Advanced Global Personality Test Results Extraversion |||||||||||||||||| 76% Stability |||||||||||||||| 63% Orderliness |||||||||||| 43% Accommodation |||||||||||||||||||| 83% Interdependence |||||||||| 36% Intellectual |||||||||||||||| 63% Mystical |||||||||||||| 56% Artistic |||||||||||||| 56% Religious |||||||||| 36% Hedonism |||||||||||||| 56% Materialism |||||||||| 36% Narcissism |||||||||||||||||| 76% Adventurousness |||||||||||||||| 63% Work ethic |||||||||| 36% Self absorbed |||||| 23% Conflict seeking |||||| 30% Need to dominate |||||||||||||| 56% Romantic |||||||||||||| 56% Avoidant |||| 16% Anti-authority |||||||||||| 43% Wealth || 10% Dependency |||||||||||| 50% Change averse |||||| 30% Cautiousness |||||| 30% Individuality |||||||||||| 50% Sexuality |||||||||||| 50% Peter pan complex |||||| 23% Physical security |||||||||||||||||||| 90% Physical Fitness |||||| 24% Histrionic |||||||||| 36% Paranoia |||||||||| 36% Vanity |||||||||||| 50% Hypersensitivity |||||||||||| 50% Female cliche |||||||||||| 50%

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Stability results were moderately high which suggests you are relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic.

Orderliness results were moderately low which suggests you are, at times, overly flexible, improvised, and fun seeking at the expense of reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment.

Extraversion results were high which suggests you are overly talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting at the expense too often of developing your own individual interests and internally based identity.


trait snapshot:social, outgoing, worry free, optimistic, upbeat, tough, likes large parties, makes friends easily, rarely irritated, open, enjoys leadership, trusting, dominant, thrill seeker, strong, does not like to be alone, assertive, mind over heart, confident, controlling, feels desirable, likes the spotlight, loves food, social chameleon, hard working, concerned about others

Navel-Gazing

I have a problem. You see, Bruce pointed out to me a few weeks ago that my "Comment" link wasn't showing up when you were on an individual post's page, and that might be why I hadn't been getting as many (or let's be Frank here, any comments whatsoever) for a while. Since I changed my color scheme, actually. So then I changed that, to make it easier to comment. And still not a one.

This is just one example of why I do things the way I do. You see, when there was something wrong with the site, I could pretend that was the reason for the lack of commenting. Instead, now I know that I just plain wasn't getting people who wished to comment.

Of course, then again, maybe Everything is Not About Me, and I need to stop worrying and realize that people are busy at this time of year. Yes, that must be it. Carry on.

Things You Can Be Proud You Can't Say You've Done:

1. Fall over in the dark, knocking over things (you can't tell what they are, because it's dark) and hurting yourself. Crying. Sitting on the floor and having a little pity party for yourself. Drunk. While your husband laughs in the bedroom. Drunk.

2. Turning off the light in the bathroom before you leave, and somehow knocking the sink off the wall on your way out. Holding the sink for a few minutes, deciding that because there is water dripping on you, you must be outside. Completely convincing yourself that you are outside. Replying to your concerned friend, "No, I'm not OK, I'm outside and it's raining on me and my arms are getting tired." Drunkenly.

So anyway, on the way to the floor last night in the dark, I hit my nose on something. I still don't know what. Now my nose hurts and it feels like I've constantly got to sneeze. It's times like this that I wish I had a more extensive history of hurting myself. That way, at least I'd know if it was serious.

I have a feeling that it's only seriously embarassing.

True Confessions! Five AM version!

Do you know those magazines they sell called "True Confessions!"? They come out with a new one on a regular basis, and it's like Penthouse letters for women. They're meant to be little titillating stories for housewives to read when they're in between doing the dishes and perhaps making the loaves of bread from scratch for the next week. I used to buy them when I was ten, because I thought they were slightly naughty. They weren't. But I didn't know that.

Huck woke me up this morning at four fifty-eight in his standard manner*, and before I could get him outside (like as soon as I woke up), I smelled something foul. Now, Huck is slightly gassy, so that didn't necessarily mean anything, but I thought I'd turn the light on and look just to make sure. Guess what I found in the standard location?

If you guessed a few really stinky turds, you win!

I took him outside anyway, just to make doubly sure he had it all out of his system, and he made only a half-hearted attempt at a squat. Really it was more for my benefit. The point of waking me up was the same reason all those women write into those "True Confessions" magazines at the grocery stores. Sometimes, you've just got to tell someone, that's all. Then you feel better.

*Lightly jump on bed, lick Mama on nose, whine. Repeat with increasing frequency of whine until effective.

Merry Christmas

Hope everyone out there has fun celebrating whichever holiday they choose to honor. If any. Special thoughts sent out to those of you celebrating with awkward family members for the second time in two days and really not looking forward to it. Actually, I'll send you some prayers, as well. To Pete.

Merry Christmas, every one.

Cookies, Made

Oh, thank god, this new blogger, right? Finally it makes it easier for you to sign in and do your own thing! I love it.

Today I went to Grandma Mavis' house, and happened upon many many cookie cutters. This completely alleviated my past stresses about cookie cutters, and even though my boss scheduled me for different hours today than she's scheduled my hours for every other Thursday in the past two to three months, I was OK with the whole deal, because I had good cookie cutters. Some of these cutters are so antique they're impossible to fine now. I'll show you, as soon as I get some good pictures of the sets.

My cookie mystery has come to an end. Please come and visit us (Especially you, Cam, because Bruce loves you before all else - except for me - we LOVE visitors.)

I AM THE FREAKING COOKIE MONSTER!

What the hell? I realize that waiting until the week before Christmas is probably cutting things a little short, but WHY ARE THERE NO CHRISTMAS COOKIE CUTTERS ANYWHERE?

All I want, I was telling Bruce this, all I want is a reindeer. Just one reindeer cookie cutter, so that I can make oh-so-thin-and-crispy reindeer sugar cookies, just like Grandma always did. The closest thing to Christmas I've come in three stores is a freaking star. Which would be fine, but Hello? I've already got a star, thanks!

And even the most trusted store of all (Mom's House, as in, where my Mom lives) doesn't have them. She thinks that perhaps she THREW THEM AWAY.

GAAHHHHH!

Conversation Between Bruce and I, in the Car:

I: I don't know. I'm a little confused about what to get for Hannah for Christmas, you know? Five year olds are the worst to shop for. And this is her first Christmas*, so I want to make it special, you know?

B: [nods]

I: And I asked her, well, actually I didn't so much ask her as tease her because when she asked why I was shopping I told her I was out buying Christmas presents and you could see her little eyes light up and she was so excited and I teased her for a little bit when she asked me very coyly who I was buying presents for and I told her eventually that I might be in the market for a present for her, you know?

B: [nods]

I: And so she told me she would really really really love a guitar. And when I asked her how she liked the keyboard**, she said she loved it and that she already knows how to play one song, it goes, "C D G G G F E" and now she has a book so she can learn even more songs and isn't that great? And I really want to encourage her, because I have always wished that I'd had wanted to learn music, and here's someone who can, and why not encourage her when she's doing something creative and productive and she obviously loves it so much?

B: [nods] Oh yeah, totally. [nods some more]

I: And then she said that I shouldn't get her a guitar, because she thinks that maybe her parents are getting her a guitar, and that maybe I should get her something else instead, but she made sure to tell me that she already got that one dolly from Walmart, so don't get her that one dolly from Walmart, because she already got it. I'd get her a barbie, but she doesn't seem like a barbie girl, you know?

B: [nods]

I: I mean, I had friends when I was little who only wanted to play with baby dolls, but I was always more about dressing up Barbie for a night on the town with Ken, you know? I was way more into being cool and having boyfriends and going on dates than I was into having babies. I loved Barbie!

B: [nods]

I: Now that I think about it, so did my brother.

B: [silence, then explosive laughter]

__________________________________


*This is her first Christmas because she's a former Jehovah's Witness.

**The fun people in my family had a gathering the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Hannah asked my mom if she was getting a present that day, and my mom gave her our old Casio keyboard. My mom is totally spoiling her. I love it.

Whaddaya Know?

I just read this at this website.

Of course, I wouldn't have found it half as fascinating if I weren't one of the least likely to be in an accident. Perhaps all of that Leo venting and boiling over at minor things pays off on the road, because then we can afford to be charitable and patient, while other, more outwardly patient signs, bottle things up all the live-long day, and let it all explode while they're in motor vehicles?

I don't know, that's just a theory. But a good one!

Choco-scotchy

I decided late last night as Bruce* was watching that one movie they made a year or so ago about that guy who got skinny and won his high school crush's heart** that I wanted to make chocolate chip cookies. So I looked on a website for recipes, and I found one and made the cookies.

*Check out his blog. He's posting again and stuff, and he's wonderful. I'm sure you'll agree.

**What sort of message is this sending? The kind of message that sort of makes me pissed off, that's what sort of message.

So I looked at a few of the recipes, but nothing was jumping out at me. Then I came across this one. And it's got peanut butter in the batter. And maple syrup. And you can substitute butterscotch chips for the chocolate chips, and she says it makes them even better, and that's just great, because I happened to have only half a bag of semi-sweet chips and a whole bag of butterscotch, and this would work out perfectly. So I put together the batter, like the recipe says:

ALEX'S MELT IN YOUR MOUTH CHOCOLATE CHIPS COOKIES
Printed from COOKS.COM

Dry Ingredients:

2 1/4 cups flour
1 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon of baking soda

Wet Ingredients:

3/4 cup white sugar
1/2 cup (pressed) dark brown sugar
1/4 cup (pressed) light brown sugar
2 heaping tablespoons creamy peanut butter
1 tablespoon maple syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla syrup
1 cup butter

Add last:

24 oz semi-sweet chocolate chips
16 oz plain no salt added peanuts

Cream the butter and white sugar, add peanut butter, vanilla extract, and maple syrup. Add both the light and dark brown sugar.

Tip: pressing the brown sugar helps reduce little hard sugar balls in the batter.

Combine dry ingredients and sift into wet mixture thoroughly. Add chocolate chips and peanuts, if desired.

This batter is very good with white chocolate chips and even better with butterscotch chips!

Use a teaspoon to measure the cookies size and bake for about 8-10 minutes.

Bake at 375°F. Watch carefully and do not allow to brown. If cookies are browning too quickly, reduce heat, if not baking quickly enough, increase heat according to what your oven requires to bake cookies in 8-10 minutes.

Best served warm with milk!

Submitted by: Alexandra Hall

Only I'd started making another recipe (the one off the back of the chips bag) before I looked online, and that recipe and the others I'd seen all called for 1/2 cup of butter, so that's what I had in the bowl when I started. And then when I realized that it didn't have any eggs, I was flabbergasted and ran back from the kitchen to the office at least six times to make extra sure I hadn't missed them somewhere in the recipe, but I hadn't. But my batter was so dry! It for sure shouldn't be this dry!

So I ran back for the seventh time, after adding most of the flour mixture to the batter and knowing that something wasn't right, to check on what could be wrong. And that's when I saw that the recipe called for a full cup of butter instead of a half, and that the extra butter is probably what made it "melt-in-your-mouth". I put in the extra stick of butter and they turned out great - with half a bag of butterscotch and half a bag of semi-sweet chips. They're going to be gone before the end of the week, and they made at least four dozen.

Oh yeah, this is the movie.

Public Service Announcement:

If you still haven't recieved your card in the mail, there are two possible reasons. The first is that half of our cards haven't gone out because we don't have all the addresses we need. Please send us your address.

The second reason is that some of our cards have been delivered back to our mailbox, because our mailpeople are dumbasses. Here's what they look like when they return to us:

(The front of the card.)

(The back of the card.)

Our mailpeople are having a hard time telling the front of the card (with the stamp on it) from the back of the card.

Whatcha-Ma-Call-Him

When did Martin Score-say-see become Martin Score-says-ee?

Is it a case of everyone finally (after what, thirty years or more?) suddenly realizing his name has been pronounced wrong? Or is it one of those things where there have always been two schools of thought on the pronounciation, and I'm only now hearing the people from the second school of thought, after having heard nothing but the first school of thought's pronounciation for twenty-six years?

Wave #1

The first wave of Christmas cards will go out tomorrow. With harvest stamps from 2005. I'm pretty sure that protocol says I should buy fancy Christmas stamps, but if I don't get this first wave of cards out of here, I'll never fall asleep at night.

If you're not in the first wave of cards, that means we don't have your address. You should send me your address.

Love,
I can't believe the things I lose sleep about

Obligations

I'm wearing Bruce's sweat pants right now. Although I don't personally think there is anything wrong with sweatpants, a part of me understands why he doesn't find them sexy, exactly. I think it has to do with the gathering-in at the bottoms. That's the least attractive part, if one were to search for the least attractive part.

Living in Wisconsin 1/2 mile from my family is presenting challenges that I'd never thought about before. Things are getting slightly better, but most of that has to do with the improvement in my own attitude since we've moved - I grew up very unsure of myself and with no friends. Being in the place where I finally became happy with who I am is making a monumental difference in how I feel. I've even been working out. Hot damn!

I can't be the only person who's completely bored by aerobic exercise. I'd rather do weights, just for the immediate gratification.

Poor Huck is either still sick from the chicken shit he ate on Thanksgiving, or he's sick again with an even more unknown illness. He woke us up last night after a long day of being very weary to make us take him out at least three times. It was not fun. Bruce and I had a fight about it. The fight mainly had to do with my insomnia and his general ability to sleep through anything that could possibly happen, and also my complete and utter jealousy of him for being able to sleep with no problems ever. I just want him to feel good again. It's been almost three weeks, is that too much to ask?

Addressee

So, I was on the phone tonight with Abbie, and I realized that I don't have the addresses I need to do my Christmas card send-off. This is the first year I'm doing it, and I have been a very bad friend and not gotten anyone's address. I don't know how I call myself a girl. I used to collect addresses all the time, so that it wouldn't look suspicious when (say, for example, right at Christmas time?) I needed them for something very obvious all of a sudden and came out and asked.

So I just committed a huge faux-pas and emailed all of the people I could think of and asked for everyone's address. Yeah, that's cheating. I'm well aware of it. But at least there will be Christmas cards this year.

Hoarding Again

Remember about a week ago? When I wrote that post about being a hoarder?

Remind me to use a bunch of paper towels on Sunday when we make candy, because otherwise I'll be stuck with candy cane paper towels until March sometime. You see, we picked up three rolls of it at Aldi last weekend, and they're all covered in seasonal motifs. Seasonal motifs which will fail to be current in less than a month.

Usually I'm so frugal with paper towels that it takes us well over two months to go through an entire roll.

Hell, I'll just send a roll home with Mom. I'm sure she can use it.

Another thing that happened today: remember that baby hat I knitted a few weeks ago for that girl at work? Well, I did. And then I kept forgetting and kept forgetting to bring it in to give to her, and finally I brought it in while she was there picking up a prescription today, by some miracle. Guess what? The hat is too small. We know because we tried it on the baby right then and there. The baby cried. I begged her to stop trying. The hat is too small. As an added kick in the stomach, she said, "I bet it would have fit last week! She's growing so fast!" [Cue sad face.]

So! Contest!

Here's the rules:

1. First person to have a small(ish) baby girl wins a hand-knitted hat!

Doesn't that sound simple? That's cause it is! So go! Procreate! There's a baby hat in it for you!

Hey You Guys!!!

I'm watching The Goonies as I type this, and I'm being bombarded by memories. We had the Disney version growing up, so all of the "naughty" parts were bleeped. (No naked statues for Disney! No, sir!) Everyone has a few movies that they watched constantly as they were growing up, and this is one of them for me. I loved the treasure-hunting aspects, the teensy little romances, and the thrills. As I was searching for a website devoted to it, I found this site, which was obviously made by someone like me. Except these people remembered they loved it.

PS: I love my husband VERY MUCH.

Sweets

I'm working on a master list of Christmas candy to make this Sunday with my mom. What, I didn't tell you? Bruce is going on a business trip this Sunday. How grown-up are we? Very Grown Up.

Here's my list of candy and recipes I've found across the web so far. Any glaring holes in my plan? (Except for nuts. I'm not a huge fan of nuts.)

______________________

CHOCOLATE PEANUT BUTTER BALLS
Printed from COOKS.COM

1 1/2 pkg. crushed graham crackers
1/2 c. crunchy peanut butter
1 (3 1/2 oz.) can coconut
1 box powdered sugar
2 sticks melted butter
1 (12 oz.) pkg. chocolate chips
1 block paraffin wax

Mix first five ingredients together and roll into small balls. Melt chocolate chips and paraffin in double boiler. Dip the balls in mixture, one at a time, and place on waxed paper to harden.

______________________

THE EASIEST PEANUT BUTTER FUDGE
Printed from COOKS.COM

2 cups sugar
1/2 cup milk
1 tsp. vanilla
3/4 cup peanut butter

Put sugar and milk in pan and bring to a boil. Boil two and a half minutes. Remove from heat and add peanut butter and vanilla. Stir just until mixed well.
Pour into greased pan (the smaller the pan, the thicker the fudge will be). Cool and cut.

Submitted by: Jen

___________________________

PEPPERMINT CRUNCH BARK

1 lb. white chocolate
1 c. peppermint crunch (you can also use crunched peppermints)

Melt white chocolate for one minute in the microwave. Stir in peppermint crunch. Spread on cookie sheet covered with wax paper. Place in freezer until cool (approximately 3 minutes). Break into pieces.

___________________________


So, that's what I'm thinking about so far. I know I'm a little crazy for being as anti-nut as I am, but them's the breaks. If I think of any really good stuff using nuts, or if I hear a good suggestion, we'll probably make that too. I'd add a recipe for chocolate-covered pretzels, but that's just silly. I'm trying to think of a recipe now, and all I can come up with is 1)Melt some chocolate. 2)Cover pretzels. Anyway, we're making those, too.

Contents Under Pressure

Lately I've noticed that I put a whole lot of pressure on myself that is completely unnecessary. I spend so much time worrying about shit that couldn't possibly matter to anyone but myself, it's ridiculous. And if no one else is going to worry about it, why the hell do I care? So I'm trying to lighten up a bit.

I can remember a few years ago, right around the time that I met Bruce, I concentrated really hard and let myself let go of the things that really don't matter, and I was so incredibly happy and that's when it seemed like everything came together in my life. I lost about forty (doesn't forty always seem like it should have a 'U'?) pounds, I was constantly in a good mood, I was nice to everyone around me, always, and I was totally only seeing the good in people all the time. Plus, everyone loved me. Of course they did, it's so stupid to be surprised by that, but I am. Of course everyone loved me when I was always happy and bubbly and nice to everyone.

For some reason my mind always wants to tell me that it's because I was skinny then that everyone liked me, and for Pete's sake! God, get a grip! People don't like people because they're skinny. They like people because they're nice and fun and happy, that's why they like them. I want to be that nice, fun, happy girl again.

I figure it's only a matter of taking the time to convince myself not to freak out about the tiny things that only matter to me and to just plain act happy and fun and nice, because if I act like I'm all of those things eventually I'll forget that it's all an act and it'll be second nature.

I need to start seeing the everyday humor in the stuff around me, too. Example: Earlier in the evening I had to look on the internet to see if we should take Huck to the vet for his diarrhea, and I came across a really cool website that helped me stop freaking out about it. Here's the website. Anyway, I just came back to the computer to write this entry, and I noticed that the search term I used was "diahhrea dog". Come on, that's pretty funny. Nobody wants to pet that dog. I picture a poor little sickly animal all dripping in poop. Poop is funny. (I was going to lie and claim that I typed in "diarrhea" - correctly spelt - but I figure no one would believe me. I don't believe anyone knows how to spell that word.

I'm also going to start indulging myself in things more often. I'm a hoarder - when I find something I really like, I treasure it and barely use it because I don't want to waste it. I don't know what sense that makes, especially in the case of nice smelling lotions or body wash or something. I love Bath and Body Works' Moonlit Path, but I never ever wear it because I don't want it to go to waste. It's hardly going to waste if I'm smelling nice and I feel better about myself because I know I smell awesome, is it?

My other neurosis about using stuff like that is somehow I think that if I smell great all the time that it'll stop being special, or that if I forget then Bruce will be upset or something. That's so ridiculous I don't even need to dignify it with a response. (Did you notice how I'm totally having a strange sort of agruement with myself here?) I'm so weird about stuff like that, and it's time to stop. I need to just let myself enjoy things. I'm going to try to do that.

Patience is a Virtue

Bruce informed me earlier tonight that although I'm "very soft-spoken", I'm also "one of the most impatient people he's ever met." It wasn't said in a mean way, before you jump the gun, but in a sort of informative way. He likes to be informative after a few beers. I'm not offended. I know how his mind works. In fact, it made me think. I am, in fact, a very impatient person. At least I am when it comes to him. We have this amazing connection. We've had so many conversations discussing how there are no other people in the world we could possibly live with, and so on (unfortunately, for a couple less than two years wed we've had more than one person live with us, so we know), and I know for a fact that we were just destined to be together. So what gives? Why am I so impatient with him?

I can tell you one thing I'm not impatient for - NaBloPoMo's ending. I'm actually sad that today is the last day it's running, because it means I don't have a possible reward staring me in the face for posting every single day. I'm going to try to keep it up anyway (let's hope it sticks, eh?) because it really has helped my sleeping and to just clear my head in general. The whole reason I started blogging was to keep a record of what I was thinking and doing for myself, and there's no reason I shouldn't.

Guess what happened while Bruce and I were out to dinner tonight? You'll never guess. Go on, try.

You're wrong. In fact, the carpet and tree fairy visited our house. On our side porch, a roll of carpeting leaned against the house. At first I didn't know what to make of it, thinking one of our neighbors was possibly a flooring installation man and also very confused. Then I noticed the extra pine tree standing by our row of pines, and realized what had happened. I told my dad two days ago that I was in the market for some carpeting, and he told me he had some left over from a renovation at one of the schools he works in (he works for a school district as head of maintenance), and asked if I wanted it. I said yes, and it turns out that I'm very happy I did. It's this muted turquoisy-purple color, without too much fluff, and it will make the perfect cat-tree. If anyone knows of any good cat-tree-making tutorials or instructions online, please point me in the right direction. I'm all about making it right now.

So we've also got a Christmas tree! Hurray! I was so excited that I insisted it be put in water and set up RIGHT AWAY (see patience: above) even though the trunk looked like this at the bottom:

Well, it was fine for a little while, until I realized that the tree was either bending way toward the viewer or way toward the corner, and then I realized the problem wasn't with the way I was twisting the tree but with the trunk. Then I told Bruce this, and after thirty seconds of waiting I took matters into my own hands. I took the

[As I type, Bruce is opening Huck's mouth and pouring in a tiny bit of beer. If it weren't so funny I would chastise him for being too frat-boy for my tastes. It would help my argument if Huck wasn't begging for more beer afterwards.]

tree and I sawed off the bottom part of the stem (the curvy part) and then tried to stick it back into the tree holder, but it wouldn't reach the bottom so I sawed off some of the lowest branches as well. When Bruce came to help me it was all done and less than two minutes after his volunteering to help. I am perhaps a little bit impatient.

Anyway, O Christmas Tree and all that. Here's a picture:

Those pieces at the bottom are the parts I cut off. I might have been too impatient to take the stuff I'd already put on the tree off before I started sawing. I didn't get electricuted, but I wouldn't do it as habit. You know. Be more cautious than I am. You should know that by now.

Do You Believe?

I believe in Santa Claus. I believe in presents many families can barely afford appearing out of nowhere under the tree on Christmas Eve night. I think the love that has to be present for that to happen is really real. Parents don't want to spoil their children, and Santa Claus is magical because he lets parents not spoil thier children.

As Requested:

Here are the ornaments. They're still on stage two, I woke up feeling rather more under the weather today. Yesterday was nothing compared to today. And yet I'm going back to work. Don't ask me to make sense of that.

This is a dot garland that I made yesterday. I got the idea from Martha Stewart. I used the "bold" colored markers, and just colored in almost four sheets of each color. This is how much garland one sheet of each color makes after sticking the stickers back to back on some quilting string. (Martha recommends using button thread, but I couldn't find it. Quilting thread is really strong, so I used that instead.) I think it's cute, and it'll look especially good on a tree, when the thread all but disappears and the colors pop because of the lights.

The tree we're getting is one that grew on our land. It's just a regular tree that my dad has been trimming for a few years in hopes of making it a Christmas tree. He wasn't planning on using it this year, but when the loggers came in to do some work, the tree was uprooted. I want to use it - it's got sentimental value already. I haven't seen it yet, but my mom has refered to it as a sort of Charlie Brown tree. I'm really going to go overboard on the decorations if that's the case.

Two Times Now

I wasn't going to say anything yet, but I just have to. I've started working out a little bit, and I want to thank Robby for helping me start. You see, he left behind two five-pound weights when he left home, and those are what I've been using. Sure, walking works a little bit, as general aerobic exercise tends to, but I think that I should build up a lean(er) muscle mass, too. When I start to walk the dog, hopefully I'll get double the benefit, because I'm spending this time with the weights.

It all started when he visited us about a month ago. He noticed that my back was hurting and gave me a massage, noting that like him I needed to do stretching exercises and improve my posture or be stuck with a hurting back all of my live-long life. I've really done a lot to improve my posture - a lot of it has to do (much like anything else in life) with just plain being aware of what you're doing. What I'm doing, more often than not, is slouching. It takes more effort than you'd think to correct that little problem. Apparently, I'm retraining my muscles. Word up: Retraining your muscles sucks. And it hurts, too - the hurt only went away after a few weeks.

Two days ago, I did a few exercises. I really can't explain them - maybe if you've dated a bodybuilder in the past and not really paid enough attention to really know the exercises but know enough to know what to do you can follow along. I did 20 reps of bicep curls, 20 reps of that one where the weight is behind your head and you lift it up to work your triceps, 20 reps of that one where you're on all fours and lift out and to the side to work your back, 20 reps of that one where you're on all fours and lift the weight straight back to work your triceps, 20 reps of that one where you are standing and lift the weights above your head from crosswise to parallel in the air straight above you which works... I forget what muscle, and 20 reps of the one to work your shoulder where you lift from parallel to your feet at your side to parallel to your feet at shoulder height.

Then today I did all of those things again and also included 20 reps of that one where you lunge to work all of your legs and your butt, and 20 reps of that one where you hold the weights still at your side and go up on your tippy-toes to work your calves.

Now, don't faint on me or anything. After all, it's only taking me 20 minutes or so per workout, and it's only using five pound weights. Although the five pounds is pretty impressive, considering how out of shape I didn't know I had gotten.

Craftily Ill

While I'm home sick, I figure the least I can do is try to be a little productive. So I've spent the morning making Christmas ornaments for people on my list (most cost-effective presents ever*) and cleaning the house a little bit. There's been a laundry build-up for about a week and we also have some clothes that have been packed away since we moved up from Missouri that are "questionable" in their cleanliness. The easiest way to fix that is to just wash them again, so that's what I'm doing.

*It cost me about four dollars for the ornaments themselves, and three for the glue, and four more for the glitter. That's less than twelve dollars (tax included) for the whole kit 'n caboodle. Nice, right?

The ornaments are proving to be very fun indeed. I'm using glue pens and very fine glitter to decorate them with Christmassy sayings and Christmassy things (wreaths, snowflakes, snowmen, etc.) It's turning out quite well. I'm hoping that by tonight or tomorrow they'll be dry enough to start on the other sides of them, where I'm going to write "B & S '06" or something simple like that. Maybe throw in a "Love" or two. You know, cause it's family, and family likes that mushy stuff.

One thing I'm learning as I go is to not use too much glue. When I'm done gluing and glittering one globe, I set it back in the egg-crate type contraption to dry. Several of them had too much glue and dripped down the sides before I noticed. Luckily, I was able to catch them and fix it reasonably well before the damage was permanent. I'm not saying they're perfect - far from it! - but they are cute and one-of-a-kind, and that's what I really wanted.

Still Sick, Possibly Worse

Yes, I understand that this might be called for, considering I posted about being sick early in the day on Saturday and then posted at two-something in the morning on Sunday after having been out at a bar, but honestly, I thought I'd outwitted the sick. Seriously.

On Friday afternoon while I was at work, Stu got sick. It was actually sort of scary at the time, because he went from feeling just fine to having a scratchy throat to watery eyes to swaying when he tried to stand to puking in the sink in a matter of an hour or so. The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to keep him awake, and I eventually abandoned that effort and decided to keep him alive instead. Have you ever been so sick that you can't really talk, all you can muster up is a moan? That's how sick Stu was. If he'd have left, we would have had to close down for the day, and he wasn't going to let that happen. We should probably have gone home.

Anyway, at the beginning of the onslaught I took an Airborne(TM) from our stock of freebies, and for a while on Saturday while Bruce got sick, I was still ok. I wasn't ready to believe it until the day was over, but the worst had come and gone for him and I was still going strong (if a tiny bit under-the-weather). Then yesterday it all hit me like a ton of bricks around seven in the evening. I'd call in sick to work today, but Stu still isn't feeling better and it would mean leaving him there by himself. Instead I'll go in for a few hours.

Dud, I am Not

When my little brother (aged 21) called me up this evening to complain that his friends had abandoned their ideas of going out in favor of poker, I had the utmost sympathy. There used to be a time when that would happen to me almost weekly. It wasn't for the same reasons (abusive partner vs. poker addiction), but it ended the same way. I understand the plight of the wanting-to-go-out-and-not-able. I brought him out, and there were people there he was familiar with.

They sang karaoke, I sang karaoke (believe me, you don't wish you were there), and we all drank to our hearts' content. It was beautiful.

Mike says Bruce needs to call him, because he likes him. That's the end of my story.

Sick

It goes like this:

It all starts with a scratchy throat.

Then you lose your voice a bit.

Then you get a headache.

Then you run to the bathroom and don't come out for a few hours.

Then you throw up.

Or, if you're a dog, it goes like this:

It all starts with a trip to the farm.

You notice a yummy substance on the ground.

Mama yells at you, "STOP EATING THE CHICKEN SHIT!"

You ignore her.

Then your tummy hurts and you want to GO OUTSIDE all of the time.

One time you even GO OUTSIDE in your crate.

That makes you cry.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

We're all sick around these parts. All of us. Even Linus tossed his kibble on the carpet in the hallway. It's not a good day in our house.

Giving Thanks

I had a good day yesterday. Bruce opted to visit and have dinner with my dad, who was eating with my grandma at the nursing home. It was a great idea, because he was a little overwhelmed at the idea of having all of my family surrounding him for a big holiday, but he wanted to see them, too. He ended up driving up right after dinner and meeting everyone for a short time. Then my dad took us out and we wandered in the woods for a few hours.

I have pictures, but they're in the camera, which is... somewhere else. I don't quite know where. I'm sure I'll find it by tomorrow.

Things I'd be Thankful for, Come Christmas

• Plain-Colored Yarn from knitpicks.


• Good Tea, and a Method to Making Good Tea. If someone were to buy me this, they should use my gift certificate for $5.00 off. Email me for the code. (I promise to do my best to act surprised when I open it.)


• A good computerized sewing machine. I have so many grand ideas in my head about being an excellent seamstress, but unfortunately none of them can come true by wishing hard enough. Damn wishing. If only it were more effective.


• Acid dyes, for dying fabrics or yarn. Knitpicks has a good set of starter dye that I'm interested in.

Yams, Schmams

I know I can't be the only one against yams. Come on, other people speak up! Foods you eat for dinner should not be sweet! That is what desert is for!

Can I help it if I'm too stubborn to grow out of this? Would it make you feel better to know that I'm not entirely against mayonaise now?

I'm Not Thankful for the Cable Company

Of the six days we've had our DVR from the cable company, it's worked four. The past two days, Bruce has spend countless time on the phone with tech support.

[Just overheard: "When I talked to someone yesterday, they mentioned something about the internal modem not showing up where it should be?"

Don't you love it when you've spent enough time on the phone with support people that you start suggesting things to them?]

I just got home from work (I was scheduled until two, don't ask) and I think part of the problem is that the technician that was supposed to show up this afternoon... didn't.

Lisa and I had a date this afternoon for coffee and pie, but due to work crap, it was thwarted. As if I needed pie the day before Thanksgiving. What was I thinking? I mean, besides "Pie, Good!"

I have an appointment tomorrow morning forty-five minutes from here to drop off some medications. Luckily it's in the same area as my Thanksgiving lunch. Unluckily, I'm supposed to be making green bean cassarole for the family dinner tomorrow morning. Also unluckily, I don't want to show up three hours early to dinner. We'll see how it goes.

Thankful? Yeah, there's plenty I'm thankful for. Ask me about it tomorrow.

Ok, I Lied

I do have a few things that I want to get off my chest.

Firstly, that yarn I posted this weekend, the stuff I was so proud to dye all on my own and felt so good about? Guess who ate it? Here's a hint: It wasn't me, and it wasn't Bruce. Yeah, I know. That's the same reaction I had, only there was more emotional investment on my part. Hint #2: There was crying.

Luckily, I still have the orange-flavored yarn intact. Apparently, blue-raspberry lemonade smells better if you're a freaking housepet. Joke was on them, 'cause I know firsthand that unsweetened koolaid tastes like sour chalkdust.

I knit up a baby hat for a lady from work. Well, not for the lady, but for her daughter. You know. I'm really fond of it and it's almost the cutest thing I ever did knit, but I can't get a picture of it because my freaking batteries are dead. Also, I can't afford new ones. At least not for a few days. I sort of want to send the hat out before then, though, because the hat looks tiny to me and while I'm pretty sure it will fit the baby at some point, I really don't know how fast babies grow or how small they are at what ages. It's been a long time (like, since I was five) since I've been around a baby. I don't exactly know babies.

My back has been hurting for almost two weeks now. Maybe more than that. I forget. It's been hurting since that night that Robby and I and Bruce all went out and Robby gave me a back massage at the bar. My old theory was that he stress-fractured me when he was doing his massage, but my new theory is that my muscles were so tense that they had been stopping my pinched nerves from hurting, and now that the muscles are looser all of my pinched nerve-ness is being felt. I don't know. It's the sort of theory that I have no knowlege to back up, but it sounds like it could be true, so I want to believe it. Maybe one of these days my vertebre will just pop back into place because of my fantastic posture and I'll feel good as new. In the meantime, I still have some extra-extra strength Tylenol left over from my toothache last month.

God, I wish I could sleep on my back, because I think that would take care of some of the problem.

I'm also thinking about what sort of curtains I want to make for our new house. The blinds we have in the kitchen and living rooms are terrible - half of them are broken and all of them are gross and dusty - and I love a good curtain, because I like to have full access to the sunlight when it's bright and cheerful outside. I don't have any sewing skills, though, so I want them to be as easy as possible. I made up an easy design that I want to show you.

I'm really not feeling up to posting today, because my back is still hurting and I'm tired. So I'm not going to post today.

Thank you! Goodnight!

Update:

So, did everyone enjoy the wine-induced recipe?

How to: Make "Indian Tacos"

The first thing you have to do is to buy frozen bread dough. Place the bread loaves into seperate loaf pans, and wait for the dough to rise. When it does rise, oil your hands and break off pieces of dough to flatten and fry piece by piece.

Taco meat is not hard to make, and any idiot can buy shredded taco cheese and shredded lettuce at the supermarket, if they choose to.

Make sure you have taco meat and all of the taco fixings on hand to garnish the flatbread with. It's like Gorditas, only more poofy and with more grease.

Eat up, and Enjoy.

How To: Dye Yarn with Koolaid

1. Wash the yarn gently in lukewarm water with a very mild soap. I used dish detergent.



2. Fill a pot with enough lukewarm water to cover the yarn.



3. Mix in your koolaid packets. A good rule of thumb is one packet per ounce of yarn. (If your yarn came labeled in grams, you can use an online converter like I did.) If you want lighter yarn, use less koolaid, if you want darker, use more. I also added a glug of white vinegar to my water, just to foolproof the mixture. Koolaid is acidic enough that you don't really need the vinegar, but I didn't want to take any chances.



4. Wring out the yarn and add to the pot of koolaid water.




5. Put the pot on the stove, and heat to nearly boiling. Stir the yarn very gently occasionally, to make sure the dye is well-distributed.

6. Turn off heat and cover the pot. Wait 30 minutes or so, stirring gently occasionally, until the water is clear. (I found that using a white plastic spoon to stir helped me see when the water was clear.) This means all of the color has been absorbed into the yarn.



7. Fill a sink with water the same temperature as the water in the pot. Don't use cold water, or your yarn could felt. Take the yarn from the pot, gently wringing excess water from it as you go, and place it in the rinse water.. Be careful of the temperature. If it's too hot, wait until it's cooled off a bit. There's no rush. (The water in the sink will cool at the same rate as the water in the pot, if it's the same temperature when you start.) Rinse the yarn very gently in the fresh water. Wash it again with a mild detergent, and rinse with water of the same temperature.



8. Wring the yarn gently as you take it from the water. Hang the yarn to dry, or if you don't have a place to hang it, lay it out in a cool dry place until it's completely dry.

When I was dying the orange/yellow, I started by using two packages of lemonade, and one package of orange. After cooking the yarn, I saw that it wasn't as dark as I would like, and I removed the yarn from the pot and added another package of orange to the water, mixing it in. Then I returned the yarn to the pot, and restarted the dying process. It turned out just like I'd hoped - a light orange/yellow color that I'll be happily knitting some lace from in a few weeks. Thanks for all of your input on which color to choose. (But as usual, I'm a complete jerk and disregarded everything but my own whims.)

Splish-Splash

Our water heater makes crazy noises if you turn it up past medium-low. It sounds like an icemaker.

We don't have a dishwasher, either, but I'm starting to realize that I like my houses better that way. It's not like I don't have the time to do them (I'm sure many of you guys actually don't have the time, but I work twenty-five hours a week) and when I have a dishwasher, there's a lot of stress involved for me.

You can't run it when it's half-full, that's wasteful. You can't run out of forks, either, and that's where the trouble lies for us.

Plus, when I have a dishwasher, I'm always feeling guilty about the dirty dishes just sitting there not being clean. I'm a freak.

I think I'm going to dye one of the skeins of laceweight today. Wish me luck!

My, What Authentic Floor Coverings!

My mom came over today to take a look at the new house. We made indian tacos and baked apples and talked about how festive we're feeling this holiday season. We also played a half of a game of cribbage. It's funny - I sometimes get the feeling that Mom forgets that I'm an adult, and can do things like follow a recipe without instruction. She's not terrible about it, but I wonder if it would be the same if I had kids of my own. When she was my age, I was four years old. I guess your kids growing up is a hard thing to get used to for most parents.

Here's a picture of the baked apples. Don't they look appealing? It's not my sort of thing - too many things going on - but they look great. Beautiful, I mean. And my house smells great.

Here's a picture of the needles and yarn I bought from knitpicks.

Huck and I took a walk through the swamp to the lake this afternoon. There's a path to follow, and it looks like it's been well-used, but it goes right through the marsh for about a half mile. It was very pretty, and the deer skull we came across was interesting, but I think I would have enjoyed it more had I not just finished It and my heart had not been palpatating in terror.

Crafty Christmas

For some reason, this year I can't wait to get into doing things for the holiday season. I'm looking forward to making cookies for people, making crafts for decorating the house, and most of all to just getting a christmas tree. I've never been this excited for the season before. I think I caught the holiday spirit that Jess lost a few weeks ago.

I was talking on Yahoo with my friend Misty, and we made this doodle:

The Cable Guy

Our new house has internet as of yesterday. Last night, you may have noticed, I participated in one of my favorite activities of all time - drunken posting. Oh, how I've missed it. Oh, how my posts make little or no sense the morning after. In the larger of the two posts from last night, I quoted from a forward I recieved. When I've been drinking, I sometimes think that forwards are either amusing or contain useful information. When I'm sober, I usually delete them immediatly after reading them. When I'm drunk, I sometimes forward them on. I guess I've progressed to posting them on my blog now. I especially like the way that I avoided posting the whole forward, instead choosing to make a blockquote out of part of the email and then comment on it. Priceless.

Our cable man came out to our house yesterday and hooked us up. Tomorrow, we are getting a DVR. With the DVR comes the Family Fun package and HBO. We're not sure why it's called the Family Fun package, but it does have some of our favorite channels. I can't wait to watch Discovery Health all day long, and Bruce would marry MTV2 if it had boobs. We're pretty excited.

I can't believe how much happier I am to be living in this house. And I'm not the only one - as I type this, Huck is throwing his rawhide bone around the room and prancing around after it. It's very cute.

In other news, I got my knitpicks package in the mail two days ago, and I'm very excited to dye me some yarn. I haven't taken a picture of the yarn, but it's 880 yards of laceweight.

[I told Lisa about this on the phone the other day, and our conversation went like this:

Me: I got 2 skeins of plain-colored yarn today, and I'm going to dye them with koolaid!

Lisa: (pause) Is plain-colored yarn the same as "white"?

Me: (pause) Yes. It is.]

Here's a picture of the different packages of koolaid that I bought. I think that I'll be knitting an Icarus with one of them, and I'd like your opinion on what color you think it would look the best in. Here is a link to the Icarus Knitalong (which I will not be joining, I don't think) and here is a picture of the shawl that the knitalong posted when they started in May. And here is a picture of the packs of koolaid I have:

I also bought some needles. I can now say that I own a 16in size 1, a 24in size 1, and a set of five double pointed needles size 2. I'm very excited for those, because that's the size required for embossed leaves. I can't start them yet, but I now have the supplies.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I'm off to watch me some Fraggle Rock.

Snore

This might sound funny, but the reason I'm avoiding going to sleep right now is because my lover and husband, Bruce, is snoring on the couch as I type.

It's Beginning to Feel a Lot Like Moving

There once was a lady, and I have a feeling she'd never lived through a winter where the temperatures regularly didn't reach above freezing, but I digress, who didn't believe that someone could die on the highway from just plain stupidity.

the highway patrolman told her that if the
cruise control is on and your car begins to hydroplane --
when your tires lose contact with the pavement, your
car will accelerate to a higher rate of speed and you
take off like an airplane. She told the patrolman that
was exactly what had occurred.

I've been 90% in favor of cruise control ever since I've had it, because it makes travelling long distances indescribably easier. I hope it still works for you, and I hope you use it wisely.

We finished Queer as Folk: Season Two, today. Nothing could ever beat the season finale of the first seasson as far as want-to-find-out-aboutness, but it was a good general season ender. Nothing big to tune in for, but nothing stupid to avoid.

Man, Linus was so tired today that he spend every minute after six o'clock laying in the warmest most comfortable corner of the couch, waiting for someone to pet him or to just fall asleep. You should have seen him and Huck together in the new house. Huck is more than willing to sniff around and make out places that aren't so bad, and Linus is freaked out beyond belief before you even get him to the car. He's a well-adjusted feline, however.

I'm joking. Really, he's a terribly maladjusted male. The fact that we love him and he's devoted to us is making it a lot easier to bear.

Love and Kisses,
Sarah

Easiest Moving Day Ever

I'm going to be using today as a model for every move I make for the rest of my life. If you want to have the easiest moving day ever, you should follow these steps:

1. Find a house on one day, sign the lease the following day. Take special care to make sure you don't have enough time before moving day to ask off from work.

2. Work during the hours that your move is taking place.


On second thought, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to duplicate this. Thank you, Bruce, for moving our entire life in less than five hours.

Balls, or Lack Thereof

I just saw on the Blogger Buzz that they're letting people use Blogger Beta to publish to FTP servers. (If that sentance doesn't make any sense, it's because I don't know what it means. All I know is that I can just plop this-here blog down over they-ah and y'all can see what I done wrote.) I'm excited that I don't have to go through the major hell that Bruce went through this past week finding a new publisher to work with his FTP. (Again, if that's technically wrong, forgive me.)

My new knitting project!

I've done two and a half repeats of the ribbed lace pattern. While it's definitely not anything that would be a challenge to someone who's knitted lace before, it's interesting enough that I'm keeping entertained. I'm also happy with the way it's made: you start out by knitting the lower half as one piece, and then work up the sides and back when you get to the armholes. It's called "Eyelet Chemise", which if I finish it means it will be the girliest thing I've ever owned.

I took a few before and after pictures of Huck's special area, so that Jess knows what to expect to find in a few weeks. Wanna see?

I zoomed in on the balls so you could get a better look.

And here's a picture of what they looked like a day after surgery.

Good thing I don't have kids, isn't it? I'm pretty sure this would be frowned upon if he was a human.

I keep expecting the sack to shrink and not be all flat-like-a-pancake, but I guess I'm not giving it enough time. After all, his balls were very large, and it takes a lot of time for skin to shrink back from holding something so big. It's like he gave birth to twins, really.

ETA: I just looked at the post for the first time, and I have to say it looks a little scarier than I intended. I'm going to take a picture of him today, a week and a half later, so you can see that he's not all covered in gross and looks generally a little less under-the-weather in his nether region.

One Year, Fifteen Days

We signed the lease on the (amazing) house from yesterday's post. That's right, we'll be living in a pink house. Luckily, none of my boys have any issues with their masculinity. There has also been an executive decision on the part of Bruce to call it "salmon" from now on.

I've been calling it That 70's House. When I show you some pictures, you'll see why. I love it. It's hard to find a house with that much character. Bruce's office has blue carpet. That's a lot of character.

I still can't believe how nice the landlords are being. They told us that if we want to paint, they'll pay for the paint. If we want to put in different carpet, they'll pay for the carpet. They're fine with both the dog and the cat. We don't have a higher security deposit, we've only been asked to have the carpets cleaned when we leave.

I promised pictures of Huckleberry and his first snowfall, so here they be.

Sorry for the blurry, the camera likes to focus on the falling snow, and not the dog.  

Better posture is making my back hurt for the time being. Also, when my brother gave me a back massage at the bar on Friday night, he bruised it. I didn't complain so as not to look a gift massage in the mouth, and also I've always thought there's little point to a light massage. Unfortunately, that's working against me now.

I've started doing some stretches as well, to loosen up my muscles, especially the ones in my back. I forgot how good it feels to really stretch. If I were more new-agey than I am, I would say that I could feel all the built up toxins releasing themselves and that I felt more healthy already. I don't like saying that sort of thing, though, because of the high risk of ridicule. I'll just say it felt damn good to stretch, and I'm going to do it as often as I remember.

I also started knitting something, and that something is an actual garment that is actually meant to be worn somewhere other than a foot! It's practically a miracle, and I bet you can't wait to tune in tomorrow. In the meantime, cross your fingers that I remember to take a picture of it, tiny bit of knitting that it might be.

When You Write a Post Everyday, You Run Out of Clever Ideas for Titles

Last night was one of those terrible nights of drinking. I didn't feel all happy drunk, but I knew I was intoxicated and I could tell I was being annoying, and it made me mad at myself and I totally should have just gone home but my brother is in town and I didn't want to leave him there alone. That sucked.

We totally found all five gay people who live in this town.

This morning, we visited a house that's for rent by the lake, and the lady offered it to us. Just like that.

The house is pink, and we're taking it. $460/month, three bedroom, huge-ass shed in the back that could fit an army of cars (seriously, at least four), and best of all it's by the lake. There's a trail in the back leading into the woods behind the shed, and if you follow it down, you come out by the lake. It's pretty cool. I'm making grand plans for bird feeders.

The first bedroom we're using as a bedroom, the second as an office, and the third is up for grabs. I'm going to lobby for a crafting/reading/quiet reflection room for myself.

In other news, I have terrible posture and if I keep slouching all the time, I'm going to end up a hunchback. There's a pretty picture, right? I'm trying to correct that.

Baked cookies tonight, chocolate chip. I wanted to get ambitious and make some good ones, but ended up using the recipe on the back of the bag like always. Not as tasty as my molasses cookies from a couple of weeks ago, but still good standbys. I baked them a little too long for most people's tastes, but for some reason I like my chocolate chips bordering on burnt. It's just how I roll, baby.

Oh yeah, it freaking SNOWED here! I bet you weren't expecting that - I know I sure wasn't. All last week it was in the high fifties, and then BAM! we're walloped by a few inches of sticking snow. You should have seen Huckleberry. He wasn't even sure about going outside until Bruce did it first and showed him it was alright. Then it was all typical dog - running around and romping in the fluffy white stuff.

Bruce told me an amusing story about Huck in the snow. Huck's so low to the ground that when he squats to "make water"* his wee is almost on the ground. Well, yesterday, the ground was covered in cold white stuff. He would walk a few steps, squat, get a really surprised look on his face and stand right back up without going. He went through this at least three more times before he hit pay dirt - a patch of snow that was already been trampled down. Too cute.

*I love that term.

We've got some pictures of him in the snow, but the camera is upstairs and so you'll have to wait for tomorrow's post to get them. Have a happy rest of the weekend!

Shenanigans

Good lord, plenty of those.

Queen B_ _ _ _

I've mentioned this before, but I want to say it again for emphasis: quitting smoking is hard work. It makes you a little bit crazy.

I obsessed for a week about cigarettes and smoking and my place in the world without either of them. Smoking is almost a battle cry - or it was when I was in college. We had to join others of our kind and rally around for warmth and protection. (I went to college in Minnesota. There is warmth in numbers.) There is power in numbers, and fewer people gave us dirty looks when there were more than three of us. So who's side am I on now? I don't really care about this point anymore - it took a long time to get it out of my system, but it's finally gone.

For the past few weeks, I've been wound tighter than... the only thing I can think of that's wound is a yo-yo, and I'm sure they're not wound very tight, so you'll have to take my word for it. I've been snapping at people, getting unspeakably mad for very minor reasons, generally being a total bitch. It sucked to live with me lately, and I know it. Hell, I knew it while it was happening, but there was all of that rage that kept bubbling up, and it was either let it out or explode.

I figured out where my rage was coming from. You see, smoking does do at least one good thing for people. It gives them the opportunity to sit back and think about things. For about five minutes at a time, and several times a day. It's a mental quiet time (or it was, for me), to collect my thoughts and take some deep breaths, and you know what I used that time for most of all? Realizing that the whole world didn't have to run the way I felt it should run. These past few weeks, I've been trying to run the entire world the way I think it should happen and it wasn't working out the way I'd planned. And that, in turn, made me angry.

I promise I won't be angry forever.

My Brother

Who despite being More Hilarious Than Anyone Else in Wisconsin, Doesn't Deserve to be Married, Ever (thank you, Wisconsin bastards):


by

Congratulations, Wisconsin!

If the results don't change, you've voted yourselves the right to kill people! You rock! After all, who better to decide who lives and dies than people from Wisconsin, right? We rock!

My state is pissing me off right now. Not only do we think we can decide who lives and dies, but the polls are showing (as of now, which is 10:21, although Marinette county apparently has had some trouble with rogue candidates for sheriff) that we voted FOR legally defining marriage as a legal union between a man and a woman.

Sorry, all of you people who have lived together for twenty years or more! You're insignificant!

Sorry, little brother, you're forever banned from being legally wed in Wisconsin, because the old fucks in our state who will most likely be dead by the time you want to get married can't stand the thought of anal sex!

But hey, we know best! If we can decide to kill people, for sure we deserve to decide who can love each other!

Family Planning

On Saturday, I took a trip to our Humane Society. They had a bunch of very desirable animals there, including a kitten named Clifford, whom I filled out an application to adopt.

Bruce and I went back there today to scope out the scene, and have a discussion in the presence of Clifford whether we should really be adopting animals right now. Our conclusion is this: Yes. But not today.

We just sent off an application to the owners of The Bungalo. If they approve us, then we can get a kitten. If they don't approve us, we can get a kitten. The point is, we need to know where we'll be living if we get a kitten.

After the kitten, we're totally getting another puppy. I never said I didn't want a large family, I just said I wasn't sure I'd like them to be human.

PS: I hope you all voted.

Homesick

As in, slightly sick of living at home.

We're looking into other options. One of the options seems to be kiddy-corner to this house. As it turns out, as much as I don't want to live with my parents again, fifty yards is far enough away to make the buzzing noise and crazy voices in my head stop.

We're also looking at some other places in town. We don't want to live here forever (far from it!), but for now, it's a calming place to get our shit together.

Doctor

When I was nineteen, I went to my family doctor to ask him about any and everything that could possibly be wrong with me. I wanted a sort of general map of what to watch out for, physically. I went with some general questions.

First off, I wanted to know what the heck that pain was in my wrists and sometimes in my knees, the pain that made it impossible for me to do cartwheels or put any weight on my hands when my wrists were bent. That pain was really getting to me, and I wanted to know how to stop it. The doctor didn't know how to stop it, he wasn't even completely sure what was causing the problem. He took some blood, and told me he'd call me with the results. He didn't tell me what he was looking for. Turns out he was looking for Lyme's disease and rheumatoid arthritis. He didn't want to believe I had RA, so he sent something to get rid of the Lyme's disease. It turned out to be RA.

Secondly, there were these weird bumps on my knee that I wanted to go away. He gave me a prescription for an antibiotic, and away they went. (I was a bad antibiotic-taker back in the day, and I think they're still in the medicine cabinet here. I'll as around at work, but I'm pretty sure that tetracycline isn't good after seven years.)

Thirdly, I wasn't able to raise my arms above shoulder-level. Either one of them. He took a look at them, decided there was nothing he could do, and grudgingly sent me to the chiropractor. The chiropractor took one look at me and laid me down on the table. He put his hands on either side of my head, told me to relax, and snapped my head to the left. The noise was deafening. I think there were at least four places my neck popped. Then he told me to relax again, and snapped my head to the right. This time there were even more pops. I stood up off the table. He asked me how I felt. I lifted my arms above my head for the first time in three months, and nearly cried with relief.

I only mention this now because I need an effing chiropractor.

Finished: It

I love Stephen King's LONG books. Reading a LONG book really helps with the feeling of despair I get when I'm nearing the end of a book I love.

I read Knitting Without Tears today, and in it she mentioned having the same pains when finishing a knitted garment - she falls in love with it and doesn't want it to end. So she draws out the finishing process.

That's exactly what I did with my book. The last hundred pages took me as long as the previous three hundred. I drew it out, but it's over now. Time to move on.

Reasonably Settled

Lisa and I went to Appleton today to window shop. Normally, I'm an impatient window-shopper - I'd rather go when I have both the money and an exact idea of what I want, so I don't have to spend much time wandering around the mall. Today was different; I was pretty content looking around, despite my lack of money to spend.

We ended up only spending money on one thing at the mall - some Gloria Jeans. Gotta love four-dollar coffee. At least, you'd better, if you're willing to spend the money. I was, and it was a damned good iced vanilla latte.

It was nice to spend some time with Lisa, just Lisa, for a change. She recently bought a house, and has been stewing about with worry over that for quite a while. It's put a completely understandable damper on her devil-may-care side. Turns out that when you're trying to close on a house, you're really not interested in gossiping about boys.

We didn't gossip much about boys, surprisingly enough. We talked more about our parents and worries we have about them, and about the things we want "next". I really want a house, and she's going to get married sometime soon. We were a little shocked at how few things we really wanted at the mall, until we got to a store called World Market. I guess that nowadays we're just more interested in home decor and fancy cooking utensils than we are in clothes. We spent some money on Christmas gift ideas at Hobby Lobby, and some pet toys at Petco. Lisa bought a book on Reflexology at Barnes and Noble. We talked about how much we both need nice bookmarks, and how much nicer they would be to use in place of the receipts we both have marking our places currently, and decided against spending the money.

It sounds crazy, but I think we're growing up. Finally.

Two for One

Hurr-y, hurr-y, hurr-y. You too can participate in the special poor-friendly-girl discount at the dentist in Green Bay, earing you the best deal in town: Get one tooth pulled, look sad and almost cry but be super "brave", get second tooth (preferrably wisdom) pulled free!

I'm a little vicodin-ey right now, but seeings as I want to have Jessica set up Wordpress for me for free, I have to post a post every day this month. I don't believe that "not being high on painkillers" was a rule. Luckily, neither was, "Make complete sense and use proper grammar."

Hopefully tomorrow things will be clearer.

Bruce has been amazing. Not only did he help me drop off Huck at the vet's yesterday, help me pick him up today, and drive me to Green Bay to have my tooth/teeth pulled this afternoon, but he's been doing it all with me being a total PMS bitch. Bruce, you are amazing and I love you.

Love, Vicodin Girl

PS: Huck is doing just fine. He will continue to do fine, so long as we can wrastle him to the ground and convince him that he's HAD SURGERY ON HIS BALLS, MAYBE HE SHOULD NOT BE RUNNING AROUND LIKE A CRAZY PERSON.

PPS: I am laughing, laughing. I just realized we got a two-for-one deal on his surgery, too.

The Surgery

(This post brought to you by my nap, which ran for almost 
three hours, and the crazy way that Daylight Savings Time is affecting my sleeping schedule this year. Also by the freak out I had when I woke up and it was completely dark out.)

Huckleberry is doing fine. We brought him in at eight this morning to get neutered. He was SO EXCITED. We've got a great dog, he just loves everything. He loves new people. He loves new smells. He loves getting shots. (Really, I was holding him and he didn't flinch even a bit at the antibiotic.)

I called the clinic at one to see how the surgery had went, and the receptionist sounded really taken with him. She kept calling him a sweetheart, and said the only thing he's not happy about is that he's all alone in the back. I guess he cries when she leaves him to go to the front of the office.

The good news is he should be twelve pounds lighter. Those balls, they were huge!

Happy News

For those of you who read my blog on a regular basis because you enjoy what I have to say, I've got some great news. (For those of you who read my blog to mock me, this is terrible news, and a reason to never come back.) During the month of November, I will be joining the ranks of the many who have decided to post Every Day. I'll be blogging like it's nineteen-two-thousand-four! When I blogged every day!

Here's a link to M. Kennedy and a big old shout-out to her for starting up this NaBloPoMo idea. She got her inspiration from the NaNoWriMo that happens every year at this time. I've been intrigued by that idea before as well, but this is more my speed. If it's more your speed, too, then sign yourself up! I know I could use some more daily reading.

On the other hand, if NaNoWriMo is more your speed, do that! Everyone needs an excuse to get creative now and again. This is, like M. says, a great way to brighten up an otherwise dreary month.

Hey Mr. Postman

Does anyone else think it'd be kind of cool to be a mailman? (Is mailperson more proper?) It seems like it would be fun.

Our mailman is very nice. We used to have this jerk of a mailman who would taunt my parents' dog, Augie. He knew that Augie didn't like having people come to the door, and he would start whistling for him two houses down, just to see Augie freak out when he got to the door. It was sort of a game to him, I guess. Of course it meant that Augie never got comfortable with the new mailman after the old one switched routes. He never got used to anyone coming to the door.

A few weeks ago, the mailman had a certified letter for Bruce. We assumed our pizza-man positions - I holding the dog a few feet from the door, Bruce taking care of business at the door - and when the mailman saw Huck, he smiled, "Looks like that one's going to like me a little better than the last one."

I'm glad that someone besides us remembers Augie.

Last Hurrah!

We sent the puppy away to live out his last "free" weekend with my parents. They will probably be gorging him senseless, and bring home a dog we no longer recognize, a dog who more resembles a bowling ball than a Snausage, which is totally the look we've been after.

Actually, we are way more into his physical health than we are into our own, and our beloved pup has grown himself to be quite the fashionably slim teenager, and I'm very proud of that. You could bounce a quarter off his ass, people. You can feel it when he lays his seventy-pound head on your face when you're trying to breathe, and reach around to extract him. I dare you not to say, "Wow, that ass is TIGHT!" while you do it. You might just think it. That's OK.

I know that some of you are curious, and so I inform you: I am doing alright with the non-smoking thing. I have taken up The Patch (or at least the Kmart equivalent to it) and it's going quite well. I feel like it's a loser's way out, sometimes, but I don't let that get to me (too much). The fact of the matter is that I know I need help in quitting, and there is statistical evidence that I quit better with help than without. (See all the years of trying to quit and failing immediately without help vs. the almost successful quitting with the patch.)

I totally miss my little man. I asked my dad to take him with him up north before I went to work this afternoon, and yet I was still shocked and very very sad not to have him greet me at the door when I got home. Still, I hope he enjoys it.

Because after next week he will no longer be consulting his balls in major decisions. This is like his bachelor party.

That Special Feeling

Really, there's nothing like having your own computer and sitting at it every day. I'm sure that you internet buffs realized this, but it has been a minor revelation to me tonight, as I finally retreated to my hole (the basement) and sat down in "my" chair. It's actually my parents' chair. It feels so nice. This is where I write my ideas down to share with you all. This is where I find the time to be inspired by random things on random websites. This is where the magic happens.

Don't worry, I'll make it happen more often. I didn't realize how much I missed it until now.

I quit smoking two days ago. Since then, I've had four cigarettes. It doesn't sound like a huge accomplishment to a lot of people, but for me it is. It's monumental.

In other news, I believe Linus is starting to become a food snob. He was clawing and chewing at the bag before his bowl was empty. Everyone hates a food snob.

Huck slept in bed with us last night, until about 7:30 AM, when it started getting light outside, and he decided that the time had come to fidget and lick my face and generally be very put out that we weren't waking up yet. Then he got put in his kennel until about 11:00, when I woke up.

The end.

Man, I need to do this more often. I can feel my brain emptying. Thanks for reading.

Planning for Something

I can't remember the last time I had a PAP schmear. I know it's considered blasphemy to be a woman and not go to a girlie doctor, and I'm negligent almost to the point of going to hell for it, but I couldn't afford it. Not for a long time. It's going to sound selfish of me, and completely airheaded, but I couldn't justify putting myself through a thourough examination of the parts of me that even I don't see ever and forking over money to the people prodding me in uncomforatble places. (No, not the back of a Volkswagen.) (Oh god, did I just make a Mallrats reference?)

Thanks to a lovely customer of our pharmacy, today I was informed that the state of Wisconsin provides for those of us girls who just can't afford to take birth control or see the gynocologist yearly. Here's the information. So, if you're living in Wisconsin and avoiding having your annual speculum date, there's no reason to feel guilty about it. Get on over to your local Planned Parenthood and sign yourself up. You don't have to feel guilty anymore. And more importantly, you don't have to pay for it.

Books I Never Knew Were Books:

Or:  What to buy on Amazon when you have a free gift certificate.  

Or Rather:  What to Buy When Your Husband Gets a Free Gift Certificate From Amazon and Lets You Share the Profits:  A Users Guide.

Or:  Books You Never Realized Were Actual Books, Because if You Had, You'd Have Read Them by Now.

Or:  I Didn't Actually Get These Books, I Found Them After Buying the First Two Discworld Novels by Terry Pratchett.

Here are some books you should buy.  If you don't want to buy them, that's fine with me, because for the most part, I'm putting them here for my own personal reference.  Should I ever again happen across $75.00 in Amazon gift certificates, this is what I will be buying:

The Princess Bride

The Neverending Story

PS:  My first love-affair quality book was "The Rabbit is Next", and the only description I could find online reads:  "Delightful story of Jenny and her pet rabbit, Bradley who had a hurt ear. A trip to the animal doctor revealed many other pets there needing help-cat; dog, monkey; hamster; turtle, etc. Finally Jenny got to see the doctor who examined and fixed " this very unusual case!" Pages tight; some page wear; some markings on few pages; yellow glossy cover with illustration of girl sitting watching dog, cat, and monkey chasing each other", which is everything I remember about the book.  It appeals to that little girl who still lives inside me, the one who sleeps with all of her stuffed animals, because she doesn't want any of them to feel neglected.

My second love-affair quality book was Charlotte's Web, possibly because my Grandpa had a pig farm and I was very attached to his pigs.

I read The Celery Stalks at Midnight, and remember thinking that there must be more to the story. The Celery Stalks at Midnight was a good story, but it was only now, after happen-stancing across the original: Bunnicula: A Rabbit-Tale of Mystery, that I realized that not only was this book an old-time favorite of mine, but there was more to the story. I haven't thought about it in years. I managed to snag the first book out of my parochial-school library, in between the many biographies of historical figures that were the only other interesting books I found to read. I want this book. Please buy me this book.

What books did you read and love as a youngster? Which books do you wish you would have read? What books do you recommend to other people? I love hearing stories about books, don't be shy!