So February was the month of the Cat Scare. March? March is, apparently, the month of the flu. As in, I caught it, and here we are ten days later, and I'm still not fully recovered. And I'm tired of it. Seriously. I have a life I'd like to be living-- or at least pursuing.
In fact, the last few days I've really pushed my limits with pretending I was finally all better. And really, my brain is starting to function again... It's my body thats having issues. I even went to the doctor (first time in over three years) to make sure there's no REASON for me to still be this lacking in energy. And she tells me that while I still have so much mucus and crap in my head that it has pushed my ear cup flat, I'm basically healthy. Yay.
So yesterday I went with my folks to check out the Da Vinci exhibit. And it's pretty cool. They've recreated a few pages from his personal notebooks, one of which explores the way that a planet and a sun affect the light on another planet. VERY COOL to see that!! And they've rebuilt a bunch of the machines and concepts of flight, motion, and energy into little wooden examples-- with the same tools and materials that Da Vinci himself would have had access to. And you even get to play with some of the gears!! There are reproductions of his sketches and studies of the human body. And a whole room devoted to his painting.
I'd never really seen the Mona Lisa as anything worth staring at for long periods of time. Dark, kinda dull, and what's the big deal? But somebody has used our friend technology to figure out what the pigments etc probably looked like in Da Vinci's day-- Did you know he painted her in see-thru layers of paint over the course of twenty years, building up each bit until it became solid-looking? That's part of the trick to the depth in the painting. We really are seeing many many layers of paint. And did you know that some idiot actually kept the painting in his BATHROOM for a while? The painting actually has water damage because of that.
A room full of musical instruments and war machines later, and I was barely shuffling along, trying to put one foot in front of the other. I actually fell asleep in the restaurant over lunch, I was so exhausted by the outing. I'm glad I finally had a chance to go-- and it was fun to go with my parents, who were just as fascinated by whether or not the devices would really work, and how and why, as I was. It was frustrating, however, to have that be the sum total of my day's accomplishments. Three hours of standing around, and I slept the rest of the day and a full ten hours last night. GRRRRRR
Anyway, I'm hoping to get something useful done today. Something that will help me get a job or publish my book or feel like I'm contributing to the cleanliness and livability of the household. I sure haven't done much on ANY of those fronts in the past two weeks. Sigh.
Da Vinci was a pretty cool frood, really. He believed that we could learn to do anything that could be done in nature by observing how Nature does it. That a machine could be created to reproduce any action performed by Nature. And so he spent hours and days and months observing the way birds fly, the way people exert force on a lever, the way toes are made to wiggle through their attachment to bone with fine sinews and fibers that direct movement. For Da Vinci, Mother Nature was the ultimate teacher, and he devoted a lifetime to Her lessons.
Well, to paraphrase Da Vinci's classification of people, there are those who understand, those who can be taught to understand, and those who will never understand.
Me myself, I'd say... ...I'm learning.
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Thursday, March 12
Monday, October 29
Pumpkin Party, Martha Stewart Style
It's almost Halloween. A time when the veil between the worlds gets thin, and Mystery is in the air. So is some fresh cold air, red and brown and yellow leaves, and lots of laughter.
Went to a pumpkin carving party at a friend's last night. Had a blast. It's the first time in several years that I've carved a pumpkin, and it turned out pretty cool. See?
.
Mine is, of course, the cat.
It was a fun and creative time, full of sharp pointy things and LOTS of pumpkin seeds.
Some crazy fool even tried to carve a Butternut Squash! Luckily, L had an apple corer with no slicing arms on it, so S eventually used that to get the squash meat out of the middle. Apparently, he has plans to set it on fire later this week. That's why the squash looks so scared. Foreshadowing. In the end, it turned out pretty well, as did the ghost dog on the right. What's creativity without a little extra effort anyway?
I tell you, every time I go to L's house, I learn something new about being a hostess. We've actually started teasing her about being a bit like Martha Stewart. This time, she made pumpkin pancakes, with applesauce (made from scratch, thank you) to go on top. She unobtrusively marketed her friends' (and her own) saleable skills, made everyone feel welcome, and enabled a few new friendships to form. I was even able to catch up with people I used to know, and share a little of my hard-won perspective on starting over after a difficult relationship with someone who appreciated the insight. Wow.
I tell you, Martha Stewart is just lucky that L has a day job!
Went to a pumpkin carving party at a friend's last night. Had a blast. It's the first time in several years that I've carved a pumpkin, and it turned out pretty cool. See?
.
Mine is, of course, the cat.
It was a fun and creative time, full of sharp pointy things and LOTS of pumpkin seeds.
Some crazy fool even tried to carve a Butternut Squash! Luckily, L had an apple corer with no slicing arms on it, so S eventually used that to get the squash meat out of the middle. Apparently, he has plans to set it on fire later this week. That's why the squash looks so scared. Foreshadowing. In the end, it turned out pretty well, as did the ghost dog on the right. What's creativity without a little extra effort anyway?
I tell you, every time I go to L's house, I learn something new about being a hostess. We've actually started teasing her about being a bit like Martha Stewart. This time, she made pumpkin pancakes, with applesauce (made from scratch, thank you) to go on top. She unobtrusively marketed her friends' (and her own) saleable skills, made everyone feel welcome, and enabled a few new friendships to form. I was even able to catch up with people I used to know, and share a little of my hard-won perspective on starting over after a difficult relationship with someone who appreciated the insight. Wow.
I tell you, Martha Stewart is just lucky that L has a day job!
Sunday, September 16
YAY!
So I did my first official library event today-- my first all by myself not at the library event, that is. And I think it was a success. I feel good. And thank goodness a couple of volunteers showed up to help! I hope I didn't take over too much, because I was SO glad to have more than just me at that table. Especially with all the little kids using glue at the same time!
We made puppets. We colored in big bubble letters. We stuck stickers everywhere. And we handed out info on age-appropriate books and the Unknown Public Library. We also got to pet a turtle and a hedgehog, watch the hula dancers, and stay dry in the rain while the orchestra performed. Free face painting, too. What could be better on a Sunday afternoon?!
Oh, and I even got to read one of the storytime stories I'd brought-- to an audience of one freaked out little kindergartener, and his grateful teenage cousin. It was a definite success.
Now I just have to muster enough energy to do my homework. Riiiight.
We made puppets. We colored in big bubble letters. We stuck stickers everywhere. And we handed out info on age-appropriate books and the Unknown Public Library. We also got to pet a turtle and a hedgehog, watch the hula dancers, and stay dry in the rain while the orchestra performed. Free face painting, too. What could be better on a Sunday afternoon?!
Oh, and I even got to read one of the storytime stories I'd brought-- to an audience of one freaked out little kindergartener, and his grateful teenage cousin. It was a definite success.
Now I just have to muster enough energy to do my homework. Riiiight.
Wednesday, August 29
A piece of peace
I've decided that I really like the new Gwen Stefani song-- "If I could escape..."
And I've selected a few relevant photos to match.
Oh-- and H? That word I was trying to think of-- it wasn't "girl-rooms..." it was "Harems." But I think I like the implications of the girl-room better. =) Besides, it's a great excuse to have tons of really awesome throw pillows!
And I've selected a few relevant photos to match.
Oh-- and H? That word I was trying to think of-- it wasn't "girl-rooms..." it was "Harems." But I think I like the implications of the girl-room better. =) Besides, it's a great excuse to have tons of really awesome throw pillows!
Friday, June 1
Too Much
About responsibility...
There is such thing as too much. And... sometimes I wonder if I'm really ready to be an adult. I've been one for a long time now (by my standards)... and I often find myself letting important things go because I just can't seem to get to them. I still manage to watch my corny movies, though. What kind of prioritizing is THAT?
It just strikes me that there is a lot more to being an adult than one sometimes wants to admit. It is a lot easier to feel bad about your ability to prioritize than to acknowledge that you might be trying to do more than you can handle, and that you might still have some personal issues to work through before you reach your full productive capacity. I sure don't want that to be true-- I think I SHOULD be able to handle what I've committed myself to achieving at this point in my life. The evidence so far is against me, though.
For example, I've learned the hard way that I can't handle 3 online classes at the same time. I just can't keep the details of each classes' requirements and system set-up in my head for three classes in one semester. I actually dropped a class in the Fall last year because of this reality. Even knowing it, I still had to struggle through three classes last semester-- if I wanted to graduate this December, and not incur another $7,000 in debt for ANOTHER semester of school. Luckily, I can take the two classes at a time that I can actually handle for the last two semesters here. Plus work. Plus internships that I have to arrange and apply for ahead of time. Plus the final project stuff that doesn't count as a class, but takes about the same amount of time.
This semester's struggle with 3 classes cost me something. I'm actually on academic probation because it is unacceptable to receive a C grade in grad school, and I did. In my favorite class. Because I forgot that this particular professor didn't always put the full assignment information into the syllabus, and that we had instead to check the online turn-in location for additional instructions-- and remember to SCROLL TO THE BOTTOM OF THE LONG PAGE to be sure we had all the info on the assignment. So I turned in a 100-point assignment with only one of the three required sections completed. Because I only knew about the one section listed in the syllabus. Shigt. Otherwise, I might have had an A.
At the same time as I am working on an internship, planning my next internship, preparing my resume for the need to being applying for jobs, and expecting school to start up again Monday... I am trying to pursue my art. The thing I can lose myself doing because I love doing it so much. The thing I could soon be selling at a profit-- if I can find the time to finish some of my projects and market them to the folks who've already expressed interest.
Also, I have friends. I'd like to keep them. So I spend some time-- much-enjoyed and much-appreciated time-- with them. And I have an apartment to maintain, and food to buy and cook and eat, and a lot of emotional baggage to work through. Not the least of which is concerns that have arisen in the past while about the health and well-being of various close and much-loved family members. Oh, and did I mention that I work 20 hours a week? And have a side job writing intellectual blogs for an online magazine three times a week? (www.libraryjournal.com) And that I've got no financial aid for school because I'm on academic probation? No stress there, right?
It's just too much. And yet, there isn't really anything I can drop. Stop spending time with friends? Yeah- and go stark raving nuts in a matter of weeks. Stop working? And eat what-- toenails?
See, the thing is-- I signed up for all this. And I need to see it through. All of it. Because this is my future we're talking about. My ability to get a job that offers both satisfaction in my work, and some sort of health care and retirement benefits, while paying an actual living wage for a single income family. So while I'm working hard to keep a stiff upper lip that actually curves UP and not down, there are definitely many moments when I wonder what the hegll I'm doing wrong here, and if I'm really qualified to be an adult. I hope it gets easier, because I don't think I can take it getting any harder. Oh. I just remembered. It's the first of the month. My rent is due. Right.
Well, that's all the time I have to spend on feeling sorry for myself today. Check back another time for a cheery, humorous, and uplifting post. I'm about due to have one. Any time now. Really.
There is such thing as too much. And... sometimes I wonder if I'm really ready to be an adult. I've been one for a long time now (by my standards)... and I often find myself letting important things go because I just can't seem to get to them. I still manage to watch my corny movies, though. What kind of prioritizing is THAT?
It just strikes me that there is a lot more to being an adult than one sometimes wants to admit. It is a lot easier to feel bad about your ability to prioritize than to acknowledge that you might be trying to do more than you can handle, and that you might still have some personal issues to work through before you reach your full productive capacity. I sure don't want that to be true-- I think I SHOULD be able to handle what I've committed myself to achieving at this point in my life. The evidence so far is against me, though.
For example, I've learned the hard way that I can't handle 3 online classes at the same time. I just can't keep the details of each classes' requirements and system set-up in my head for three classes in one semester. I actually dropped a class in the Fall last year because of this reality. Even knowing it, I still had to struggle through three classes last semester-- if I wanted to graduate this December, and not incur another $7,000 in debt for ANOTHER semester of school. Luckily, I can take the two classes at a time that I can actually handle for the last two semesters here. Plus work. Plus internships that I have to arrange and apply for ahead of time. Plus the final project stuff that doesn't count as a class, but takes about the same amount of time.
This semester's struggle with 3 classes cost me something. I'm actually on academic probation because it is unacceptable to receive a C grade in grad school, and I did. In my favorite class. Because I forgot that this particular professor didn't always put the full assignment information into the syllabus, and that we had instead to check the online turn-in location for additional instructions-- and remember to SCROLL TO THE BOTTOM OF THE LONG PAGE to be sure we had all the info on the assignment. So I turned in a 100-point assignment with only one of the three required sections completed. Because I only knew about the one section listed in the syllabus. Shigt. Otherwise, I might have had an A.
At the same time as I am working on an internship, planning my next internship, preparing my resume for the need to being applying for jobs, and expecting school to start up again Monday... I am trying to pursue my art. The thing I can lose myself doing because I love doing it so much. The thing I could soon be selling at a profit-- if I can find the time to finish some of my projects and market them to the folks who've already expressed interest.
Also, I have friends. I'd like to keep them. So I spend some time-- much-enjoyed and much-appreciated time-- with them. And I have an apartment to maintain, and food to buy and cook and eat, and a lot of emotional baggage to work through. Not the least of which is concerns that have arisen in the past while about the health and well-being of various close and much-loved family members. Oh, and did I mention that I work 20 hours a week? And have a side job writing intellectual blogs for an online magazine three times a week? (www.libraryjournal.com) And that I've got no financial aid for school because I'm on academic probation? No stress there, right?
It's just too much. And yet, there isn't really anything I can drop. Stop spending time with friends? Yeah- and go stark raving nuts in a matter of weeks. Stop working? And eat what-- toenails?
See, the thing is-- I signed up for all this. And I need to see it through. All of it. Because this is my future we're talking about. My ability to get a job that offers both satisfaction in my work, and some sort of health care and retirement benefits, while paying an actual living wage for a single income family. So while I'm working hard to keep a stiff upper lip that actually curves UP and not down, there are definitely many moments when I wonder what the hegll I'm doing wrong here, and if I'm really qualified to be an adult. I hope it gets easier, because I don't think I can take it getting any harder. Oh. I just remembered. It's the first of the month. My rent is due. Right.
Well, that's all the time I have to spend on feeling sorry for myself today. Check back another time for a cheery, humorous, and uplifting post. I'm about due to have one. Any time now. Really.
Tuesday, April 24
He Thinks He's A Gift
So. (I say this every time because it's my way of pausing to organize my thoughts before you have to start reading them. Considering how they come out, aren't you glad you can't hear what I'm THINKING??)
So we all have that little list of things we're going to buy ourselves someday, right? It might not even be written down-- it might just be this wish list you keep in your head. Which is great, as far as it goes. But lately, I've been getting frustrated grunts from friends and family when things like my birthday or Christmas come near (Can I just tell you that my cat did an unintentional back flip off her favorite chair, and decided that meant it was a good time for a nibble at her food bowl? Nothing like the need to save face!)... err... what was I going off about?
Right. Wish lists.
My mom actually wants to give me something I'd like to get (she's actually been wanting this for a good two years now-- in fact, last Christmas, she got me three of everything, just in case I didn't like two of them. "Now, if you don't like it, this isn't your gift."), and my costar friend has realized that I might tell her one day that I really want the soundtrack to Legally Blond, but that by the following Thursday, it's about 35% likely that I've just gone ahead and gotten it for myself.
See, I have that list in my head like everyone else... it's just that "a solar-powered house" isn't easy to gift wrap. And all the little stuff- well, if I know I want it-- it's because I want it NOW. I've never been good at waiting like that. In fact, I used to pack for trips a good week or two before the family was going to leave, just so the clothes I wanted to bring would still be clean and stuff. And because I just couldn't WAIT that long with the "I want to bring THIS" sticky note yelling inside my head. Yeah. I literally wouldn't be able to sleep until I knew that everything I needed for the trip was ALREADY PACKED.
Luckily, the Army cured me of this. There we'd be, 3am, searching for THE OTHER PAIR OF SOCK CLIPS (these are like mini green bungee cords with metal hooks the size of your baby toenail on each end. You fasten them around the outside of your pants to get that regulation "folded-over" look down by your boots, and to cut off any remaining circulation to your feet. They were basically little elastic belts for your pant leg. The argmy is so weirdly vain!) so my then-husband could be all packed and regulation ready to go by 5am, having gotten the call at midnight that they WERE REALLY GOING at 5am on Friday instead of 3pm on Saturday like they'd promised. And, painful as it was (have I told you that I'm allergic to coffee?), it actually WAS good practice for when my then-husband did have to go to war in Iraq. They just didn't prepare him to find all his little gear-shit at the last minute WITHOUT ME. But that's another story.
Anyway, the point is that today I finally got online and started one of those online wish lists where you provide a link to the EXACT ITEM you want, and anybody who knows your name can go look it up. Yup. Just go visit (shudder) amazon.com and type in my name (my real one, with an i, not y, and two l's and two t's), and you can see the parts of my wish list that I've so far managed to quantify. I've even found the perfect lockable safe so that if my papers are ever threatened by a flood and a house fire at the same time, they'll survive. For an hour.
In the process, I found that it's actually quite difficult for me to quantify what I want. And that often, I'd find something similar to what I want... but not quite right. For instance. Do I wear a size 9, 10, or 11 in women's hiking socks? I have no idea. So I asked for one of each. Because you couldn't just select the socks, or the color of socks, that you wanted. This is not a casual day dream believer's list. This is serious stuff. This is accurate. This is exact. Good lord, did I remember to pack the hairdryer?! I've only got 3 months left to finish packing the list!! And I'm probably not going to get any sleep tonight, either. Sigh.
Well, at least I got the important stuff down. Like The Mummy Returns on DVD, and a new HDTV TV so I can own my own TV for once (because, of course, the one I am currently borrowing works perfectly fine, and therefore must be replaced), and a set of really REALLY useful metal shelves on casters so I can rearrange my own furniture. Yup. The important stuff.
Ya know, hard as I looked, I couldn't find an entry for world peace, and there wasn't one for clean air to breath, or unpolluted and unchlorinated water to drink... I'm too impatient to wait for someone else to buy me organic vegetables, so those didn't go on the list-- I get them every Saturday at my local Farmer's Market. But, man, the water sure would have been nice to add to the list. My cat pukes every time I forget to give her bottled water, and use the stuff from my kitchen tap. Yes. You heard me. My cat drinks bottled water. And, after discovering the REASON for all the puking (and falling in total love with the Green Machine I bought for the duration), I now drink bottled water, too. You can refill your old water jug for less than the price of a stamp down at the local grocer.
And that's another thing! Did you know the price of stamps is going up? AGAIN??
Another two cents. Mid May. The man in the iron mask told me the last time I went to visit him through the metal bars and ask for postage. If you thought 39 cents was odd, wait 'till you see 41 cents! Who's going to have change to get one of THOSE out of a vending machine?!
...Actually, he told the guy ahead of me in line, and then when it was my turn, I asked for some two cent stamps, since the price of postage was going up. The mail man behind the iron bars was so relieved to NOT have to tell me about it that he actually smiled. While inside his little "I might go postal, so don't ask why the bars are here" cage. Smiled. Wow. Maybe they could make it an even 50 cents, and make all the extra go to the public school system and the public libraries and other social services. That'd be nice. Maybe pigs fly. They make their own beds, you know. Honest. The pigs, that is. I wouldn't bet on the postal workers.
And what have I learned from all this? Well, just now I learned that "wishlist" is two words. That's important. I also learned that the most important things aren't always easy to find. They have to be created by the cooperative efforts of a whole lot of people. So they aren't easy to quantify, either. I also learned that I could probably add to the "I want that" list for a very very long time. It makes me feel all materialistic and selfish. It also made me realize that I no longer own a sleeping bag. Hmm. And come to think of it... I haven't felt the lack, either. I wonder what else around here I could go around NOT LACKING for the next few years...
So why, you ask, does he think he's a gift? Well... if you've ever met that guy who thinks you really should fall in love with him and be happy to go make out in the back of his car-- just by looking at him-- then you've met that guy who thinks he's a gift. What does this have to do with the post? Absolutely nothing. Thank goodness.
I tell you, I am SO not ready to date yet!
(But don't worry folks-- I'm happy, hearty, and whole. All I need in my life... is more bookshelves. And maybe a DVD of The Mummy Returns. I went out and ordered the soundtrack for Legally Blonde yesterday. It was part of my new years resolution, so I sorta felt justified on that one. After all. I've waited four months.)
So we all have that little list of things we're going to buy ourselves someday, right? It might not even be written down-- it might just be this wish list you keep in your head. Which is great, as far as it goes. But lately, I've been getting frustrated grunts from friends and family when things like my birthday or Christmas come near (Can I just tell you that my cat did an unintentional back flip off her favorite chair, and decided that meant it was a good time for a nibble at her food bowl? Nothing like the need to save face!)... err... what was I going off about?
Right. Wish lists.
My mom actually wants to give me something I'd like to get (she's actually been wanting this for a good two years now-- in fact, last Christmas, she got me three of everything, just in case I didn't like two of them. "Now, if you don't like it, this isn't your gift."), and my costar friend has realized that I might tell her one day that I really want the soundtrack to Legally Blond, but that by the following Thursday, it's about 35% likely that I've just gone ahead and gotten it for myself.
See, I have that list in my head like everyone else... it's just that "a solar-powered house" isn't easy to gift wrap. And all the little stuff- well, if I know I want it-- it's because I want it NOW. I've never been good at waiting like that. In fact, I used to pack for trips a good week or two before the family was going to leave, just so the clothes I wanted to bring would still be clean and stuff. And because I just couldn't WAIT that long with the "I want to bring THIS" sticky note yelling inside my head. Yeah. I literally wouldn't be able to sleep until I knew that everything I needed for the trip was ALREADY PACKED.
Luckily, the Army cured me of this. There we'd be, 3am, searching for THE OTHER PAIR OF SOCK CLIPS (these are like mini green bungee cords with metal hooks the size of your baby toenail on each end. You fasten them around the outside of your pants to get that regulation "folded-over" look down by your boots, and to cut off any remaining circulation to your feet. They were basically little elastic belts for your pant leg. The argmy is so weirdly vain!) so my then-husband could be all packed and regulation ready to go by 5am, having gotten the call at midnight that they WERE REALLY GOING at 5am on Friday instead of 3pm on Saturday like they'd promised. And, painful as it was (have I told you that I'm allergic to coffee?), it actually WAS good practice for when my then-husband did have to go to war in Iraq. They just didn't prepare him to find all his little gear-shit at the last minute WITHOUT ME. But that's another story.
Anyway, the point is that today I finally got online and started one of those online wish lists where you provide a link to the EXACT ITEM you want, and anybody who knows your name can go look it up. Yup. Just go visit (shudder) amazon.com and type in my name (my real one, with an i, not y, and two l's and two t's), and you can see the parts of my wish list that I've so far managed to quantify. I've even found the perfect lockable safe so that if my papers are ever threatened by a flood and a house fire at the same time, they'll survive. For an hour.
In the process, I found that it's actually quite difficult for me to quantify what I want. And that often, I'd find something similar to what I want... but not quite right. For instance. Do I wear a size 9, 10, or 11 in women's hiking socks? I have no idea. So I asked for one of each. Because you couldn't just select the socks, or the color of socks, that you wanted. This is not a casual day dream believer's list. This is serious stuff. This is accurate. This is exact. Good lord, did I remember to pack the hairdryer?! I've only got 3 months left to finish packing the list!! And I'm probably not going to get any sleep tonight, either. Sigh.
Well, at least I got the important stuff down. Like The Mummy Returns on DVD, and a new HDTV TV so I can own my own TV for once (because, of course, the one I am currently borrowing works perfectly fine, and therefore must be replaced), and a set of really REALLY useful metal shelves on casters so I can rearrange my own furniture. Yup. The important stuff.
Ya know, hard as I looked, I couldn't find an entry for world peace, and there wasn't one for clean air to breath, or unpolluted and unchlorinated water to drink... I'm too impatient to wait for someone else to buy me organic vegetables, so those didn't go on the list-- I get them every Saturday at my local Farmer's Market. But, man, the water sure would have been nice to add to the list. My cat pukes every time I forget to give her bottled water, and use the stuff from my kitchen tap. Yes. You heard me. My cat drinks bottled water. And, after discovering the REASON for all the puking (and falling in total love with the Green Machine I bought for the duration), I now drink bottled water, too. You can refill your old water jug for less than the price of a stamp down at the local grocer.
And that's another thing! Did you know the price of stamps is going up? AGAIN??
Another two cents. Mid May. The man in the iron mask told me the last time I went to visit him through the metal bars and ask for postage. If you thought 39 cents was odd, wait 'till you see 41 cents! Who's going to have change to get one of THOSE out of a vending machine?!
...Actually, he told the guy ahead of me in line, and then when it was my turn, I asked for some two cent stamps, since the price of postage was going up. The mail man behind the iron bars was so relieved to NOT have to tell me about it that he actually smiled. While inside his little "I might go postal, so don't ask why the bars are here" cage. Smiled. Wow. Maybe they could make it an even 50 cents, and make all the extra go to the public school system and the public libraries and other social services. That'd be nice. Maybe pigs fly. They make their own beds, you know. Honest. The pigs, that is. I wouldn't bet on the postal workers.
And what have I learned from all this? Well, just now I learned that "wishlist" is two words. That's important. I also learned that the most important things aren't always easy to find. They have to be created by the cooperative efforts of a whole lot of people. So they aren't easy to quantify, either. I also learned that I could probably add to the "I want that" list for a very very long time. It makes me feel all materialistic and selfish. It also made me realize that I no longer own a sleeping bag. Hmm. And come to think of it... I haven't felt the lack, either. I wonder what else around here I could go around NOT LACKING for the next few years...
So why, you ask, does he think he's a gift? Well... if you've ever met that guy who thinks you really should fall in love with him and be happy to go make out in the back of his car-- just by looking at him-- then you've met that guy who thinks he's a gift. What does this have to do with the post? Absolutely nothing. Thank goodness.
I tell you, I am SO not ready to date yet!
(But don't worry folks-- I'm happy, hearty, and whole. All I need in my life... is more bookshelves. And maybe a DVD of The Mummy Returns. I went out and ordered the soundtrack for Legally Blonde yesterday. It was part of my new years resolution, so I sorta felt justified on that one. After all. I've waited four months.)
Sunday, February 25
Catina Rug
The intrepid explorer strikes again!
This tapestry quilt hasn't been sewn together yet, hence the pins and lack of quilting lines. I call it Elemental. The four little gold squares are actually candles, and will have hand-sewn "flames" above them. As soon as I go shopping for thread. And more bobbins. It's amazing how many bobbins a self-respecting machine quilter needs to keep on hand! Did you know they even make different SIZES of bobbins? Yeah. So you have to be careful when you buy more. Most machines I've come across only take one size of bobbin. But WHICH ONE??
I'm really loving this tapestry quilt... It's going to be hard to part with. I've got a pretty good average going, though. I've only kept the very first one (also not finished yet), called FairyTails, and given (or will give once complete) the next three away-- and I have one that will be for sale once I finish it. This one is called Light Sources. It'll be going up for sale soon. Yes, you can still see pins on this one, too.
Abbigale, the intrepid explorer, has returned successfully from her mission, just in time to help me type this. Her chin has taken up residence just above the space bar.
...Due to unforeseen demands, the rest of this blog will have to be postponed indefinitely, or at least until after I pet the cat.
Friday, February 9
How To:
How to have a really quality pity party...
Step 1) Don't invite anyone. Not only do you not want witnesses, but you also don't want the possibility of having someone cheer you up. That is NOT the point of a pity party. Unplug your phone, too. There's nothing like being interrupted by Mom in the middle of a really good pout.
Step 2) Pick a good day for your party-- like Mother's Day if you don't have kids, or Earth Day if you live in a big stinky city... I picked early February because I'm single, not currently dating anyone, and those damn pink-and-red displays are EVERY-FUGGING-WHERE!!
Step 3) Stop at the store on your way home from work on the day of the party. If you've had a really shittastrophic day at work, and are coming home later than usual, so much the better. While at the store, assume an expression that says, "If you bother me, I will hurt you, and then I will cry." Try to look as wan as possible while wandering aimlessly through the store. It helps if you forget to grab a cart, too. Grab whatever you think will make you feel better, and don't forget the magazine aisle, the jewelry counter, the fuzzy PJ's, the freezer section, the candy aisles, the wine and beer section, the specialty cheeses, something really garlicky, and the food. Allow yourself to feel even more depressed by the gargantuan bill at the cash register-- you just blew half your rent money, isn't that great!
Step 4) Make sure you haven't gotten enough sleep for several nights in a row. This adds to the drama and anxiety necessary for a truly successful pity party. Personally, I just worked a ten hour day (plus an hour's drive time on each end), I smell and feel like melon-orange baby poo-- there may even be some on my socks, and I haven't slept more than five or six hours a night for about two weeks now, courtesy of my delightful little kitty cat, who thinks 4am is WAY too late for anyone to be in bed-- especially when they could be petting her! (And she has been ignoring my usual methods of saying "no" between the hours of 2-5am... like throwing shoes and yelling unintelligibly.)
Step 5) When you get home, put on a sexy top-- preferably with a pithy saying on it, and then pull your hair back in one of those clips that leaves lots of weird strands sticking up at the back of your head, and straggling oily wisps sticking to your forehead. That way, when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you can feel both depressed that you can look that good and still not be getting any and, conversely, be depressed at how un-sexy you look even when you 'try.' Remember, you still smell like baby poo anyway. (My sexy tank top says "ALLRIGHTYTHEN" on it, and has lace straps.)
Step 6) Finally, put the most corny romance movie you can get your hands on in your DVD player, and crank up the volume. Maybe, if you're lucky, your cute young neighbors will be so annoyed by this that they will actually knock on your door to ask you to turn down that DRIVEL... and will thus get to see (and smell) you in all your self-pitying glory, and start to giggle uncontrollably. Wouldn't that just make your day complete?!
Any Questions?
STOP BOTHERING ME!! Just stand still for a minute while I cock my fist... and grab a kleenex... sniff....sniff... You ASSOLE! Who invited you, anyway?! (Thanks, I actually feel much better now.)
Step 1) Don't invite anyone. Not only do you not want witnesses, but you also don't want the possibility of having someone cheer you up. That is NOT the point of a pity party. Unplug your phone, too. There's nothing like being interrupted by Mom in the middle of a really good pout.
Step 2) Pick a good day for your party-- like Mother's Day if you don't have kids, or Earth Day if you live in a big stinky city... I picked early February because I'm single, not currently dating anyone, and those damn pink-and-red displays are EVERY-FUGGING-WHERE!!
Step 3) Stop at the store on your way home from work on the day of the party. If you've had a really shittastrophic day at work, and are coming home later than usual, so much the better. While at the store, assume an expression that says, "If you bother me, I will hurt you, and then I will cry." Try to look as wan as possible while wandering aimlessly through the store. It helps if you forget to grab a cart, too. Grab whatever you think will make you feel better, and don't forget the magazine aisle, the jewelry counter, the fuzzy PJ's, the freezer section, the candy aisles, the wine and beer section, the specialty cheeses, something really garlicky, and the food. Allow yourself to feel even more depressed by the gargantuan bill at the cash register-- you just blew half your rent money, isn't that great!
Step 4) Make sure you haven't gotten enough sleep for several nights in a row. This adds to the drama and anxiety necessary for a truly successful pity party. Personally, I just worked a ten hour day (plus an hour's drive time on each end), I smell and feel like melon-orange baby poo-- there may even be some on my socks, and I haven't slept more than five or six hours a night for about two weeks now, courtesy of my delightful little kitty cat, who thinks 4am is WAY too late for anyone to be in bed-- especially when they could be petting her! (And she has been ignoring my usual methods of saying "no" between the hours of 2-5am... like throwing shoes and yelling unintelligibly.)
Step 5) When you get home, put on a sexy top-- preferably with a pithy saying on it, and then pull your hair back in one of those clips that leaves lots of weird strands sticking up at the back of your head, and straggling oily wisps sticking to your forehead. That way, when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you can feel both depressed that you can look that good and still not be getting any and, conversely, be depressed at how un-sexy you look even when you 'try.' Remember, you still smell like baby poo anyway. (My sexy tank top says "ALLRIGHTYTHEN" on it, and has lace straps.)
Step 6) Finally, put the most corny romance movie you can get your hands on in your DVD player, and crank up the volume. Maybe, if you're lucky, your cute young neighbors will be so annoyed by this that they will actually knock on your door to ask you to turn down that DRIVEL... and will thus get to see (and smell) you in all your self-pitying glory, and start to giggle uncontrollably. Wouldn't that just make your day complete?!
Any Questions?
STOP BOTHERING ME!! Just stand still for a minute while I cock my fist... and grab a kleenex... sniff....sniff... You ASSOLE! Who invited you, anyway?! (Thanks, I actually feel much better now.)
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