I will never forget...

Just realized I let an anniversary slip past this week without comment, and it certainly deserves one, because it says something about the extraordinary doctors that worked at New Milford Hospital and Yale-New Haven back in 1982.....

On Saturday, June 5, 1982, Mom and Cyril went on a Boy Scout trip to the Peabody museum in New Haven, CT. Dad and I headed to New Milford to run errands. Meara was an egg. We get to Lake Waramaug and Dad has to pull over because he's feeling sick. He proceeds to have a violent seizure. I scream and run to the nearest house, but nobody's home and we live in BFE. Dad recovers and begins to drive again, but by Marbledale (15 minutes down the road), he's feeling faint, so he pulls into a diner (backing the car into a space! the man is a testament to anal retention) and tells me to call an ambulance. In my best grown-up manners, I explain his symptoms over the phone, and I make sure I explain everything I witnessed in detail when we get to the hospital. The docs decide with their limited technology that it looks like an aortic aneurysm and make arrangements to get him to Yale-New Haven immediately for further treatment.

The Yalies perform successful open heart surgery on Dad in the wee hours of the morning to repair a dissection of the ascending aorta, a tear in the lining of the walls of the aorta that requires a Dacron graft and full bypass. This is the condition that kills more people than it keeps, including Lucille Ball and John Ritter, so I consider it kind of miraculous that Dad survived the 45 miles to New Haven in the back of an ambulance, never mind that the New Milford doctors had the foresight to diagnose it so closely as to give the Yale doctors a direct focus on the problem. Dad was 42. I was 12.

24 years later, Dad may be a stroke waiting to happen, but that heart of his seems to be operating on a lifetime warranty, nary a twinge since. Facing a parent's mortality at any age is hard, but to have it become a "just kidding" is almost harder because then you're looking over your shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But then God gave us Meara a year later, and it was like, ok, that's why he was allowed to live. And all four of us poured the love we weren't able to communicate to each other, into her, and we all grew a little. I can't begrudge God for the vehemence of her life lessons, not when it results in something like Meara. The kid still radiates light to me.

So I pray with all my heart that we're celebrating 25 years next June with Dad, and that I remember not to take life for granted so much in the meantime.

Yes, folks, she can braid

I really am a blonde sometimes. Technically I've always had the delightfully thick chestnut brown you see on me in person (sneaky little bastard greys notwithstanding), but my mom's a (former) blonde, so it stands to reason that the traits would occasionally sneak into my psyche.

Been growing my hair out for an age now, and with summer upon us, my patience is near its end. I've been forced by circumstance (lack o' car, lack o' dough, etc.) to put off getting the mop trimmed for weeks now, but was warning Les that the layers were probably on their way out, as they make me look rather shagadelic in our Florida humidity. Wasn't going to do anything drastic, just probably bring it back to shoulder length so it could be all one length again and easier to style.

I never had long hair in high school or college, so have been enjoying playing with it when I get the chance, doing different things with braids and twists in an attempt to keep it off my face. Certainly don't look my age, but it gets the job done. Don't know how to French braid though, and had trouble wrapping my mind around doing one braid because my hair's nice and thick and I figured by the time I did figure out how to braid with my arms behind me, they'd be exhausted, so I hadn't tried it. I mean, I've watched Julia Roberts do it in the beginning of Something to Talk About, and have concluded that the woman's a freak. And her hair was way shorter than mine.

Last night I'm putting the mop in a high ponytail in preparation for KB and it dawns on me that if I flip my head down, I'll be able to braid easily because there won't be that crossed-wire thing between my brain and my hands--I'll be braiding frontwards. I try it and not only is it easy, but since the braid is high, there's no sprigs sticking out from my layers because at that position, the hair's basically all one length.

I'm far too pleased with myself over this discovery.

Did it again this morning for work, and it hadn't turned difficult overnight. Sweet! This one extra style could save the mop from getting hacked. I'm still having fun with it, it truly hasn't been this long since like, 7th grade, and there's a comfort factor to long hair somehow; but when push comes to shove, I know I'm a short-haired girl at heart. I fully expect to trim it significantly once we start procreating, but in the meantime, I'm going to enjoy it.

Yeah, we'll see...

Finished the potato chip scarf last night. Figured out that I was actually using 29" circulars, not 32s, so it makes sense now why I ran out of room so quickly. Just as well; binding off 437 stitches was wearing on my patience--it was the only thing I worked on last night and I was hoping to start another one of my lace projects. I did restart the feather and fan scarf with the virgin wool; ripped out the first attempt after an education on the lack of give that 100% virgin wool has--gotta keep the stitches looser. This weekend I'll start Candle Flame and Janet hopefully and put some more time in on the SSS. And go blueberry picking with the gals hopefully. And catch the Prairie Home Companion movie (graphic courtesy of http://prairiehome.publicradio.org/). And drag Les out to the beach for an excuse to drive our beeyootiful new car :)

Hopeless granola

It's official; I've become one of those people I used to sneer at in college.

Truth be told, I've been this way for a while; it's just more apparent today. The news today is all about how al-Zarqawi, the current leader of al-Quada in Iraq, was blown up in a US Air Force raid overnight. Journalists and world leaders alike are hailing this as good news, a step in the right direction. We murdered a murderer, saving countless lives and giving us a window, however small, of upper hand in the war on terror. Yay, us.

The problem with reading books like Starhawk's Fifth Sacred Thing, is you get tricked into thinking that the world could be like that, a peaceful existence where everything is decided by true community involvement, where guns are unnecessary, a non-factor. Not in this lifetime.

I used to believe in the death penalty. I used to see actions such as al-Zarqawi's murder as a step in the right direction. Not anymore. I have much more respect for the forces that brought Saddam Hussein in alive. The level of restraint that was called for, to resist the urge to put a bullet in the head of the butcher of Baghdad, so that he could stand trial and answer for his crimes. Makes me wonder if al-Zarqawi was a cleaner criminal, if they knew they didn't have the evidence necessary to bring him to court or the Hague, so they figured this was the next best option. No, I doubt that much thought went into it. They saw an opportunity and took it.

I just don't believe in the murder of another human being anymore, any human being, even one who's slaughtered untold numbers of other humans. When we kill, we decrease our own humanity; we lose something vital of ourselves with every life we take. When I heard the news and other world leaders calling al-Zarqawi's death "good news," I was mortified. How twisted that a death can be considered good news...

Ah, probably just hit me so strongly because I didn't get enough sleep...woke up tired this morning, felt like I should be wearing a sign around my neck that says "I'm out of bed and dressed. What more do you want?" It'll be nice to hang with my bitches tonight.

(graphic courtesy of http://www3.iath.virginia.edu/sixties/HTML_docs/Exhibits/Track16/make_love.html)

Wump day

Not crazy about heights, so don't know how I'd do actually riding a wump; looks a little precarious. But I was thinking how it was hump day, and that got me thinking about Mr. Gump, because I have a great deal of the text of One Fish, Two Fish...stuck in my head for eternity. Certainly not a bad thing.

The funny thing: found this graphic online at the Lerner Research Institute, Department of Biomedical Engineering website. Some doctor uses the wump concept as an illustration of how gene splicing can create adaptive species; I think to oversimplify it ridiculously, he's implying that by splicing genes from a 2-hump wump and a 3-hump wump, you could conceive a 5-hump wump. Wonder if Seuss had any idea how far beyond a child's imagination his ideas traveled.

Anyway, doing better today. When there are specific tasks to be performed, when there's focus in my head, life tucks along better. Decided on yarns for the shawls I want to try last night, but spent the evening working on a potato chip scarf in LB Homespun. Tonight I'm going to try to call Christy so I'm accepting now that significant time will be taken away from knitting. I shouldn't say taken away; Christy and I were best friends back in the day, since like 6th grade, and now that she lives so close (St. Augustine), it's ridiculous that we don't see each other often. Well, given gas prices at present, it's not that ridiculous, but still...when my phone went down back in March and ended up stretching til end of April, we just stopped talking and to quote a line from "American President," "now there's this thing hanging out there." There's other issues behind our drift that've forced us to redefine our relationship in recent years--like my becoming a witch and her becoming a born-again Christian--but we've been at this too long to let it shut down. I hope I can reach her tonight.

Verbal diarrhea

There's a thin line between motivated and knowing that the ole lithium's a little low. I think I'm in that zone right now.

Not wigging out or anything...all it means is it's harder to concentrate because my brain's running quite a distance ahead of me. It's out in front, thinking about more topsoil for the plants, taking apart my bike and starting the de-rusting, rereading key areas of Spiral Dance while also reading the parts of Evolutionary Witchcraft that coincide with those areas, downloading the paperwork so Les can get his SS card replaced, dinner tonight, starting new knitting projects, and writing a letter to the Columbia Park & Rec to see how realistic it is for me to be trying for their ranger positions down the road or if I need to educate myself somehow before applying. For starters.

And this is all while I'm editing websites at work.

I'm restless as hell, so I'm channeling it, or trying to. Got stuff accomplished last night; planning to do more tonight. All that time in SC was a tonic, but it also stirred up my old rambling nature and my desire to be somewhere that ain't so citified. Oh, I know, Jacksonville is no NYC; but we've lived in this same apartment for 8 years now...it's gotten old.

I never really wanted to move to Jax back in the day, considered it the armpit of Florida, besides being the domicile of my parents (one of which wasn't even speaking to me back then because I was shacked up with my man)...but AMC wouldn't transfer me to Atlanta, Orange Park 24 was just opening up, and Jax was familiar. Graduated college and spent my first year on my own just down the street from where I live now, so I knew the area. I've grown to tolerate it certainly, and the gang I hang with now gives me a huge warm fuzzy, but alas, I'm not meant to raise urchins in Florida; I'd be miserable. I need me some cold weather, more sidewalks, less traffic...and about 14 more idealistic notions of how I want my life panning out in the near future.

Not too much to ask.

Too much in my head...

Blessed Rain
Hey Mom Nature? Just wanted to thank you for starting hurricane season right on time. I can't remember the last time the 3:00 p.m. rains started with such precision. If you don't mind, we could really use a continuation of this trend. The retention ponds in our complex are down to about half capacity, and I think one of the ducks in my apartment complex gave me the finger the other day. Plus with the way the storms dodged us here in Jax last year, I know we're living on borrowed time, and I just don't want to spend the dough on the Red Cross recommended hurricane preparedness stuff. Ah, no matter. Even though we apparently don't live in an evac zone, I know if Jax got hit by a Category 5, Les would be packing the car and taking us up the coast. "Dude, they say we don't hafta..." "Shut up, take a cat case, and get in the car..."

Lackaboobies
I'm a very lucky person in that I am not well endowed. Even with the extra weight, my cup size never increased beyond being able to actually fill out a B now. Sad, but true. This means that with an extra/over shirt on hand, I can get away with ditching the bra at work. Jealous of me?

Granola alert
The urge hit today to reconnect with my faith. This spring has been fairly busy, and I find myself feeling detached. I can't even keep an altar in the house at present, because a) there's too much frickin' excrement in our house, and b) unless it was on an eye-level shelf beyond the jumping span of Figaro, the little shit would most certainly scatter anything I had on there to the four corners of the apartment. Sitting outside and hugging my tree at SC helped, but that was more for relaxation than getting in tune with ole Mom Nature. At home, I did succeed in transplanting Sylvester, the aloe, but his baby pots need more soil and less extreme weather conditions, judging from their color. This spring was hot and dry, and hurricane season hit right on schedule, so everything went from parched to drowning overnight. I'm going to have to move things around out there.

The fern has burned to a crisp in the spring sun, so I'm going to have to trim him down to nothing and nurse him back up. I'm throwing in the towel on the jade; may have to pull out the trumpet for a round of taps on that one, he put up a good fight.

Anyway, in addition to my sad attempts at green thumbing, I'm going through my books again to see what needs reading or rereading. I need to reconnect with why witchcraft is so right for me as a faith. In spite of the neo-Pagan bent of these pantheons, Reclaiming and Feri still speak volumes to me and open up possibilities to my psyche that I hadn't expected to ever explore.

New projects, old hair

Husby is home! Husby is home! Great day in the mornin', husby is home!

It's funny...I can putter along perfectly fine without him and think I don't miss him, but then when I get him back, I just wanna slobber all over him like a big puppy dog :)

Too much sharing?

Anyway, he's back, he's legal, and he came with wheels. I was driven to work this morning in a clean-smelling car with an engine that purrs so quietly at stoplights, it's unnerving. I got to drive it last night for the first time, and it's so smooth it's unreal. I mean, I'm not the smoothest stick-shift driver on the road, and even my bad habits couldn't get this thing to jerk between gears. I am very happy.

Put the stuff in the mail this morning to get myself legal finally. Will spend this week laying out a budget for the rest of the year and figuring out ways to pay off our worst bills, the ones that would keep us from moving. Since all the paperwork was drawn in SC and our records are remarkably (luckily, bafflingly, god-shining-down-on-us) clean on the road the last couple of years, the payments and insurance are an absolute song, thank goodness.

Been dying for a haircut for weeks now, so naturally we're almost out of money again and it isn't an option until the next check. I'll experiment with styles, more braids n' stuff; I mean, I'm frickin' 36, how much should I care how it looks? In this heat, all I want is it off my neck.

Damn arthritis has been bothering me, but I'm gonna keep walking somehow; I know just those short trips to the store and stuff this past 2 weeks were really good for me. The heat's not ghastly yet in the mornings, and I know I have more energy.

Cleaned house a little this weekend. We live in such a state of clutter and a bit too much furniture, that cleaning our place is like taking a garden spade to a quarry. It can overwhelm you fast if you don't take it in stages, so that's what I did, just getting the old newspapers into piles, putting the most recent Goodwill stuff in the way so it'll go out to the car this week, reorganizing the clothes that're out because we don't own decent dressers. Tonight's laundry and Everwood, so later this week will be tucking into other areas, like the dust-catching end tables that we inherited from my folks, and doing another sort-and-file of the paperwork in the dining area. Now that the TV season is over, I've run out of excuses; and if there's something I want to watch, well, I'll just lug the crap I'm working on into the bedroom and watch it while I work. I can't be more ready to get our lives on track; the car was a big first step and the time Les spent up in SC helped him see that he's ready to get the heck out of Dodge, er, Jax too. He wants to live near his folks, but he's smart enough not to want to live in the same town; so Columbia should be a soft sell.

But that's still almost a year away, so for now I also want to start another couple of knitting projects, find the disc that Zoe is on (my novel) so I can get the rest of the blasted edit done, and find ways to encourage the husby back into the workforce. He's become rather xenophobic thanks to his bad teeth, and that's not getting remedied until his folks get their 2nd opinion, and we need him working in the meantime. I'm nudging him in the direction of our local vet, they've had a sign up for help wanted for ages.

Guess I should get to work too.....

Friday.......aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....

Warning: This rant brought to you by JTA and Gator City/Yellow/Checker Cab of Jacksonville.

You'd think a city that boasts the largest land mass area in the U.S. would have a more comprehensive public transportation system.

You'd think.

Must've spent too much money on the downtown skyway that about 3 people use a day.

Don't get me wrong, the skyway's nifty; I'm sure it'll prove useful in a Jacksonville of the future. But what I wouldn't give for more southside bus routes instead.

It's very hard to encourage the husby to stay in SC where he's needed, to help his clueless sister and her equally clueless partner move their stuff into storage because they're a hairsbreadth away from being evicted (and yes, folks, this is the pregnant sister), when the taxicab situation is so unbearable in this town. I've been taking a cab to work and doing a mix of cab or bus to get home at night. Getting to work is easy. Asking a cab to pick me up at my place of business is apparently a clusterf*ck. I'm in a business complex that sits right on St. Augustine Road, but it's apparently beyond their capabilities to find the front of the building in the evenings. Yesterday I called them at 4:10 for a 4:30 cab, gave them the phone number of my place of business and decent instructions for where I'd be (outside, out front, building 200, etc.). 4:30 came and went.

4:45 came and went.

I called them for status and since I hadn't been picked up yet, they said they'd have to put my request in again and to be sure to call in 10 to 15 minutes if it still hadn't showed. The problem is their computer system keeps every single note from your previous calls, and the dispatch office appears to be run by Mensa candidates of the Springfield set. That's a sarcastic, local euphemism for black and white trash. I don't mean to sound racist, but when I'm explaining my location on the phone, and the response is, "ok, where you at?" the snotty white girl in me comes forward.

I call back at 4:55 and my loss of patience must've shown in my voice, because I get transferred to a supervisor. I lower my tone a notch and calmly explain that I originally called almost an hour ago for a cab that isn't there yet. Her response: "so you at the food court?"

I hung up on her. The cab showed up a minute later. Had to short the guy because the charge machine wasn't working. Didn't feel nearly guilty enough about that.

I much prefer the bus, wish I could take it to work everyday and save money on gas, but alas, I work too far south for it to be feasible. I can catch a Ride Request shuttle from my work to the Avenues Mall and then catch the S1 up to my complex, but the chances of those two schedules coinciding without forcing me to stand around for an hour someplace are slim. Screw it! Friday night with no husband in town, I'm a woman of leisure--I'll grab dinner at the mall and wait for the bus. A cab ride with tip is costing me between $18 and $20 on average; the bus is $2.75. Needless to say, it's maddening that I can't take the bus all the time. Cannot wait to get legal (paying off some tickets to get my license renewed) and get our car, our new, gently used, beeyootiful Nissan sedan with the CD player, cruise control, and little hidey space for sunglasses, back home with me! Haven't even driven it yet; it was such a step up from the Saturn, that I didn't want to set my ass in the driver's seat until I was legal. But my goddess, a car is necessary in this town! Even if I was in shape to hoof it the 3.5 miles from the Avenues to my house, there's no sidewalks to speak of from the mall to Baymeadows Road, which means uneven terrain, breathing in exhaust, and a din of car noise that makes it very hard to have yourself a relaxing walk.

Les finally admitted last night that he's ready to work toward moving up to SC!! I'm gonna spend the weekend figuring out how to make it happen in Columbia.

What a weekend!

Stressful, hot, fun, tiring, energizing...I got to see Columbia in the dark twice, and the vibe wasn't negative. The train's fun, and infinitely more comfortable and cost-efficient than the bus, but it's an interesting trick actually getting comfortable enough to sleep. His sister's shower was a blast; I spent almost the entire time chaperoning the hostess's two smallest boys. Samuel is a typical 2, serious climber, no fear, southpaw, an absolute ladykiller with his cute face and dark blond curls; Manning is 4ish and has some form of ASD. It's definitely not true autism, so I hope they stop calling it that. That kid can sit in a room full of people all talking at once without the slightest freakout, plus he's quite tactile--I kept trying to go inside to get him sunblock, and he'd reach right up and grab my hand to pull me back into play. Plus he cuddled right up next to me at one point, when I was trying to wind them down with a movie. Can't wait to see them again; we'll probably go back up in July after Kara has the baby.

Family drama of different sorts kept things a little stressful, plus car shopping in our delightful southern heat can be exhausting. We finally found a 2004 Nissan Sentra with only 32K miles on it for a nice price in a kind of celadon green (reasonable facsimile courtesy of www.nissanusa.com). Les stayed up in SC to get insurance and his license renewed, but I had to get back home before the cats died of thirst, so I grabbed the train back EARLY this morning. Poor Jordan's so pissed, he didn't come out from under the bed for the entire time I was getting changed for work :( We've been gone 5 days; definitely gonna have to smother them with love for the next couple.

Their home is comfy; I'd sit in their side yard to get away from stuff, and took breakfast out on the back patio at least twice to enjoy the morning before the heat kicked in. I got some inadvertent sun and ate well without going apeshit on the snacks. His grandmother's on the mend, but her operation definitely took the wind out of her sails; she's very weak and pretty quiet still when people come to visit, but they managed to get her into a rehab facility that's just a mile down the street from their house--very convenient, but also means you have absolutely no excuse if you forget to visit her on a particular day.

I got all kinds of complements on the baby stuff; naturally didn't get to take pictures, but the final tally was the Big Bad Baby Blanket in Encore, sage green; 1 basketweave hat, 1 umbilical cord hat, 2 sets of mittens, and 1 set of basketweave booties in Encore, white; a simple baby bib in Wool-Ease, Heather Rose; and a pair of baby Uggs in Wool-Ease, Wood Multi base with Jiffy in beige for the body. I did a row or 3 on the SSS after Sunday, and tried to start the Beginner's Triangle, also from A Gathering of Lace, but I must've forgotten how to do ssk properly or something, because it got ripped out twice for looking like crap after half a dozen rows. Will probably take another swing at it this weekend.

Almost there!

Holy God, but am I ready for my little mini-vaca!!!

I feel absolutely trapped at work today; my mind is packing the rest of our stuff, praying that Cyril will come through for us this weekend so I don't have to worry about our furry kids too much. We're gonna let him have free rein of the joint so that he can check up on our furballs and feed Jordan the moist stuff at least once a day. I'm gonna worry anyway, it's only been a month since Jordan's vet visits and he's still too skinny for my liking, but with no car, there was no way to bring them with us this time.

I just can't concentrate. I'll finally get to see Columbia, albeit only a glimpse in the dark. We roll in tonight around 1 in the morning, but the Amtrak station is right downtown, so I'll at least be able to catch a vibe off the place once I rub the sleep out of my eyes.

In classic Johnson timing, Les got the flu last night, so he'll make a perfectly miserable traveling companion in all likelihood; with a little luck, he'll sleep the majority of the trip and won't be able to bitch about his inability to smoke on the train. I'll be knitting; been so frickin' busy with laundry and getting ready for the trip that I still have like, 17 rows of seed stitch to polish off on the B4. That's the priority; any washcloths or extra bibs I can turn out between now and Sunday are afterthoughts.

It's gonna be a high family drama weekend, but at least it's a change of pace and locale. I can't wait to get there!

Wanderings of the mind

graphic courtesy of http://fridays.toonzone.net/fosters/characters.html. Reasoning for graphic placement as yet undetermined. Just dig Bloo. He's my bud.

Still can't eat anything too heavy. What's up with that?

Not that I'm complaining, I'll take anything that keeps the weight creeping down and keeps me eating healthier. Had pizza last night and felt like crap the rest of the evening. Les was all set to put a Hungry Man TV dinner in my bag for lunch and I said no way! The coffee's regained its flavor, but sodas haven't. This could be the beginning of a beautiful new food relationship.

Taxis are frickin' expensive! I can't imagine taking one on a regular basis unless I lived in NYC. They're also mostly vile, driven by an element of society that I'd rather not associate with on a regular basis. Had a nice old man driving me this morning, but when we passed the cluster of Hispanics that live in my neighborhood and make a living as painting contractors--they were waiting for the van that picks them up everyday--he let slip the comment, "illegal immigrants," under his breath. Please, for all he knows, they could all have green cards; I've never thought twice about their legal status, I see that they're hard workers and notice the care they give to keeping the van clean--beyond that, who cares! Probably too complacent an argument in the face of the "we're paying their taxes" frame of mind that the right is foisting on us, like it happened yesterday. But the border issue being the hot button topic to keep our minds off our boys dying in Iraq, is only serving to cultivate a fresh form of bigotry in what's supposed to be a free society.

Give me the bus any day! Problem is, the bus is logistically impossible for me. JTA's schedules are a clusterf*ck, no two ways about it. I could take the S1 from the front of my complex to the Avenues Mall, but it arrives at exactly the same time that the van for Gran Park is leaving. Getting home is laughable; I can grab the van a little after 5 at my place, but when I get to the Avenues Mall, I'd have to wait an hour to catch the bus home. Shoot, give me a month, I'll be able to walk from there--it's only 3 miles. Hey, that's not a bad idea at all, except for the lack of sidewalks up Southside Boulevard. Between the flu and the car sitch, I've got a chance at getting healthy this summer without trying too hard.

So I had to wash my brand-new dress sneaks because I'd managed to decorate them Thursday night. Was thinking that that would make the plopping noise go away. Only worked on one sneaker. ::sigh::

We're taking the train to SC tomorrow night!!!!! I haven't been on a train since I was like, 6. I've done subways and stuff, but the only other time I remember taking the train was when Mom, Dad, Cyril, and I went to NYC for a tourist day. We went to the Twin Towers and Benihana for dinner; it was our first Japanese steakhouse and we were hooked! Cyril couldn't have been more than 3; he fell asleep in Dad's arms on the way home. Funny the things you remember...anyway, I'm totally psyched to go on the train! :)

Started a baby washcloth and the border on the B4; I'm bringing the SSS up to SC, can't wait to start working it again when the baby stuff's done.

Friendship

What, you people don't recognize a warm fuzzy when you see one? (graphic courtesy of http://fuzzy.hubbe.net)

If there was any solace to be had after Thursday night's display of intestinal pyrotechnics, it was the fact that the KB crowd that night was entirely made up of folks whom I consider to be true friends. With the exception of Terra's mom, who I met on the spot that night pre-side show, everyone there was from our core crowd, folks I've hung with outside of KB, whether at the park, at Pagan Pride, or on a cool night at a bonfire under the stars at Green Lynn's house. I was embarassed to the very tips of my hair, but I couldn't stay upset because I knew everyone there already accepts me, warts and all. Or in my case, spare tire and all, heh heh...anyway, very reassuring feeling.

The thing is, I don't get sick. And I have the digestive system of a goat; my family jokes that I could probably process a tin can. Sure, I get the occasional cold, and once every couple of years, I'll run a fever with it, but I literally haven't been sick to my stomach for reasons that couldn't be attributed to overenjoyment of alcohol, since the 7th grade. I'm 36. So it's been a while. Plain didn't recognize the symptoms as being that bad. (yeah, until the hallway at Panera, ::snickers, hides head::)

Enough of that! Rebounding, still weak, back at work, no appetite to speak of. Also no car. In true Murphy fashion, I caught the flu on my husband's birthday, and we had the car repossessed that same day. Needless to say, he's been a little depressed too. We still don't know what we want to do about that. His folks will front us a grand or two, but they're of the opinion that it would be more prudent to throw that cash into another used car, free and clear, rather than continue paying on ours. The problem we see in that is having a repossession then on our credit and $3K+ to still pay on a car we no longer own, never mind that any $2K car would probably be a piece of excrement. I ache for a little capital. Thank the Goddess we're past 7 years on my bankruptcy and everything else, furniture and stuff, we own free and clear.

Making plans to take the train to SC this weekend probably, if we don't have our wheels back, which means leaving on KB night. I'll try to take pictures of all the baby stuff I made before I give it to Kara. Finished the last mitten in a burst of energy between sweats this weekend; will start finishing the baby blanket tonight. Still having delusions of grandeur involving knocking off a couple of little washcloths or something too; shower's not til Sunday.

I need a haircut.

Can I go home yet?

Killing time

One Word Survey

Taken from my Lil Sis...One word? Yeah, right. How do you narrow stuff down to one word? I'm a writer; ain't gonna happen. That's why God invented parentheses.

1. Yourself: Sleepy
2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend: Fuzzy
3. Your Hair: Cooperative (again! !@#$%^&*?!)
4. Your Mother: Compassionate
5. Your Father: Intelligent
6. Your Favorite Item: Purse
7. Your Dream Last Night: ???
8. Your Favorite Drink: Barq's Root Beer (oops, that's three)
9. Your Dream Home: Efficient
10. The Room You Are In: Huge
11. Your pet(s): Cats
12. Your fear: Death
13. Where you want to be in 10 Years: PTA :)
14. Who did you hang out with last nite: Husby
15. What you're not: Conservative
16. Your best friend: Husby
17. One of your wish list items: Yarn
18. Your gender: Tomboy
19. The last thing you did: Breakfast
20. What you are wearing: Capris
21. Your favorite weather: Balmy
22. Your favorite book: The Fifth Sacred Thing
23. The last thing you ate: Eggo with peanut butter
24. Your life: Adequate
25. Your Mood: Sunny
26. The last person you talked to on the phone: Lil Sis
27. Who are you thinking about right now: Green Lynn, Izzy

That's a toughie, I mean, beyond the ones that have to have more than one word, like the favorite book; there's stuff like when I say I want my dream home to be efficient, I mean earth-efficient with low-flow water, solar panels, maybe even a little wind turbine, and definitely a compost heap named Marjory (graphic courtesy of www.fragglerocker.com) .

Worked B4 last night, should start end border tonight. Last night was spent measuring and saying, ok, two more rows, then measuring and saying, ok, one more row...repeat...I'm nearly there. Also just one more mitten on the size 3s...I don't think I'm going to make the cords that the pattern calls for; they seem dangerous, something the baby could inadvertently wrap around its neck. Maybe I could fashion some kind of binder clip gizmo for the baby's sleeves. KB tonight!!! See y'all there!

Murphy

graphic courtesy of www.kohls.com

Dontcha love when you've had your eye on a pair of shoes for a while, you finally find a way to purchase them, you put them on right away to break them in (say, at work), and discover they make a borderline embarassing noise when you walk.....

I've been dying for a new pair of dress sneaks, like Keds but for people who wear more than a frickin' A width. Something to wear with jeans or capris--I can get away with being way casual at my work, and I've always been a comfort over fashion kind of gal anyway.

So today I had to dress up because Google was in town (yes, THAT Google!), and my pantyhose self-destructed upon dressing this morning, so I threw on my brown Skecher heels bare-legged and raced to work. Didn't have time to buy fresh hose on the way in. However there's no full-length mirror in my house, so it wasn't until I got to work and caught a glimpse of myself in the window that I noticed just how much those Skechers destroyed an otherwise classy outfit. Great, an entire day of compounded self-image issues!

Not if I can help it. Since my need to impress people ended at lunchtime, I scooted over to Kohl's on my break and hunted for something in the footwear department that wouldn't have me feeling like crap about myself the rest of the day. Yes folks, sometimes stuff like this is necessary. I don't do it often, but we're close to payday, and today I got lucky and found the dress sneaks that I've had my eye on since Spring first poked its green head up around here, which is oh, I don't know, mid-February. They're perfect for days when I don't feel like wearing my platforms with my capris.

I get back to work, change shoes, and go back to plunking away at Mods. Get up later for a pee break and notice it immediately. Plop, plop, plop, plop....what the hell is that? I check the soles back at my desk, but there's no loose spots; everything seems intact. Must be my orthotics. I take them out, work some more. Get up for a Coke break...plop, plop, plop, plop......sonofa...the damn things announce me as I'm coming down the hall. I think fast for a one-liner in case anybody comments, egotist that I am ("hey, I'm no shrinking violet, you're just jealous because your shoes don't talk."). Upon returning to my desk, I investigate further, and I'm pretty sure that if I wear socks and/or break the canvas in further, that sound should dissipate. It's the snap of new canvas at the toe. Still, while I'm more comfortable wearing them the rest of the day, their usefulness with regard to remedying the original issue has definitely been called into question.

Y'all check out the lace patterns on www.knitpicks.com? I'm looking forward to getting done with the baby stuff; definitely ready to finish the SSS and try my hand at some feather and fan.

Superfluous vent

Knowing's half the battle, right?

Given: Melanie watches too much TV

Thought I'd get that out of the way. Thus it stands to reason that Melanie pays too much attention to what goes on on TV too. Like the networks unveiling their fall schedules this week. Who pays attention to that besides teenagers and closet cases? Ah well...

Given how terrific Grey's Anatomy was last night, I was thinking how I'd like to get into watching it again. I've only seen like, half a handful of episodes since it started this year, because of one or another distractions and then later in the season, Big Love on HBO (strange, neat character drama about polygamists). But last night's finale, even with me flipping back and forth to catch Everwood (which'll be the subject of a separate vent in a sec), was rather exquisite TV, full of emotion, nicely written. Big Love's finishing up soon and will go away for a while, so I'll have my 10 o'clock block on Sunday free.

As quickly as I was able to think that, they put out the ABC schedule this morning with the announcement that they're moving Grey's in the fall to, you guessed it, Thursdays at 9. Thursdays at 9, I'm usually driving across the street to hang with my bitches, or heading home from knitting, which is about a 20-minute trip. No biggie, you'd think, that's why God invented VCRs. Except NBC released their schedule Monday with the announcement that Studio 60, the new drama with Matthew Perry and Bradley (sigh!) Whitford would be shown in the fall, yup, say it with me, Thursdays at 9!

shit.

And don't get me started about the rumor Michael Ausiello was kind enough to impart on we Everwood fans to soften the blow: that he has it from 2 reliable sources that the CW isn't planning to carry Everwood over in the fall. They're renewing the dead horse 7th Heaven to give themselves a good start, but 86ing the best damn family drama on television in the process. Can we say, cutting off nose to spite face? That kind of stuff makes me crazy, like when CBS 86d Joan of Arcadia, but brought Ghost Whisperer in the next year. Joan of Arcadia had a phenomenal ensemble cast, but in the world of money and ratings, it gets bagged in favor of Jennifer Love Hewitt's face.

So mind's wandering a bit today, if you haven't noticed. And I've certainly punctuated to my handful of readers the distinct lack of life I currently have. Think the coffee finally kicked in though.

If it's Tuesday, this must be Belgium!

Isn't that a line from a movie?

Had a bird glance off the hood of the car as I was hauling up the ramp to 95 today. I don't think I obliterated the little dude, but he'd obviously taken lessons at the Woodstock School of Flying, hence today's graphic (courtesy of www.snoopy.com).

I think it's gonna be one of those "ain't enough coffee on the planet" days. Where little things frustrate me. Like my hair looks good today, which oughta be a good thing, but when you're giving serious thought to taking off another couple of inches because it NEVER looks good anymore, then having it suddenly cooperate is quite disconcerting. I've discovered that there's a direct corellation between my level of depression and my desire to cut my hair, so I've been careful to wait out my blues...but I'm pretty sure this weekend I'm going to get the layers taken out, so to have them fall all pretty along my shoulders this morning is a little exasperating.

The blues are getting better, at least. The grief is past, and summer's coming. Memorial Day weekend will be busy with family up in SC so there's that to look forward to...should be some family drama with Kara's baby shower and Grandma fresh from the hospital (hopefully), but they live in a really pretty neighborhood, in a corner lot, where the tall pine trees shut out the traffic sounds from the main road. You can sit in their side yard where the sturdy wooden outdoor furniture is, reading or knitting, and hear nothing but nature and the occasional neighborhood dog. Their front yard is great for grounding; I sit with my back against one of their pine trees and just listen, down deep. Family drama be damned, I'm looking forward to getting up there!

Finished the 2nd baby Ugg last night and knit another mitten. I must've been stalling on the baby blanket, but I definitely don't want to be rushing the blanket at the end, so I'll put in time on that for most of this week. Only little stuff left is one mitten and then 2 cords to attach to 'em. Say it with me, Melanie: it's too late to start anything else new.

Probably need to tape that one to my forehead. In backwards writing so I can see it in the mirror. And write it on the walls of my house for good measure.

Just some thoughts...

I wrote a letter to the editor of the Times-Union expressing my disappointment over Much Ado about Books this past weekend. The children's section was paltry and consisted of way too many folks trying to sell you stuff and not enough people reading, doing fingerplays, engaging kids. But the reason I wrote was because the hotel where they held it had ballrooms on multiple floors and no maps displayed, and you could just tell the old farts were having a time of it. Which got me thinking...radical thought coming, watch out now...why didn't they hold it in the Main Library?! The ground floor of that sucker is an immense hallway with ballroom upon ballroom for the panel discussions. Better yet, weather permitting, they could set up the children's stuff right in the children's room off that terrific patio on what, the third floor. There's that whole garage for parking next door, and it's centrally located. It's probably not equipped (too small) to handle the potential population that shows for Much Ado, but I can't help thinking that that's also why they stagger the panel discussions, so you never have an hysterical amount of people in the main areas at any one time. If they just planned logistics a bit better, staggered the panels to end 15 minutes apart maybe, instead of all at one time per block, then downstairs at the Main Library would have potential. And show the donators and taxpayers where their money's going.

I think it was the movie "Never Been Kissed..." Drew Barrymore and Molly Shannon having lunch at work, near the beginning of the movie, and a rather large female coworker sits down with them, toting 3, count them 3! Budget Gourmets stacked one on top of the other for her lunch. It's worth quite a chuckle. Thing is, anybody ever eat some of them low-cal meals? We've hit desperation food time here at Chez Johnson, so I brought a Lean Cuisine to work. Not only was it devoid of flavor, but by 2:00, I was rooting through my desk drawer for the truly desperate pickins', oatmeal, so that I could make it through the rest of the afternoon without a hunger headache and a bitchy demeanor.

Grandma's on the mend. Didn't get a whole lot of knitting done this weekend; gotta concentrate on the 2nd baby Ugg and the baby blanket for next weekend, ACK!

Such coordination

Graphic courtesy of http://www.whales.org.au.
If only I could be that graceful.

When you're big, the last thing you want to do is draw attention to yourself. ANY attention to yourself. You wear nondescript colors in your wardrobe, unless you have enough pride to override the flab. You try not to be loud. You practice invisibility, camouflage. If you're forced into public situations with strangers, you turn on the charm, smile more—I'm pretty, look at my face, not my bod.

And then you trip over boxes.

Worked one of the H Magazine tables last night at "Girl's Night Out," one of those shindigs where you get free samples, sign up for drawings, and everyone tries to sell you cosmetics or get you to host a party in your home.

Mom was on the other end of the food court working the silent auction, and my size 11s got caught on one of the boxes behind the table I was working. It was like my shoes were suddenly tied together; my attempts to extricate myself from the tangle of box and magazines nearby, caused me to go down hard, turning an ankle and bruising a knee. In an instant, I was up, straightening stuff out, mopping up the spilled soda that had tumbled off the table, waving off the concerned looks of the women around me asking if I was ok (I'm fine, no problem, next show's at 10, enjoy the veal), but my face must've given away how humiliated I felt. I was suddenly immensely tired and couldn't wait to get outta there.

Luckily I didn't really hurt myself, it appears; left ankle has soreness when I turn it certain ways, but I can walk fine, so I'm trying not to feed my self-pity by making it hurt. It was just a blunt reminder of how desperately tired I am of being this big, how I ache to be healthier, yet let week after week go by without exercise and with crappy nutrition. I'm so tired of loving myself on the inside and loathing myself on the outside. Whine, whine, whine. 'Nuf said.

Knit up to the instep on the 2nd baby Ugg last night before my exercise in flexibility and grace.

Prayers to my grandmother-in-law, please! She went in for emergency gall bladder surgery last night; she's 85 with a host of other health issues, so this will definitely lay her flat for a while.

Happy friggin' Friday.

At least I don't work for AOL

Now, explain to me how we can have an 800-person call center right here in town, and every time we call AOL for something, it sounds like we get rerouted to New Delhi.

Guess it's immaterial now; the center shut its doors yesterday. 800+ people with some form of call center experience looking for work in Jacksonville today. Terrific. Les's main experience is call center work. Another nail in the Jacksonville coffin in my book. Like it needs nails; I've never liked living here. I love my friends and I've made a life here, but I couldn't be more sick of Florida if it were July right now and my hair were 6 inches longer. That probably doesn't make sense...I'm thinking of trimming my hair some more, and I can't stand Florida's heat. I know it won't be a helluva lot different climate-wise in Columbia, SC, but a girl's gotta dream.

Grieving for Neil has definitely turned into pre-grieving for Nanie. I've gotta start walking or something, get my mind off my mind. Not just walking, working on the apartment some more would help. When I think too much about the future, it means I'm not happy in my present. If I'm going to tough it out 1 more year here, then some attitude adjustment and reorganization need to occur, or I'll just be a sad sack.

Finished 2nd mitten, started 2nd baby Ugg, and sewed the crotch on my fave pants last night, busy little bee that I was. Feels like Thursday today, wish it was.

A new day

More whales courtesy of http://www.nmfs.noaa.gov/pr/

"But things always look better in the morning..."
~ To Kill A Mockingbird

Feeling better. Much, I think. Which is odd, because the sky is still gloomy from last night's rains and we're out of money again. Lord knows we need the rain; they just declared a state of emergency down by New Smyrna Beach because of the forest fires.

Tonight I'll continue on the mitten I started last night, start the other baby Ugg, and work the baby blanket. I can feel myself winding down on baby stuff; will probably do one other set of mittens and maybe a bib too, but I'm definitely ready to turn my attention back to knitting for me. That new issue of Interweave coming out mid-May looks orgasmic!

There's a bunch of new TV tonight and a load of laundry to do. Normalcy, the mundaneness of life helps; but I definitely don't feel as raw as I did last night. Must've turned a corner.

Therapy

My apologies to my select few readers; this post is going to be a little dark. I have to write because when you live in an apartment, you can't scream for no reason, and when you're married, you can't go for a drive on a whim in the middle of the night.

Background: When I graduated college and began looking for solutions to my depression, I made the decision that I was going to live an honest life. I was raised by secret keepers. Whether it was a poor grade, a broken plate, or a schoolyard fight, secrets were kept, mainly from my father, whose tendency was to explode verbally with anger and beratement. I wasn't going to have that in my life outside of them, and I made it clear by action. When Les moved in with me, I called my family to tell them that night, even though I lived 5 hours away and could easily have kept it to myself and eased them into it. Dad didn't speak to me for the better part of a year, but at least I wasn't living a lie.

Present: I've mentioned that my Uncle Neil just passed away, Dad's 2nd brother. Nanie, Dad's mom, is 94 years old; she lives in a nursing home (one of the few good ones left, run by the Sisters of St. Thomas in Norwalk, CT). She's winding down, bless her heart; running at about 40% , I 'd say, as far as cognitive function and long-term memory goes. I'd initially heard that they weren't going to tell Nanie that Uncle Neil had passed, and I thought, well, good. This is one instance where I'd definitely agree with keeping the truth from someone. I can't imagine a grief worse than losing a child, and when you're infirm and have enough trouble remembering that you have 4 kids, what good can come from that honesty? She's obviously a strong lady, comes from good Irish stock; her own mother lived to be 96. But that's a grief, in my opinion, that she could be spared. Worst case scenario, she recognizes what's going on and must bear that grief, of losing a son. Best case scenario sucks too; I mean, what if it's an open casket at the wake--which is still a big fave among the Catholics--and she's confused into thinking she's at Popie's funeral. She gets to relive that grief all over again, for a husband who's been gone for 26 years now. I just have trouble seeing the point.

Catalyst: Mom calls to tell me...no wait, she thought I'd be happy to know that Dad visited Nanie today, and the brothers had made the decision to tell Nanie about Neil. They're getting her an early viewing at the wake, so she won't be confused by all the people. Well, that's fine, that's caring certainly; I know Dan, Dad, and Tom mean well and will circle the wagons around her like pros. But the way Mom said it, you could tell she thought that my original opinion would've been honesty, so I should be relieved by this turn of events. Good thing we were talking between commercials, because the rage hit my throat almost before I hung up the phone. I had a good cry, and wished I could be up in Norwalk, at Notre Dame, in Nanie's room, in bed with her, cradling her in my arms and telling her stories to remind her about how she would braid my hair when I was little and how she doted on me, because while she loved her boys, she'd always wanted a girl too, to name Mary Jane and braid her long hair.

So I'll ache a little longer, it appears. And maybe I won't get up there before she takes her final rest, but I think I have to try. Apparently she didn't take a fall recently, rather she took her sweet time waking up recently, which may have been a mini-stroke. Well, good, I said, she and Dad can compare notes on TIAs.

Finished my 2nd baby hat tonight, started another mitten. I believe it's time to polish off the Haagen-Daz now.

Turning points

I love whales. That's the only reason for this graphic. I think they're pretty f*cking exquisite creatures. This one's courtesy of http://www.scu.edu.au/news/images/whale%20breach%20web.jpg.

For once, my brain's a little clearer on a Monday. A weekend of rest, some grieving, some life-and-death reconciling, a little beer, a little knitting, and I'm getting back on track.

I was a little off on some of my obit stuff for Uncle Neil, but the meat of it is correct. Don't sweat the mention of life-and-death reconciling, all that means is wrapping my mind around the idea of never seeing him again. It's kind of a bummer. They'll put him in the ground on Wednesday; somebody in the family scraped up the dough for a traditional Catholic wake and funeral. I don't know if they've told Nanie; given this family's penchant for keeping things secret for a person's own good, I wouldn't put it past them...and though I loathe that level of dishonesty, if her senility has hit a significant level, I'm pretty sure the knowledge of losing a son would do more harm than good, so I'm not sure I'd disagree with them if they did keep it from her. It's a toughie, that's for sure. I still ache to be there this week, to hug some family members, and to see Neil to his next phase, but I'll have to content myself with lighting candles and meditation here at home. Say some prayers for my dad if you get a chance; this trip is the type of thing to give his ulcer a workout, and the level of drinking that occurs at an Irish funeral certainly won't help.

Worked on the baby blanket a bit this weekend, did some reading. Feels like the 2nd baby hat is taking forever, but I know once I get it on the double points, it'll be finished in an evening, so I'll probably focus on that tonight.

I'm pretty sure I've come to my senses again unfortunately, on the Avon walk. Not this year. Five months just ain't enough time to prepare, not as big as I am. I'm thinking of mailing them back the fundraising stuff, so that I'll stop flip-flopping about it. I've got work to do, but it needs to be for me. We'll see. Feels like the first time in what, a month and a half, that my energy is reaching normal levels again. Relief, relief, relief. Time to do something with it.

A Crossing

When you come from a family as large as mine, it's easy to lose touch with folks. The Internet's been great for keeping track of the extensions upon extensions of family that are the result of my mom's 9 brothers and sisters, but Dad's family is a little trickier. They're not the greatest communicators (ok, that's way sugarcoating it; have a phone conversation with my dad sometime and you'll see what I mean...it's like pulling teeth and very formal), so more effort is required, and unfortunately stuff slips through the cracks. If a family member decides to try and live their retirement as an alcoholic, there's only so much you can do to keep tabs on them; and you leave the rest to prayer. The Goddess came and took my Uncle Neil this week. My mind's been full of childhood memories since finding out, so here's a little vent.

Cornelius J. Lyons was born approximately 70 years ago to the late Cornelius J. Lyons and the still-kicking Mildred Grace Lyons of Norwalk, Connecticut. A taciturn man and devout Catholic in his youth, Neil owned an automotive transmission shop in Norwalk for many years. He married Jill (last name unknown) and produced 5 beautiful children: Colleen, Neil Jr., Lynda, Kelly, and Allyson, only to have Jill succumb to cancer around 1975 (time approximate, but I wasn't more than 6). He married Patricia Hicks (that last name's a guess, it's been a while) and continued to run his automotive shop while raising his children in a fairly bucolic lifestyle on a mini-farm in Redding, Connecticut. His children grown, retirement took he and Pat to Bonita Springs, Florida, where unfortunately the marriage dissolved. He moved back to Connecticut, where the difficulties of his life appear to have caught up with him. He finally moved to Danbury, where he suffered a recent fall, which lead to the discovery of internal bleeding and multiple cancers. He was placed in a drug-induced coma and never awoke.

Sounds like a downer, I know, but all I've been thinking about is sweet memories of growing up in Connecticut. We lived 40 minutes from Redding, an hour from Norwalk, so we visited Dad's side of the family pretty frequently. Nanie and Dad's older brother Dan's family lived in Norwalk, 4 cousins on that side + Neil's 5. Neil's place in Redding was really pretty; big Colonial house, small barn/carport with fenced corral for cows and pigs, small backyard for running around. I learned the small jolt that an electric fence gives if you touch it. Cyril and I rolled around with their dog, Precious, so much one day that we both went home with allergic reactions around our eyes. We saw a nest of tiny baby rats. The pigs were really cute and clean, and the cow ate something called Crunchy 16—Dad loved the name of that stuff. Nanie and I were penpals back then. The air's cleaner up there.

I ache that I can't go up for the funeral, and so I write. We just don't have any savings; even if it had happened last week when we were rolling in my quarterly bonus and the tax return, it wouldn't have been realistic. I pray we find a way for me to go up there when Nanie passes. She's pushing 95 and just took a fall too—I've reconciled I think, with the fact that seeing her in 2002 was the last time; but saying goodbye is quite another matter.

It's been probably 15 years since I saw Uncle Neil, I think I was in college. His hair had gone entirely white, and he looked the most like Popie in the face. All the Lyons men are quiet guys who keep their cards close to their chests. As they age, the eldest, Dan and the youngest, Tom, have suffered significant hearing loss so it seems more appropriate for them somehow, that element of taciturn alertness. Laugh-out-loud funny to think of my dad as the most gregarious of the four, but you really have to have grown up with him to appreciate the humor—the man has mellowed markedly since we kids all moved out. He listens more carefully, he's more open to suggestions, and while positive emotion still baffles him, he's less likely to shut down if presented with it.

What am I getting at? I think it's that even though we all knew Neil's lifestyle was going to shorten his life, I just didn't expect him to pass away. This sounds awful, but Dad's supposed to go first. I'll never be prepared for when it happens, but the plain fact is that the man is a medical miracle walking around and going to work everyday. His carotid artery is entirely blocked on one side. Normally the blood in your body goes up one side of the carotid, feeds the brain, and goes down the other side back into the body. He's got one side doing the work of both, which means a life of medications and mini-strokes. His doctors say they can't go in and fix it, because a) they're able to control the condition with medication, and b) they'd most likely lose him on the table anyway if they did go in. So he gets up and goes to work everyday, mows the lawn on the weekends, and monitors his BP and sits nice and still when a transient ischemic attack (TIA) hits. What else can you do, ya know? He'd balk at someone else doing the lawn, and besides, it's good for his spirits and his health outside of that little condition.

And this is outside of the 24-year-old Dacron graft holding his aorta together. You know the thing that killed John Ritter? Dad had that back in 1982. It's f*ing remarkable that he's with us today...and Meara for that matter, she was born in 1983.

So today's my Beltane. The sun's at 15 degrees Taurus. I'll go outside tonight and light tealights to lives gone and lives to come and meditate and move on. Because there's still so much left to this year, sortings and packings and plannings and yes, maybe even baby making by Christmastime. My life is full to bursting, and I'm terribly grateful.

::grumble, grumble::

Things are rubbing me the wrong way today.

First, my insurance company was kind enough to send a memo on April 28, stating that as of May 1, one of my generic medications would be increased in price. The memo was kind enough to suggest Prozac as a possible alternative med. That really pissed me off, and I've written my insurance company a scathing letter to let them know. I tried Prozac for about a year, in 1996, and quite literally went out of my mind on the stuff. That year almost beats my college years for pain spent in depression, I was a wreck; I couldn't sit still, pulled at my hair, banged my head with my hands, and bruised myself constantly on Prozac. I talked to myself so much, my employees couldn't take me seriously. For them to nonchalantly suggest that Prozac is an alternative for me was galling, and I let 'em have it.

Then I just did a site for an astrology and psychic shop in LA. Fairly harmless shop, they offer new age products like Buddha figures and candles, as well as provide psychic readings and yoga classes. In our notes, it showed that the first designer passed on the site because they disagreed with the content. I'd forgotten we do that; management offered a while back that if there's a particular site that you know you can't give your best to, because you disagree with its content, then you can ask for it to be assigned to someone else, no harm, no foul. I've never had to exercise it because, as a Unitarian, I really have no problem doing the occasional church or ministry site; to each their own. To read that someone has a problem with stuff I believe in, though, sets me on edge. I take pride in my religious decisions in my life, and hate the feeling that I have to hide them to make others comfortable. People can spout about Jesus in this country til the cows come home, but bring up Gaia and they shrink into their Bibles. I'm not being fair; for all I know, the person may believe in chiropractic over Reiki and that was what made them ask for another site. Still, it grinds me.

Beltane looming

(graphic courtesy of http://www.crystalinks.com/maypole.html)

Where HAS the time gone? Seems like yesterday I was putting together the material for the Ostara class. I blink and this coming Monday is May Day.

I follow a calendar of astrology and convenience so I'll probably be celebrating Beltane on Cinco de Mayo this year, since a) the sun enters 15 degrees Taurus that day, and b) it's just easier to perform rituals on a Friday than a Monday. Though Beltane's supposed to be more of a dawn or daytime ritual than night, so with them both work days, it's kind of a crap shoot.

Given that Beltane is a fertility festival, Les probably won't come within 3 feet of me for the next week, but I'm going to try to at least get him out for a walk this weekend--maybe we can hit one of the parks. The church and CUUPs aren't doing anything for Beltane this year; folks are too busy, so no maypole, but I'm still going to try and do a ritual outdoors somewhere. Apartment living sucks for this sort of thing; I've done rituals on my porch before, but it's really cramped, you're stuck wearing clothes, and you feel like you're being watched. For something like Beltane, when you're truly celebrating spring and the earth in all its glory, you want to spread your arms, run, jump, shout, roll in the grass, smell the leaves. I'm definitely going to a park. Still gotta wear clothes, but at least I can spread out and revel in the green.

Jacksonville's terrific, park-wise; I was able to perform my initiation ritual at one in the Southside with almost no interruptions or distractions. Next year, goddess willing, we'll be moving right around Beltane (OUT of FLORIDA!!!), so there won't be time to observe, so this year I'm gonna make it count.

Just another manic Thursday...

Let's see...

Jordan's getting his appetite back.
I'm getting my energy back.
Linus (www.snoopy.com) is just here because he reminds me of Les.

I finished the umbilical cord hat (adorable!), and I think I like I-cord; it's kinda nifty! Knitted one of those little mittens, and am planning to start another pair of booties, because I know I'll be lucky if that dress is done by the time Kylie makes her appearance, and I want to have a bunch of stuff done for the shower at the end of next month. Gonna try for 2 pairs of booties, 2 pairs of mittens, 2 hats, and the blanket for the shower. At present, that goal's still doable; those mittens take like, no time; just hard working with size 3s. I got a new needle holder at JoAnn's that fits almost all my supplies, which is sweet, because I was keeping stuff in 2 or 3 places before, which is precarious when you live in an overflowing apartment. Lay something down and if the apartment doesn't eat it, one of the cats will.

Knitting bitches tonight!!! I haven't been in, like a month; car trouble, gas prices, and health stuff have kept me away :( Looking forward to it!

Why?

(graphic courtesy of http://www.oaklandzoo.org/atoz/azemu.html)

So I've been building and editing websites for more than 6 years now, so I've gotten pretty used to the level of crap that America's willing to sell online. There's lots of normal sites out there, but there's also the folks who sell Herbalife, breed rabbits, and detail cars all in one shop. Never mind that our designers rarely look beyond their noses if something doesn't sound right; one of my coworkers got a site yesterday for a company that catered to senior citizens and the baby bomber generation. ::sigh::

I thought I'd heard it all, but I just got a site that sells health care products made from emu oil, and all I can say is WTF. I mean, my god, what's the story on this? Who was the first person to farm emus and think, "damn, they were sweaty today, but hey, my skin's never looked better!" How exactly do you squeeze an emu? They're smaller than ostriches, but still, it's not like squeezing a parakeet, I figure. Yes, I know I need help; I just had an Ally McBeal moment in my head, of trying to extract parakeet oil: "ah, shit! Crushed another one. Hey Jack, can you hand me that strainer?" I must be feeling better finally.

One of our cats is sick, so please send positive energy our way. Jordan and Figaro both had fleas recently, and when we noticed Jordan had lost weight, we thought that was the cause and took him to the vet. Now we're thinking the weight loss is more serious. We took care of the fleas and updated his shots, but he's still not eating and he's down to 9 lbs. For him, that's low. Apparently feline anorexia is rather common; cats stop eating for one reason or another and need to be trained to eat all over again. He stares at his food, thinks about it, and walks away. I'm really scared; Jordan's my first pet ever (we didn't have pets growing up), so he's very precious to me.

Damn ache came back. Not the candida aches, the baby ache. My friend Steve has his son here (at work) today. Lukas is 18+ months old, sandy brown hair, brown eyes, shy face. Those eyes just shot an arrow through my heart. I joked that thanks to him, I'd be hearing this ticking in my head the rest of the day, but was surprised to find that after they left my cube, I had to take a second because the beauty of that little boy was still hanging around my heart and bringing tears to my eyes. I guess maybe it's more acute because a) I'm hormonal, and b) one of my pseudo-kids is sick, possibly starving. Jordan's appointment is at 4 today. It can't come fast enough.

Goddess...a little help here...

Patience.
Patience.
Patience.
And did I mention, patience?
Remember, you don't want to start trying to get pregnant until after the walk in October.
And Les being employed would help too.
And you need a new computer first, so that you can work from home.
And...

I don't want to whine. I really don't. But I'm aching a little right now. Just found out one of my cousins is pregnant again. Now granted, I have so many cousins on my mom's side, it's a wonder that that's not a permanent sitch; all the ones around my age have performed the requisite spawning of the herd in the last couple of years. I guess I relate to this cuz a little better; she and the hubby spent some time together before trying, and she's a bit of a granola. For some reason, this is hitting me harder than my sis-in-law Kara's impending mommyhood, probably because I don't envy her sitch one iota. She's not married, there's zero plans toward that (that we know of), and her partner is financially irresponsible and an alcoholic in training. She's got her work cut out for her. But it's all moot, because the responsible part of me doesn't want to get pregnant (as I've said, multiple times) until a) Les is employed, b) I'm in a little better shape, and c) we have a new computer at home so I can work from there. These are all things that can and will happen between now and the end of the year, in all likelihood, so I just need to relax and deal.

Tell that to my biological clock.

Where the hell'd April go?

I'm not complaining, mind you. I tend to have off months; for me, February, April, and July just don't fit as well as the rest for some reason. I'm used to it. Still, as we trudge on toward summer, Avon walk, and other things I'm not yet prepared for, it's enough to make a girl go ACK!

Well, there's a nice thing about April, I guess. The Annual Butterfly Festival is this coming weekend at Tree Hill Nature Center here in Jax. (graphic courtesy of http://www.treehill.org/) Lived in this area 10+ years now, and never been to Tree Hill; probably can't drag Les out for it, but maybe some of the knitting gang will be game. I think Green Lynn and Izzy handed out info for Riverkeepers there last year.

Granted, I couldn't quite help the last two weeks of inactivity. My health sitch gave me all the energy of a wrung-out dishrag. I mean, you know something's wrong when you're too tired to knit! I seem to be on an upswing, but I'm still getting tired easily, which sucks, because when you're lazy to begin with, it's harder to distinguish feeling better from feeling normal. Not sure that makes sense, but that's how it feels. We went to the flicks on Saturday (Ice Age 2, very sweet!) and then took in some shopping, and by the time we got home, I was all in, as the Southerners say. Ticks me off when the most basic shit tuckers me out. I don't need any help feeling out of shape; my big belly does that for me.

Anyway, enough about that...making progress on the umbilical cord hat for Kylie. I'll probably plow through that until it's done. It's my first time trying I-cord, so that should be interesting. I'm giving myself til her birth on the dress, I'm 2/3rd done with the blanket, and I still want to do a pair or three of those little mittens they wear so they don't scratch their faces. And I bought point protectors for the SSS, just for grins.

Happy Monday!

I will not go quietly...

(graphic courtesy of http://www.speedysigns.com/decals/graphic_decal_14180.htm)

Removing "bad" carbs from your diet is an interesting trick. Screw that line; it completely blows. You hem and haw, and rationalize. And I've gotten pretty damn used to the "bad" carbs: I love me some bread with my pasta, some potatoes with my fries, some corn with my corn chips. I bypassed somebody's birthday cake at work the other day, then went home and hoovered a bowl of popcorn. The carb crave becomes physical. Like it was so hard to tell why I was fatigued to my very bones the next day, so bad that I actually played hookey from work. Another example is eating a bowl of Cheerios because I convinced myself that that's better for me than picking at a bowl of red beans and rice, because I'm so unused to the blandness of that type of dish that it'd take a gigantic effort to get excited about it, and then I'd probably have eaten the Cheerios anyway. Yeah, I know, discover spices. Not the same.

The thing I have to reconcile myself with, is that I have to get used to bland for a while. Not forever, but the fact is that yeast feeds on sugar, period. From junk food to simple carbs to OJ and even Splenda™, I have to limit my intake if I ever want to get my system back in check. I'm going to be bored to death with the blandness, but the upshot is I'll start feeling better. That's worth the effort; just gotta keep reminding myself. And reminding myself. And reminding myself. Bought root beer earlier without even thinking, it was this automatic response.

I found several books at the library that hopefully are on the shelves and can assist in this transformation; used to own a Candida guidebook, but it seems to have gotten sucked into the fourth dimension apartment vacuum.

Today's the first day in two weeks that my limbs aren't throbbing; instead my back is in spasm. I'll take it. I was too drained to even knit yesterday...woke up to call in, slept til noon, napped from 3 to 7:30, in bed by 11. Yuck! I'm surprised I'm even feeling better, since dessert last night was 2 ice cream sandwiches. Ok, I'm through whining about this. Yeah, right.

I lied, I did do a couple of rows of the baby dress that's probably too complex for me to be attempting for the shower. So screw it, I'll save it for when the kid's born in July and let up on myself.

Gotta go refill my water. yay.

Quickie

Looks like they're having an outage at Blogger in about 20 minutes, so this one's quick...

Pilates.

Neat concept.

Sat down and really watched the 20-minute workout the other day. Incorporated just one of the moves into my yoga stretching that night and noticed something the next day. I think they call it posture.

So I played the Step-by-Step basics disc last night and followed along best I could. I've got too much body for some of the moves. They emphasize grabbing your ankles for support because your knees are the weakest joints below the waist, but that's laughable to a big girl. And while that spine massage move is a blast, I can't begin to think about rolling back up from it so I just kind of roll back and then giggle and sigh.

Today, again with that posture thing. And a desire to suck in my belly to stand taller. Also pulled a muscle in my bicep, so I'll walk tonight instead of trying some more Pilates right off. Probably cool down with yoga after the walk. But the point is, hot damn! I've found a form of exercise that makes me feel better about myself. I wasn't ready to like it; depending on what you read, it's not exactly based in anatomy and physiology. But the Basics disc clearly showed how your body should be positioned in each move, what areas it's targeting, and there's a chick modifying the moves for folks who can't handle the whole thing.

Past the halfway mark on B4 (yea!), and did some baby hat in the doc's office today. Doc reminded me of how fertility stats decrease as age increases, so I'm a little restless today (should probably ask Terra if I can come babysit, so that I can come to my senses, but I'm so jonesing for a kid right now, might do more harm than good. Should probably offer to watch Draken instead; that'd be more of a wakeup call, considering how skittish he is around me) and will probably do some thinking and planning with Les in the coming weekend as to how we want this year to play out.

Hell has frozen over...

Ain't she a beauty?

Well, she got a pass from me. I'm very pleased with myself. Now granted, it's a tad easier to pass up that warm, yummy deliciousness when the outcome could be a splitting headache, but still, we're talking Melanie never-met-a-carb-she-didn't-love Johnson here. And I do have Advil at my desk and I took my acidophilus this morning. Could've easily rationalized that sucker right into my mouth.

Test #2: I'm grabbing soup and a salad at Panera for lunch, instead of a sandwich and cookies. Though admittedly, not splurging on the cookies is probably more of a money issue than a carb issue.

I think I finally hit halfway on the B4! I'll double check tonight, maybe give it one more row, and then do the pattern switch. Yea! Walked on both breaks yesterday and did yoga last night. I'm hoping to take a short walk after work today if the weather holds. It should; we don't get the crazy thunder and lightening for another month or so usually, and I don't give a crap about plain rain. Kind of hard to, when the entire NY walk was performed in the stuff. Makes me all proud of my fortitude n' stuff. :)

New week

"Today is a new day with no mistakes in it yet."
Anne Shirley
Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery
(graphic courtesy of http://www.anne3.com)

Figured out why I was so mopey last week. Actually I take absolutely no credit for figuring it out; I was describing the symptoms to the darling husby around Fridayish and the first words out of his mouth were, "sounds like Candida." The man's a genius. I'm a dink. My body, in recent years, thanks to the horrific diet I've eluded to maintaining, has developed a penchant for the occasional bout of hypoglycemia and an influx of intestinal flora. That's a yeast infection for you folks who don't clue into my annoying tendency toward $5 words. The good news is since it's intestinal, it doesn't have the obscenely aggravating itchyness of a regular yeast infection. The bad news is it causes blinding headaches, all-over body fatigue, and depression that plows right through that medication that I so happily tote as my savior. So I've gotta lay off the processed foods, I switched back to Splenda ($ issues put me back on sugar a few weeks, which certainly didn't help) and acidophilus supplement, and I HAVE to get exercising. The headaches waned Sunday, but I slept too much that day and thus couldn't get to sleep on time that night, so I'm still a little dragged out.

The good news is I've decided not to bail on the Avon Walk (congrats to Alexa for performing perhaps the smallest guilt trip in history and having it work, LOL!). I pulled out the materials and will spend this week planning my fundraising and laying out an exercise regimen. I've decided not to give a crap about losing weight, not even gonna try; my goal rather, is to get in shape to perform this walk, period. And in a damn sight better shape than I was for the one in 2002. I do that and the weight will take care of itself. I mean, I'm not the most coordinated person and the weather was inclement, but I tripped and fell 3 times that day! And we were only walking, people! Sad. I'll be by myself this time, but I'd rather not look like a cartoon character in the process.

So I'll put the links for My Avon Page and the Avon Walk back up on this blog in the next day or two, so peruse 'em now so that when I come to you with my puppy-dog eyes, begging for donations, you'll be prepared. I trust Avon; in 2004, more than 71% of the money raised went toward breast cancer research and programs with an emphasis on helping those without insurance, underprivileged, etc. Walk's not til October. I can do this!

Another caption for the bunny pic below, in honor of those goofy Christians who celebrated Spring a month late this past weekend:
My Easter bunny can beat up your Easter bunny
or my personal favorite:
Hey, anybody seen the cat?

What the hell?

Ok, I know I just posted, but was dicking around on the Web and came across this one...(courtesy: AP)...and I gotta comment...

That fat cat from last month is one thing, but holy shit! Anybody else besides me that didn't know they grew 'em this big!

This baby's begging for a caption, something like, "Jim Bob thought the genetically engineered carrots would save him money in the long run, but . . . "

What else? Hmm..."I'm no chef, but I think the hasenpfeffer might be a little tough tonight."

There's gotta be more, but I can't think of 'em...

Yup...not right in the head...

So I'm finally able to listen to music at work again...Les and I share the discman at home, and recharging the batteries is a pain in the butt so more often than not, I just forget to bring the damn thing. But I just got a brand-new Dell XP Pro system at work, so I asked permission to use the CD-ROM for personal music. It's nice having a computer with sound and decent vid capability, lemme tellya.

Definitely in a weird place at present though, because instead of bringing up NPR or one of the local radio stations, I find myself listening to Enya, which is perfectly respectable, or.......wait for it...........Hampton the Hamster. Yes folks, way back when, Melanie invested the $6 or whatever on a single CD that contains 3 versions of the Hamster Dance. What can I say, the beat wakes me up. Still, to be 36 years old and listening to the Hamster Dance...feel free to pat me 0n the head next time you see me.

Renewed interest in SSS of late; must be due to the painful demise of our poor ruthee's SSS. That's 2 SSS disasters and no completions as yet in our little group, but I refuse to be intimidated. Of course, it helps when you give yourself a break; I've found a couple of holes in my progress--little ones--but since I'm the one that's going to be wearing it, I decided against tinking; with laceweight, it's murder anyway. Since I went with the non-mesh pattern, the holes are in st-st areas, so they won't run, I don't think...please god, let this be the case! Also plunking along on the B4...the umbilical hat's a snore, straight st-st in the round, so that's been seeing the bottom of the bag, and the same with the little dress I started, because it feels like I have too many projects going at once. Gotta finish something!

Ready for weekend...

Ramblings of a Wednesday.....

Coffee.....elixir of the gods.....

(photo courtesy of roadsideamerica.com)

Seriously, how did I make it through high school on tea? I used to wake up in the morning, fix myself a cup of hot tea in my shamrock mug, skip breakfast, and climb over the snow to get to the bus. Lunch was a small bag of Fritos, a brownie, and an iced tea. Dinner was normal. So it's not surprising that my eating habits have evolved the way they have, but still...this little train of thought came about after reading an article by Dr. Dean Ornish today, and getting back on his bandwagon. I love the look of his programs and I'm afraid I'm eating myself into an early grave, but one thing about his programs: we'd be talking major change. I've never met a carbohydrate I didn't like. But I also don't like the way my legs have been feeling this week, my absent self-image and esteem, and how easily tired I get. We humans are Borg; we can adapt to anything. Clothes don't fit? Buy the next size up. Have trouble getting up from a sitting position? Grab onto something and hoist. It isn't until you take an honest look at yourself, and say, "damn, this used to be easier," that maybe your brain and your emotions reach the point of being capable of acknowledging the need for change. Until then, it's the little things you notice, but they're not big enough for you to do anything about.

What's infuriating though, is that I've had these thoughts for years longer than I should have. I just had a flash of memory from a good 12 years back. I was home visiting, Meara was in elementary school. I was living in Tampa, I remember because I'd promised Meara we'd go to her school down the street and play at the playground, but I was only about 2 weeks healed from fracturing my coccyx so I certainly wasn't moving at full speed. We went anyway, and I tried to keep up, but I remember thinking how out of shape I was and how when I had kids, I certainly didn't want to be this out of shape--I want to be able to keep up with them, play hard, run hard, give them a good outdoor lifestyle. Now the kicker: injury notwithstanding, that was 75 pounds ago! I was in a job that kept me on my feet the majority of the day, so I was in decent shape, just a shade overweight. I wasn't nearly as bad off as I thought I was.

Perspective.

I tellya, though, knitting centers me when I need it to...came home yesterday in a grump for no particular reason, just the blahness of life coupled with a serious lack of funds. Dove into the baby blanket and did a couple rows, switched to SSS for 2 rows...didn't accomplish much between TV (House in a tux...aaaahhhh!) and other stuff, but definitely had an improved mood as the evening wore on.

I absolutely need to start walking again, weather and pain be damned. I bailed on the Avon Walk when we almost got evicted, because it was a wake-up call that I needed to take care of things better here at home before I can give of myself to good causes. But it also gave me permission to let the very idea of exercise slip to the wayside again. Again, what am I saying? It's never been high on my list of activities. What's it going to take for me to take care of me?

Sorry, gang, little whiny today...either that or having a major breakthough...kind of hoping it's the latter, 'cause I'm damn tired of me as is.

::snickers...giggles...ROFLMAO::

Just reread my last entry.....relaxation without guilt.....that's a good one!

See, I'm a type A personality trapped in a lazy person's body. Used to be quite the neat freak, quite organized, always had 10 things going at once. Now that I'm medicated, I still have 10 things going at once, but I'm much more relaxed about it. Which means it feels like less is always getting done, there's this carefree, I'm-not-getting-graded-on-this attitude that allows me to go at my own pace, with the side effect of never being happy with that pace. Perpetual butt-dragging. Frustrating as hell.

The little dude up top here is Bucky Katt, courtesy of Get Fuzzy, by Darby Conley (graphic courtesy of http://www.comics.com). Bucky's another favorite of mine; he's a sarcastic Siamese who torments his roommates: human Rob, an ad exec, and lab/shar-pei mix Satchel. Bucky's attitude makes Garfield look like a pussy.

I've often thought of writing a memoir about my experience with depression and lithium deficiency. I think it could help people. I have an entire novel written that's semi-autobiographical, that deals with my issues with artistic license. Part I is the way I want it; Part II needs some work. But watched a repeat of "House" on Friday, and it reminded me of something damn scary, that could easily have me 86ing the memoir idea for good. Main sickie that week was a bulimic who needed a heart transplant, and House ends up lying to the transplant committee in order to get her a heart, because her condition would've been enough of a reason to consider her high-risk. Like she deserves it less because she has an eating disorder. Now certainly I realize that there's other criteria that come into play, that "House" is fiction—my friends have taken to teasing me because I'll make points in conversation with "yeah, but on Law & Order last week, there was..." But the point is that gods forbid, something were to happen to me requiring a new organ, the last thing I want any transplant committee judging me on is the fact that I'm a self-abuser. Because that doesn't go away. And it ain't my fault. The medication helps, but it's like alcoholism, it's a one-day-at-a-time thing. I've grown so much in the last 10 years; I'm an entirely different person from who I was in college. Judge me on who I am now, not who I've been. Crap, I think I just made the argument for why a memoir would be such a good thing, so important toward promoting more open criteria on things like transplant boards. Someday I'll turn these ideas into a book of essays or something. In the meantime...

Finished baby booties, started an umbilical cord hat (from SnB) and a little dress from Zoe Mellor's Nursery Knits (sweet patterns! also planning another pair of booties probably and a couple pair of those fingerless mittens that small people wear in the early months to keep from scratching their faces). Poor SSS is getting neglected, but I'd rather get to the halfway point on the baby blanket right now; still plenty of time til the shower, but if April goes half as quickly as March did, then I need to use my time wisely. They're naming her Kylie Kincade...not bad. Not a clue where the Kincade is coming from, but I was half expecting something hideous like Christine, so...

Congrats to Phil Mickelson on his 2nd Masters win! We won't discuss how much of the final match I frickin' watched yesterday; sometimes I really don't know what's come over me.

Friday...it's a beautiful thing.

This is a better picture of Eduardo from Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends (courtesy of wikipedia). I was a little off in my previous entry; he has the brain of a 4-year-old, not a 3-year-old. He's a big sweetie, and he LOVES potatoes!

I'm ready for Friday, lemme tellya. Had the added stress of a flat tire yesterday :P I took care of it right after work, but it meant sitting around a Tire Kingdom for an hour and a half. No fun. But this is the first time in 2 months that my company isn't screaming for OT people on the weekend, so I'm going to be able to relax without guilt this weekend. Don't have a damn thing planned, for a change...there's a class at the church tonight on feminist goddess tradition that I might attend, and certainly the house can use some work; but maybe if I don't put such pressure on myself to do X, Y, and Z, I'll actually get A and B done in the process too. Hey, it could happen!

Elected not to frog the baby blanket...did several rows last night, actually felt like, productive. Can't wait to get my Knit Magic in; I'm thinking I can make several baby hats and bibs with that thing in the time it would take me to handknit one basketweave hat...probably not the case, especially if the thing doesn't come with the instruction booklet, but we'll see.

Coffee has NOT kicked in yet...