HAPPY APRIL

I don't know why, but the coming of April has always been really exciting for me. Not even consciously (until today) have I been this aware of the fact that on the first day of April, I am always VERY HAPPY about it being that day-- all day long. Weird, huh? YAY!

I had a day out with my mom yesterday. It was full of happy or ridiculous (and often both) little coincidences, too. Made things interesting. Like-- she was supposed to arrive around 10am at my home, and we'd go from there together. Only she missed the exit off the freeway. Which little extra side trip gave me enough time to actually clear off all the seats in the living room (I did laundry, folks, it meant stacks of clean-but-unfolded clothes in all the chairs), AND empty the garbage. I even fit in a shower-- although I had to laugh because her "OH NO, WHAT DO I DO" phone call came just after I got myself mostly dried off. So there I was. In the living room. In my towel. Giving suggestions on the phone. And another call came in while I was standing there. What are the odds of getting TWO CALLS while standing in front of my un-shielded living room windows in a towel?! Huh.

And then she arrived while I was excavating the passenger seat of my car. I drive an hour each way to work (as you know, because I tell you about it all the time)-- so my passenger seat is my unofficial copilot and storage space for anything I MIGHT POSSIBLY NEED while driving. The good news is that she can take all my plastic water bottles home with her to recycle. That cleared up a LOT of space, let me tell you.

So then we exchanged little "I love you, here's this inexpensive thing I know you'll love" gifts-- and we did both love them. Mine was a great used wooden mixing spoon. I've been wanting one, actually. Hers was a sachet made of organic herbs I found and sewed into a patchwork little bag (along with a whole bunch of good intentions), with a lovely spring-green ribbon to hang it from. It's about 2 inches square. Mom cried.

And finally, we were off to the Japanese Gardens! Where we'd timed our visit perfectly because everything was either in bloom, or budding out with the cutest little baby leaves ever. Turns out mom and I are both fans of tree buds and baby leaves. We took turns taking pictures of them. Which became its own little adventure. See- she couldn't really see what she was taking a picture of in her camera's view-finder. So she'd point and shoot, and then I'd look at it and tell her what she got. A few times, I actually aimed HER, and then told her when to click the button. Group Photography. We had a blast. It was good we both had our cameras, too, because we were both fine with stopping every two feet to snap another shot. All the other people around us were totally patient with us, too, which was very nice of them. I've included a couple of samples of the beauty with which we were surrounded. If you live here, you should go there.

Tripping

Yeah. So. Ever have one of those weeks where you realize that if you could just get out of your own way, things would be great? One of those weeks where your plans and outlook are changing so fast and so often than you end up with mild case of roller-coaster stomach? One of those weeks were all those puzzle pieces that have been driving you MAD for the last month because there just wasn't a place for them-- suddenly fit perfectly, and the puzzle is complete, and you really aren't sure how that happened, but okay? Yeah, me too.

I'm in an interesting point of my life. The end of my schooling is in sight. I just might get there in one piece, and with a few quality references, too. The ants are (for the moment) GONE from my home, and even my little Jack Sprouts are looking healthy again. I have two great internship opportunities on the horizon, both of which I'll be able to take advantage of, and I think I've managed to maintain a positive relationship with each of my future supervisors, even though every time I communicate with them, something changes and I get to trip over my own feet as I back up a step. I'm nearly caught up on school work for the semester, and the end of that-- too-- is in sight.

On top of that, I went to the bookstore yesterday and browsed their "bargain" section, and found a couple of things that I've been wanting, and will really find useful in the future... at really REALLY good prices. I got a phone call from my work-family last night, too, and they still absolutely love me. (I'm super glad of that, because I love working with them, and my schedule of availability just got complicated.) I have a great hike planned with friends this coming weekend. I had a delightful little bonfire last night. My official library-student blog is about to begin, and they liked my first couple of possible blog entries. And... my cat is sleeping peacefully in another room so I can type this without interference. It's a beautiful world.

Oh-- and I'm back to thinking I'll be a Children's Public Librarian... and work on my tapestry quilts (possibly as bags/vests, too) on the side to supplement that... and who knows, maybe someone will pay me to blog for them at that point, too. I'd love that. Blogging Rocks. It's all about the journey, my friends. It's also all about remembering to breathe and not getting too stressed until you know what direction you're actually headed. Then you can sit back a bit and enjoy the trip. Just don't forget to watch the road if you're the one driving.

And by the way, if you like corny movies and comedy-action-romances like I do...
I've added National Treasure to my list. Mazel Tov.

Downbeat is NOT a Vegetable

The ants are back. I'm actually impressed by their sheer tenacity, in spite of myself. And the things I've chosen to do to try and over come them. The ants are back.

(This is where I spontaneously burst into a slightly altered rendition of "The Cat Came Back, the Very Next Day, Yes the Cat Came Back, and He Was Going to Stay...")

And they have decided to swarm my favorite new little plant sprout. Gussie? I warn you now, I'm bringing a REALLY CUTE little plant sprout to you as a gift, in a neat little ceramic container, the next time we get together to do quilting and gab. You'll love it. (RIGHT?!) With a little regular watering, you'll soon have tons of baby jack-pumpkins in YOUR OWN YARD... and if you pluck them when they are a nice color, and set them in the direct sun of your back porch for five days to cure, maybe you'll even give a couple of them back to me as Jack himself. I promise to love them forever if you do. And what will be better than hangin' with Jack-P and the babies in your own back yard bar-be-q later this summer? They are, after all, an edible squash. I mean, really. What could be better? And don't worry- I plan to visit them regularly to check on their progress. (Just kidding. I know you'll give my sprouts a fair shot, and if they don't make it, well... the ants probably came back... and finished the job.)

Also, speaking of hidden messages, have you ever gotten a communication from someone you thought was a good friend that you were actually keeping in touch with... even though you both moved away about the same time, in opposite directions? A communication that left you with the question.... "So... is she divorced now, or just self-fulfilling all of a sudden (she's painted her new apartment pink), or is her husband in another country for a while, possibly fighting in a war?" ...And when you got that email, were you too afraid to ask direct prying questions because it's obvious something has majorly changed in her life, and she didn't bother to tell you about it in the first place? Leading to the observation that you probably aren't as good of friends as you thought... now that you don't live in the same place and have similar husband issues to commiserate over... since I, myself, am DEFINITELY DIVORCED, AND SELF-FULFILLING, AND MY EX is DEFINITELY IN ANOTHER COUNTRY... fighting in a war or something... probably or something... (Don't worry-- I was lovingly supportive and patriotic and devoted to him the whole time we were married. And I still support our soldiers-- from a distance. A safe distance.)

Oh- and by the way, speaking of exness, mine recently came up with the observation that if he hadn't decided to get stationed out of the country, our marriage probably would still be going fine. Say WHAT? Ex-cuse me? Ex-plain that one! (My historical account of events is that we planned to go to another country together, then we divorced (well, we started the process), and he switched his orders to go get more schooling in-country, and later (well after the divorce was granted) selected a post in the country in which he currently resides.... leaving anything about leaving the country and reasons for divorce totally unrelated.... in my mind, that is.) Exness is a very confusing state of comprehension at times. I relate it to pickled beats. I have no comprehension of them either.

It amazes me that so many people can visit the state of Exness, and nobody has yet devised a way to post helpful directional signs to make it at least a little bit less confusing. You know-- This is the row for stunted carrots, and If you want really dirty couch potatoes, they're two rows up... and Frantic indecision is natural when trying to make supermarket selections post-divorce, please take your second left for greater self-awareness of personal vegetable preferences. Signs like that.

Personally, I think my sign would say "lost in translation, please check back later" on it just about now. It would be followed shortly by a very unusual sign with pink-and-yellow polka dots on it, clarifying that the one-way bridge you just crossed was for folks who are now "totally disinterested in following rules or or expectations set down by others, even if they are for your own good." It's a dangerous path, and because I chose to take it, my school work often suffers. Apparently, so do my vegetable sprouts. I suspect most teenagers would relate. And, judging from lunch yesterday, so would two-year-olds. Only their garden veggies end up cold and mushy on the dinner plate until they finally give in and eat them (or bedtime happens), and mine are just being taken away from me by the combined forces of ants and Management. Which doesn't explain my problems with school work. Sigh...

All I want is a nice warm fresh veggie soup, dammit! Can you think of anyplace with more rules, fewer personal accommodations, and higher expectations than an online graduate program about the science of providing 100% correct information 100% of the time? What was I THINKING??? And why wasn't there a sign to help me find a better road?? Who WANTS to be right all the time?? How boring. And besides, is anybody really capable of being always 100% correct, and still SANE???

(Which leads nicely into my latest theory that people who live in insane asylums probably get lots of sleep and regular meals and time to garden... and wouldn't that be nice?... of course, they probably don't serve much ice wine, ice cream, or let you play with power tools and sewing machines in those sorts of places... and there'd probably be rules... hmm)

So anyway, my vegetable garden is growing smaller by the hour, and Downbeat is definitely the word of the afternoon. I started the day with such high hopes, too. I was happy, the sun was out, the wind was blowing, I knew what my plans were for the day, and they included really getting some homework DONE, man... And now it's dinner time. And I'm blogging. And the homework ain't happened yet. Downbeat. It's not a vegetable. Just a vegetative state.

Astral Insanity

So... I love this woman. I've never met her. She' d probably irritate me in real life. But OHMYGOD, we are astrally connected on another plane of existence. Really. Only she knits and I make wall tapestry quilts. And she has three cats, and I have one. So far.

CrazyAuntPurl

Go there. Read that. Then, let me tell you about the garlic growing IN A CLOSED GLASS CONTAINER in my kitchen, that I had just this morning decided to plant, because I am so proud of it. And the fuzzy cat bed I bought for Abbigale out of guilt, and that she still wants nothing to do with, even though she has clearly decided that it belongs to her, so I can't get rid of it. And the way I felt about MY first-Christmas-after-divorce fake tree and it's strange similarities to the way SHE felt about HERS ...Or was that too much information? =)

I'll bet she's the actress they found to play my role in the sitcom... Yup... That's got to be why she's so familiar... and so much funnier, too!

Circles and Arrows, and a Paragraph on the Back of Each One

Went to my dad's 60th "Old Guys" party today. His label, not mine. He and mom invited everyone they could locate (or were actually still in contact with) from their days living and teaching in a town long ago and far away. And, as a nod to who they used to be, and what they all used to do together, they made it a potluck (like the ones I vaguely remember from my pre-school days) and Dad baked his famous oatmeal cookies with the Secret Ingredient.

Seeing those cookies on the counter when I arrived let me know just HOW IMPORTANT this event was for him-- because the combined efforts of the entire extended family have only convinced him to make these cookies about three times in the past 15 years. Yeah.

When you think about it, turning 60 is the new turning 50, really. Life perspective and life goals change. Talk of latest medical procedures or tests escalates. You start to think that maybe it's time to hire that kid down the street to mow the back yard. You take up yoga or biking. You eat less and take vacations more. If you're my Dad, you take Mom kayaking and finally buy a bigger TV. In your free time, you give detailed lectures to anyone who will listen about exactly what you plan to do with that brown spot in the grass that never goes away.

Seeing those oatmeal cookies today, I realized that those specific cookies are a symbol of comfort and of family continuity for me. They are a symbol of my childhood and my dad's love for the people around him. He only made cookies when there were people he loved to share them with- a lot of people. And when I was little, the coolest part was when he'd tell us he ALMOST FORGOT to put the Secret Ingredient in this time, but he remembered at the last minute, and that's why the cookies turned out so good. Again.

Actually, a lot of my family celebration/familial love memories center around cookies. Like the first time I actually one-up'd my dad, the quintessential one-upper. I was two. It was awesome.

So there we were, making cookies together-- me and my Dad! He'd rolled out the dough, and gotten the baking sheet greased, and there were the two cookie cutter shapes he'd picked out for us to work with, and I actually was going to HELP COOK. He set me up on the counter by the dough, and gave me the circle cookie cutter. Then he explained the general idea of using a cookie cutter to make shapes in the dough. Fair enough. WHOP! I thumped that circle down in the MIDDLE OF THE DOUGH. He almost had a heart attack right there in front of me. I remember-- very clearly-- that he actually shoved his fingernails into his mouth to keep from screaming.

So then he gently and carefully explained about fitting as many circles into the rolled-out dough as you could-- very carefully-- because you didn't want to RE-roll it out too many times. It made the cookies rise funny or something. Fair enough. WHOP! WHOP! WHOP!!

It was about then that his face turned purple, and his eyes got about as big as his glasses-frames. Ay-Yi-YIE! Then he actually looked at the circles I'd cut in the dough. With fear. He really thought that little 2-year-old me (who was being trusted to help Dad Cook for the first time ever) had just completely ignored his careful directions. Silly Daddy.

I'd placed those three circles right on the edge of the rolled-out dough, so close together that the edges just touched, in about half a second. Papa blinked a few times, and then handed me the other cookie cutter to try out, and got busy putting my perfect circles onto the tray to bake.

There's even a picture that my mom took around that time in my life-- of me and my Dad, covered in flour, hunched together over a rolled out piece of cookie dough. I'm sitting on the counter on the left, he's leaning against the counter on the right, and the cookie cutter is flying.

Errgh

Fun with Blogs, I've had. Yoda I am not. Clever, I am!
So... my friend started bugging me to get a flicker account. Then I noticed that flicker just got bought out by Yahoo, who I happen to think are a bunch of Yahoos, so I'm not signing up until I absolutely have to. However, in the spirit of sharing, I have created three new blogs based on the err-what concept.

Welcome t0 an err with my personal photo album, err-whynot, and an err with my professional resume and other job-related nonsense on it. I haven't actually created the resume one yet, so I'll get back to you on that.

I'm not really advertising the photos page. As you know, I've done my humble (and profane) best to maintain a semi-anonymous state of protection and production on this awesome blog of mine here. And since I'm posting my photo and detailed commentary for all heck to see on the photo album website, I'm not giving you a link to it. Sorry.

I am, however, quite proud of the other two names, even if I haven't actually DONE anything with either blog yet. Isn't it amazing how many different ways there are for me to NOT do homework??

More after I shower and buy food and water and contact solution and cat litter. Wouldn't you know it- I'm out of all the basics! At least... *I* think these are basic necessities. If I can't see, I can't type, you know. Or drive. Or play well with others. And kitty litter... the world as we know it would end if we didn't have kitty litter! I mean- good god, the smell alone would kill you! And water... well, it's WATER.

Crazy Ants

Ants. They are indefatigable, lift many times their weight, have exoskeletons, specialize in either sugar, grease, wood products, or meat, live all over the earth, and we still don't know how they communicate with each other. They can hold their breath for up to 14 days under water, they often herd aphids for aphid milk (udderly ridiculous!), wage war againts creatures much larger than they are, build incredibly sturdy homes, and they outnumber people on earth by millions to one. Oh, and they have a very strict socio-economic hierarchy. These ones scout, these others fetch and carry food, those there tend the larva, and that one? She's the queen.

Ants have also been making regular forays into my apartment for several months. I thought I took care of the problem last year, when I found them marching solemnly and quickly toward a box that contained some random bits of sewing remnants, and a couple of empty salt water taffy rappers, on the floor of my bedroom. These, I classified as "sugar ants," and handled with minimal swearing. I also discovered, in the process, that my cat likes to eat sugar ants. And rub on the walls where they've been walking. Repeatedly. Have you ever been waken up by your cat rubbing ecstatically against a WALL?? For a small, soft, and fuzzy being, her wall-rubbing was extremely loud at 3am. Between my squishing and spraying them with bleach (diluted), and her eating and rubbing technique, the ants quickly became a random memory.

Then, the day before my big open house/new year celebration... I found more of them. Same wall, different room. They were headed toward my dining table, and a half-eaten box of Panda Bear Licorice Bites. Hmmm... So Abbigale and I did our eat/squish and then rub/spray routine, and I found an article in a book that said ants hate peppermint. I sprinkled peppermint oil around like it was baking powder... and then had to air out the place for several hours so we could tolerate the smell. But it was worth it-- NO ANTS appeared on the day of the celebration. I figured if I stopped leaving sugar-heavy foods open and near THAT WALL, and occasionally sprinkled a little peppermint oil around, I'd be fine. And I was. Until the Friday before last. That's what- six weeks?

On Friday, I found about six ants in the living/dining room, and about six ants in the bedroom. They were all up near or on the ceiling, and they were definitely on a mission. A far-flung and widely ranging mission that seemed to be slowly making its way toward my kitchen. Not good. So I got out the bleach spray, and started squishing/spraying everything that moved (except the cat, who appears to be near sighted). On Sunday I admitted defeat, and went to the landlord. Turns out the outside of the buildings get sprayed on a regular basis, and it's no big deal to have the exterminator come inside and handle things there as well. And whadaya know, he was going to show up on Monday. I could wait another 12 hours.

On Tuesday, he showed up and though we didn't see any live ants at the time (of course), he sprayed about 10 feet of baseboard in each room-- along THAT WALL where I usually saw the ants. "They start from the bottom, and go up," says he. Okay. Fine. As long as they don't discover the kitchen, and stop disturbing my meals. Just to be safe, I did a thorough kitchen cleaning and put all my food in plastic containers or in sealed plastic bags, before the exterminator got there. It needed to be done, and I didn't want to eat poison in case he decided to bogmb the place. No bogms, just a nozzle and a carefully aimed spray. A totally useless, carefully aimed spray.

No ants Wed/Thur. I was so relieved. I hate the chemicals, but the peppermint oil wasn't cutting it somehow. And I hated worse to squish the ants, so it was good they were gone. Surely I could tolerate a little chemical spray for THAT! Yeah. Well. This last Friday, the ants were back. Six or seven in each room. On the ceiling. Some actually made it to the kitchen ceiling, even. Not cool.

Saturday night, last night, I was still doing the spray/squish routine, but the spraying wasn't even working anymore. I'd score a direct hit, and five minutes later the ant would crawl off to explore some other part of the house. Completely undeterred by a short refreshing little bath in the bleach water. There has got to be a camera recording my futile efforts to defy nature around here somewhere. Who ever heard of ants that could withstand BLEACH for cryin' out loud?! That night I dreamed about ants walking on my face. Whadaya know-- when I woke up, there WAS an ant crawling on my face. I could just picture the dream sequence being played out with the wavy lines on the TV screen and the gentle tickle of an imaginary feather being drawn across the central character's sleeping face, and then waking up screaming to the reality of the ants... There was definitely more swearing this time around.

I've reclassified the ants, by the way. They are not sugar ants. They are Invaders.
I
Feel
Invaded
!

So I let management know about the little resurgence --or insurgence, depending on your point of view. And I bought a bunch of ant bait. I feel like a murderer and a sell-out, but I feel worse squishing ants all the time... and I REALLY felt nasty waking up to one actually crawling ON me. Called my dad for advice on this one, too. Dads know about getting rid of ants and caulking windows and things. At least, mine always does. His perspective was that the ant was just exploring some new territory (my face)... but I should not use a spray. I should use bait, so the whole colony would die, and there wouldn't be any more fun little forays across my ceiling (or anywhere else) by any new little scout ants who didn't learn their lesson the last three times around. And since I haven't awoken to the cat's ecstatic wall-rubbing this month, I am assuming they've managed to find paths that avoid her. Thus eliminating my fears that she'll eat poisoned ants and get sick.

Now, I'm trying to be positive. I'm reading about how March 21-- the Spring Equinox-- celebrates the reunion of Kore and Demeter in ancient lore. (Mother and daughter Goddesses, they were separated by the god of the underworld (Hades) when he convinced the daughter to eat six pomegranate seeds while his captive, thus condemning her to spend six months of every year in the underworld. Kore --also known as Diana in some versions-- was so sad and angered by her daughter's kidnapping that she allowed all the crops to die and the clouds to cover the sun for many weeks. This was the ancient Greek and Roman explanation of Winter. So the return of Spring, and of Demeter, and of the spark of life to the land, were really a reason to celebrate!)

And did you know that March 25th was the Roman holiday of Hilaria? Yeah-- Laughing Day. A whole day set aside just to enjoy laughter, celebration, and JOY! Probably a good way to handle all that Spring Fever, too. And it got me thinking... maybe it's about time to have a really fun get together with some friends, and do something silly. Since I'm still on a dating time-out, I can't think of a better way to usher in Spring than to join together with good friends, and have a good laugh!

But first I have to go take another shower-- I feel crawly.

Esoteric

It's such a fun word. I don't have a post topic to go with it... but I really like that word.

About the insane asylum for the criminally manipulative... I'm still really glad I don't work there anymore. In fact, I am MORE GLAD NOW than I was four months ago. According to the Feds, I am supposed to receive my W-2's on or near the 31st of January at the latest-- by law. Well, I'm here to tell you that just finally today, I got them. Well, no. I didn't get them. I got a photocopy of my ex-boss's Copy D of my W-2's. Because after I contacted her about not getting them (the second time), she actually looked into it. (I'd like to point out that today is March 3rd.)

Apparently, it would have cost her $45 to get a new copy of MY W-2's sent to me from the company who does her office taxes... and she just wasn't willing to spend that kind of money to meet legal requirements for someone she never wants to see again anyway. And of course, how could that office (the Insane Asylum for the Criminally Manipulative) possibly pass up another last opportunity to fugk with me. I mean, really.

Did you know that "elfish" means "Elvish. Formerly also (of a thing), unmanageable." And that the page of my New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, volume 1, on which this definition is located has twelve other words I've never even heard of before?! Wow. I mean-- there are only 27 words on the page to begin with. That is a sad average. I'll just have to start reading the dictionary in my free time, that's all. The good news is that I have no free time, so I won't be doing that any time soon. I love setting realistic goals for myself.

Ahh... and here is the page in the dictionary where I learn that "essoteric" actually only has one S in it. I see. As an adjective, the word means "1. Of a philosophical doctrine, mode of speech, etc) designed for or appropriate to an inner circle of advanced or privileged disciples; communicated or intelligible only to the initiated; initiated into or belonging to an inner circle. 2. Not openly stated or admitted; confidential; secret." Then the definition goes on to state that "the magician is an esoteric figure-- part priest, part philosopher, part artist." Right. Okay. Esoteric. Hmm.

Shana, I swear I'm almost ready to start my homework. And I got a 9 of 11 on my intelligence quiz today, too. Which, according to the test results on the page you sent me, means I should have an exciting love life that will burst into full bloom any time now. I hope it waits until I graduate. I don't need any more distractions. Really.