02-01T14:02:00.000-06:00

The Mermaid Socks are FINALLY DONE!

I was looking at various needles for the next pair of socks, and after slogging on these darned socks for so long, on DOUBLE ZEROS, I am not kidding when I say #2 US needles felt like large sticks. These socks seriously warped my reality of sock knitting. It will be a while before I snatch up that other skein of Noro and make a different pair of socks. Hell, I think I only used half of the first skein. I will be putting these on tonight to test out how scratchy they actually are, and then I'll wash 'em and report back on bloomage. I'm counting on the yarn to bloom!

It's been a...challenging week. So when I went to World Market to get some King Cake mix, I became transfixed, caught in the tractor beam of this:

Yeah, it's chocolate. And you think you're looking at a normal-sized square of Ritter. Oh no.

Look! A Nielsen Media ruler for scale. Five & a half inches square of milk chocolate. If I put it directly on the keyboard, and align the left side with the letter "A", it obscures all of the letters in that row, leaving only the colon peeking out (a phrase never to be taken out of context). That's nine keyboard letters of chocolate, friends. And even though I love all kinds of chocolate, milk is always my tried & true go-to. What was really crazy is that the signage said it was $2.29. I was sold. Of course, it actually cost $4.99, it wasn't placed by the correct price, but at that point, I really didn't care.

This size is good for at least 3 crises, maybe 4, depending on their size. I am prepared!!!!

Now, back to knitting & making a dent in the non-Noro sock yarn!

Choppin'.... Broccoleeeeeeee......

2008-01-30T06:29:00.000-06:00

I recently hosted a small figurine, in the shape of broccoli, at my home. Traveling Broccoli is his website, and you can see & read about all of his adventures. Bekah discovered he'd smuggled himself into her suitcase after a visit to relatives in Illinois, and since then, he's been on adventure after adventure! I've offered to have him back during warmer weather, because not only did he not get to see the great fountains of Kansas City, but he didn't get any barbecue.

He did get a horror show when he went into our freezer to have a little ice cream, though. Poor dude.

Thoughtless of me, really.

So I took him shopping, where I shop best - at The Studio, of course, and Broc really seemed to like the yarn:

I thought he was going to fall asleep in the cashmere bin....who wouldn't?

We've had some crazy weather here - yesterday brought us insane blowing snow, plummeting temperatures, slick roads & whatnot - so it's good that as Broc climbed back into his VIP Veggie Transporter (we don't tell him it's a USPS Priority Mail box), he had a whole ensemble to keep him snug and warm:

Um, yeah. I knit him a scarf, hat, mitties & socks. Out of Claudia HandPaint, leftover from my Chevron Scarf. For my knitters, who are shaking their heads right now and reminding me maybe this is why my Noro socks are taking so long, it was super quick & easy. OH? You want to knit some for your inanimate vegetables? Well, all I did was: 4-stitch I-cord for the mitts, 5-stitch I-cord for the socks, simple garter stitch lengthwise for the scarf, and a completely made-up pattern for his hat. Since I didn't do as many photo shoots as I wanted to, I felt the least I could do was get him some knitwear couture to have as a souvenir of his visit.

Where's Broc going next? Why, Mardis Gras, of course!!!!

Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie, OR, My, What Fast Response Times We Have With The Local Fire Department!

2008-01-28T14:52:00.000-06:00

Yesterday evening, I decided to bake a pie. A strawberry-rhubarb pie. I had a recipe from Ye Olde Internet, and I quickly threw everything together. I followed the directions - I do not understand this brushing of the milk on the crust, it pooled and sat there through the entire process and grossed me out. But I did not follow the direction that said, "Put a baking sheet under the pie to catch the drips." Whatevs! The oven already had some pizza cheese burned on - what's a little extra pie, hm?

So I checked the pie at the lowest time allotment for baking - still not done. I took my pie crust ring off, so the whole thing would brown. Apparently (or at least this is the conclusion I've drawn) this is what started Pie Armageddon In The Oven. Suddenly the pie decides to leak. And when I checked it 10 minutes later, there were just a few little red drizzles, and I thought, "Well, hell, I should have done that baking-sheet-thing" and I put a piece of aluminum foil under said pie.

Roughly six minutes later, we were alerted to Pie Armageddon by the whooping of our smoke alarm. And not just any smoke alarm, but the one tied to our security system. So the whooping was also taking place on the outdoor siren (free! due to excellent negotiation skeelz). I ran to cancel it, meanwhile, James started opening windows and I dragged a fan around to start airing things out. The house phone rang - but nobody was on the line, I knew it had to be the alarm company, so I also got out my cell phone (second on the call list). As I looked up, I saw a white light sweep across the side yard.

Giant fucking fire truck. Less than 5 minutes, people. Can I tell you how AMAZED! and GUILTY! But still AMAZED! I was? Four (handsome, uniformed) firemen piled off the truck as I walked to greet them. (James? Inside fanning at the smoke alarm and canceling the alarm every time it went off.) They seemed a little disappointed, all this fuss over a pie, but then they smelled the burnt sugar carried on the wind behind me, and they knew I wasn't covering for a pyromaniac nephew living in the basement. One fireman offered a fan, to air out the house, and I was so dreadfully embarrassed, I declined.

James noted it would be nice if the police response time was as fast, maybe we wouldn't have lost all our stuff. He also went to the freezer to get out a large summer sausage that we'll be taking (along with some cheese) down to the fire station as a thank-you for the unbelievably fast response. Granted, the station is less than a mile away, but I was agog at how quickly they were there.

FWIW, the pie? Pretty good. But not worth all the ruckus! And next time? Baking sheet under said pie.

White Rabbit

2008-01-24T17:28:00.000-06:00

OK! It's like I posted this super sad, melancholy post & then fell off the face of the earth. My brain's preoccupied with a few things - work, higgledy-piggledy things in my life, crazy people on the internets (do you KNOW how many crazy people are out there? A LOT.) So I'm distracted, and several of the wheels that spin on blog posts and topics have been diverted elsewhere.

I did think I should note that for all the railing and screaming and bitching about bad drivers that I do, I also try to be kind to deserving drivers. You know, like letting some poor sap in who's gotten stuck behind a broke-ass volvo in morning rush hour. (I do NOT, however, let in the asswipes who race all the way up to the "Lane Closed" sign and then try to cut in.) And two days ago, some more schmo almost had me in his back seat because none of his brake lights worked. Well, scratch the "none" - the tiny sliver of red on his trunk worked, but nothing else. So I managed to pull up alongside him, and waved at him to roll his window down. Poor dude. He had to lean over to make the passenger window descend. I told him about his brake lights (after all, we're all just avoiding the po-po, right? No need to get pulled over and have a coronary) and then about two miles later, I was stopped & waiting to turn & I happened to look over and there he still was, alongside and waving a thank you. Made me a little happy. Just to make a small bit o' difference. And to maybe counterbalance all the righteous indignation I have against those who pull halfway into the intersection, as though it's perfectly acceptable, natural even, to align their FACE with the curb, not the front end of their car. WTF? Dude, that's an awesome way to lose the front half of your car. I have plenty of insurance, and I can draw an accident report on graph paper like nobody's business. Oh, a quick search of my archives shows I've never told that story. Whups. Well, ok, here goes, really quickly (the reason this is called White Rabbit is because I'm already late for a party. Whatev! I live to be late.)

I was living in Minneapolis, and there was one street near the Art Museum that cut through a big main street at a jog. As in, you pulled up to the light, and when it turned green, you veered over to the right (or left) to maneuver through the intersection. It was a full street's width "off" from going straight through. SO one day, I'm driving home from work (on the big main street), in the right-hand lane. (Four lanes wide, mind you.) This car pulls up to the intersection, I see the driver looking towards me, and what does she do? Pulls right out in front of me. Well, ok, holy crap, but I immediately changed lanes. As did she. Only SHE came to a complete stop & put her turn signal on to "turn left". My front driver's side hit her back passenger's side, as I did everything in my power to once more careen out the lane she'd chosen, but this time, unsuccessfully.

I was pissed. And shaking. I hadn't been going that fast - 30-35? and I got my insurance information out & right there, a little card, told me what to do. And what not to do. So these two girls get out of their car (I am so late for this party now, but I'm caught UP! In the storytelling!) and I say, "Are you ok?" And they're grabbing their necks and whining and all up in my grill for hitting them. I remain silent. The police come. They're unenthusiastic, it's a fender-bender, and I'm really steamed because I'd always heard that when you rear-end someone, it's always your fault. The police ask the girls if they're hurt. (and me, too, but I'm filled with fear, indignation & shock and decline help.) The driver says, "Well, our necks hurt REAL BAD." The cop asks her if she wants an ambulance. She says?
"Well, we're on our way to look at an apartment? And we're late already. So, can we have the ambulance :after: we look at the apartment?"

I think pieces of my body fell off as reality closed in around me and my astonishment broke off parts of my hull. I looked, with utter tongue-tied amazement at the police officer. Who at this point was out of patience. "Miss! Ambulance means EMERGENCY. I'm asking you if you Want An Ambulance NOW." And he looked at me and we exchanged a look that said we both knew who the idiot was.

"Well, we're late, and we need to see this apartment, so...... no."

I was furious. And the next day, after talking to my agent, I got out blue graph paper, a ruler, several markers, and I diagrammed the scene. And sent it in with the accident report. When I got the follow-up call from the adjuster, it was the greatest conversation ever. First of all, they wished all their clients were like me, and could submit such thorough reporting. Second, it was quite clear due to the intersection, the stop light, and the damage to the cars that the other driver had actually proceeded through an intersection ILLEGALLY (my heart sang an aria when I heard that word) and that, in fact, I had done everything in my power to avoid the accident. Her insurance was liable and my beast of a Ford Escort got it's alignment redone and some big piece of metal got straightened out, and I drove that car until it burned itself up in a fire.

I think I'd like "Don't Fuck With Me" on my tombstone. Problem being with cremation, I won't have a tombstone, but hell. It's fun to think about. The other option? "She was even late for dying" - speaking of that, I have gotta go, my peeps. Tomorrow's Friday, and a big hootenanny for that fact.

Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me....

2008-01-22T14:20:00.000-06:00

...When I'm 64?

Dad would have been 64 today. Some times, very rarely, but still, some days I let myself pretend for just a second that it all never happened. That it was a bad dream, a mistake, a dastardly soap opera plot in which he was forced to fake his demise and a storyline that will see him returned to his rightful place in our lives. It's like taking a smoke break, stepping into a bubble outside of the Dead Parent Club meeting room. I'll never spend more than a second there, but oddly enough it's quite ethereal.

I did pretty well until our family friend sent a second email (the first was about taxes, I'm utterly confused) telling me he was thinking about my dad today. Yeah, me too, but having it acknowledged by someone who feels it on some level, too, just cut too close to the quick.

I've spoken to a couple of friends, both of whom are 15-20+ years older than me, and both said that they :still: wish they could talk to their mom or dad. That they are the person they want to call on the phone and just tell things to. I trust that these feelings do get easier, and their experiences help illustrate it. When I hear people's birthdays announced on NPR, I feel resentment when they say anyone who's outlived my father. That'll go, too, I assume. Eventually. My progress? A co-worker who didn't work here when my dad died asked about him, and I said he had died, and he asked when, and how. I was stunned I could answer without falling apart or even tearing up.

Small steps are still steps. But this is one day when I wish it were all different and I was calling him and laughing and to apologize again that my card was late and saying I love you and finding out what he was going to have for dinner.

MLK Conversations

2008-01-21T15:32:00.000-06:00

So, a certain someone suggested if I ever got around to sending out holiday cards by Martin Luther King Day, they could be from our dogs. I thought it was hilarious. Sadly, I haven't gotten to the card part. Sigh. But our dogs are definitely celebrating the holiday (they get to hang out inside because JWo also doesn't have to work). Good luck to them on the equality bit, though. The Magic Door to the Great and Tasty Food doesn't open unless ya got opposable thumbs.

The other conversation I had today was with a co-worker. Her father-in-law works at a very large government facility here in town that may or may not make high-tech weaponry, may or may not employ cell phone jamming systems in its vicinity and its old name may or may not rhyme with "Windex". There, apparently, all black employees can take today off (unpaid). But white employees can't. Which I thought was weird. I asked her, "But what if you embraced the ideas and beliefs of MLK?" and got your basic "Tough shit." I mean, hell. A day off -unpaid- I'd think you couldn't restrict who can or can't celebrate a holiday based on skin color. Maybe it's one of those unwritten rule things. All I know is that because there were no traffic po-lice out today, my commute was squished because people left their cars in areas that are normally tow zones, and I was most definitely NOT feeling the love for my fellow humans.

So, if you got the day off today, I hope it was enjoyable & filled with relaxation and hobbies!

Three-Forty-A-M-is-Too-Early!

2008-01-18T17:09:00.000-06:00

So, I got up at 3:40 a.m. today. And spent the next three hours making calls to Dublin, waiting for final approvals, finalizing payments and getting wire transfer information. It was a huge accomplishment, made all the bigger by the time difference & the very short window we had to get it all done.

I'm pleased, I'm happy, I left work early & went straight to bed. I only got a bit of a nap in, but I feel halfway lucid now, and I'm sure be at all-the-way by tomorrow. I hope we get to do more work in the future for our client, and I also hope we'll get to do it a little bit more in advance. :) Not that I didn't have fun hearing "Brilliant!" at 4:15 this morning, but email is a beautiful thing, "working" overnight and bringing answers by morning. I told the client it was magic! And of course you know what he thought of that word. Brilliant!

In knitting news, I started Jeanie from the latest Knitty, and was perturbed by the printing of the pattern - it left off the entire chart - did I already blog about this? I think I did. Anyway, I'm so glad it's the weekend! I hope that all of you have great, relaxing times. I appreciated all the props and support and nice things you said over the avatar bullshit, the whole thing was petty & stupid, and it was apparent that the individual responsible for criticizing me wasn't expecting to be accountable for her words TO me. So that was kind of funny, and also felt like righting a wrong. I remember being in her shoes once - I was in 5th grade, and Mrs. Polkow had called a classmate to the board - the very classmate on whom we'd managed to tape 20+ silly notes to his back. I remember that near-hysteria laughter of seeing him walking up to the front of the room, tiny pieces of notebook paper wafting in the air as he moved.... we didn't say anything cruel, the goal was more to see how many pieces we could get on him. But Mrs. Polkow saw the papers, did a double-take and stopped him, removing all the notes. After class, I was in the girl's restroom, and said to another girl, "Mean Mrs. Polkow, I can't believe she took all those notes off Tom's back." And from the stall bellowed the words, "And you better not do it again, either!!!" I remembered the horror I felt, of being confronted - even indirectly - because I knew on the most basic level that what we'd done was wrong. Of course, that's all part & parcel of what kids do to each other - the list of humiliations I suffered at the hands of my classmates still makes my blood run cold. But the idea is that ultimately? We outgrow such behavior. And when we see it, or have it done to us, we step in and say something, virtually bellowing from the stall, because we're not in 5th grade any more - and we're better than that.

Icons & Avatars & Ireland, Oh My!

2008-01-17T11:38:00.000-06:00

Well, let me say thanks again on the icon suggestions. I'm still mulling.

Interestingly, or ironically, enough, I was alerted to a thread on Ravelry called "Creepy Avatars" and mine (which is the pink photo of me up there on the right) was called out by a woman who wrote: "I’ve only seen one avatar that really creeped me out. It is a depiction of a woman in sunglasses, on a pink background, and it looks like she is screaming. Why would one represent themselves that way? I am certain she/he is not that awful – knitters are great people!"

She didn't even bother to figure out that, uh, it's a picture of ME.

You callin' me ugly, bitch?

(Sorry, you can't hear me laughing. It's high-pitched and asthmatic, that's how funny it is to me.)

At first, I just came into the room and said, Yo, homes, I know what you're saying about me, it's ME, and it's who I am, and a few people even said that they liked my avatar. Well, I woke up this morning (and yes, James, I hear you singing the Sopranos theme from over here) and I read an email from Beth, about how unnecessary it is to have these conversations that border on mean-spiritedness, and I decided to address it. After all, I'd gotten up at 5:30, drove through snowy roads to get here to call Ireland media companies, and they were still all AT LUNCH. At 2 in the afternoon there.

(Don't worry, I'll come back to Ireland.)

Here's what I wrote:

Everything’s subjective…. and I guess that’s why I don’t draw my conclusions about a person from simply one tiny square on a screen. Must say, this thread seems like a springboard for “bash a Raveler” all based on one tiny piece of a person’s contribution and existence here at Ravelry. Without trying to fan flames, let me say this: I think it’s one thing to say “I don’t like solo body parts” or “Feet freak me out” or to discuss the whys and why-nots of using your face, child, pet, etc. - but to call out individual people for their avatars? - well, as one of those people, I’ll just say it feels a little high-school petty. But, that’s the internet for you. I tend to forget that even though we’re all knitters/crocheters and I expect a certain degree of commonality and assume a level of trust - we’re still all very diverse, and not everyone’s going to agree, or even be tactful or nice about what they say or put out there. So, if “creepy” it is for a few people, well, they’re ultimately the ones who are missing out - but I’m also not going to run and change my avatar or not let you know I’m aware of the pettiness. I’m almost 40. Too old for putting mean notes in lockers.

Personally, I like to amass a whole bunch of information before I determine someone is or isn’t to my “liking” and even then, there’s room for discourse, if that’s what you want. Of course, the fact that my avatar got nominated for “Funniest Avatar” on Ravelry (and even got more than one vote! though clearly not the winner, which is fine, I’m busy & acceptance speeches take so much time) reminds me that for me - just like in real life - for every person that dislikes me? There are ten more who actually really like me, enjoy me, and have taken the time to get to know me. Being judgmental is the easiest and hardest thing to do - it’s easy to leap to conclusions and make up your mind because then you have something concrete to believe - but I also say it’s hard, because you have to live within such narrow confines and limitations. And you miss out on a lot. Like, say, laughing with me. ;)

End of post. Bizzitchslap! Actually, that's a far cry from a slap in my book. It's much easier to read the message if you're not being brutal or mean, and that was my goal. Gently pointing out that there are people behind every single glowing screen. I wanted to throw in a "Judge not, lest you be judged" but I don't quote the Bible well, and it felt a little more heavy-handed than I wanted to end with.

The benefits of the internet far outweigh the drawbacks, this I do believe. It just stinks that people who would never dream of taking a crap in the middle of your living room have no problem doing it virtually. I really don't try to edit myself too much - virtually or online - and I save my explosive, most bombastic tirades for my closest friends and James. Lucky them!

So, Ireland? Yeah! We're buying some media there, and I've been straddling the time zone differential to get in touch with salespeople, in a really short amount of time. It's been fun, although challenging not to immediately adopt the accent while I'm on the phone. I love the over-use of the word "brilliant" - they like to say it the way we say "cool" or "good", and the big laugh of the day yesterday was when Kristin IM'd me that I should start shouting really loudly when I introduce myself as CALLING FROM THE UNITED STATES. Because you know, it's a long way away.

Take a look at the size of my mouth though. I could do it. Brilliantly!

Wowie-Zowie!

2008-01-15T17:15:00.000-06:00

What a day! First off, you guys are great, and thank you for leaving your ideas about the icons. Of course I didn't give you all the parameters, like the fact I can't include colors, but I loved the ideas!!! I'm still mulling & I'll let you know where I wind up. Part of me is deeply drawn to the crown that Alice in Wonderland wore. (So even though I said "no crown", I can't quite shake it!)

Today has been nutso. Everything was start-stop, so one email I was working on took me over an hour to complete, and then the servers were crashing so my email crashed & I had to re-create half the email, and can I just say I NEED A DRINK?

I got thrown a completely left-field project this afternoon and normally I'd be all "FOUL" and "WHA? THE F?" But oddly enough, I surprised even myself & just swung. And hopefully, it'll be a base hit. Who knows?! I think it was a concrete, defined puzzle, that - despite the fact it involves international pricing and trying to talk to sales people who are 6 hours ahead of me - was at its core, a puzzle. God I love me the puzzles. Kristin turned me on to Scramble, on Facebook? And I'm frickin' addicted to the one-minute Scrambles. As many words as you can find in 60 seconds, and it's crazy! And a new game starts 15 seconds after the last one ends - it's like tiny shots of adrenaline. Of course, I didn't need any of it today because life has produced its own natural source of panic!

Anyway, I've been doing formulas and converting Euros and being reminded of how much easier the metric system is - good lord, why don't we just switch? Because when it says "based on cm" and then measurements are given in mm - it's no big deal to convert! It's like a simpleton's puzzle! (Not that the users of the metric system are simpletons. I do not need -oh- the ENTIRE WORLD mad at me!) It's just so much more direct. And dare I say it, universal. I think the only problem I'd have if we switched would be the Fahrenheit/Celsius thing. I'd be convinced at all times someone was lying about the heat.

Anyhoo, I knew I was stressed today when all I could think about was how I needed to go home & battle Tom Morello on Guitar Hero. I could even hear the chords in my head.

I'm a nutjob. But I :embrace: it. Oh well. We all know what I'll want to wear if I get named Queen of the Nutjobs....

Audience Participation

2008-01-14T11:19:00.000-06:00

Hi!
Happy Monday!

I swear, I'm not trying to get a gajillion comments, BUT, I have a fun sort of thing going on with work, and I'm looking for additional ideas.

We are re-branding the company (the owners are finally getting their names involved!) And with all that, new stuff has to get done - logos, letterhead, business cards, signs, all that jazz. Well, the fun thing about our new business cards is that every person gets to pick their very own icon! And we've been instructed to pick an icon that is a graphic representation of YOU.

Of course, my first thought was a crown. But that feels a little... pedestrian. Yeah, I'm the head of my department, but I don't know that I want to be a queen. I've always opted more for the Czarina title, and I'm not sure they wear crowns. More like they wear capes with thick fur collars. Anyway. I realize most of you don't know me in a working capacity, but anyone who's read this blog for a short amount of time probably has a taste or flavor for who I am. And I'm interested to see what you think! (The only other icon that's jumped into my head is the megaphone.) I'm kind of steering away from knitting, but I won't rule it out. Kristin is leaning towards a sheep, so don't pick that.

Can't wait to see what you think! Thanks!

CAW! CAW!

2008-01-12T21:57:00.002-06:00

OK, so I was reading Erika's woodland mice adventures, and she had edited the post to add that maybe she should put a big automated owl on the back seat of the Honda, both to repel mice and what a conversation piece that would be!

It reminded me of when we bought the plastic owl (that does :not: turn its head or make noises) when we lived in the apartments of Widow Creek. James also brought in some crow calls. Because if you want to hunt crows, you have to call for 'em. You know. Didn't you? Me neither. One other thing I didn't know is that - much like lions and hyenas - crows and owls are mortal enemies in the animal kingdom.

Anyhoo, we had the plastic owl on the balcony because there were an abundance of pigeons, and they do what pigeons do best - shit everywhere - and we were trying to create a deterrent. But in addition to pigeons, Widow Creek (and much of Kansas City) has numerous flyways for crows, and piles of money have been spent down on the Plaza to relocate the birds, because of the mess they cause. SO! One spring evening, looking for entertainment, we popped the crow-calling tape in the stereo, opened the patio door, and sat back to watch what would happen.

It was like something out of a Hitchcock movie. I don't exactly remember what particular crow calls we were blasting (Yo HomeCrow, Your Momma So Stupid She Couldn't Be in an Aesop Fable if She Died?) but it involved Help! Owl! Crow! In! Trouble! noises, and within moments, there was one Extremely Pissed Off crow, perched across the parking lot on the building opposite ours. Then two, three, four more crows alit on the roof, all agitated as can be. We couldn't stop laughing. The crows couldn't identify where exactly the trouble sounds were coming from, and I don't know if they even connected with our plastic shell of an owl, but there they were, stomping all around, calling to each other, some flying off and circling to attempt to identify the source. We wondered if anyone else in the building was perhaps baffled, and/or getting alarmed by the gang of angry crows gathering.

I know Erika's tried NPR to get the mice out, but maybe she needs a tape of a predator. (I commented that I think the mice are muttering about world politics and shaking their little heads at the foolishness in the world. And probably complaining about the stale granola she's leaving to test the repellents...) Anyway, her situation prompted that funny memory & I thought I'd share. If only we'd had a tape that repelled evil old ladies who hallucinated noises and made their neighbors miserable. (Oh, yeah, it's called METALLICA.)

Doctor, Doctor, Gimme The News, I Got A Bag Here To Show All Of Yous!

2008-01-10T12:11:00.000-06:00

Wow. This was a fair amount of work, I have to say. So I'm going to pepper this post with pictures, dammit! This is the Doctor's Bag, from "Knit 2 Together: Patterns and Stories for Serious Knitting".

I finished the pieces for this bag.... last winter. (Very early '07.) And they sat patiently waiting for me to get the finishing done. Mostly I dreaded doing the lining. But then last summer, I got motivated and bought the purse handles, the bamboo rods, and the lining. And they also sat and waited, several months, until I finally carpe diemed the damn thing. I have spent most of my evenings this past week working on this - blocking on Saturday; Sunday was for cutting out the lining & doing the seaming, which then was finished on Monday. Tuesday was for binding in the rods and sewing the lining, and last night was attaching the lining, along with the interfaced piece to the bottom, and hand stitching it all into place.

The lining is an Asian-influenced satin brocade:

It was a challenge to get the detail without a flash, and with the flash, because it's so shiny, it obscures some of the detail. I have marked the portion of fabric on the Flickr photo to show which part is the most representative. I ended up not putting pockets on the lengthwise pieces of the bags, but instead cut duplicate pieces of the end pieces, folded down one for each side, hemmed it, and sewed them both in to the lining. (In other words, the pockets are at either end of the bag, where the short knitted pieces are.)

The fabric base is a very rich, deep fuchsia:

Notes on the bag, overall: I used 3+ skeins of Mountain Colors "Twizzle", in a bright turquoise-blue (variegated). If you choose to use a yarn that has variegation? The herringbone pattern will be more muted. So keep that in mind if you want the pattern more pronounced. If I were doing it all over again, I probably would have chosen a solid, but I'm not doing it again, and I love the color so much it makes up for any detail obfuscation! My only quibble with the pattern was that in seaming, you pick up stitches all along the edges, for both pieces, and then do a three-needle bind-off - but the stitch count was smaller than the actual stitches used to create the piece, so I had to re-do the stitching several times to get the correct number of stitches and have them all evenly spaced. If you're going to make this bag, save yourself some of this headache and mark the pieces at the halfway point (or more) and divide the stitches accordingly. That way you don't get to the end only to discover you can only put three more stitches on and it looks wonky. And, I only used one layer of heavy-duty interfacing to stabilize the bottom - it might be worth using really sturdy cardboard or chipboard, or multiple layers of the interfacing to really attain that crisp, rigid bottom.

The sides do not naturally fold in for the satchel tote look. That is completely photo styling on my part. It looks more like the project and it looks way more tailored when you do it, but know that those sides don't do it normally. I think a really dedicated person could attach a purse frame inside the lining, or you could even do snaps, which I toyed with for about half a second, and then decided that it really didn't matter that much to me. You may decide it is, knowing this info!

All-in-all, I have to say that the time spent was worth it - the bag is very classy & classic looking, and will be a great knitting bag. I even have a sore thumb, because in hand-stitching the lining in last night, I stabbed myself at the base of my thumbnail, which is really not a good place to jab a needle, if you're truly interested in all the advice I have to offer on this project. I can assure you it hurts far more than say, a fingertip. We may get indignant here at Passion Knit, but we also love to help and share wisdom.

One more shot of the bag, for I do indeed love it!

I do know my booze, even if I forget to drink it.

2008-01-09T16:54:00.000-06:00

91%DRUNKARD

Find Ultrasound careers

Uh, yeah. I only stumbled on two questions, mostly because I was going too fast. I loved that the first clue for one drink featured the Big Lebowski!

The joke at our house is that we love to drink. Except we always are forgetting to drink the drinks. Sounds like a really bad New Year's resolution, eh? REMEMBER TO DRINK. Oh well, at least I know I could hold my own .... on a game show. Gin for $500, Alex!

Mad as a Hatter and Lovin' Every Minute Of It, Nah, Nah, Nah-Nah.

2008-01-08T10:56:00.000-06:00

So..... after yesterday's post, an observation was made at how readily I'll just consume .....drugs. Even the wrong ones. Ayah. Well, I'll admit, perhaps there is an undue influence of Alice in Wonderland from my childhood going on.... and really, my only explanation at this point is that the month of December really, really sucked. And when you're caught in the undertow, a lot of automatic piloting takes over. (As opposed to Britney Spears, who does not go into the undertow, but skips right past it to Bar Thyself In A Bathroom And Get Put In Restraints.) I'm excited I figured it out relatively quickly (the horrid cold masked it for a couple weeks), and I'll be back to my version of normal soon!

Speaking of bipolar-ness and crazy, the weather here? Is nuts. I guess it's snowing right now. Yesterday and the day before were near 60 degrees. Lemme tell you, as a gal who likes relative consistency and does not enjoy being told to be flexible, I would like the weather to be consistent with the season we are in. Currently, and I feel the need to state this since apparently nobody TOLD the weather, it is WINTER. This does not mean we need a season of ice, of drifts of snow (though I do miss snow to some extent...) But chilly weather is ok. Good even. Our grass is confused. My wardrobe is confused. I am confused. (Ok, maybe that's the ACE-inhibitors talking.)

Well, I'm off to eat lunch at that restaurant where, after dining there a year ago, my credit card was suddenly used to purchase ads in newspapers all around the country. (I see you out there. You think I don't learn!) The food is awesome, and I haven't been back there since The Incident. (Which, by the way, I did some sleuthing on, in an attempt to find the fuckers, but it didn't pan out. But I'd do it again, and now I have a friend who's a private investigator, so there. Thieves Be Warned!) However, no worries. I'll be paying with cash.

LEARNING. It's the watchword for 2008.

Oh, and I have finished knitting objects, but no pictures. The chevron scarf is DONE and being worn this minute. This is really a half-assed knitting blog, I must say. It's more about Cacophony Jen and Her Catastrophes and Carousing and Correcting Others. Oh, and Indignation. I still love the Indignation.

Hey, Guess What?

2008-01-07T10:25:00.000-06:00

No, not chicken butt.

But! I am still allergic to ACE-inhibitor drugs. Yeah! Guess who errantly refilled the exact Rx that jacked her up last year, and has been taking it for a month? Uh, yeah.

I was in a hurry to refill any outstanding prescriptions before our insurance changed (and prices went up.) And Aetna's website isn't the smartest - if you had a prescription that changed, no matter - they'll serve the number up to you to click on "refill"! I even thought, before I actually got sick, that the little cough I had was reminiscent of the fun times I'd had at the beginning of the year. Even went so far as to double-check brand names. Guess who had a bottle of generic and didn't put two and two together? (Have you figured out yet that all the answers to these questions point back to ME?! Yeah. I'm a friggin' dope.)

I've since changed the features on my refill options so it shows the name of the drug, not just a random stream of numbers. And this morning, I picked out the little red pills from my pill box, and dumped all the remaining pills into the coffee grounds in the trash. Yes, coffee grounds. (There's a website an' everything for doing this. Super hooky addictive drugs are to be flushed, apparently.) Not that I think we're going to get an insurgence of homeless people going through our trash this week, desperately seeking a water pill.

So, I'm so excited to sleep through the night again, and I've learned my lesson. The only person who can be trusted to pay attention to what drugs I should be taking is ME. (Not that I did a great job, as evidenced by this, but I think I also assumed that the Big Insurance Database somehow got rid of things you weren't supposed to take. Not true!)

In knitting news, I have assembled the Doctor's Bag, and now need to sew up the lining & stitch it in to said bag. Pics to come!!! (photo link is not my bag, but one posted on Amazon.)