Funky

I'm still getting used to sleeping in this house, and not over in that one. I's been almost two weeks. And cn I mention how much hARDER it s to type with a cat chnin between your thumbs? Ew. She drooled on the keyboard.

First off, the dog's arthritis is acting up, so he has to have "fart pills" three times a day to manage the pain. Sometimes the smell alone is enough to wake you up at night. Then there is the fact that we also think he has irritable bowels, so sometimes he throws up at night. Only at night, mind you. And only at either 1:30am, or somewhere between 3:45-4:45am. The puking is always proceeded by a rather wet lip-smacking.

It sounds like this:
"shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk..."

Oddly enough, this sounds exactly like when the dog cleans between his toes-- which he also seems to do at either 1:30am, or somewhere between 3:45-4:45am. Until you yell at him for god's sake to either knock it off, or puke already, dammit!

And the cat.
The cat only jumps off the bed when standing next to GB's right shoulder. Not his stomach. Not his toes. Not on my side of the bed-- ever. And she walks straight from the crick behind my knees, across his bladder, and up to that spot by his shoulder. The jumping-down-for-a-midnight-snack spot. And then disappears into the closet to crunch her crunchy cat food. She usually gets hungry at both midnight, and somewhere close to 3am. And when she's about to jump up onto something, she let's you know. She's very polite. In that "SEE? SEE HOW POLITE I AM??" cat sort of way.

"Mprrt?" And then the soft thud of graceful cat paws on the bed. And the thud itself is mild enough to sleep through. But not the "Mprrt?" that always comes first. Then she has to walk around and see whose awake (and therefore available to sniff her breath, and have their face sneezed on and whiskers poked up their nose, and pet her) before settling back down on someone's legs.

And if there's silence in the bedroom for too long, the teenage cat-sisters on the other side of the bedroom door get worried. So they meow in high-pitched teenage girl voices, and scratch on the door until someone comes out to reassure them. Or yell at them.

Did I mention that our bedroom shares a wall with the only bathroom in the house? It does. And the roommate showers at 6:45 every morning. Except the mornings he showers at 6:15. And clears his nose (or maybe it's his throat) in the shower. Loudly. Some mornings it takes him a while to get it all out.

And don't get me started on the blanket-stealing situation. Just don't even get me started.

Turns out that except when he (or the dog) is snoring, GB is a lighter sleeper than I am. So every time I roll over, it wakes him up.
guilt. guilt. guilt.

So the good news is that if GB is still snoring, I know he's slept through whatever it was that woke ME up. And therefore if *I* yell at the offending party, we will both be woken up. Again.

By the way, GB is currently unsticking a new baby leaf on his beloved hanging plant behind me. It's been sitting there, half-unfurled, for three days. He couldn't take it any more.
GB: "It's stuck."
Me: "But it's getting bigger."
GB: "It's stuck."
Me: "Maybe it's still growing."
GB: "NO. It's STUCK."

And then he gently pulled the tiny green leaf away from the plant spine that birthed it, and unrolled the edges of the leaf so it could start getting sun and growing BIGGER! Now that it's unstuck. The 3-day-old baby leaf on his hanging plant.

I need sleep.

Windburn

GOOD LORD, life got busy! I thought it was busy when I spent all my time applying for jobs and writing my book and working part-time as a Life Coach and keeping up with friends and working on my other projects. But it wasn't.

For the past two weeks (and this is a happy thing), I've worked six days a week. Four at the Farm, and two half-days as a nanny for this huge chunky four-month-old-baby with a lady-killer smile. Next week, I get to focus more on the Farm. (Which, really, is more about the Foundation, and a lot about Education, come to that. I may even eventually get to do the job I was originally hired for, and preserve/digitize/catalog something. You never know.)

And it is SUCH a freakin awesome place to work! We have free-range wild ducks that are huge and black with red and blue and white bits here and there-- and they have little fuzzy yellow babies!! We have three grey barn kittens who keep sneaking into the house and onto peoples' laps when they aren't looking, and one old black Tom who lives by the kitchen stove. We have apple trees and pear trees and zuchinis the size of small sports cars. Lots of friendly male goats who come when called ("hhheeeeerrrr goat-goat-goat, hhheeeeeerrrr goat-goat-goat!") and really want you to rub behind their ears, and three dappled white Davenport-Arabian horses that all want to make sure they get some of whatever you're handing out.

We have school children learning to make butter and listening to the story of Florinda Geer who traveled the Oregon Trail with her parents when she was eight years old, and then planted a tree on her parents' land-grant farm in 1856 that is still standing and growing on that same farm today. We have farm-fresh dairy cheese made with an old recipe from very old hillside cave dairy farms in Switzerland. We have an archive with over 165 years of family history, letters, tintype photos, and furniture from that trip over the Oregon Trail in 1846.

What we don't have is money to keep everything going. We're still working on that bit.

Anyway, four days at the farm with long 45-mile drives to get there and back, plus working part time as a Life Coach, plus writing my book and keeping up with friends and working as a Moderator for an online information distribution website and carving out time to spend with my boyfriend and and and-- Well it's a heck of a lot busier than I was before. And I love everything I'm doing. I just don't get much sleep. And the days are flying by so quickly anymore, I keep checking my face for windburn.

Free Job

Have I told you that I finally got hired for a really cool job? I did. But they don't know for sure how they're going to pay me. It's an interesting conundrum. And the work has momentum that we all think is important to follow up on-- NOW. So basically, I'm looking for other sustaining part time work, and putting in some hours (which I track) on the awesome job, but trying not to work TOO MUCH until there is a secure source of funding...

I think it's time I got paid for at least SOME of the things I spend so much time working on.

The job? There's this farm. It's been owned/lived on by the same family since they got their land-grant for it back in 1848. The farm house that the final generation currently live in was built between 1848-1851. It is still a functional farm. (Now organic!) And they have archives of materials from their trip across the Oregon Trail to now. Archives that the Foundation (who are slowly taking responsibility for preserving the farm as a local historical treasure) would like to preserve, digitize, and then make available for educational purposes. And they've hired me.

IT's FRIGGEN AWESOME!!!

And to be fair, they did find a way to pay me for my work up to the 15th of this month. I think they're impressed that I got so much accomplished in only 19 hours-- and they begin to see the scope of what I can do for their goals... So they've put on my to-do list to research the process and rules for a non-profit Foundation to hire an employee. And to make a calendar of grant application due-dates for future fundraising efforts. I'll be writing the grants too, I suspect.

Should be fun.
And, like I said, I'm piecing together other more reliable work to fill the gaps in the meantime. Wish me luck. I need it.

Muckelicious

Today, I mucked out a barn.

Back a few months ago when I dreamed of myself doing this, I woke in utter disbelief that such could EVER be true. I mean, this is ME we're talking about. But today, it was. I actually volunteered.

See, through one of the random blogs that I follow-- maybe it was one about urban homesteading, or no-- maybe that one about sustainability and farms or, well, maybe one of my "tiny house" blogs-- anyway, I found a link to this one Family Farm. And discovered that they need volunteers, and they give you a whole talk-and-tour to get you familiar with the farm and the jobs that need doing.

And I thought-- Hey. I want to create a mini homestead/garden/farm someday when I've paid off my debts and have enough money to buy a bit of south-slope land... Maybe I should get a better idea of what I'm getting into. Maybe I should find out what it's REALLY like to have an organic garden and some goats and chickens and sheep, etc.

So today was Orientation Day for volunteers at the Family Farm. I love it out there. It really reaffirmed that what I want is attainable, and that I'd be happy having it. It also reaffirmed something I already knew-- Goats like me. I mean, these were just generally friendly goats and all, but... seriously. Goats like me.

It took two hours to meet all the creatures and see all the watering buckets/troughs/etc that need regular cleaning and filling (one of the four approved jobs for volunteers on the farm-- mucking out the three barns, the chicken coops, and the mini barn that houses Waldo is another). Then, since I did drive a whole hour to GET there, I decided I had time to muck out one of the barns. And I did have time. What I didn't have was stamina.

So the biggest, stinkiest, most-in-need-of-mucking barn has three sections. I did the biggest one. And I couldn't do any more. In fact, I'm really glad my blister didn't get a blister. I'm even MORE glad I thought to bring my work gloves. And I'm glad I didn't fall asleep on the drive home from the farm. Since I was the one driving. But seriously, I was that worn out. Muck is heavy.

I've got some researching to do for them from home, and I think I'll try to make it out again in a couple three weeks to do something slightly less intense like watering the chickens or something. I'm definitely going back. And I'm definitely sleeping well tonight. Just as soon as I rinse out my nose with something that doesn't smell like the month-old backside of a male goat. Apparently, the male goats stink more than the females. Made perfect sense to me.

And when I get my own land, I'm starting with vegetables. And herbs. And a couple of fruit trees. And maybe a few chickens. But nothing that requires mucking. Or castrating. And I learned that I need to add an "egg-cleaning station" to my dream home design. And probably a small barn to store all my gardening equipment, my spare bales of hay, my chickens, my wheelbarrows, and the muck I buy from my neighbors once or twice a year.

sigh... Who knew bliss would smell like THAT?!

Head full of Bricks

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.

WHY?!

Umm... I think maybe my cat is allergic to fish. Apparently, this is possible. And I've been trying to figure out why she is puking so much lately... Today, the only extraordinary thing she ate was a piece of tuna. And a few days ago, she had "cat tuna" from my house mate. And a few days before that, it was actual fish bits from a fillet. Also, the cheap treats I got for her have tuna and fish in them, it appears. Huh.

One thing's for sure. I am SICK of cleaning up half-digested cat-vomit. E-yew!

Spring Fever

So, with one rainy exception, we've had three or four days of warm sunny weather in a row. Didn't it snow just last week?! Not that I'm complaining. I'm just... WONDERING... is all.

Remember the horrid fly invasion of '07? The one where I finally discovered that a whole bag of potatoes had passed "rot" and gone right on to "sludge?" And had, in the process, given birth to a rather large number of little flies that NOTHING COULD KILL?! Yeah. I remember it quite clearly, actually. I ended up using the "kill-anything, but safe-for-your-home" bug spray to STUN the little buggers long enough for me to squish them-- individually. It took hours. Literally.

I'm not really big on killing other living things, but between the ant invasions and the flies, I've come to the handy conclusion that I have no moral problems with defending my home from invaders-- even little crawly ones. ESPECIALLY little crawly ones.

Well, not to bring up old pain or anything, but I recently had what seemed like the beginning of a new invading hoard-- horse flies. Those big metallic blue flies that are literally the size of your thumb-tip. Big. And, it turns out, LOUD. In fact, their ability to sound bigger than they actually are has become a bit of a problem. A really funny problem.

Every once in a while, we get airplanes flying past at night. And for a good minute before you hear them RIGHT OVER HEAD, all you can hear of the airplane coming is this droning rumble. It sounds EXACTLY like those dagm horse flies. And I've sat up and grabbed my rolled up magazine in self-defense more than once, only to realize I couldn't locate the fly because it was technically an airplane. Then there's my cell phone.

I got tired of forgetting to turn off the ringer every time I went to the library-- or forgetting to turn it back on when I left-- so I've just had my phone on "vibrate" for a couple of weeks now. I actually like the compromise. When I get text messages from my bank at 4am, I am no longer awakened every two minutes by a little "ding" to let me know I still haven't checked the message on my cell phone. I sleep through the "vibrate" noise quite well, really... Or I did before the flies came.

Finally this morning I realized that NO, I was NOT hearing yet another intermittent buzzing of yet another gigantic fly buzzing from window to window-- I was hearing the intermittent buzzing of my cell phone vibrating in my purse, telling me it was out of batteries.

In addition to all THOSE little coincidences of sound, the windows in my current apartment are single-pane, and rather old. Like, the house was built in the '40's old. So they just aren't much of a sound barrier. And there are flowering bushes right below the window. I'm realizing that I haven't actually been able to locate the flies that accompany the buzzing of the last two days-- the buzzing that wasn't explained by the cell phone, the airplane, or the neighbor's remodeling noises-- because I was hearing flies and bumblebees OUTSIDE OF MY WINDOWS!!!

I think maybe I can finally relax about the latest "invasion."

BUT THAT'S NOT WHAT I WAS REALLY GOING TO WRITE ABOUT...

With the latest natural invasion, I've had a sudden need to FIND THE SOURCE, which means doing a deep clean on my apartment. Luckily, it's Spring, so this would actually be the perfect time for such an action. Also, since about 80% of my belongings are currently in storage, I'm woefully unprepared for warm weather. I don't even know where my non-flannel sheets are packed. So, I'll be going through my tiny apartment and packing up anything I'm not using or won't need for the spring/summer months-- and then I'll be heading over to my storage unit, pulling every last thing I can lift out into the hallway, and sorting out the things I actually WANT to access.

I'll also be looking for any MORE stuff I can donate or otherwise get rid of with a light heart (I actually only kept 2/3 of my original belongings when I moved and put stuff in storage-- I've very little idea of what's left to begin with, really...) because my original packing job SUCKED, and I can't fit anything else into that storage space at the moment. This needs to change. It's a big space. And I want to have at least SOME access to the stuff I MIGHT need, but not every day, if you know what I mean.

Sigh.

Spring Fever is sounding rather painful this year.
I'd really expected to be moved into my next long-term home by now. This long-term limbo is really starting to wear on my good intentions (and my good vibrations-- the flies are just the tip of the ice berg on that one!)...

It's got to be at least as hard for my host family to still be living around ME as it is for me to still be living around them. I'm just so grateful that they gave my cat and I such a warm welcome, and that they haven't kicked us out yet. I guess it's time to start thinking up a new backup plan-- just in case I still don't have my future nailed down by midsummer. That would be pushing the welcome wagon a bit too far, even for me.

In the good news category, I've actually done a little yoga every morning for a week now. And all my creating fabrics have got an actual HOME, so there aren't mounds of crumpled fabric bits littering the floor and all available surfaces anymore. YAY! Also, uhhh.... I haven't needed to use the heater to keep my nose, toes, and rear from freezing for TWO NIGHTS now!! What a relief!! AND, I think I finally got my hands on my favorite version of one of my favorite all-time movies, Persuasion. OH! And I've been going for walks just about every day lately, so I feel like I'm doing the healthy thing fairly well. I'm really proud of that, actually.

So, hey-- let's end this on a good note. Maybe a C# or something...

Coyote Howls

A howl is one thing-- but actually, the hunting BARK of a coyote raises a lot more hairs on the back of my neck. Especially when it is uttered from less than 50 feet away, in the dead of night, and followed by complete silence. Was that for me?? Is the first rational thought that comes to mind. And then you realize-- I'm inside the house. That probably means I'm safe from wild animals. I've never before been quite so aware of how thin a wall is-- nor of how insignificant a barrier a pane of glass can be.

Ahh, Nature!
... to be honest, I don't think most of us would last two nights if we were really stuck out in it!

Crashing

There has been a lot of crashing in my life lately.
Crashing into each wave on the hour-long boat ride from Puerto Vallarta to Yelapa Mexico...
Crashing waves in Yelapa, Mexico...
The folks who crashed the wedding party in Yelapa, Mexico...
The wedding-crasher who had way too much to drink and then crashed in Yelapa, Mexico...
Crashing because I was SO DAGM TIRED when I got home from Yelapa, Mexico...
And my least favorite,
The car crash that happened to me this morning, in the USA, on my way to work the morning after I got home from Yelapa, Mexico.

So... what's new with you?


Okay okay-- I don't have it in me to type up all the great stories from my trip to Mexico right now, but I do want to say that I have never appreciated the very LOUD noise of the pounding surf as much as I did on Saturday Night. And I was also grateful for the mosquito netting around the bed. Not only did it keep all the crawly-biteys out, but it kept me from having a full frontal view of our naked guest after he and my roomie got out of the shower. Shower being a loose term, in this particular instance. In Yelapa, the showers are... rustic... and you get to share them with the local fauna.

Also on that subject, I have a new job title to add to my resume. I became the official lizard-wrangler at the wedding, thus allowing the bride to use the "bathroom" (again, a loose term in Yelapa) prior to the wedding ceremony. I'll have you know that no animals (or reptiles) were injured during my stay. They all went out the front door under their own power. I tell you, I am a master lizard-wrangler.

And my car accident? Well... not happy. Hopefully, I'll get a free rental for a few days. Hopefully, it only takes a few days to fix my car. Hopefully, they install an all-way stop at that dagmn intersection sooner than later. The officer did say, though, that this accident had less residual car-bits to clean up than most accidents at that intersection do. Yay. Nobody was hurt in any visible fashion. That's the good news.

Moment of the Day

No shigt, there I was. (That's how all good Army stories start. Makes you want to hear what's going to happen next, doesn't it?) Sitting behind the Reference Desk at the Unnamed Public Library, observing Reference Services in action.

On one side, young guy, quiet voice, girlfriend hiding around the corner:
"Do you guys have the Kamga Sugtra?"
On the other side, mature mother with 8-year-old daughter peering anxiously around Mom's elbow:
"Where do you keep the Frog and Toad stories?"
The juxtaposition of those two requests (and the stages in life of the people making them) was priceless.

I just love the Reference Desk. I really do. Today, among our other requests, we also had one for the history of bread making, one for books about Thunder and Lightning for toddlers (somebody got scared), and a woman who hadn't used her library card in over five years, but really really wanted to check out Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. We also discovered that we have NO books about spiders in stock, and only one children's fact book on mosquitos. It was a sad day for somebody. Also, I discovered that ALL the copies of The Princess Diaries, vol. 1, are checked out until doom's day, or the day after. I have to read it before our next Teen Council meeting, by popular choice, no less. That's going to be fun. Oh, and apparently the third book in some Violent Fantasy series for pre-teens is due out soon, and nobody quite knows when. Solution?
Ask Reference.

And lets not for get that the crazy man wanted to have a staring contest (which we've all been warned NOT TO DO with this particular crazy. Seriously. As soon as they saw him coming, the closest librarian turned to me and said, "Don't make eye contact with this one. He's bad-crazy.") so he made kissy noises at all the women behind the desk until our WONDERFUL security officer of the day came back inside, and crazy man left. Apparently, the crazy man is still smart and sane enough not to cause trouble in front of a cop. Who, by the way, had just finished dealing with another crazy person (female this time) who'd been harassing patrons on their way into the library.
Wednesday is crazy people day.

So yeah. Just another day at the office.
How was yours?

....You know... In retrospect, it occurs to me that some smart producer will eventually realize that libraries are NOT boring, and all the insane stories we librarians have amassed over the years and years and years we've been working with THE PUBLIC (all of it) will finally have an OUTLET. Can you imagine how FUNNY and yet Reality TV Bazarre a sitcom could be if it were based around all the stuff that happens around the Reference Desk at a busy library? I mean-- we've got rebellious teens trying to shock us by asking for info about occult magic (Yes, that section is HERE, and we've got some great websites to suggest as well. Have you read anything by Scott Cunningham yet?); and we've got elderly ladies learning to use computers so they can do online dating; and we've got the little angelic boy who keeps finding new and inventive ways to jam the printer... There is even a whole genre of librarian humor devoted to different terms and best locations for "doing it" in the stacks, you know. And we've found the dirty condgoms to prove it, thank you very much.

That's not even MENTIONING all the drama and hilarity of filming the librarians themselves. How about the 5foot tall ex-rugby player with her dog's footprint tattooed on her back? And the old-school reference lady who turns off her hearing aid when she doesn't feel like helping people? And the ex-Secret Service guy who left Government work and went into on-call reference services at the public library, but likes to act tough and tell war stories from Desert Storm (he wasn't ever officially there, you know) around the few male librarians we've managed to hire...

What about old what's-her-name who accidentally left behind forty-one pairs of black pumps when she retired? (We're still not sure what she wore home from work on those particular days.) Or Henry, who up until a year or two ago, was both head of a well-known Academic Library, and one of the best-loved down hill ski coaches (not to mention his hobby of white-water rafting!) ever. Oh, and that hot children's librarian from Europe, with the cute little accent and the cute little buns... Too bad he's married... And I don't think you could pay me enough to wear those two 8-foot tall cat costumes that require someone else to lead you around because you can't really see out of them... But yet those two cats are seen at every ALA conference, bumbling around after cute library geeks whenever they find one...

I tell you, a sitcom based on library world would strike PAY DIRT. Nobody could make up some of the stories we've got to tell! And believe it or not, I have personally met every one of those librarians previously mentioned. And most of the patrons, too. I have yet to find a condgom, but I know people who have, and I did once find a squatter in the library at closing time. He'd set up his tent back in the Government Documents section, correctly assuming that nobody goes there if they can help it, and was preparing a wiener dog over a propane burner for his dinner when I passed by. I still can't believe the fire alarm didn't go off.
But then... you know my opinion of fire alarms.

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!

Rotten Potatoes

I'm not going to gross you out with the details-- nobody wants to lose their appetite. What I AM going to do is tell you about the cloud of little fruit flies that billowed up when I discovered that my potatoes were no longer round on the bottom. It was an invasion.

So I've had to put a lid on the cat's food bowl (she's being quite gracious about it, really), and take out the trash every night, and clean the kitchen within an inch of its life. I tried smoking them out with a sage wand, and spraying at them with my essential oils, and swatting where they congregate on the mirror in the bathroom-- with just about no luck at all. I started to put all the dirty dishes into the dishwasher right away, too. That was round one of the battle of the bugs. I'm pretty sure I lost that one.

In round two, I bought fly paper and discovered that the bugs were feasting inside my garbage disposal. So I put salt and vinegar down the drain once or twice a day now, too. That seems to have taken care of the drain divers. My flypaper strategy didn't work so well at first, however-- I'd see the fruit flies sitting on the fly paper feasting, and a while later I'd go back to see no fruit flies on the fly paper at all. But, after taking care of all other food sources, I'm relieved to report that my strategy is finally beginning to stick. And I've learned that if I cook my food and select snacks with lots of garlic in them, the bugs don't bug me much while I'm eating, which is also a relief.

This morning, however, I opened the door to the dishwasher to put my cereal bowl away, and a whole new swarm of fruit flies billowed out. Maybe only ten bugs this time, but since the old swarm is still only down by about half-- this is not good. So I'll be wasting water and running my dishwasher every night from now on, too. And the Battle of the Bugs continues.

The good news in all this is that I gave up nacho cheese chips when I got married (sad story)-- and my search for garlic-enhanced snack foods has led me back to them again. One of my favorite all time snacks. I'm truly thrilled about this. And the bugs don't bug me when I eat them, either. So, even when your potatoes rotted and your house has been taken over by fruit flies-- SOMETHING GOOD CAN COME OF IT!! (Not to mention how much cleaner my kitchen will be from now on-- and how I've finally learned the "buy only what you know you actually plan to use in the next three days" grocery shopping system, especially with potatoes.)

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. (By the way, speaking of "sticking," my favorite fruit fly death so far is the one that got itself stuck to my lint roller. VICTORY will be MINE!!)

Tea and Tornadoes

I have just got to tell you that as soon as I start to swig my Stinging Nettle Tea, I stop sneezing, my nose stops dripping, and I no longer sound like there's a tornado lodged in my throat. I love my nettle tea. Especially with a little Moroccan Mint and Comfrey thrown in. Especially on days when I thought I could get away with the lesser dose of over-the-counter allergy meds, and I was WRONG!!!

The Good List

1. Getting the internship I really wanted.
2. With the Youth Services Librarian.
   
3. Discovering I can wear jeans and sneekers to my internship.
   
4. not caring if I spell sneakers wrong
5. Fire-colored Sunflowers
6. A big healthy medicinal Aloe plant for $3.95.
7. Lighting a fresh candle.
8. Hiking up and down a small mountain in the rain.
9. Seeing all the places fairies could hide from the rain in the mountain.
10. Having two friends crazy enough to hike with me.
11. Reaching the top alive.
12. Getting complimented on not complaining about the UP part of the hike (this time).
13. Letting the dog pull me up the last few yards.
14. French fries and hot chocolate after a long hike in the rain.
15. Having three different people tell me I give good advice (in the space of three days), and meaning it.
16. Finding a thank you card I can send to men and women in a professional setting, and still look interesting. In a pack of 20.
    
17. Popcorn with butter and yeast.
18. Tea. Hot tea. With Elderberries in it.
    
19. Peanut Sauce.
20. A fluffy warm (DRY) new sweatshirt that was on sale and still looks and feels good.
    
21. Planning to go back tomorrow and by a second one in a different color.
22. A purring cat in my lap, batting at my fingers on the keyboard.
23. Birthdays. Other people's birthdays. And having people to celebrate mine with.
    
24. Finding out that turning 30 isn't nearly as scary as turning 29. Really. Three people have told me so.
    
25. Having lots of people help you move your boxes and stuff from one house to another. Enough people that no one gets too tired, and it only takes one afternoon.
    
26. Waterfalls. Especially on rainy days when there aren't too many other people using the trail you've taken.
    
27. TigerBars.
28. A well-fitted understory.
29. Actually looking forward to what my 29th year will bring.
    

About Dehydration

So... one of the many lessons I learned far away and long ago... was that I am infinitely more depressed when I am also dehydrated and lacking in sleep. Yes. I am now ready to take on the world again, and possibly even profess to being an actual ADULT... now that I've had more water to drink, a bit of exercise, and a good night's sleep. Yes.

I have to credit my friend, MB, with this revelation. She was a great font of wisdom about dealing with a divorce-- especially a long, painful divorce. Is there any other kind? She explained that for her, eating protein was the key to keeping a positive can-do outlook on the situation. Her mom was good about reminding her to eat more protein whenever she started to get gloomy or overwhelmed, and it helped. Her body needed what it needed to deal with the stress it was under-- and this ability to deal (or inability to deal) carried over to her psyche as well.

For me, it wasn't protein. It was water and sleep. I got through the first six months-- three of them waiting for the divorce to be final, and three figuring out how to be successfully divorced-- by drinking a LOT of water, and taking a LOT of naps. I highly recommend the naps, by the way. Low calorie, high fiber-- especially if you dream about food and end up eating your pillowcase-- and just generally restorative. IF you remember to drink a lot of water and/or turn on the A/C before you nap.

On the other hand, everything I said I was struggling with yesterday is STILL TRUE TODAY-- I just know I will persevere and overcome them now. And I've gleefully defenestrated my fears. Officially. Ceremonially. Repeatedly. The sliding glass door in the living room. It's the only one that opens.

On the more good news front, I met my new buddy E in east downtown today and after making friends with her really cute dog, we checked out a WHOLE NEW FARMER'S MARKET. Found garlic tops. mmmmmmm Found chard. Little chards. mmmmmm Found basil. doublemmmm Found hershey's kisses-shaped candles made of pure beeswax. Found we had a lot to talk and laugh and commiserate with each other about. Especially mothers and weird food combinations. Had a blast. Got a little dehydrated. Learned my lesson-- so I've been chugging water all afternoon to make up for it.

Plus Hood Strawberries. My favorite kind. I find I've degenerated into a highly evolved strawberry snob. Did that make ANY sense at ALL?? Hmmm... must be time to go eat more strawberries and ice cream... and drink some water. Maybe a nap...

About Joy

I've recently had reason to contemplate joy-- to think deeper than the next corny movie on my hit list, and ask myself what I am truly glad to have in my life. It's not a difficult answer.

The relationships. The good ones. Those people, places, and animals are the Joy of my life. It's very difficult to think about losing even one of them. I think that's why I've tried not to attend many funerals in my lifetime. I'd rather have my memories remain joyful. Not relegated to the past-- behind some horrid memory of black clothes and crying and lots of sniffing because NOBODY thinks to bring enough kleenex for the way your nose runs when you cry. I think life and the people in it are to be enjoyed.

So I decided that what I want to do right now is honor some of the joyful moments I've had in my life-- and thought to capture with a digital camera-- by posting random photos. I know not everyone wants their picture up here, and I know I'm not going to upload EVERY joyous moment I have on film... but I thought it would be something important that I could be happy to review later on-- a commemoration of Joy. (By the way, some of my favorite cousins have 'Joy' for their middle name. I love that about them!)

And since I cannot NOT figure out the formatting of the photos, they are in VERY random order. Sigh.

HAPPY APRIL

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

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

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

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

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

Downbeat is NOT a Vegetable

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Errgh

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

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

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

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

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

Crazy Ants

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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