Holy Tamoly, what does that cat EAT?! And SHIGHT I hope she burries it well now that she's done digesting it. That REEKS. Like-- tears to my eyes-- REEKS!!!
Excuse me-- that wasn't how I intended to start this post. It's just a sudden distraction on the road of life here. A sudden smelly kitty distraction that I must now take a few moments to mercifully dispose of. Mercifully for my NOSE.
Well, now. Moving right along.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! It has been an interesting year. Full of self-reflection, self-promotion, and self-denial. I moved (twice), I got snowed in (twice), I integrated myself into someone else's household (twice)... I sense a theme.
I've held workshops, had booths at faires and retreats and festivals, gotten published here and there, and created a loyal client base. I've applied for jobs, I've narrowed my activities, I've tried unsuccessfully to sell my (perfectly great) car and reduce my overall mandatory expenditures. I've been to a lot more friendly get-togethers and outright parties than in the past five years combined. I've enjoyed myself more at each of them than at the most lavish and well-organized military gathering I ever attended.
I've gotten serious about writing my book, too. It's time.
I spent the new year with a new friend. Even had a (friendly) kiss at midnight from someone I respect. Stayed out until nearly 3am. When was the last time THAT happened?! Lots of good conversations, lots of opportunities to grow my network and finally feel that I belong here in town. Reconnected with old friends this year, too, and that felt good in its own way. Old friends are important.
As with each of the past few years, I feel that I've grown and changed SO MUCH over what is really a brief span of time. I've learned so much about who I am, what I'm capable of, and what values/opportunities/realities/activities/ beliefs I really care to pursue or maintain in my life. It's been highly rewarding, and very draining.
More recently, as in last night and continuing through this very moment, the term "draining" refers to what we'd like the basement to do. It's flooded. Check that. It's FLOODING in a seeping run-down-the-walls kind of way. My housemate and I took turns going down to wet-vac the puddle every hour or so all night, to minimize the spread of wet. Thing is, between all that snow and the last two days of heavy rain, there just isn't anyplace in the ground for all that water to GO. After staying up late the morning before, staying up to help until after midnight last night, getting up for my turns at 2am and again at 4am, and getting up this morning to start all over again... I'm tired. You might even say, "drained."
And yet my level of worry/stress has gone down dramatically in the last week. That's good. Nobody wants a heart attack at age 30. I guess I'm really hopeful that the new year, new administration, and new possibilities in my own life will bear fruit that is both sustaining and sustainable. That would be a real gift for all of us. May the new year be full of positive changes, and good luck for all. We need it.
Showing posts with label Snow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Snow. Show all posts
Friday, January 2
Tuesday, December 30
Crashing Into Life
Well, I feel loved. Best thing to feel at this particular time of year, and I feel it. As a good old friend of my family would say, "Shight-Howdy, it's enough to make your big toes wiggle!"
And then we'd all laugh, and she'd look at us and say, "Haven't y'all heard that expression before??" As if WE are the weirdos. This year, my immediate family (me and the 'rents) decided to do JUST STOCKINGS, and look at our traditions to figure out which ones are actually special so we can pay more attention when we do them. And it was really one of the best Christmases we've had-- even Papa thought so.
We made Welsh Pasties (HEAVEN IS WAITING IN MY FREEZER!!!), and Ottonian Sour Cream Cookies (They aren't waiting because I already ate them. All of them.), and eggs on toast. I ran into another one of those situations (I run into these a lot) where two different phrases mean the exact same thing, but I didn't know that, and worked really hard to remember the ONE phrase, so when somebody used the OTHER PHRASE, I had no fugging clue what they were talking about. And how silly is that-- because it was the phrase, "fried eggs."
I mean, I've seen it. I always figured I wouldn't like it because I didn't know what it was. Tells you a lot about my relationship to food, doesn't it. My mom didn't cook those, she made me over-hard eggs in a frying pan, and scrambled eggs. But we don't fry ANYTHING in my family, so I KNEW I'd never had "fried eggs." I was actually shocked that my mom would offer me one-- and on Christmas morning, too!! ... And then she gave me that look. That "you've been drinking out of the stupid jar again, haven't you" look. The one that says she thinks I'm intentionally tormenting her by playing dumb, and she is really not happy with me about it.
I guess the good news is she thinks I'm smart enough to know that "fried eggs" are the eggs you cook in a frying pan-- you know, like over-hard eggs, for example. The bad news is, I really didn't know. You have to understand. When I was little, we didn't eat like everybody else, and mom cooked just about everything from scratch. I thought everybody had vegetarian tomato pasta sauce with beans in it. So she knew what I liked, and I knew what she cooked, and if she asked if I wanted eggs, I knew they'd be scrambled. Or she'd let me cut off the whites and just eat those, since I didn't like the yolks. Even when they weren't the consistency of weird yellow-orange mucus.
So then we'd go to a restaurant, and mom would have to translate everything on the menu for me. What sort of eggs are "over easy" eggs? Do I like those? What is French Toast? You mean it's that weird dry bread you coat with egg and then put syrup on? Eww! (FYI, my food repertoire of "likes" has grossly expanded since the time of which I write. I like food now.)
When, as a child, I got tired of trying to figure out egg-cooking-styles and trying to explain to the waitress what I wanted, I finally memorized two easy kinds of egg-cooking-styles that I KNEW I LIKED, and I KNEW THEY COULD COOK. And always since then, if we eat breakfast out, I ask for one of those. Eggs over-hard, or hard-scrambled. Because I'd learned that this is the most easily-understood restaurant term for the kind of eggs my mom cooked for me at home. And that is literally the extent of my egg-preparation-term repertoire. Oh, plus hardboiled. I know those from Easter. Then mom tells me --right there on Christmas morning-- that she's making "boiled eggs" for her and papa.
WTF?! Does she mean HARD boiled?? Is there any OTHER kind of boiled egg? I mean-- parents always yell at their kids for eating cookie dough with UNCOOKED EGGS in it, so... Is this another trick like the "fried eggs" situation?? sigh... I guess I must have ROLLED in stupid-juice without even noticing last night, because apparently I reek of it. Just look at her scrunched up face when I ask for clarification on THAT one!!
See, fancy literature and books about dragons rarely describe cooked eggs in both visual and restaurantees terms enough to picture what is what-- so eggs are not among the information and vocabulary and phrases that I gleaned from said "literature." I may have told my dad as a pre-pubescent teen that "my cup runeth over" when he gave me too much milk once-- and known both the literal and the poetic meanings of the phrase used... but what has THAT got to do with the price of EGGS?!
Ahem-- so anyway, I felt loved this holiday season. And I was able to hi-jack my friend's car with the walnut-studded tires and the cold weather engine starter and the eco-diesel green gas juice and all, and drive IT through the frozen and bumpy wasteland of insane Christmas-Eve highway drivers to my parents' house so I COULD bake cookies and pasties and eggs with them. It was wonderful.
I also got phone calls from several friends to make sure I arrived there safely, or was doing okay with all the insane snow we received. Can you believe we had a WHITE CHRISTMAS on the west coast? When has THAT happened before?! Even weirder than fried eggs, I tell you! And I'm about to head over to check my mail. There may be Christmas Cards I don't know about. It's been almost two weeks since I could get close enough to the post office to park my car and go in.
And then on Sunday, my extended West Coast Family all mustered together and celebrated, and shared "extended family love" with the little kids. It was the start of another great Christmas tradition that we all want to remember for next year, too. Not quite as grand as the ones we used to have back east (50 people, lots of excellent insanity), but still... And that reminds me-- I've got cheese in my backpack, and it really ought to be put in the fridge here soon.
Merry Everything, and many happy returns of it all to you and yours.
Or, as my family probably will say after they read about the eggs,
"Here's egg in your face!" Which I know is a quote, but have NO idea where it came from. And I'm actually okay with that. Really.
And then we'd all laugh, and she'd look at us and say, "Haven't y'all heard that expression before??" As if WE are the weirdos. This year, my immediate family (me and the 'rents) decided to do JUST STOCKINGS, and look at our traditions to figure out which ones are actually special so we can pay more attention when we do them. And it was really one of the best Christmases we've had-- even Papa thought so.
We made Welsh Pasties (HEAVEN IS WAITING IN MY FREEZER!!!), and Ottonian Sour Cream Cookies (They aren't waiting because I already ate them. All of them.), and eggs on toast. I ran into another one of those situations (I run into these a lot) where two different phrases mean the exact same thing, but I didn't know that, and worked really hard to remember the ONE phrase, so when somebody used the OTHER PHRASE, I had no fugging clue what they were talking about. And how silly is that-- because it was the phrase, "fried eggs."
I mean, I've seen it. I always figured I wouldn't like it because I didn't know what it was. Tells you a lot about my relationship to food, doesn't it. My mom didn't cook those, she made me over-hard eggs in a frying pan, and scrambled eggs. But we don't fry ANYTHING in my family, so I KNEW I'd never had "fried eggs." I was actually shocked that my mom would offer me one-- and on Christmas morning, too!! ... And then she gave me that look. That "you've been drinking out of the stupid jar again, haven't you" look. The one that says she thinks I'm intentionally tormenting her by playing dumb, and she is really not happy with me about it.
I guess the good news is she thinks I'm smart enough to know that "fried eggs" are the eggs you cook in a frying pan-- you know, like over-hard eggs, for example. The bad news is, I really didn't know. You have to understand. When I was little, we didn't eat like everybody else, and mom cooked just about everything from scratch. I thought everybody had vegetarian tomato pasta sauce with beans in it. So she knew what I liked, and I knew what she cooked, and if she asked if I wanted eggs, I knew they'd be scrambled. Or she'd let me cut off the whites and just eat those, since I didn't like the yolks. Even when they weren't the consistency of weird yellow-orange mucus.
So then we'd go to a restaurant, and mom would have to translate everything on the menu for me. What sort of eggs are "over easy" eggs? Do I like those? What is French Toast? You mean it's that weird dry bread you coat with egg and then put syrup on? Eww! (FYI, my food repertoire of "likes" has grossly expanded since the time of which I write. I like food now.)
When, as a child, I got tired of trying to figure out egg-cooking-styles and trying to explain to the waitress what I wanted, I finally memorized two easy kinds of egg-cooking-styles that I KNEW I LIKED, and I KNEW THEY COULD COOK. And always since then, if we eat breakfast out, I ask for one of those. Eggs over-hard, or hard-scrambled. Because I'd learned that this is the most easily-understood restaurant term for the kind of eggs my mom cooked for me at home. And that is literally the extent of my egg-preparation-term repertoire. Oh, plus hardboiled. I know those from Easter. Then mom tells me --right there on Christmas morning-- that she's making "boiled eggs" for her and papa.
WTF?! Does she mean HARD boiled?? Is there any OTHER kind of boiled egg? I mean-- parents always yell at their kids for eating cookie dough with UNCOOKED EGGS in it, so... Is this another trick like the "fried eggs" situation?? sigh... I guess I must have ROLLED in stupid-juice without even noticing last night, because apparently I reek of it. Just look at her scrunched up face when I ask for clarification on THAT one!!
See, fancy literature and books about dragons rarely describe cooked eggs in both visual and restaurantees terms enough to picture what is what-- so eggs are not among the information and vocabulary and phrases that I gleaned from said "literature." I may have told my dad as a pre-pubescent teen that "my cup runeth over" when he gave me too much milk once-- and known both the literal and the poetic meanings of the phrase used... but what has THAT got to do with the price of EGGS?!
Ahem-- so anyway, I felt loved this holiday season. And I was able to hi-jack my friend's car with the walnut-studded tires and the cold weather engine starter and the eco-diesel green gas juice and all, and drive IT through the frozen and bumpy wasteland of insane Christmas-Eve highway drivers to my parents' house so I COULD bake cookies and pasties and eggs with them. It was wonderful.
I also got phone calls from several friends to make sure I arrived there safely, or was doing okay with all the insane snow we received. Can you believe we had a WHITE CHRISTMAS on the west coast? When has THAT happened before?! Even weirder than fried eggs, I tell you! And I'm about to head over to check my mail. There may be Christmas Cards I don't know about. It's been almost two weeks since I could get close enough to the post office to park my car and go in.
And then on Sunday, my extended West Coast Family all mustered together and celebrated, and shared "extended family love" with the little kids. It was the start of another great Christmas tradition that we all want to remember for next year, too. Not quite as grand as the ones we used to have back east (50 people, lots of excellent insanity), but still... And that reminds me-- I've got cheese in my backpack, and it really ought to be put in the fridge here soon.
Merry Everything, and many happy returns of it all to you and yours.
Or, as my family probably will say after they read about the eggs,
"Here's egg in your face!" Which I know is a quote, but have NO idea where it came from. And I'm actually okay with that. Really.
Monday, December 15
Snow Daze
Holiday greetings to everyone. I'm so excited that we have SNOW just now!! How often does THAT happen in December?!
Had a great talk with my good friend SLM recently, speaking of snow. We decided that anybody who is not us should not be driving in it. Because we both learned in Michigan winters, with snow and ice and wind, oh my! And therefore, our snow driving skills are superior. Especially when you consider that most of the folks on the road in the West just now learned to drive in California.
I had breakfast with another great friend of mine-- Big D-- this morning. He rode his bike on the icy streets. I drove my light-weight no-traction-anyway little car. We figure the only thing we have in common about transportation right now is that we both get out and walk on the hills.
And, while driving (very slowly) to meet him, I saw a lot of driving that made my teeth hurt. Idiots thinking that because they drive a truck with big-ass wheels, ice does not affect them. People who drove nice and slow and safe while moving, but didn't give themselves enough time to stop the vehicle (and thus went straight through the red light while the rest of us who DID manage to stop safely just watch them slide past). You know you're in the Pacific Northwest when the folks who accidentally slide through an intersection on a red light wave their thanks to the cars on either side for not hitting them. In Chicago, the fugcker flying through on the red just flips everyone else off on his way past.
Anyway, back to the great conversation I had with my friend SLM. We also came up with yet another awesome word to add to my personal vocabulary list: passenjerk. Because we've both had the misfortune to be stuck driving some fool and his opinions around in our cars. In fact, my X used to get more angry at me and be a bigger jerk toward me when we were driving than at most other times (there are exceptions). I think it was because he knew I couldn't escape at those times. Sad but true. If you're going to have a big-angry or difficult discussion? Don't do it while one of you is driving. Please. And make sure your breaks are working well beforehand. Trust me.
In the meantime, I'm really enjoying the wind and the white and the sparkly silence that come with winter weather here. Even the sun is more exciting when it snows beforehand. So, as I've been saying to my clients and friends alike: Happy Everything!!
Had a great talk with my good friend SLM recently, speaking of snow. We decided that anybody who is not us should not be driving in it. Because we both learned in Michigan winters, with snow and ice and wind, oh my! And therefore, our snow driving skills are superior. Especially when you consider that most of the folks on the road in the West just now learned to drive in California.
I had breakfast with another great friend of mine-- Big D-- this morning. He rode his bike on the icy streets. I drove my light-weight no-traction-anyway little car. We figure the only thing we have in common about transportation right now is that we both get out and walk on the hills.
And, while driving (very slowly) to meet him, I saw a lot of driving that made my teeth hurt. Idiots thinking that because they drive a truck with big-ass wheels, ice does not affect them. People who drove nice and slow and safe while moving, but didn't give themselves enough time to stop the vehicle (and thus went straight through the red light while the rest of us who DID manage to stop safely just watch them slide past). You know you're in the Pacific Northwest when the folks who accidentally slide through an intersection on a red light wave their thanks to the cars on either side for not hitting them. In Chicago, the fugcker flying through on the red just flips everyone else off on his way past.
Anyway, back to the great conversation I had with my friend SLM. We also came up with yet another awesome word to add to my personal vocabulary list: passenjerk. Because we've both had the misfortune to be stuck driving some fool and his opinions around in our cars. In fact, my X used to get more angry at me and be a bigger jerk toward me when we were driving than at most other times (there are exceptions). I think it was because he knew I couldn't escape at those times. Sad but true. If you're going to have a big-angry or difficult discussion? Don't do it while one of you is driving. Please. And make sure your breaks are working well beforehand. Trust me.
In the meantime, I'm really enjoying the wind and the white and the sparkly silence that come with winter weather here. Even the sun is more exciting when it snows beforehand. So, as I've been saying to my clients and friends alike: Happy Everything!!
Thursday, May 3
Only in Oregon
My Macintosh Computer is faster, easier to use, more intuitive, better-organized, has fewer bugs, is harder to screw up by mistake, never had a blue screen of death, has cleaner graphics, windows is based off the operating system of a mac, and on and on. I love my mac. Wouldn't trade it for the world, and I am very familiar with IBM computers. Currently, it's also my sound system, my education system, my social system (via the internet), and a piece of art.
And yet, for my schooling, I have had to switch between three THREE browsers in order to be able to access the buttons on the blackboard program over the last three semesters... because I use a Mac. And now? The only browser that currently works can't find its server. At all.
Folks, this is FINALS WEEK. In fact, I have today to write a major final paper, and tomorrow to write the last one of the semester. And I have an all-day class through my local community college on Saturday, visit my folks Sunday, and have my first day at my new internship for library world on Monday. This is a BAD TIME for my browser connection not to work.
(Update: It's not the browser-- it's the TWU server. No server. No TWU access. No library link. No paper. NOOOOOooooo....)
Not only that, but the LJ blog I'm contributing to just went live today-- YAY-- and I can't type in my own blog entries... because I have a Mac. Not the fault of LJ at all-- in fact, they've been working tirelessly to get a patch to this problem because I'm not their only mac-using contributor. And today? I can't even login to the blog tool for LJ. Great. I was going to use that money to finally get new contacts and maybe a long-overdue dental cleaning. I need my teeth.
I'm just getting fed up.
Beyond that-- this week I nannied Tuesday AND Wednesday-- two 10-hour days in a row, with a total of 4 hours of driving between work and home. And know what? Little 6 month old E. is sick with the same head cold that 2-year-old N. gave me last week. I'm not quite over it yet, and starting to wonder about things like "how expensive is ear infection medicine if you don't have health care?"
And N.? He's two. And the tantrums have started. Oh, yes. Let me tell you, he has LUNGS. On Tuesday the one that sticks out in my mind (over all the other ones) is the one where I gave him a special treat of 3 craisins (forbidden after breakfast)-- which he happily mixed into his yogurt (also a special treat-- because he finished his veggies at lunch). Then he ate the three bites of yogurt with craisins in it, and demanded more craisins. No dice. Sorry. Lucky you to get yogurt, though! ...
AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH (with a little whining at the start and end, and a lot of big tears). "Yogurt is a special treat, N. So you can stop whining and enjoy the rest of your yogurt, or you can go have a time out to calm down." He picked time out. PICKED IT OVER YOGURT. So he got to sit in his "time out chair" until he calmed down. Which was a loud process, and took a while. I spent the time cleaning up lunch. With a six-month old, that can take a while, too. N. came back to the table. Where was the yogurt?? Oh- well, you didn't want it anymore, so I put the rest of it in the garbage. That's what happens when you don't want something-- it goes away.
.... AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH..... It was a long day. That was Tuesday.
Wednesday? Yeah. Wednesday, he was really REALLY jealous of "all the attention" his little sister was getting-- the sick 6-month-old. Who just crawled for the first time, getting a black eye in the process, and has really not complained much at all about the nasty head cold she has and only gets held when we feed her a bottle now because of N.'s jealousy issues. And she just deals with it, with a smile for any attention she does get. He spent most of the day trying to act like a baby and taking toys away from E. and taking great joy in telling her NO WHINING, E.! over and over again. She was very confused. She hadn't been whining.
This is John Henry. He's the one who is bigger than the soccer ball. His brother, Scooter, is the one whose butt was the same height as the dining chairs. My hands did eventually get washed, by the way. (I have time to tell you all this and download these great photos because the TWU server is still down. I checked.)
So now I need to get online-- into the TWU online library databases and find myself 15-20 citations of recent Library Literature-- scholarly articles about library stuff, usually written by librarians, and published in library magazines-- that support my project proposal for my local public library-- which proposal was unknowingly dictated by a series of weekly projects about different facets of a professional project proposal over the course of the semester. We couldn't rewrite one of the facets for the proposal we've now decided on-- no. We had to pick five of the existing short papers we already wrote (out of about twelve), and explain why each was relevant to the project we were doing. So I'm not doing the project I'd like to do today-- one that would be easy to find Library Lit about. No. I'm doing the only topic I actually wrote a full five short papers about (or almost about).
And I can't access the online TWU library databases because the only internet access thingy that currently works with TWU's system (yeah- they don't tell you when they switch which program they are supporting, either-- that was a fun two weeks earlier this semester!-- HELP MY BUTTONS ARE DISAPPEARING... what? Use Safari? Last semester you told me to throw Safari out because you only supported Firefox for mac-users. The semester before that, all I could use was IE. You're sure? And you say it's ALWAYS been Safari?...right...) CAN'T FIND ITS SERVER.
...sigh...
Well, I feel better. There is something about just COMPLAINING without having someone try to tell you how to fix your problem that really helps it be a problem you can go back and deal with for a bit longer. I mean, really. Just getting acknowledgment that the situation sux-- it DOES suck. But that doesn't mean I don't know how to make it work anyway. And with that in mind, I'm going back online (safari doesn't support google, so I can't enter my blogs in that program...) to see if Safari is back on line yet. So I can finish my paper. So I can pass the class. And start writing the next paper.
Did I tell you about driving home from work last night? (a much happier topic than my final papers, so let's ruminate here for a bit) It was classic Oregon weather. I mean-- yeah, the Northwest is known for it's Rain etc... but each State (I've lived in them all, including some quality time in the State of Insanity) has its own flavor. And you dress a little differently for each one. In California, you bring a sweater just in case it gets cold, or if you are in a really air conditioned building. In Washington, you have an umbrella, and you bring your close-toed shoes to cross the parking lot to your car after work.
But in Oregon... so there I was, driving home from 10 hours of screaming high maintenance with about five different colors of body fluid and baby food on my shirt... The sun was out, but the wind was up. I got blown around on the road a bit. Then it started to rain. Then I had to switch the wipers to DOUBLE-HEAVY-DUTY so I could sorta see the tail lights of the car in front of me through the groundswell and the rain. Then the sun came out, and there was a gorgeous double rainbow. Which I took pictures of through my windshield. As I drove, the end of the rainbow came to rest on the hood of my car. It was magickal. Then it started hailing. Not quite the size of marbles. The sound inside my car was deafening. There in rush-hour traffic on a main highway... and the rain mixed in with the hail, and some of it hit the windshield more like snow... and then it was the HEAVY RAIN again, and then the sun came out for a while longer. After that, it was mostly wind and drizzle. Wow. I felt like I'd gone through a thorough cleansing and rebirth. The whole thing was beautiful. Happy May! And really... what good would an umbrella have done in THAT?
So, yeah. In Oregon, you layer. This is what we do every day, because who KNOWS what the weather will bring. A t-shirt in case it warms up or your car sits in the sun all day and gets HOT. A sweatshirt because it's going to be cold in the morning and cold once the sun goes back down, and cold if some fool has switched on the A/C already this year in some of the buildings. You bring a change of socks because it doesn't matter what kind of shoes you are wearing, your feet will get soaked. You bring an umbrella if you are trying to preserve makeup and a delicate hair-do. You bring a gortex raincoat if you're a real Oregonian, and you forget to put the hood up unless it's REALLY RAINING. Those zip-off pants were made for Oregonians. They save us having to find a bush to change our pants behind when it gets HOT, or COLD-- as it does frequently throughout the day here, most of the time. Of course, if you go that way, you might have to shave off that warm winter layer of leg hair... at least below the knee...
Have I ever told you about the two weeks my senior year of high school-- and all the things that kept us going home early and getting days off? Two weeks-- I kid you not-- we got out of school for high winds, flooding, snow, someone set fire to the school- twice- AND there were a couple of days where temperatures hit 80* in those weeks, too. Only in Oregon.
Okay. Time to stop procrastinating and go write papers and things. Maybe my new Legally Blonde CD will help... Nothing like a little Girl Power to get your mojo going. Especially when what I really want is a nice nap to the sound of the rain... or in the warm sun from my window... or most probably- both. Photos of said double rainbow through windshield will be forthcoming. Not sure how the ones I tried to take of the hail turned out, though...
By the way, my mystery plant-- the one from this winter that Abbigale didn't manage to eat before I transplanted it outside (in the middle of winter)-- it is definitely a sweet pea vine. The evidence was delicious.
And yet, for my schooling, I have had to switch between three THREE browsers in order to be able to access the buttons on the blackboard program over the last three semesters... because I use a Mac. And now? The only browser that currently works can't find its server. At all.
Folks, this is FINALS WEEK. In fact, I have today to write a major final paper, and tomorrow to write the last one of the semester. And I have an all-day class through my local community college on Saturday, visit my folks Sunday, and have my first day at my new internship for library world on Monday. This is a BAD TIME for my browser connection not to work.
(Update: It's not the browser-- it's the TWU server. No server. No TWU access. No library link. No paper. NOOOOOooooo....)
Not only that, but the LJ blog I'm contributing to just went live today-- YAY-- and I can't type in my own blog entries... because I have a Mac. Not the fault of LJ at all-- in fact, they've been working tirelessly to get a patch to this problem because I'm not their only mac-using contributor. And today? I can't even login to the blog tool for LJ. Great. I was going to use that money to finally get new contacts and maybe a long-overdue dental cleaning. I need my teeth.
I'm just getting fed up.
Beyond that-- this week I nannied Tuesday AND Wednesday-- two 10-hour days in a row, with a total of 4 hours of driving between work and home. And know what? Little 6 month old E. is sick with the same head cold that 2-year-old N. gave me last week. I'm not quite over it yet, and starting to wonder about things like "how expensive is ear infection medicine if you don't have health care?"
And N.? He's two. And the tantrums have started. Oh, yes. Let me tell you, he has LUNGS. On Tuesday the one that sticks out in my mind (over all the other ones) is the one where I gave him a special treat of 3 craisins (forbidden after breakfast)-- which he happily mixed into his yogurt (also a special treat-- because he finished his veggies at lunch). Then he ate the three bites of yogurt with craisins in it, and demanded more craisins. No dice. Sorry. Lucky you to get yogurt, though! ...
AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH (with a little whining at the start and end, and a lot of big tears). "Yogurt is a special treat, N. So you can stop whining and enjoy the rest of your yogurt, or you can go have a time out to calm down." He picked time out. PICKED IT OVER YOGURT. So he got to sit in his "time out chair" until he calmed down. Which was a loud process, and took a while. I spent the time cleaning up lunch. With a six-month old, that can take a while, too. N. came back to the table. Where was the yogurt?? Oh- well, you didn't want it anymore, so I put the rest of it in the garbage. That's what happens when you don't want something-- it goes away.
.... AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH..... It was a long day. That was Tuesday.
Wednesday? Yeah. Wednesday, he was really REALLY jealous of "all the attention" his little sister was getting-- the sick 6-month-old. Who just crawled for the first time, getting a black eye in the process, and has really not complained much at all about the nasty head cold she has and only gets held when we feed her a bottle now because of N.'s jealousy issues. And she just deals with it, with a smile for any attention she does get. He spent most of the day trying to act like a baby and taking toys away from E. and taking great joy in telling her NO WHINING, E.! over and over again. She was very confused. She hadn't been whining.
Luckily, this was also Wednesday. I love cats.
This is John Henry. He's the one who is bigger than the soccer ball. His brother, Scooter, is the one whose butt was the same height as the dining chairs. My hands did eventually get washed, by the way. (I have time to tell you all this and download these great photos because the TWU server is still down. I checked.)
And I can't access the online TWU library databases because the only internet access thingy that currently works with TWU's system (yeah- they don't tell you when they switch which program they are supporting, either-- that was a fun two weeks earlier this semester!-- HELP MY BUTTONS ARE DISAPPEARING... what? Use Safari? Last semester you told me to throw Safari out because you only supported Firefox for mac-users. The semester before that, all I could use was IE. You're sure? And you say it's ALWAYS been Safari?...right...) CAN'T FIND ITS SERVER.
...sigh...
Well, I feel better. There is something about just COMPLAINING without having someone try to tell you how to fix your problem that really helps it be a problem you can go back and deal with for a bit longer. I mean, really. Just getting acknowledgment that the situation sux-- it DOES suck. But that doesn't mean I don't know how to make it work anyway. And with that in mind, I'm going back online (safari doesn't support google, so I can't enter my blogs in that program...) to see if Safari is back on line yet. So I can finish my paper. So I can pass the class. And start writing the next paper.
Did I tell you about driving home from work last night? (a much happier topic than my final papers, so let's ruminate here for a bit) It was classic Oregon weather. I mean-- yeah, the Northwest is known for it's Rain etc... but each State (I've lived in them all, including some quality time in the State of Insanity) has its own flavor. And you dress a little differently for each one. In California, you bring a sweater just in case it gets cold, or if you are in a really air conditioned building. In Washington, you have an umbrella, and you bring your close-toed shoes to cross the parking lot to your car after work.
But in Oregon... so there I was, driving home from 10 hours of screaming high maintenance with about five different colors of body fluid and baby food on my shirt... The sun was out, but the wind was up. I got blown around on the road a bit. Then it started to rain. Then I had to switch the wipers to DOUBLE-HEAVY-DUTY so I could sorta see the tail lights of the car in front of me through the groundswell and the rain. Then the sun came out, and there was a gorgeous double rainbow. Which I took pictures of through my windshield. As I drove, the end of the rainbow came to rest on the hood of my car. It was magickal. Then it started hailing. Not quite the size of marbles. The sound inside my car was deafening. There in rush-hour traffic on a main highway... and the rain mixed in with the hail, and some of it hit the windshield more like snow... and then it was the HEAVY RAIN again, and then the sun came out for a while longer. After that, it was mostly wind and drizzle. Wow. I felt like I'd gone through a thorough cleansing and rebirth. The whole thing was beautiful. Happy May! And really... what good would an umbrella have done in THAT?
So, yeah. In Oregon, you layer. This is what we do every day, because who KNOWS what the weather will bring. A t-shirt in case it warms up or your car sits in the sun all day and gets HOT. A sweatshirt because it's going to be cold in the morning and cold once the sun goes back down, and cold if some fool has switched on the A/C already this year in some of the buildings. You bring a change of socks because it doesn't matter what kind of shoes you are wearing, your feet will get soaked. You bring an umbrella if you are trying to preserve makeup and a delicate hair-do. You bring a gortex raincoat if you're a real Oregonian, and you forget to put the hood up unless it's REALLY RAINING. Those zip-off pants were made for Oregonians. They save us having to find a bush to change our pants behind when it gets HOT, or COLD-- as it does frequently throughout the day here, most of the time. Of course, if you go that way, you might have to shave off that warm winter layer of leg hair... at least below the knee...
Have I ever told you about the two weeks my senior year of high school-- and all the things that kept us going home early and getting days off? Two weeks-- I kid you not-- we got out of school for high winds, flooding, snow, someone set fire to the school- twice- AND there were a couple of days where temperatures hit 80* in those weeks, too. Only in Oregon.
Okay. Time to stop procrastinating and go write papers and things. Maybe my new Legally Blonde CD will help... Nothing like a little Girl Power to get your mojo going. Especially when what I really want is a nice nap to the sound of the rain... or in the warm sun from my window... or most probably- both. Photos of said double rainbow through windshield will be forthcoming. Not sure how the ones I tried to take of the hail turned out, though...
Here's the double rainbow-- the "shadow" one is to the left of the primary. They are both amazing works of art. No, the TWU website is not up yet. So I'm playing with pictures. I might even get a shower in today if this keeps up! Wow.
The other half of the rainbow, on the way past.
Self-entertainment, thy name is "Librarian."
By the way, my mystery plant-- the one from this winter that Abbigale didn't manage to eat before I transplanted it outside (in the middle of winter)-- it is definitely a sweet pea vine. The evidence was delicious.
Thursday, February 1
Mysckeallahnieausse
Okay. It's time. If I don't blog soon, I might forget how. And, as we all know, the only two serious topics in this life are blogs, and folksongs. ...well... and humongous giant clams... Seriously. They were a threat to America at one time. But for the life of me-- I have no idea what to write about. If you make a suggestion before I post this, I might just take you up on it.
think think think
Well... maybe I'll tell you about the driftwood I meant to write about a while back, but ended up talking about how sweet and loving and good I am instead. That sounds promising. There's more to say about it now, anyway. As of 7:45pm, that is. When the fire on my back patio finally went out. Some serious, some ridiculous, some suspicious. About what I usually write. Okay. I'll DO it! (Too late for YOU! You'll just have to make a suggestion some other time, possibly sailing around for hours until you find a harbor. Inconceivable, you say? I do not think him is what you think him is. And I am NO left handed! It's true. Ask Arlo Guthrie.)
Driftwood. I've never partaken of a fire on the beach. Even though I lived on the beach for seven years (well, two blocks back, where the mortgage was cheaper). Even though my high school senior skip day was spent (by everyone but me and a few other loos-- err... individuals) on the beach with driftwood fires and a couple of unexplained kegs. Even though my dad has always kept on hand a ridiculous amount of perfectly-sized firewood. Just in case. Even though I eventually married an Eagle Scout (famous last words: "Don't worry! I'm an Eagle Scout." As if that somehow means you know how to take on an angry 700 lb black bear and her two cubs-- who are standing between us and our only water supply... in the middle of Bear Island... in Alaska... in dirty underwear and a pair of Army Boots... with a rusty pop can full of change in one hand to use as a rattle. But that is a story for another time.) who really REALLY thought having sex on the beach, by firelight, in the middle of winter--or any other time we happened to be on the beach-- with no blanket under us, and the tide coming in... would be "romantic." (It didn't happen. The word that came to my mind was "riiiiight.") Even though I have often walked by the charred remains of driftwood fires along the beach, smelled the last bit of smoke drifting up from it... and known it was a magical scent. I have never actually experienced a driftwood fire. Until today.
You see, way back when I drove over the mountains and through the snow to the beach... I brought about six inches of sand (intentionally, no less) and a whole bunch of baby bits of driftwood home with me. I spent two weeks drying that wood in front of a heating vent in my living room. (My cat thought I was crazy. She thinks that a lot. That's why she's not allowed to leave the house anymore. She might tell someone about what goes on in here.) I carefully put the sand into the metal container I'd found so nothing would overheat, melt, or burn down. I bought baby charcoal to help the driftwood catch fire. And then I spent 45 minutes in 29* weather getting smoked out as I hunched beside my little tiny pile of three pieces of driftwood and some kleenex (I don't get a newspaper)... as they all turned into a sad pile of smoking coals, and never bothered to flame at all, (except for the kleenex, which obviously has more chemicals in it than I'd realized, at least one of which is a fire retardant... though there was that one time with the kleenex and the flaming pizza box...) even though I hyperventilated because I blew on them there sad smoking coals for 15 of those 45 minutes-- straight.
sigh
The original plan was to have a driftwood fire on my back patio during my Open House. THAT would have been somewhat romantic and all together cool. This was the dry run. But, no. So I went to the store. One of those stores that actually does have a little of everything. Want diapers? They have that. Want depends? They have that, too. Want foot powder? Okay, but it's an off-brand. Want ice cream? Yup. 3 flavors. Found the "outdoors" section. (Right there next to the big "Get Your Fishing License Here-- So you don't get arrested for telling me about the one that got away!" sign.) There in the middle of the "outdoors" section, they had magical non-smoking wood chips that are guaranteed --in two different languages-- to start your fire. That's a quote, by the way. I laughed all the way to the cash register. I never did find a list of ingredients on the package, but I honestly don't want to know, anyway. Because then I might feel guilty for using them. The good news is they actually did light my fire. My fire is LIT!
I actually got to watch (very closely, with a bucket of water at my feet, because this was my patio, after all, and no where near the beach, even though it was technically taking place on six inches of honest-to-god beach sand... and... you know... something might happen...) as three other miniature pieces of driftwood from my collection burst into FLAME and became a real HONEST TO GOSH DRIFTWOOD FIRE for a whole 30 minutes!!! It was definitely a highlight in my life.
So... if you ever wanna light MY fire... wear eau-de-driftwood-smoke behind your knees. Ahem-- ears. I meant ears.
Okay, and for those of you who haven't started laughing yet... The title of this blob is pronounced "miscellaneous." I tried to spell giant with a J. I accidentally put a silent B on the end of "clambs." And I refrained from saying, "Dagm you, Salazar!!" at least twice. Yes. It's a quote from the "Charlie's Angels" movie with Lucy Liu in it. Your Welcome.
think think think
Well... maybe I'll tell you about the driftwood I meant to write about a while back, but ended up talking about how sweet and loving and good I am instead. That sounds promising. There's more to say about it now, anyway. As of 7:45pm, that is. When the fire on my back patio finally went out. Some serious, some ridiculous, some suspicious. About what I usually write. Okay. I'll DO it! (Too late for YOU! You'll just have to make a suggestion some other time, possibly sailing around for hours until you find a harbor. Inconceivable, you say? I do not think him is what you think him is. And I am NO left handed! It's true. Ask Arlo Guthrie.)
Driftwood. I've never partaken of a fire on the beach. Even though I lived on the beach for seven years (well, two blocks back, where the mortgage was cheaper). Even though my high school senior skip day was spent (by everyone but me and a few other loos-- err... individuals) on the beach with driftwood fires and a couple of unexplained kegs. Even though my dad has always kept on hand a ridiculous amount of perfectly-sized firewood. Just in case. Even though I eventually married an Eagle Scout (famous last words: "Don't worry! I'm an Eagle Scout." As if that somehow means you know how to take on an angry 700 lb black bear and her two cubs-- who are standing between us and our only water supply... in the middle of Bear Island... in Alaska... in dirty underwear and a pair of Army Boots... with a rusty pop can full of change in one hand to use as a rattle. But that is a story for another time.) who really REALLY thought having sex on the beach, by firelight, in the middle of winter--or any other time we happened to be on the beach-- with no blanket under us, and the tide coming in... would be "romantic." (It didn't happen. The word that came to my mind was "riiiiight.") Even though I have often walked by the charred remains of driftwood fires along the beach, smelled the last bit of smoke drifting up from it... and known it was a magical scent. I have never actually experienced a driftwood fire. Until today.
You see, way back when I drove over the mountains and through the snow to the beach... I brought about six inches of sand (intentionally, no less) and a whole bunch of baby bits of driftwood home with me. I spent two weeks drying that wood in front of a heating vent in my living room. (My cat thought I was crazy. She thinks that a lot. That's why she's not allowed to leave the house anymore. She might tell someone about what goes on in here.) I carefully put the sand into the metal container I'd found so nothing would overheat, melt, or burn down. I bought baby charcoal to help the driftwood catch fire. And then I spent 45 minutes in 29* weather getting smoked out as I hunched beside my little tiny pile of three pieces of driftwood and some kleenex (I don't get a newspaper)... as they all turned into a sad pile of smoking coals, and never bothered to flame at all, (except for the kleenex, which obviously has more chemicals in it than I'd realized, at least one of which is a fire retardant... though there was that one time with the kleenex and the flaming pizza box...) even though I hyperventilated because I blew on them there sad smoking coals for 15 of those 45 minutes-- straight.
sigh
The original plan was to have a driftwood fire on my back patio during my Open House. THAT would have been somewhat romantic and all together cool. This was the dry run. But, no. So I went to the store. One of those stores that actually does have a little of everything. Want diapers? They have that. Want depends? They have that, too. Want foot powder? Okay, but it's an off-brand. Want ice cream? Yup. 3 flavors. Found the "outdoors" section. (Right there next to the big "Get Your Fishing License Here-- So you don't get arrested for telling me about the one that got away!" sign.) There in the middle of the "outdoors" section, they had magical non-smoking wood chips that are guaranteed --in two different languages-- to start your fire. That's a quote, by the way. I laughed all the way to the cash register. I never did find a list of ingredients on the package, but I honestly don't want to know, anyway. Because then I might feel guilty for using them. The good news is they actually did light my fire. My fire is LIT!
I actually got to watch (very closely, with a bucket of water at my feet, because this was my patio, after all, and no where near the beach, even though it was technically taking place on six inches of honest-to-god beach sand... and... you know... something might happen...) as three other miniature pieces of driftwood from my collection burst into FLAME and became a real HONEST TO GOSH DRIFTWOOD FIRE for a whole 30 minutes!!! It was definitely a highlight in my life.
So... if you ever wanna light MY fire... wear eau-de-driftwood-smoke behind your knees. Ahem-- ears. I meant ears.
Okay, and for those of you who haven't started laughing yet... The title of this blob is pronounced "miscellaneous." I tried to spell giant with a J. I accidentally put a silent B on the end of "clambs." And I refrained from saying, "Dagm you, Salazar!!" at least twice. Yes. It's a quote from the "Charlie's Angels" movie with Lucy Liu in it. Your Welcome.
Tuesday, January 16
The Benefits
Okay, so the most obvious benefit-- get out of school free card-- of snow is... well... obvious. There aren't really any other circumstances where you are SUPPOSED to spend your unexpected day out of school outside, playing with friends. Fewer yet are days when both you AND your friends are out of school unexpectedly at the same time!
But there are some other benefits, too. For one, a good deep freeze will eliminate a bunch of future biting bugs. For another, snow is supposed to have even better nutritional value for the earth than rain. Go figure. And on top of all that, it cushions sound. Ever go outside in the middle of a good solid snow? It's quiet. Richly quiet.
That feeling of being wrapped in a moment-- in a small little cocoon of snow and of silence... it's invigorating, sillifying. (silly as a pronoun/verb thingy) And beautiful. I drove over to the beach yesterday, and discovered snow still resting on some of the driftwood. And in the higher elevations, in the hills you drive through and over and around to GET to the beach from where I live? There were trees. Many many trees. And each of them had been highlighted in white pen, delicate soft silvery spotlights, dusting the tops of all the branches and every twig. Magickal.
I SO wish I'd brought my camera. I'd have stopped and taken a picture-- and all the people driving 30 mph behind me for safety (since none of us has any sort of traction devices for our cars-- who needs them here??) would have a good excuse to be frustrated and delayed... until they saw what I was looking at. Then, maybe a few of them would have been glad to have a moment where it was safe to take their eyes off the road, and look up. Up at those amazing snowy leafless trees. It was like looking at lace against the crisp blue winter sky!
Anyway, I'm glad I went yesterday. Today, it snowed most of the day where I was holed up, and it was beautiful. I could even hear the occasional yell of a child on a saucer, sledding down the big hill near my place, and getting one of the healthiest rushes the natural world provides. Wow.
I still can't get over the fact that each snowflake is unique-- for all the millions and zillions that must have fallen, just to create MY 4 inches of snow... no two are exactly alike. Creativity that can't be duplicated or purchased. That's pretty unique all in itself. And don't go talking to me about artificial snow-blowers and all that. I don't want to hear about it. I'm busy. I'm listening to my feet crunch in the snow outside, and smiling at how big an impact my sounds make in the world when all the ambient noise of daily life is muffled by the clean slate of silent snow.
I guess that's part of learning to be a good listener-- learning to tune out those demanding and distracting noises of daily life, so that you can focus on just one thing-- on the impact of someone else's foot falls in the world. No hair dryer, no dryer buzz, no buzzing microwave, none of that. Just... listen... and hear how important each person is, and see what shape their lives make in the snow...
But there are some other benefits, too. For one, a good deep freeze will eliminate a bunch of future biting bugs. For another, snow is supposed to have even better nutritional value for the earth than rain. Go figure. And on top of all that, it cushions sound. Ever go outside in the middle of a good solid snow? It's quiet. Richly quiet.
That feeling of being wrapped in a moment-- in a small little cocoon of snow and of silence... it's invigorating, sillifying. (silly as a pronoun/verb thingy) And beautiful. I drove over to the beach yesterday, and discovered snow still resting on some of the driftwood. And in the higher elevations, in the hills you drive through and over and around to GET to the beach from where I live? There were trees. Many many trees. And each of them had been highlighted in white pen, delicate soft silvery spotlights, dusting the tops of all the branches and every twig. Magickal.
I SO wish I'd brought my camera. I'd have stopped and taken a picture-- and all the people driving 30 mph behind me for safety (since none of us has any sort of traction devices for our cars-- who needs them here??) would have a good excuse to be frustrated and delayed... until they saw what I was looking at. Then, maybe a few of them would have been glad to have a moment where it was safe to take their eyes off the road, and look up. Up at those amazing snowy leafless trees. It was like looking at lace against the crisp blue winter sky!
Anyway, I'm glad I went yesterday. Today, it snowed most of the day where I was holed up, and it was beautiful. I could even hear the occasional yell of a child on a saucer, sledding down the big hill near my place, and getting one of the healthiest rushes the natural world provides. Wow.
I still can't get over the fact that each snowflake is unique-- for all the millions and zillions that must have fallen, just to create MY 4 inches of snow... no two are exactly alike. Creativity that can't be duplicated or purchased. That's pretty unique all in itself. And don't go talking to me about artificial snow-blowers and all that. I don't want to hear about it. I'm busy. I'm listening to my feet crunch in the snow outside, and smiling at how big an impact my sounds make in the world when all the ambient noise of daily life is muffled by the clean slate of silent snow.
I guess that's part of learning to be a good listener-- learning to tune out those demanding and distracting noises of daily life, so that you can focus on just one thing-- on the impact of someone else's foot falls in the world. No hair dryer, no dryer buzz, no buzzing microwave, none of that. Just... listen... and hear how important each person is, and see what shape their lives make in the snow...
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