Today I'm working in the section of the store which is devoted entirely to whichever season happens to be upon us. I worked there during the gardening season, and I worked there yesterday, as well. It really puts an imaginary bug in my ear about how I should be handling the seasons as they come. Apparently, this bug thinks I should be putting lights on our balchony and buying a holiday tree. Last spring, the bug was more interested in the lack of herb gardens in our house. "For shame," this bug pounds on my eardrums, "Your complete lack of seasonal items is a crime against nature!"
I'm less than fond of this bug. It makes me do crazy things.
I can say, though, that today I will be better armed. I'm going in today with a full artillary of, "Just think of how much yarn that's worth!" and "Why the hell would I want to move a damned tree anyway?" The bug may win the battle of the holiday cards, but this war is far from over.
One thing about the seasonal section is very disturbing to me - Merry Christmas magnets. I read about the War on Christmas just a few days ago, and otherwise this might not have made me quite so pissed. This isn't the magnet we're selling in our store - the one big difference is that OUR magnets say something ridiculous like, "Support the Cause with a Christmas magnet!" Gaaaaahhhhh!!! We hates them!
In other news, I've always been the type who loves to wrap presents. I know, I know, this puts me in the smallest percentile of holiday people, but I can't help it. I love finding the perfect beautiful/whimsical paper, lining the boxes with tissue paper that matches just so, and putting the ribbons and bows on the top. I like to make them miniature works of art. I'm not sure if I feel that by making the packaging more appealing, the recipiant will be more pleased over-all with the gift, or if I just like wasting time on things that are going to be ripped to shreds. (The second one makes sense when I think of how much I enjoy knitting, even though I rip it out more than I stitch.) And you'd better be a ripper. I am not a fan of the "saving" of holiday paper. What good is putting all that time into making something beautiful if I can't pretend it was no effort whatsoever when you tear it to pieces? It's the best part - watching someone so frantic to see the perfect gift you've given them, they just can't contain themselves.
I love buying things for other people. I get so into the whole process of finding that perfect gift that it's hard for me to focus on the big picture. I'll be so intent on finding the one thing for Lisa that I'll forget about everyone else on my list. Even though I've already made my dad slippers (exactly what he wants and needs), I'm still finding shoes that I know he'd kill for. It's a little frustrating. I love finding that one absolutely perfect thing so much.. it's hard for me to accept that I have something already in stock (yeah, I've bought/made random things this year to gift to folks) that a person would love.
I've already got a sweatshirt for my Grandma that she's going to wear the death out of, but still I've got some stress in my mind over what to make her. Stop, Sunny! You've already got a present for her!
Mom's gift is wonderful - I just know she's going to adore it, and yet I'm looking at it and thinking, "Gee, that's a little bit on the small side. I should really get her something to fill out her gift." WTF? You don't need to, Sunny! That thing is the one thing she would never think to get for herself, and even if she did, she'd never be able to find it. Best of all, it's one-of-a-kind. You don't need to push the envelope.
I guess I'm just in that love/hate place with the holidays right now. I always want to do so much for everyone that it seems like I'm never doing enough. But I am going to get some wrapping paper tomorrow. And some boxes. And maybe some ribbon. Maybe a few strings of lights. But that's it! I can stop any time I want!
Wednesday, November 30
Monday, November 28
Headachy
Does anyone else out there make a point of trying to figure out exactly why they're feeling shitty at any particular moment? I sure do. I've spent tens of hours in my life trying to decide what exactly it was that set off my migraine - you know, they say that diet can sometimes induce one - just to figure out that I hadn't eaten anything out of the ordinary in the past.. oh, say week. Because I like to be thorough.
Tonight, I'm feeling really headachy. It came on pretty suddenly, either after or during my evening meal. I've spent some time analyzing it, and it probably has something to do with the turkey/stuffing sandwich. On toast. Beyond not being exactly the culinary masterpiece I thought it would be, I think it gave me a headache. The toast got soggy, the stuffing had oysters (like the stuffing from Thanksgiving), and the turkey had some dubious globules. I think all in all it was a bad plan.
No more oyster sandwiches for this lass, I'll tell you that much.
Of course, it might be that Bruce's headache from last night was somehow contageous.
Of course, my stomach ache is most definitely blamed upon the stuffing sandwich (*heave*), but the question is: Is the stomach ache (am I the only one who wants to combine that into "stomache" whenever I type it?) somehow connected to the headache? Do you think it's food poisoning? Do you get headaches with food poisoning? Should I just throw up and get it over with?
Am I the only person who used "throw-up" as a noun when I was little?
Tonight, I'm feeling really headachy. It came on pretty suddenly, either after or during my evening meal. I've spent some time analyzing it, and it probably has something to do with the turkey/stuffing sandwich. On toast. Beyond not being exactly the culinary masterpiece I thought it would be, I think it gave me a headache. The toast got soggy, the stuffing had oysters (like the stuffing from Thanksgiving), and the turkey had some dubious globules. I think all in all it was a bad plan.
No more oyster sandwiches for this lass, I'll tell you that much.
Of course, it might be that Bruce's headache from last night was somehow contageous.
Of course, my stomach ache is most definitely blamed upon the stuffing sandwich (*heave*), but the question is: Is the stomach ache (am I the only one who wants to combine that into "stomache" whenever I type it?) somehow connected to the headache? Do you think it's food poisoning? Do you get headaches with food poisoning? Should I just throw up and get it over with?
Am I the only person who used "throw-up" as a noun when I was little?
Sunday, November 27
What More do I Need?
I want a baby. Eventually. Let me make that part perfectly clear. Eventually, I want a baby. I posted about it a while back, and although it's not going away, I've definitely decided that the best time for kids will be sometime vague. Like, "in the future" kind of vague. "In a few years" isn't vague enough for me. I still want a baby, very badly. But I want it "in the future". You know what I'm sayin'?
I used to be scared shitless to say anything of this sort, because I used to think that by talking about a vague sort of yearn like this was a surefire way to find the person you loved (or at least really really liked to look at) running away as fast as his lungs would let him. (I dated a lot of smokers.)
I'm not afraid to say things like that anymore. It's not just because I'm more secure in my relationship, because I've found the one true love of my life who will understand me forever and thinks that every single word that falls from my lips is sweet, sweet nectar to be savoured and never, ever wasted or disregarded, oh no.
It's because I'm married and he can't leave me for saying I want a baby.
But seriously, folks, its getting worse. I mean, I don't want a baby any sooner, but I'm wanting a "futuristic" baby more than I had. On my days off, I tune into Discovery Health and watch people give birth all day. This used to disuade me - that blatant show of just how hard it is, and how much havok it wreaks on a woman's body. The crying and the screaming and the action-shots where they show everything but the goddamned coochie itself - that sort of thing used to put me off the idea completely.
Now I find myself watching the show, thinking, "Yeah, but look what you get in return.." and cooing over the babies. Hell, last week I was crying. (No mention of the PMS of last week, people. You know the rules.) Me, crying. I was one of those people who always called newborns "breathtaking". You know, so I wouldn't have to lie. And now I'm crying over them?
Last week I was laying on the couch catching the latest DHC had to offer me (My mind just called it "getting my baby fix", but that's just not something I'm going to type out loud, because that's almost gross enough to be grounds for D-I-V-O-R-C-E, don't you think? It sounds like I'm shooting them up. Sick.), Bruce came home for lunch. I told him about watching the babies being born, and he turned white and convinced me he's not going to be wanting to see this sort of thing. But! I'm getting better. I told him! I didn't let it fester inside me and feel guilty about wanting a baby, no. I told him that I want a "future" baby, and what that means, and that this show didn't gross me out. I think that's the part he was most disturbed by, actually. And then I told him about how I was watching the show, laying on my side on the couch, and Linus came up and crawled underneath my blanket to go to sleep. After a while, I looked underneath, and he was laying right where a pregnant belly would be, curled up in a little ball. It was all very sweet, and as I looked at him, I totally realized that this "future" is going to be a long way down the road.
Between the lovely warm kitten and my lovely warm husband, I'm way ahead of what I'd planned for myself two years ago, anyway. There's no desire in me to rush things along, to fall prey to the feeling that I'm not doing "enough". I'm not wasting time by waiting. I'm giving our family time to prepare. We've got a lot of living to do, my lovely husband and I. We want to travel to exotic countries (while we're young, so we can - as Someone Special pointed out - sleep on the side of the road if we have to), B wants to pursue some musical aspirations, and there are a million other things on my 'to-do' list. I want to have time to do them - sans screaming youngster. That may be selfish of me, but that's the way it is.
Oh, and also because Linus is an asshole, and I'm obviously no good at discipline whatsoever.
Also, we bought a plant this year and a few days ago, it died. I figure, until I can take a plant in out of the cold after announcing that's what it needs, I shouldn't be put in charge of a human. That's reasonable, right?
I used to be scared shitless to say anything of this sort, because I used to think that by talking about a vague sort of yearn like this was a surefire way to find the person you loved (or at least really really liked to look at) running away as fast as his lungs would let him. (I dated a lot of smokers.)
I'm not afraid to say things like that anymore. It's not just because I'm more secure in my relationship, because I've found the one true love of my life who will understand me forever and thinks that every single word that falls from my lips is sweet, sweet nectar to be savoured and never, ever wasted or disregarded, oh no.
It's because I'm married and he can't leave me for saying I want a baby.
But seriously, folks, its getting worse. I mean, I don't want a baby any sooner, but I'm wanting a "futuristic" baby more than I had. On my days off, I tune into Discovery Health and watch people give birth all day. This used to disuade me - that blatant show of just how hard it is, and how much havok it wreaks on a woman's body. The crying and the screaming and the action-shots where they show everything but the goddamned coochie itself - that sort of thing used to put me off the idea completely.
Now I find myself watching the show, thinking, "Yeah, but look what you get in return.." and cooing over the babies. Hell, last week I was crying. (No mention of the PMS of last week, people. You know the rules.) Me, crying. I was one of those people who always called newborns "breathtaking". You know, so I wouldn't have to lie. And now I'm crying over them?
Last week I was laying on the couch catching the latest DHC had to offer me (My mind just called it "getting my baby fix", but that's just not something I'm going to type out loud, because that's almost gross enough to be grounds for D-I-V-O-R-C-E, don't you think? It sounds like I'm shooting them up. Sick.), Bruce came home for lunch. I told him about watching the babies being born, and he turned white and convinced me he's not going to be wanting to see this sort of thing. But! I'm getting better. I told him! I didn't let it fester inside me and feel guilty about wanting a baby, no. I told him that I want a "future" baby, and what that means, and that this show didn't gross me out. I think that's the part he was most disturbed by, actually. And then I told him about how I was watching the show, laying on my side on the couch, and Linus came up and crawled underneath my blanket to go to sleep. After a while, I looked underneath, and he was laying right where a pregnant belly would be, curled up in a little ball. It was all very sweet, and as I looked at him, I totally realized that this "future" is going to be a long way down the road.
Between the lovely warm kitten and my lovely warm husband, I'm way ahead of what I'd planned for myself two years ago, anyway. There's no desire in me to rush things along, to fall prey to the feeling that I'm not doing "enough". I'm not wasting time by waiting. I'm giving our family time to prepare. We've got a lot of living to do, my lovely husband and I. We want to travel to exotic countries (while we're young, so we can - as Someone Special pointed out - sleep on the side of the road if we have to), B wants to pursue some musical aspirations, and there are a million other things on my 'to-do' list. I want to have time to do them - sans screaming youngster. That may be selfish of me, but that's the way it is.
Oh, and also because Linus is an asshole, and I'm obviously no good at discipline whatsoever.
Also, we bought a plant this year and a few days ago, it died. I figure, until I can take a plant in out of the cold after announcing that's what it needs, I shouldn't be put in charge of a human. That's reasonable, right?
Thursday, November 24
Family, V1.2
Happy Thanksgiving, people. I hope you are all out there having a great time, even if you don't have a box of wine to keep you company1.
My best friend (that's the only time I'm going to call her that, because god knows I feel like a 2nd grader when I keep announcing it all the time) is spending the day with her family, and I sort of wish I was there. But they won't have boxed wine, so it's just as well that I can't visit. I'd have to bring one.
My family is having Thanksgiving at my Grandma's house. I suppose I should say "had", because in full family tradition, they ate at aproximately noon. The better to fall asleep in front of football, that's our motto. I wonder what Mom3 made. I wonder what my stupid aunt made. Around about the year I drank the box of wine for the first time (not a typo, I pretty much finished it off by myself), I started innocently asking my little cousins which dish she had made. Then I'd "accidentally" avoid it. Seriously, she screwed up green bean casserole once. Not pretty.
Linuses4 ate in high fashion today, sampling turkey and oysters and gravy. He's sleeping it off on the couch as I type. He's wishing it could be Thanksgiving every day.
Speaking of which, Bruce5 cooked us a mighty-fine meal.
1Thank you to Michelle, for introducing me to boxed wine a few years ago on Thanksgiving.
2My Friend and the new blog she's (finally) using. Had to throw that in!
3My lovely Mom, because even peeling potatoes in the middle of the night like a lunatic makes me love her more.
4Augie, Kitty, and the pet I've still got many years with, Linus. Oh, and also Linus.
5Of course I'm most thankful for my wonderful husband, and the chance to spend this and many future holidays with him.
My best friend (that's the only time I'm going to call her that, because god knows I feel like a 2nd grader when I keep announcing it all the time) is spending the day with her family, and I sort of wish I was there. But they won't have boxed wine, so it's just as well that I can't visit. I'd have to bring one.
My family is having Thanksgiving at my Grandma's house. I suppose I should say "had", because in full family tradition, they ate at aproximately noon. The better to fall asleep in front of football, that's our motto. I wonder what Mom3 made. I wonder what my stupid aunt made. Around about the year I drank the box of wine for the first time (not a typo, I pretty much finished it off by myself), I started innocently asking my little cousins which dish she had made. Then I'd "accidentally" avoid it. Seriously, she screwed up green bean casserole once. Not pretty.
Linuses4 ate in high fashion today, sampling turkey and oysters and gravy. He's sleeping it off on the couch as I type. He's wishing it could be Thanksgiving every day.
Speaking of which, Bruce5 cooked us a mighty-fine meal.
1Thank you to Michelle, for introducing me to boxed wine a few years ago on Thanksgiving.
2My Friend and the new blog she's (finally) using. Had to throw that in!
3My lovely Mom, because even peeling potatoes in the middle of the night like a lunatic makes me love her more.
4Augie, Kitty, and the pet I've still got many years with, Linus. Oh, and also Linus.
5Of course I'm most thankful for my wonderful husband, and the chance to spend this and many future holidays with him.
Wednesday, November 23
Yarn Woes
The problem with this yarn is that I googled it, and the only place that came up with the correct name was the store I bought it from. Normally, that'd be a good thing, but this store has a spending floor (is that an actual term? I think I might have just made it up) of $30.00. What I mean is, if I want to order more of the stuff, I have to spend that much. And I don't want to. I've got Christmas shit to buy.
Should I just cross my fingers and pray for a Christmas Miracle?
Should I just cross my fingers and pray for a Christmas Miracle?
Tuesday, November 22
Several Things
First, a confession:
The Saturday before Bruce got back from Colorado, Idrank a few beers got majorly wasted on Miller Lite and talked to Lisa on the phone. On my way out to smoke, I turned the oven on - I was planning on baking heating up some Walmart bread - and promptly forgot about it and passed out when I got back inside. Sunday morning I walked through the kitchen, noticed it was a little "warm", and turned off the oven. Bruce would probably not have been very happy to come home to a burned-down apartment. (He might have been a little disappointed at the burnt-up wife, too.)
Second, a concern:
We're going to be cooking Thanksgiving dinner here at Casa Us. We went to Walmart and bought all the stuff for green bean casserole, stuffing, turkey, mashed potatoes, and pie. I think I'm going to be excluded from the preparations, except for the beans. Those I'm pretty confident about.
Third, an update:
My hair no longer looks like this -
- I've finally taken care of the root disaster.
Fourthly, some exciting news:
Someone close to me has found a boyfriend, and I couldn't be happier. My exact words to them were, "Do you know how much I love you? If it could be measured, it would be measured in incriments of how incredibly happy i am for you at this moment. But that, fortunately, is too much to be measured. Because measuring it would degrade it and I love you too much for that." If you would like to read for yourself, you can email me at SunnyFreakingDayATgmailDOTcom and I'll send you their new URL. Please request this, I want everyone to know my (and their) happiness.
Finally, a realization:
Linus has not been eating the tall box in the corner for pure pleasure. Today I realized that he's determined to eat his way into the box, and he thinks he will finally be fulfilled if he can just sleep in the tallest box he's ever seen. The insane little devil can be so cute sometimes, it hurts.
The Saturday before Bruce got back from Colorado, I
Second, a concern:
We're going to be cooking Thanksgiving dinner here at Casa Us. We went to Walmart and bought all the stuff for green bean casserole, stuffing, turkey, mashed potatoes, and pie. I think I'm going to be excluded from the preparations, except for the beans. Those I'm pretty confident about.
Third, an update:
My hair no longer looks like this -
- I've finally taken care of the root disaster.
Fourthly, some exciting news:
Someone close to me has found a boyfriend, and I couldn't be happier. My exact words to them were, "Do you know how much I love you? If it could be measured, it would be measured in incriments of how incredibly happy i am for you at this moment. But that, fortunately, is too much to be measured. Because measuring it would degrade it and I love you too much for that." If you would like to read for yourself, you can email me at SunnyFreakingDayATgmailDOTcom and I'll send you their new URL. Please request this, I want everyone to know my (and their) happiness.
Finally, a realization:
Linus has not been eating the tall box in the corner for pure pleasure. Today I realized that he's determined to eat his way into the box, and he thinks he will finally be fulfilled if he can just sleep in the tallest box he's ever seen. The insane little devil can be so cute sometimes, it hurts.
Christmas Knitting Math Hell:
I can't say too much here either, because I live in fear that B will know what he's getting for Christmas (God help us all, I hope I get it done before then), but here's the basic scoop.
According to a pattern I found, I will be needing:
7 (125 yd skeins -4oz) of bulky weight yarn
1 (125 yd skein -4oz) of bulky weight yarn (in contrasting color)
My question is this: I ordered the yarn I bought from this online store (click on "Red Heart Shetland Chunky"). I assumed (first assumption here) that Chunky would equal Bulky. This seems to be an ok assumption to make. The stitches per inch seem to be working for me. I also noticed that the Red Heart Shetland Chunky comes in 50 gram (1 3/4 oz) skeins and not the 4oz skeins the pattern calls for. There is also the small problem of figuring out how many yards I need according to the pattern, and buying as many skeins as I need. The pattern calls for 7 (125 yard) skeins. The Red Heart Shetland Chunky comes in 80 yard skeins. (Or so they claim. I'm not above blaming a website if this doesn't turn out the way it should.)
So I assumed again, and I compensated, or so I thought, and bought myself 12 skeins of black Red Heart Shetland Chunky. When I figure it on the calculator, I do it this way:
125(yd) x 7(sk) = 875(yd)
875(yd) / 80(yd) = 10.9375(sk)
Are you with me so far? Please tell me this is right. Lets assume it is, and go on with our problem. I bought 12 skeins of the Red Heart Shetland Chunky for this pattern, and I would like someone else to verify my math and tell me this is reasonable. I'm only done with a couple inches of ribbing on one side of the sweater and it looks like I'm nearing the end of the first skein already. I'm having palpatations thinking I might have to try to find the same dye-lot of black Red Heart Shetland Chunky (which is not, apparently, a popular yarn here in the US).
If I do need to find another yarn to use, Patons has a Shetland Chunky in black, but if it's a different brand, it's definitely going to be a different dye-lot. Before you tell me that it can't be that different, go to your closet and pick two random black items of clothing, hold them up next to each other, and admit that one of them looks more brown, the other one looks more blue, and Secret Santa Sunny is always right. Just kidding on that last one. Mostly. ;)
In other words, please put my mind at ease and check my math for me. Please.
According to a pattern I found, I will be needing:
7 (125 yd skeins -4oz) of bulky weight yarn
1 (125 yd skein -4oz) of bulky weight yarn (in contrasting color)
My question is this: I ordered the yarn I bought from this online store (click on "Red Heart Shetland Chunky"). I assumed (first assumption here) that Chunky would equal Bulky. This seems to be an ok assumption to make. The stitches per inch seem to be working for me. I also noticed that the Red Heart Shetland Chunky comes in 50 gram (1 3/4 oz) skeins and not the 4oz skeins the pattern calls for. There is also the small problem of figuring out how many yards I need according to the pattern, and buying as many skeins as I need. The pattern calls for 7 (125 yard) skeins. The Red Heart Shetland Chunky comes in 80 yard skeins. (Or so they claim. I'm not above blaming a website if this doesn't turn out the way it should.)
So I assumed again, and I compensated, or so I thought, and bought myself 12 skeins of black Red Heart Shetland Chunky. When I figure it on the calculator, I do it this way:
125(yd) x 7(sk) = 875(yd)
875(yd) / 80(yd) = 10.9375(sk)
Are you with me so far? Please tell me this is right. Lets assume it is, and go on with our problem. I bought 12 skeins of the Red Heart Shetland Chunky for this pattern, and I would like someone else to verify my math and tell me this is reasonable. I'm only done with a couple inches of ribbing on one side of the sweater and it looks like I'm nearing the end of the first skein already. I'm having palpatations thinking I might have to try to find the same dye-lot of black Red Heart Shetland Chunky (which is not, apparently, a popular yarn here in the US).
If I do need to find another yarn to use, Patons has a Shetland Chunky in black, but if it's a different brand, it's definitely going to be a different dye-lot. Before you tell me that it can't be that different, go to your closet and pick two random black items of clothing, hold them up next to each other, and admit that one of them looks more brown, the other one looks more blue, and Secret Santa Sunny is always right. Just kidding on that last one. Mostly. ;)
In other words, please put my mind at ease and check my math for me. Please.
Secret Sunn-ta
Holy shit, that was punny. Make it stop, make it stop!
Last night, I finished another one of my Christmas gifts. I can't believe how early I'm starting, but there you go. I've got over a month to make 100 more things. This should be easy! Ha! Haha! I'm terrible with timing. Somehow I've convinced myself that I finished two objects in two days, and that equals everyone on my list having handmade knitted items on time. Because if I'm making an object/day, I'll get in at least 30 more things before Christmas Eve.
Um, Sunny? [knock knocks on head] Hello? Sunny? Just because you finished two things in two days, doesn't mean you hadn't spent at least a week on both before the finishing part.
Fuck.
I also need to think about christmas cards.
Double fuck.
Last night, I finished another one of my Christmas gifts. I can't believe how early I'm starting, but there you go. I've got over a month to make 100 more things. This should be easy! Ha! Haha! I'm terrible with timing. Somehow I've convinced myself that I finished two objects in two days, and that equals everyone on my list having handmade knitted items on time. Because if I'm making an object/day, I'll get in at least 30 more things before Christmas Eve.
Um, Sunny? [knock knocks on head] Hello? Sunny? Just because you finished two things in two days, doesn't mean you hadn't spent at least a week on both before the finishing part.
Fuck.
I also need to think about christmas cards.
Double fuck.
Monday, November 21
I (Heart) Old Ladies
Today at work, an older lady came up to the window and asked us for something to treat the symptoms of what she suspected was a bladder infection. I directed her to a pharmacist, who directed her to AZO Standard. (By the way, if you ever need something to ease the symptoms of a bladder infection, this is the product people tend to reccommend. If you happen to go to the doctor, make sure you mention to him/her that you are taking it. Also? It will turn your pee funny colors. Fair warning.) I took her to the place in the aisles where it's kept, and she told me a story.
When she (we'll call her Bea) was at the doctor's office a few days ago with a friend (we'll call her Ceecee), she was waiting (in the waiting room, go figure) and there were two women sitting in there with them. One of the women was elderly, and filling out forms.
She leaned in towards the other woman, and asked her loudly, "How you you spell DIARRHEA?"
[No answer from Lady #2]
"HOW DO YOU SPELL DIARRHEA?"
[No answer]
Etc, etc, etc.
Eventually, Ceecee leaned over to Bea and asked in a stage whisper, "Why doesn't she just give up and write, 'SHIT'?"
When she (we'll call her Bea) was at the doctor's office a few days ago with a friend (we'll call her Ceecee), she was waiting (in the waiting room, go figure) and there were two women sitting in there with them. One of the women was elderly, and filling out forms.
She leaned in towards the other woman, and asked her loudly, "How you you spell DIARRHEA?"
[No answer from Lady #2]
"HOW DO YOU SPELL DIARRHEA?"
[No answer]
Etc, etc, etc.
Eventually, Ceecee leaned over to Bea and asked in a stage whisper, "Why doesn't she just give up and write, 'SHIT'?"
The End Never Tasted So Good
Remember when I mentioned that Somebody Special might be leaving soon?
Turns out it was sooner than we all expected. She hurt her back, and is unable to make it in for her last few days of work. If it was me (or my very responsible husband) there would be no getting around the obvious nature of that particular excuse. As it's Someone Special, however, and she offered to come in virtually until she collapsed and was PARALYZED, we can assume it's for reals, yo.
Tomorrow, we're having a banquet. To Celebrate the New Guy! (And the Fact that She's Gone!) but we don't say that part! The older lady I'm working with is making a cake. And some other things. And cheeseballs for everyone! That's how happy she is! And I'm going to join in, if it means more cheeseballs. God knows I loves me a cheeseball.
My back has been giving me the sort of pain that makes me want to.. do something drastic. God help us all until we get health insurance.
Turns out it was sooner than we all expected. She hurt her back, and is unable to make it in for her last few days of work. If it was me (or my very responsible husband) there would be no getting around the obvious nature of that particular excuse. As it's Someone Special, however, and she offered to come in virtually until she collapsed and was PARALYZED, we can assume it's for reals, yo.
Tomorrow, we're having a banquet. To Celebrate the New Guy! (And the Fact that She's Gone!) but we don't say that part! The older lady I'm working with is making a cake. And some other things. And cheeseballs for everyone! That's how happy she is! And I'm going to join in, if it means more cheeseballs. God knows I loves me a cheeseball.
My back has been giving me the sort of pain that makes me want to.. do something drastic. God help us all until we get health insurance.
Sunday, November 20
The Lady has a Point
It has been sub-par here at the casa. Not sure if I burnt myself out with all the redecorating and the creation (and subsequent redecoration of) new pages related to the site, or if it's just a matter of talking myself out of talking to myself. I do know that I've been crafting it up today, and yesterday was mostly devoted to an ill-fated attempt to see Harry Potter - Feeding the Addiction. I might tell you all about that tomorrow morning when I post. Or I might just get around to telling you about the scariest Halloween costume in all the land! I'm definitely not going to tell you about the forces that be attempting to ruin my driving adventure last month. That story has to wait until I have more pictures money to develop my pictures.
Speaking of pictures, I think I'll just bypass the whole typing thing tonight (my May-or-May-Not RA doesn't take kindly to crocheting a whole freaking pair of slippers in a matter of hours. No it does not) is not sitting well with me right now. My hands are aching pretty badly, so here for your enjoyment is Sunday CatBlogging (brought to you by our fine sponsers over at Susan:
"Please, Mama. Geef me zee sleeper. Please. I needs zee sleeper. You could not understand. I loves zee sleeper. Please."
"Now leef us be. We are making weeth zee loves. Leef us."
"Zee Woman, she is not with the leefing us. But in my heart, eet is only you I see. I weel make sweet, sweet weeth zee loves on you. Do not mind zee keeking, zees ees how we shows our sweet loves for you."
"Zees ees what you get for zee watching, Mama. How you like it I watching you and zee man weeth zee makings of zee loves? You no likey that. I bite you."
Speaking of pictures, I think I'll just bypass the whole typing thing tonight (my May-or-May-Not RA doesn't take kindly to crocheting a whole freaking pair of slippers in a matter of hours. No it does not) is not sitting well with me right now. My hands are aching pretty badly, so here for your enjoyment is Sunday CatBlogging (brought to you by our fine sponsers over at Susan:
"Please, Mama. Geef me zee sleeper. Please. I needs zee sleeper. You could not understand. I loves zee sleeper. Please."
"Now leef us be. We are making weeth zee loves. Leef us."
"Zee Woman, she is not with the leefing us. But in my heart, eet is only you I see. I weel make sweet, sweet weeth zee loves on you. Do not mind zee keeking, zees ees how we shows our sweet loves for you."
"Zees ees what you get for zee watching, Mama. How you like it I watching you and zee man weeth zee makings of zee loves? You no likey that. I bite you."
Friday, November 18
The Number One Sock
It took a little while (and one completely frogged ankle - I personally don't know any elephants in need of socks. If you do, apologize for me, will you?) but I finally got the ribbing down to a fine art. If you look closely, you can almost see the mock-cables I put in there. Almost.
I made a heel-flap! And even turned the heel! And picked up stitches for the gussett? Sp? Who cares! How incredible am I?
And then I knit some more..(see, this is where, if you're not careful, knitting might get boring.) I don't have a picture of the finished sock just yet, but it's only a matter of time.
Note to everyone: Sunny needs a digital camera.
Thursday, November 17
Goondight: Or, Why I Love Brown*
bmb: please oh please god tell me you're really there, and just invoking the stealth settings clause
bmb: PLEASE
bmb: because, life in yahoo is about to make me talk to tom cruise about alternate therapies for depression
sfd: ohhhhh
sfd: i'm here
bmb: hahahahaha
bmb: suhweeeeeet
bmb: oh, you are my angel
bmb: how's bugsy?
sfd: he's good
...
sfd: oh, do you read finslippy?
bmb: gosh, no, who's that?
(note how she assumes that "finslippy" is a person)
sfd: lol
sfd: let me find it
bmb: suhweet
bmb: yes
sfd: http://finslippy.typepad.com/finslippy/
sfd: she's probably my favorite
bmb: heh. looks good so far
bmb: omg the internet is a fucking DREAMWORLD
sfd: http://finslippy.typepad.com/finslippy/2004/06/why_i_could_nev.html
sfd: this one's my favorite
sfd: totally read it
bmb: so many crazy witty people, so little time
sfd: i know, it's fucking fantastic, isn't it?
bmb (11/17/2005 11:22:10 PM): lol@ their dying wish
sfd (11/17/2005 11:22:38 PM): OH GOD WHERE WAS ITS HEAD
bmb (11/17/2005 11:22:47 PM): LMAO
bmb (11/17/2005 11:22:50 PM): hahahahaha
sfd (11/17/2005 11:23:11 PM): you risk it landing somewhere on your person, and that as we all know leads to death, because there’s no reason to live once that happens.
bmb (11/17/2005 11:23:16 PM): " there's no reason to live once that happens
bmb: hahahhaha
bmb: ^5
sfd: ^5
sfd: we rock
bmb : holy crap i'm peeing my pants
...
bmb (11/17/2005 11:24:49 PM): " make a wish foundation"
sfd (11/17/2005 11:25:00 PM): when a waterbug has emerged for its Make a Wish Foundation moment
sfd: GOD we rock
bmb: hahahahaha
sfd: i just told bugs we have to come up by you for our next vacation
bmb: see, it's scarey. we share a brain
sfd: we can sit around and read blogs aloud to one another
sfd: it'll be so romantic
bmb: Trying!to find! an exit!
sfd: lmao!
bmb (11:26:21): HAHAHAHAHAHA
sfd (11:26:23 PM): HAHAHHAHAHHAHAHA
bmb: oh dear jesus. thank you. my sweet. for saving my night. that was THE BEST
bmb: lmao
bmb: "there will always be another"
sfd: lmao
bmb: yes, that will be our drill. we'll read blogs to one another
sfd: i can't wait
bmb: okay, i'll find something lovely for you, for next whenst we meet
bmb: heh
sfd: that sounds perfect
bmb: thanks for talking, even though you're tired and shit
bmb: i'm gonna go kick boys' ass and get him to bed
sfd: alright dude
bmb: you go kiss mr sunny and all that
sfd: i'll have more chances to talk to you
bmb: heh
sfd: now that i've got my sticky old computer set up
bmb: so fucking sweet, the stickiness of it all
...
bmb: talk to you soon
sfd: goondight
Note the timing on some of those references. Uncanny, isn't it? At least I share a brain with someone fantastic. If you haven't already, you should read her blog.
*Edited for content and to run in time allotted**, but not for language. Never for fucking language. It'd take too fucking long.
**Time allotted is the time most people would spend reading my ridiculous instant messages before digging their eyes out with their own toenails. Give or take a few minutes. No one's perfect.
bmb: PLEASE
bmb: because, life in yahoo is about to make me talk to tom cruise about alternate therapies for depression
sfd: ohhhhh
sfd: i'm here
bmb: hahahahaha
bmb: suhweeeeeet
bmb: oh, you are my angel
bmb: how's bugsy?
sfd: he's good
...
sfd: oh, do you read finslippy?
bmb: gosh, no, who's that?
(note how she assumes that "finslippy" is a person)
sfd: lol
sfd: let me find it
bmb: suhweet
bmb: yes
sfd: http://finslippy.typepad.com/finslippy/
sfd: she's probably my favorite
bmb: heh. looks good so far
bmb: omg the internet is a fucking DREAMWORLD
sfd: http://finslippy.typepad.com/finslippy/2004/06/why_i_could_nev.html
sfd: this one's my favorite
sfd: totally read it
bmb: so many crazy witty people, so little time
sfd: i know, it's fucking fantastic, isn't it?
bmb (11/17/2005 11:22:10 PM): lol@ their dying wish
sfd (11/17/2005 11:22:38 PM): OH GOD WHERE WAS ITS HEAD
bmb (11/17/2005 11:22:47 PM): LMAO
bmb (11/17/2005 11:22:50 PM): hahahahaha
sfd (11/17/2005 11:23:11 PM): you risk it landing somewhere on your person, and that as we all know leads to death, because there’s no reason to live once that happens.
bmb (11/17/2005 11:23:16 PM): " there's no reason to live once that happens
bmb: hahahhaha
bmb: ^5
sfd: ^5
sfd: we rock
bmb : holy crap i'm peeing my pants
...
bmb (11/17/2005 11:24:49 PM): " make a wish foundation"
sfd (11/17/2005 11:25:00 PM): when a waterbug has emerged for its Make a Wish Foundation moment
sfd: GOD we rock
bmb: hahahahaha
sfd: i just told bugs we have to come up by you for our next vacation
bmb: see, it's scarey. we share a brain
sfd: we can sit around and read blogs aloud to one another
sfd: it'll be so romantic
bmb: Trying!to find! an exit!
sfd: lmao!
bmb (11:26:21): HAHAHAHAHAHA
sfd (11:26:23 PM): HAHAHHAHAHHAHAHA
bmb: oh dear jesus. thank you. my sweet. for saving my night. that was THE BEST
bmb: lmao
bmb: "there will always be another"
sfd: lmao
bmb: yes, that will be our drill. we'll read blogs to one another
sfd: i can't wait
bmb: okay, i'll find something lovely for you, for next whenst we meet
bmb: heh
sfd: that sounds perfect
bmb: thanks for talking, even though you're tired and shit
bmb: i'm gonna go kick boys' ass and get him to bed
sfd: alright dude
bmb: you go kiss mr sunny and all that
sfd: i'll have more chances to talk to you
bmb: heh
sfd: now that i've got my sticky old computer set up
bmb: so fucking sweet, the stickiness of it all
...
bmb: talk to you soon
sfd: goondight
Note the timing on some of those references. Uncanny, isn't it? At least I share a brain with someone fantastic. If you haven't already, you should read her blog.
*Edited for content and to run in time allotted**, but not for language. Never for fucking language. It'd take too fucking long.
**Time allotted is the time most people would spend reading my ridiculous instant messages before digging their eyes out with their own toenails. Give or take a few minutes. No one's perfect.
Tuesday, November 15
Randomness Etc.
I've got a bunch of things to show you, not the least of which is the sidebar. Because, hello? When have any of you found a sidebar which has so many things to click upon? And so many links? And so many things entirely devoted to SunnyFreakingDay (moi)? Never? I thought as much. Please tune into 100 Things About Sunny, Links!, and Sunny, What IS That?! for some all-encompassing Fun For Everybody.
That last one, 'Sunny, What IS That?!', is a new feature I thought of all by myself this afternoon. I was looking through theshit stuff Bruce had sent to me from our his computer onto the old, shit-for-brains my shiny new computer that I rescued from my parents' house.. And happened to find a BUNCH of pictures which I saved.. And didn't remember why. I will be updating weekly, so please check back on a regular basis - but only if you're going to fake-creative and venture a guess as to what the picture might have been. Or might be of. Give it a shot, all's fair in Love and Bad Picture Taking. I was looking for a way to make my site more interactive, and this just happened to fall into my lap. As we all know, this is my preferred way of conducting business, so there it is. Enjoy.
While perusing, you might realize that the 100 Things site has a few (ok, maybe more like 80) things missing from it. The only thing I ask of you, my faithful readers, is to give advice on what else you want to know about me. Comments are open, and will continue to be. Please, let me know what you want to know about me. Although it might seem unlikely, I need some inspiration to talk about myself some more. Here's your only open invitation: What do you want to know about me? Please ask, I'll answer.
Also, please click on this link and register yourself as someone who reads my blog. Seriously, I'll be really depressed and not functioning correctly if I don't get more than one person registered. Love you!
That last one, 'Sunny, What IS That?!', is a new feature I thought of all by myself this afternoon. I was looking through the
While perusing, you might realize that the 100 Things site has a few (ok, maybe more like 80) things missing from it. The only thing I ask of you, my faithful readers, is to give advice on what else you want to know about me. Comments are open, and will continue to be. Please, let me know what you want to know about me. Although it might seem unlikely, I need some inspiration to talk about myself some more. Here's your only open invitation: What do you want to know about me? Please ask, I'll answer.
Also, please click on this link and register yourself as someone who reads my blog. Seriously, I'll be really depressed and not functioning correctly if I don't get more than one person registered. Love you!
Saturday, November 12
Anyone Not Interested in Socks...
as Christmas gifts speak now, or forever hold your peace.
This isn't to say that I'm knitting Christmas socks (Oh, the humanity!), or that I'll be knitting socks for everyone who reads my blog. Neither am I trying to say that I'll be making them all in time for Christmas, oh no.
I'm just saying that I'm buying out the world's yarn supply, and I'm justifying it by saying I'll be making all of my Christmas presents this year.
This isn't to say that I'm knitting Christmas socks (Oh, the humanity!), or that I'll be knitting socks for everyone who reads my blog. Neither am I trying to say that I'll be making them all in time for Christmas, oh no.
I'm just saying that I'm buying out the world's yarn supply, and I'm justifying it by saying I'll be making all of my Christmas presents this year.
Friday, November 11
Living Pain-Free and the Half-Woman
For the past few years, I've been telling a story about a show I saw "One Time" about a "Girl Who Didn't Feel Pain". It feels like I saw the show a million years ago, and quite frankly I'd almost decided (in my head, I don't share my neurosis with others) that I'd made the whole thing up.
All I have to say now is, "Bless you, Discovery Health Channel. Bless you." It's a horrible condition, and one that I thought I'd created in my own head until tonight. Ashlynn from Georgia, I think about you, and wonder how you're doing more often than you'd ever know. Even when I thought I made you up in my head.
I was going to tell you the name of the very interesting program, but goddamnit, it was just on and already I forgot the name of the fucking show. Fuck.
One thing that makes me nervous was that her parents were speaking on the program (you like how I say 'program' like I'm elderly? It's my newest attempt to seem 50 years older than myself. I'll check that one off the list) about how they can't wait for a cure, how they're sure there will be some fantastic genetic advances in the future that will allow for her to feel pain someday. I don't doubt that.
My question is, how will she cope?
And now? It's the woman with half a body. It's not a title I would bestow, because she's only missing her legs and part of her spine, but due to her amazing ability to get around using her upper-body strength she's developed some awesome muscles, and she's a sturdy lady. She's another lady I'd forgotten about (although I didn't think I made her up - Ashlynn seems like she might have more troubles than this woman who can do more than I can with less limbs than me. She was shooting a gun, for fuckssake. I'm scared to death of guns - and I thought about Ashlynn more because I worried about her), but when they showed the footage of her husband proposing to her (1999, on Maury) I suddenly remembered I'd watched that episode. Strange how that works out, isn't it?
All I have to say now is, "Bless you, Discovery Health Channel. Bless you." It's a horrible condition, and one that I thought I'd created in my own head until tonight. Ashlynn from Georgia, I think about you, and wonder how you're doing more often than you'd ever know. Even when I thought I made you up in my head.
I was going to tell you the name of the very interesting program, but goddamnit, it was just on and already I forgot the name of the fucking show. Fuck.
One thing that makes me nervous was that her parents were speaking on the program (you like how I say 'program' like I'm elderly? It's my newest attempt to seem 50 years older than myself. I'll check that one off the list) about how they can't wait for a cure, how they're sure there will be some fantastic genetic advances in the future that will allow for her to feel pain someday. I don't doubt that.
My question is, how will she cope?
And now? It's the woman with half a body. It's not a title I would bestow, because she's only missing her legs and part of her spine, but due to her amazing ability to get around using her upper-body strength she's developed some awesome muscles, and she's a sturdy lady. She's another lady I'd forgotten about (although I didn't think I made her up - Ashlynn seems like she might have more troubles than this woman who can do more than I can with less limbs than me. She was shooting a gun, for fuckssake. I'm scared to death of guns - and I thought about Ashlynn more because I worried about her), but when they showed the footage of her husband proposing to her (1999, on Maury) I suddenly remembered I'd watched that episode. Strange how that works out, isn't it?
Something in the Water
I've got a question for you all... is there a reason, other than misinformedness, I mean... Is there a reason I keep hearing the bird flu written as Evian Flu? As in not Avian.
I did a search for Evian Flu, and it asked me (ever so kindly, I love Google, they're very kind with their corrections and never make me feel like a dumbass) "Did you mean Avian Flu?", which I take to mean that Evian Flu isn't the correct.. um.. name. And yet, when I looked beyond the polite inquery, I saw that I wasn't making it up, apparently everyone seems to be very afraid of the flu contained in Evian.
Like I said, I don't want to appear to be an ass, and I certainly don't want people to be embarassed if they happen to have misheard themselves.. but What The Fuck?
You must not have heard the same hour-long discussion about vaccinating the chickens in Viet Nam that I did. And that's all I gotta say about that.
I did a search for Evian Flu, and it asked me (ever so kindly, I love Google, they're very kind with their corrections and never make me feel like a dumbass) "Did you mean Avian Flu?", which I take to mean that Evian Flu isn't the correct.. um.. name. And yet, when I looked beyond the polite inquery, I saw that I wasn't making it up, apparently everyone seems to be very afraid of the flu contained in Evian.
Like I said, I don't want to appear to be an ass, and I certainly don't want people to be embarassed if they happen to have misheard themselves.. but What The Fuck?
You must not have heard the same hour-long discussion about vaccinating the chickens in Viet Nam that I did. And that's all I gotta say about that.
Thursday, November 10
I Think We've Had Enough Waterfall for a While
I'll bring that one back sometime, I promise.. but it was rather gloomy. In my opinion.
I can't believe how much time I'm spending on changing my blog.
I can't believe how much time I've spent in the past week in front of the computer.
I believe I've figured out why I can't seem to drag my ass to bed while Bruce is away: I always look forward to bedtime as the time for snuggling and talking myself down from my day with a big, hairy, warm, sometimes sweaty pillow.
Come back, hairy sweaty pillow! I need you.
I can't believe how much time I'm spending on changing my blog.
I can't believe how much time I've spent in the past week in front of the computer.
I believe I've figured out why I can't seem to drag my ass to bed while Bruce is away: I always look forward to bedtime as the time for snuggling and talking myself down from my day with a big, hairy, warm, sometimes sweaty pillow.
Come back, hairy sweaty pillow! I need you.
In Tribute
Upon meeting my father, few people would have very many things to say. He's quiet, introspective, and he generally keeps his thoughts to himself about most matters. As time goes by, however, and one gets to know him, he lets you into his world. I have inherited from him his way of thinking, his sense of humor, and apparently his legs. Witness:
Our family dog passed away in his sleep a few weeks before my wedding in May. His name was Augie, and he was quite the character. We spent his lifetime adoring that dog as a family, but he was without a doubt Dad's dog first and foremost. Here is a picture of Augie from the summer before he died:
(The bundle of ET sleeping bag at the bottom of the photo is my brother's friend Justin. He had had a rough night out.)
On October 29th, I ventured north of Shawano to visit with my father's mother. We chatted for about an hour about the various pros and cons to Walmart, and how it compares to the tiny Lakewood store she shops at. (Apparently, there isn't much of a comparison for a lady with a cane, Walmart is an evil, giant conglomerate with way too many aisles.) We also chatted about prescription medications. (By the way, mad props to the woman who birthed my father for being eighty and only relying on two medications.) That's what I love about working in the pharmacy; when in doubt, always talk to the elderly about their medicine. It soothes the savage beast. Not that my grandma is a beast. Well, not really. (Someone do me a favor and go to Bruce's site and ask him about the 'egg-bake'. He'd love to explain.) Here is a picture featuring my grandma, my father, and me:
After the rendez-vous with my grandma, I went up to our land to pick up my mom and visit with my dad for a little while. We were standing around the fire (in Wisconsin, it's not 80 fucking degrees like it is here in Missouri in NOVEMBER), and during a lull in conversation, I glanced at the woods around me. I happened to notice that the rock (the rock under which is buried our family dog Jack, who was hit by a car before we had Augie) had some new adornments. Before then, it had been the resting place for Jack's collar, and now its been decorated further.
I've always been the type of person who lavishes my dog with affection and toys. Before I was old enough to have a job, I used to dig around my room for old stuffed animals to treat Augie with when the old ones wore out (not that I didn't try to ressurect them, I sure as hell did). But after I was earning my own money, I bought him dog toys that squeaked when he chewed them, that sort of thing. I might not have, but he loved them so much that he couldn't be without them. It warmed my heart, it did.
On this visit to the land, there were two more additions to the stone. One was the racoon I'd bought Augie last Christmas, and the other was one of Kitty/Otis's toys.
I cried, of course, but it was mostly out of pure love for my dad, who may be a little quiet at first, but who loves with all his heart, who understands, who didn't want our treasured pets to be without their favorite things. Who wanted them remembered. I love you, Dad.
Our family dog passed away in his sleep a few weeks before my wedding in May. His name was Augie, and he was quite the character. We spent his lifetime adoring that dog as a family, but he was without a doubt Dad's dog first and foremost. Here is a picture of Augie from the summer before he died:
(The bundle of ET sleeping bag at the bottom of the photo is my brother's friend Justin. He had had a rough night out.)
On October 29th, I ventured north of Shawano to visit with my father's mother. We chatted for about an hour about the various pros and cons to Walmart, and how it compares to the tiny Lakewood store she shops at. (Apparently, there isn't much of a comparison for a lady with a cane, Walmart is an evil, giant conglomerate with way too many aisles.) We also chatted about prescription medications. (By the way, mad props to the woman who birthed my father for being eighty and only relying on two medications.) That's what I love about working in the pharmacy; when in doubt, always talk to the elderly about their medicine. It soothes the savage beast. Not that my grandma is a beast. Well, not really. (Someone do me a favor and go to Bruce's site and ask him about the 'egg-bake'. He'd love to explain.) Here is a picture featuring my grandma, my father, and me:
After the rendez-vous with my grandma, I went up to our land to pick up my mom and visit with my dad for a little while. We were standing around the fire (in Wisconsin, it's not 80 fucking degrees like it is here in Missouri in NOVEMBER), and during a lull in conversation, I glanced at the woods around me. I happened to notice that the rock (the rock under which is buried our family dog Jack, who was hit by a car before we had Augie) had some new adornments. Before then, it had been the resting place for Jack's collar, and now its been decorated further.
I've always been the type of person who lavishes my dog with affection and toys. Before I was old enough to have a job, I used to dig around my room for old stuffed animals to treat Augie with when the old ones wore out (not that I didn't try to ressurect them, I sure as hell did). But after I was earning my own money, I bought him dog toys that squeaked when he chewed them, that sort of thing. I might not have, but he loved them so much that he couldn't be without them. It warmed my heart, it did.
On this visit to the land, there were two more additions to the stone. One was the racoon I'd bought Augie last Christmas, and the other was one of Kitty/Otis's toys.
I cried, of course, but it was mostly out of pure love for my dad, who may be a little quiet at first, but who loves with all his heart, who understands, who didn't want our treasured pets to be without their favorite things. Who wanted them remembered. I love you, Dad.
Tuesday, November 8
Left to Her Own Devices
One unfortunate side effect of having the King Size bed all to myself (I don't include the cat) has been learning a few things about ME that I'd forgotten in recent months. They all seem to start with the phrase "If left to her own devices, she will most likely..."
1. Eat pizza every day. When she is sick of pizza, she will eat soup. When the pizza tastes good, regardless of whether she is hungry, she will eat more. (Soup tends to come in smaller portions.)
2. Sleep on her stomach with her hands flailed all over the place, getting cricks in her neck.
3. Sit at the computer for days and days (and days) on end. She will start to be irritated with the rest of the world for not having interesting things to say every five minutes.
4. Bring in the mail and leave it stacked on the coffee table.
5. Stack the Diet Coke cans next to the sink.
6. Stack all of the garbage next to the sink.
7. Look at strange porn.
There are more, but this is getting embarassing.
1. Eat pizza every day. When she is sick of pizza, she will eat soup. When the pizza tastes good, regardless of whether she is hungry, she will eat more. (Soup tends to come in smaller portions.)
2. Sleep on her stomach with her hands flailed all over the place, getting cricks in her neck.
3. Sit at the computer for days and days (and days) on end. She will start to be irritated with the rest of the world for not having interesting things to say every five minutes.
4. Bring in the mail and leave it stacked on the coffee table.
5. Stack the Diet Coke cans next to the sink.
6. Stack all of the garbage next to the sink.
7. Look at strange porn.
There are more, but this is getting embarassing.
Monday, November 7
Another Template in Progress:
Go here to see it:
The Test Blog
Or I could just look up how to take a screen shot, and show you that way.. ok, hold on.
Fuck.
It's impossible for me to learn how to take a simple screen shot. My problems are with the directions to 1. hit Print Screen and then 2. paste into a word document.
What the hell do you do with the window that pops up asking which printer to print it to? Ignore it? Hope it doesn't affect anything? Even when I think it's bound to work this time (have found word document, etc.) it doesn't work. There's apparently nothing to paste?
Ok, fed up now. Calling friend and technical genius now. Wish me luck.
...
Ok, talked to the almighty (and extra nice) Robert, and although I'm still retarded and incapable of figuring out how to make a screenshot, he was kind enough to send me a few versions of what it looks like from his end of the spectrum.
...
Oh, fuck it. I can't get the blasted things into a format that I can post here, so just go to freaking The Test Blog already. Sheesh. One would think that someone capable of making fabulous templates for the entire world would be able to do something this simple.
One would think wrong.
PS: She likes it, she really really likes it!
PPS: Next on the list, Robert!
The Test Blog
Or I could just look up how to take a screen shot, and show you that way.. ok, hold on.
Fuck.
It's impossible for me to learn how to take a simple screen shot. My problems are with the directions to 1. hit Print Screen and then 2. paste into a word document.
What the hell do you do with the window that pops up asking which printer to print it to? Ignore it? Hope it doesn't affect anything? Even when I think it's bound to work this time (have found word document, etc.) it doesn't work. There's apparently nothing to paste?
Ok, fed up now. Calling friend and technical genius now. Wish me luck.
...
Ok, talked to the almighty (and extra nice) Robert, and although I'm still retarded and incapable of figuring out how to make a screenshot, he was kind enough to send me a few versions of what it looks like from his end of the spectrum.
...
Oh, fuck it. I can't get the blasted things into a format that I can post here, so just go to freaking The Test Blog already. Sheesh. One would think that someone capable of making fabulous templates for the entire world would be able to do something this simple.
One would think wrong.
PS: She likes it, she really really likes it!
PPS: Next on the list, Robert!
Sunday, November 6
A Christmas to Remember
Now this, this is worth every penny:
Heifer International
I suggest that anyone looking for a perfect gift for someone who has everything put some money towards a few chicks (or, hell, why not a water buffalo?), rather than buying that tie for your dad. After all, doesn't he have at least thirty? And he doesn't wear them all, anyway. You should know that by now.
(Although I still think this is probably the most moving charity I have come across in the past few years, I think it's possible that I'm just jealous of the poor people that might get flocks of ducks for Christmas this year. I want a flock of ducks.)
Heifer International
I suggest that anyone looking for a perfect gift for someone who has everything put some money towards a few chicks (or, hell, why not a water buffalo?), rather than buying that tie for your dad. After all, doesn't he have at least thirty? And he doesn't wear them all, anyway. You should know that by now.
(Although I still think this is probably the most moving charity I have come across in the past few years, I think it's possible that I'm just jealous of the poor people that might get flocks of ducks for Christmas this year. I want a flock of ducks.)
How to Make the Most of a Crappy Chore:
I think I speak for my husband and my brother-in-law when I say that yesterday couldn't have been much more perfect. I'll let Jessica speak for herself. Oh yes, I'm about to graduate from "Cool People in Cyberspace" to "Friends I Know In Real Life". It was that monumental. I was so incredibly drunk. But Sean was way drunker than I was. Pussy.
I suppose I aught to tell the actual story, and not ramble on and on in my very special way that no one will get unless they were actually there, huh? Damn.
Against our better judgement, Bruce and I woke up early yesterday morning to drive to St. Louis. His brother, Sean, is going to Iraq in a month or so and this was his last trip home before he goes here:
Oh, that's a little depressing, isn't it? And after all, we all want him to have a good time and not get involved in any bombings or anything.. Hmm. Maybe we'd be better off picturing him here:
Ok, that's better. We got into St. Louis just in time for lunch, and stopped at the Landing to get something to eat. Only we weren't really hungry. Unless you count "Hungry for Beer". We had a few drinks, and somehow managed to wrack up a bill of over NINETY DOLLARS. $90.00. Insane. Understandable, then, why we wanted some advice before choosing our next place to drink.
I was the way I get when I'm drunk, and took matters into my own hands - demanding that Bruce call Jess (in KC) to get the number of Jess (in StL). Bruce was shy at first, after not talking to her for nigh on eight years, but they caught up a little before he handed the phone to me. "Hi. Where can we drink for cheap?" I demanded, before asking if she'd be so kind as to meet us there. The night (well, afternoon, really) was young, and there was much to be drank. (Drunk? Drinked?) We did our best to contain ourselves before the lovely lady arrived, but unfortunately all was lost. We were terribly drunk when she showed up.
Luckily, there's a certain type of person who not only understands these situations, but embraces them without a second thought, ordering a giant bucket of Woodchuck and just plain going to town. I love that certain type of person, but that wasn't Jessica.
She deserves an extra category dedicated to the type of person who not only does the above, but also lets the soon-to-be-in-Iraq brother squeeze her boobs. All hail Jessica.
------------------
I also promised Bruce that I would type something up for him on my blog while he is away, letting Jessica know how ultimately cool it was to hang out with her last night, and how awesome she is in all ways. He wanted me to add that he's not sure why you haven't seen each other in so long, but he's not going to let it happen again. "She remembers all that crap that I don't remember anymore." How sweet.
I suppose I aught to tell the actual story, and not ramble on and on in my very special way that no one will get unless they were actually there, huh? Damn.
Against our better judgement, Bruce and I woke up early yesterday morning to drive to St. Louis. His brother, Sean, is going to Iraq in a month or so and this was his last trip home before he goes here:
Oh, that's a little depressing, isn't it? And after all, we all want him to have a good time and not get involved in any bombings or anything.. Hmm. Maybe we'd be better off picturing him here:
Ok, that's better. We got into St. Louis just in time for lunch, and stopped at the Landing to get something to eat. Only we weren't really hungry. Unless you count "Hungry for Beer". We had a few drinks, and somehow managed to wrack up a bill of over NINETY DOLLARS. $90.00. Insane. Understandable, then, why we wanted some advice before choosing our next place to drink.
I was the way I get when I'm drunk, and took matters into my own hands - demanding that Bruce call Jess (in KC) to get the number of Jess (in StL). Bruce was shy at first, after not talking to her for nigh on eight years, but they caught up a little before he handed the phone to me. "Hi. Where can we drink for cheap?" I demanded, before asking if she'd be so kind as to meet us there. The night (well, afternoon, really) was young, and there was much to be drank. (Drunk? Drinked?) We did our best to contain ourselves before the lovely lady arrived, but unfortunately all was lost. We were terribly drunk when she showed up.
Luckily, there's a certain type of person who not only understands these situations, but embraces them without a second thought, ordering a giant bucket of Woodchuck and just plain going to town. I love that certain type of person, but that wasn't Jessica.
She deserves an extra category dedicated to the type of person who not only does the above, but also lets the soon-to-be-in-Iraq brother squeeze her boobs. All hail Jessica.
------------------
I also promised Bruce that I would type something up for him on my blog while he is away, letting Jessica know how ultimately cool it was to hang out with her last night, and how awesome she is in all ways. He wanted me to add that he's not sure why you haven't seen each other in so long, but he's not going to let it happen again. "She remembers all that crap that I don't remember anymore." How sweet.
Friday, November 4
Day From Hell: Part 266
(It would be part 666, but it's not worth that much.)
Surprisingly, I didn't kill myself at work yesterday. I also didn't walk out. Please observe a moment of silence in the face of my stoicism.
Somebody Special was having a rough day. Not only was she creating three times as much work for herself (this is her way, we don't mess with her way.. ohhhmm), it was actually a pretty busy day.
I was a few split seconds away from praying at a few key moments, and we all know how laughable that is - I spent my first eight years of school at Sacred Heart praying. I've used up my praying hours. God is just plain sick of my voice.
It got worse.
It got much, much worse.
Somebody Special's way of dealing with stressfull situations is to.. well, basically to work herself into a tizzy and then create a little more work for herself, and eventually (I have no idea how it happens) get it done. With lots of time in between, but it does in fact get done. Most of the time.
This Tizzy I speak of? She was in the Mother of All Tizzies yesterday. And she almost gave herself a stroke. I'm not kidding in the slightest. Her left leg went numb due to stress. I overheard her joking with a customer, talking about her leg. They told her she'd better get it looked at, and she said she had already - the doctor told her the only thing to do was to quit work.
Which was pretty much the highlight of my day.
(We hope she's leaving soon, but we don't know for sure. I don't want to get anyone's hopes up.)
Surprisingly, I didn't kill myself at work yesterday. I also didn't walk out. Please observe a moment of silence in the face of my stoicism.
Somebody Special was having a rough day. Not only was she creating three times as much work for herself (this is her way, we don't mess with her way.. ohhhmm), it was actually a pretty busy day.
I was a few split seconds away from praying at a few key moments, and we all know how laughable that is - I spent my first eight years of school at Sacred Heart praying. I've used up my praying hours. God is just plain sick of my voice.
It got worse.
It got much, much worse.
Somebody Special's way of dealing with stressfull situations is to.. well, basically to work herself into a tizzy and then create a little more work for herself, and eventually (I have no idea how it happens) get it done. With lots of time in between, but it does in fact get done. Most of the time.
This Tizzy I speak of? She was in the Mother of All Tizzies yesterday. And she almost gave herself a stroke. I'm not kidding in the slightest. Her left leg went numb due to stress. I overheard her joking with a customer, talking about her leg. They told her she'd better get it looked at, and she said she had already - the doctor told her the only thing to do was to quit work.
Which was pretty much the highlight of my day.
(We hope she's leaving soon, but we don't know for sure. I don't want to get anyone's hopes up.)
Thursday, November 3
1000? (Or: Love, The Toilet Princess)
Is it my thousandth post, was it my thousandth post a few months ago? Does anybody know? No? Ok, then, we're going to treat this as though it was the thousandth post. That means little to no content and a scraped together post, just in case you weren't sure.
Crits' blog wasn't there last night. I haven't checked again this morning to make sure it wasn't a glitch, but as of last night, I couldn't see it.
Jess L., it's not a book you need, it's a million hours of free time with which to dick around on the computer and 'trial-and-error' things into your template. I had a million hours, you most likely did not. Let me know if you want me to help you out, like I said, I love making people's templates. It keeps me from dicking around with my own too much.
I'm back home, and nothing has ever felt this good. I was pretty sure I'd never think of Springpatch as my "home" a year ago. It's coming up on my first anniversary of dropping my entire life and moving on the spur of the dime, and I can't believe how well it all turned out. I love my husband more than there are pictures of peoples' cats on the internet, and wherever he is feels like home to me. I've also been listening to an extrordinary amount of country music.
Many harrowing tales to come! OoooOOoohhhhh! Stay tuned for the costume from spooksville! And the evil forces that tried to block my way home! It's a heart-stopping adventure!
I've fixed many a toilet in my day, but today it's something new. My toilet is running (guest bathroom, otherwise known as "the one with toilet paper"), and I know enough to have figured out that the ball isn't rising high enough to shut off the water, but I'm not sure how to get it to actually do that. Anybody with more toilet experience than I have? I'd appreciate it.
Love,
The Toilet Princess
Crits' blog wasn't there last night. I haven't checked again this morning to make sure it wasn't a glitch, but as of last night, I couldn't see it.
Jess L., it's not a book you need, it's a million hours of free time with which to dick around on the computer and 'trial-and-error' things into your template. I had a million hours, you most likely did not. Let me know if you want me to help you out, like I said, I love making people's templates. It keeps me from dicking around with my own too much.
I'm back home, and nothing has ever felt this good. I was pretty sure I'd never think of Springpatch as my "home" a year ago. It's coming up on my first anniversary of dropping my entire life and moving on the spur of the dime, and I can't believe how well it all turned out. I love my husband more than there are pictures of peoples' cats on the internet, and wherever he is feels like home to me. I've also been listening to an extrordinary amount of country music.
Many harrowing tales to come! OoooOOoohhhhh! Stay tuned for the costume from spooksville! And the evil forces that tried to block my way home! It's a heart-stopping adventure!
I've fixed many a toilet in my day, but today it's something new. My toilet is running (guest bathroom, otherwise known as "the one with toilet paper"), and I know enough to have figured out that the ball isn't rising high enough to shut off the water, but I'm not sure how to get it to actually do that. Anybody with more toilet experience than I have? I'd appreciate it.
Love,
The Toilet Princess
Tuesday, November 1
Family Time
I may have posted this picture before, but I wanted to let everyone see it again. This is my lovely lovely family that I love with my whole self.
I also wanted to draw attention to my Mother's New Blog. Please check it out, and leave her comments to make her feel welcome and lovely, because she is. By far. The loveliest lady. I have ever known.
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