So it turns out I was REALLY bored at work today...

100 Things about Me:

1. I’m married.
2. I like Bookman Old Style font.
3. I’m a mom to 2 cats.
4. I hope to be a mom to at least 1 kid someday.
5. I’m 5’ 8”.
6. My weight is not proportionate to my height.
7. I’m a website editor.
8. I’ve written a novel. Hasn’t hit a publisher yet.
9. I have very flat feet and bunions.
10. I have a lithium deficiency.
11. I have a brother who’s 3 years younger than me.
12. I have a sister who’s 14 years younger than me.
13. We all come from the same parents.
14. I want a house with a yard for a garden and animals, a wind turbine, solar panels, and a compost heap someday.
15. The compost heap’s name will be Marjory.
16. My cats are named Jordan and Figaro.
17. Jordan’s a rather docile 11-year-old boy kitty.
18. Figaro’s a rather evil 3-year-old girl kitty.
19. We never had pets growing up.
20. I love nature. My best childhood memories are on Above All, the 7-acre spread we lived on in Warren, CT.
21. I have excellent hair.
22. I have blue eyes.
23. I’m a bit of a TV addict.
24. I’m a font of useless entertainment trivia.
25. I was born right after the Summer of Love (’69).
26. However, my folks aren’t baby boomers or hippies, so it didn’t mean anything.
27. I’m a witch though, so the hippie vibe snuck in there somehow.
28. I consider myself Unitarian, study witchcraft, and read everything I can get my hands on concerning other world religions.
29. I hope to go back to school someday to study anthropology, environmental science, and world religion.
30. I met James Doohan at a Star Trek convention and got his autograph.
31. I babysat the granddaughter of Edward Binns when we lived in Warren, and got to meet him once.
32. Was a Republican from age 18 to 28. Then I came to my senses.
33. I read the newsletters of the Organic Consumers Association and the Natural Resources Defense Council.
34. I think George W. Bush’s public speaking skills are laughable, and that the man’s in danger of blowing himself up when he tries to think on his feet.
35. I’m above average at Jeopardy, but I don't answer in the form of a question.
36. I love to read.
37. I'm a knitter. Fiber freak. Knitting Bitch. Addicted to yarn. Enjoy my pointy sticks. You get the idea.
38. I can’t draw. Have definitely tried, but my talents lie elsewhere.
39. I’m a homebody.
40. I enjoy almost every type of music, except Country Pop.
41. I’m a fan of Garrison Keillor’s writings and radio show.
42. I’m smitten with Bradley Whitford (West Wing) and Hugh Laurie (House).
43. However, I’m head-over-heels-goofy-shout-from-the-rooftops-heels-over-head in love with my warm, fuzzy husband. Big difference.
44. I enjoy my caffeine. It’s a love affair I’m weaning from.
45. I’m a chocoholic big time.
46. I’ve eaten an entire pint of Haagen-Daz Chocolate-Chocolate chip in one sitting.
47. Recently.
48. I’m way addicted to junk food. No brainer.
49. I’m a tomboy.
50. My job doesn’t require that I dress up.
51. My job’s boring, but not bad.
52. I’m thinking of homeschooling my kids.
53. Really should have the kids first, then plan these things.
54. I like the looks of Waldorf education techniques and am studying them.
55. I hate Florida.
56. I love cold weather.
57. I’m indifferent toward snow, because I never learned to drive in it.
58. I walked in an Avon 3-Day for Breast Cancer in 2002. It turned into a 1-day because the county where it was held wasn’t prepared for the number of people or the hypothermic conditions. It was one of the more exhilarating experiences of my life.
59. I’m an Internet stalker. I’ve found friends I knew from junior high and from age 5 through the Web.
60. I like my face.
61. If I could change one thing about myself, it’d be my lack of willpower. The weight would slide off from there.
62. I’m a purse horse. Sometimes a shoe horse too.
63. I have two piercings in my left lobe and one in my right.
64. I can’t imagine getting any more piercings.
65. I have one tattoo on my right wrist, and I’d love to get a couple more of those.
66. I’ve worked as a:
a. drug store clerk
b. waitress
c. busser (much more fun than waitressing, but not as lucrative)
d. movie theater manager
e. home health care paper pusher
f. newspaper night editorial assistant
g. bookstore clerk
h. website designer
67. I couldn’t say which job gave me the most satisfaction.
68. I read For Better or For Worse and Get Fuzzy (comics).
69. I’ve been to England and Ireland, but I don’t remember much from the trip.
70. I like riding trains. Airplanes are a close second. City buses are fine, but inconvenient. Greyhound buses I can’t imagine ever taking again.
71. I have a decent memory for things, but I have trouble picturing faces in my head, even people I see everyday. That bothers me.
72. I have trouble getting to sleep at night.
73. I still sleep with a stuffed animal.
74. I have trouble with heights and roller coasters. I’ll never skydive.
75. I enjoy beer and vodka. Separately.
76. I’m a blogger.
77. I HATE cockroaches, ever since the time a nice big one scurried down my arm at college.
78. I’ve lived in Connecticut, North Carolina, and Florida.
79. In Florida, I’ve lived in Seminole, Tampa, Jacksonville, back to Tampa, Fort Myers, and back to Jacksonville.
80. Never been to the Panhandle.
81. Fort Myers is God’s waiting room.
82. Never witnessed a decent hurricane, thank the Goddess.
83. Broke my ass twice, literally: once while sledding around age 15 and once on the job at the Tampa theater. That’s a solid month of hurt, lemme tellya.
84. I played the trumpet in high school.
85. I want to learn violin, cello, flute, clarinet, guitar, and French horn at least, not necessarily in that order.
86. Toss piano or keyboard in there too.
87. I have a small keyboard, but getting both hands to work at once has me baffled. Need to buy a book.
88. I own a small djembe drum.
89. I sang soprano in the junior choir. Problem was, I’m an alto.
90. I was a doormat when I was a kid.
91. I must like to talk about myself, because this hasn’t been too hard to do at all.
92. Now that I’ve said that, I can’t think of anything.
93. I’m addicted to Lip Medex. I call it Schmoo.
94. I like New York-style pizza. I don’t like Chicago-style pizza.
95. I’m chicken to try sushi.
96. I want to try black olives, but I can’t get past the color.
97. I wear contacts. I love contacts. I won’t try eye surgery unless it’s a last resort for some reason.
98. I’m a huge pacifist now. I don’t believe in the death penalty. I don’t understand the absence of humanity in the Middle East.
99. I’m mostly Irish.
100. I crack my knuckles.

Photo found on Yahoo.com (popular photos)

Just pokin' along...

Not much to report...this is a reading week, as opposed to a knitting week. Worked on a scarf for a bit yesterday, and started that swatch thing the other day, but otherwise, stuff's getting neglected on the fiber end.

Instead I paid about 2/3rds of my library fines and got into reading mode. South Mandarin branch had copies of Big Girl Knits and Mason-Dixon Knitting, so I'm entrenched in both at present. Also got in a classics mood and grabbed Middlemarch and Mansfield Park...I never got to read decent classics in high school. I don't know why, but it just seemed like my classes got the duds--when other classes were reading Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men, I was reading Steinbeck's The Red Pony. You ever read The Red Pony?! Four chapters, and the pony's only in the first one; then he dies. Whoopie! Definitely could've used Of Mice and Men; ended up seeing the play and the ending surprised the shit outta me!

I barely remember getting any book assignments in high school, because the books they assigned were unremarkable for the most part. Plus, I had your basic public school education, so we weren't guided at all in the understanding of the books. If you knew how to read, then you were expected to read it and then answer the questions posed afterward. When you got the questions wrong, was when you were told the meaning behind the book. I was baffled, and they threw books on us too early without enough explanation. Seventh grade may seem early enough for the dry, longwindedness of Oliver Twist or the flowery language of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, but if it's your first shot at combining reading with analytical thought, you've gotta have a little guidance or else the books will sail right over your head. I gave up early on understanding the meanings within the meanings, and it took the fun out of reading. I didn't get that fun back until after college.

I read Catcher in the Rye and To Kill a Mockingbird on my own in college, nestled myself in the heath of Wuthering Heights just last year, and am working my way up to Moby Dick and Anna Karenina. Classics sneak into my bookshelves a couple of times a year. I may not read them right away, but there's a comfort somehow in knowing that when I'm ready to tackle Last of the Mohicans or Walden or Homer again, that I'll have them on hand.

Speaking of decent writing, Stephen King's Nightmares & Dreamscapes was on again last night, and it was excellent! Last night's two stories weren't scary or gory; they were thinkers, translated by some of my favorite actors (superb casting so far!), and I found myself reveling in the neat/sad/utopian/doomed ideas behind the stories. The man's an artist.

Random TV sh*t

I'm a font of useless entertainment trivia. My pals make fun of me, because I reference Law & Order to make points in conversation. Ah, so what? Like the song says, baby, I gotta be me! Been this way since long before my stint as a movie theater manager...

Had these two going through my head today:
"There's two ways to face a mountain. One way's to go around it and one way's to go over it. Going around it may be easier, but you'll miss the view from the top."
~ Paraphrased from The Waltons (of all things ::rolls eyes::)

That's a show I don't watch regular or look for, but find I can't turn off when I find it by accident. It's just too well-written.

And this gem from original Law & Order:
Coroner: "And now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to go remove a javelin from some guy's chest."
Briscoe: "Hey Johnson, why'd you get into this business?"
Coroner (deadpan): "Free javelins."

Yeah, I know...really need to find a hobby...knitting obviously ain't enough...though I did start a swatch tonight because I was inspired by Wendy Knits, who was inspired by the Mason-Dixon gals to try a log cabin something...thinking it'll help me get over my fear of picking up stitches.

Shoe Farts & Zoe

Is it too much to ask to own shoes that don't fart?

Went to Wilson's Leathers before haircut Saturday to burn the rest of the gift card Meara had given me...found another nice pair of Birk-wannabes, mauve with a flower cutout...get 'em home, try 'em on...plop, plop, plop...nice little air farts as I walk. I'm sure it'll dissipate as they break in...it better...#$%^&*(!

Still haven't been knitting much, but found my Zoe disk when I moved the dining room around yesterday! No, not ruthee's Zoe...Zoe is my novel, the 2nd part of which is badly in need of a rewrite before I'll ever send a query letter to a publisher, assuming I ever shore up the nerve to do that. I'd love to dig back into the sucker. I'm happy with the first part, an 8-chapter section that lays the base from a 5th grader's point of view. The 2nd part flashes forward to present and that's what really needs the work. The writing's erratic because a lot of it reflects my past experiences taken to an extreme, kind of a "what could've happened" viewpoint, and writing that was like reliving it at times. It's been, heck, probably a year since I've taken a good look at it, and I think that'll help steer it back into fiction from its semiautobiographical nature.

Restless

Quick bleedover from my SCMoving blog...another reason I don't just buy another cushion for the papasan, is because I'd much rather spend the money on a slipcover for our small couch. Then I plan to recover and restuff the 5 pillows that go with it.

Haven't been in the mood for knitting this week; I pick something up, do a row, move on. If I can lay hands on the pillow pattern I have, to use as a guide, I may start the couch pillows this weekend. Barely need the pattern when you already have the pillows, I suppose; just take out the stuffing and measure. But it's been ages since I've done any real sewing, like say, Girl Scout badge-ages, so I want to make sure I'm doing it right...plus the sewing machine isn't set right tension-wise and all the thread I own is too fine, so I've got my work cut out for me. My previous attempts at sewing with the rather nice machine I inherited from my mominlaw have resulted in loose stitching with a nasty plethora of knotted-up yarn on the bottom of the piece.

Ah, the dreams of a payday weekend. Of course, after the bills, we should have about 36 cents left, so...we'll see how much goes to fabric and thread. I told Les how I want to stop eating out, and I'm putting the Candleflame shawl on the back burner because I don't want to shell out the dough for the yarn. So listen, KBers, my birthday's in 2 months, if ya plan now.....

:)

Yup, I've become my parents...

graphic courtesy of http://www.knowledge-power.com/

Back when I was a little kid, in the bygone days of 1 TV per household, I would occasionally be relegated to my bedroom with a book because the parentals had commandeered the tube to watch something devastatingly boring, like National Geographic or NOVA. I certainly wouldn't deign in those days to watch it with them, not after the brain exercises of an entire school day behind me, and in the summer, I couldn't be bothered because it wasn't fun enough. I'd roll my eyes, shove off Lil Bro, and bury myself in a book.

Now that I'm a 30-something young fart, I wish we had the National Geographic channel on our extended cable and content myself with others, like Discovery and Animal Planet. But last night brought home to me how a child evolves into an adult, when I sat down and watched NOVA from beginning to end. On frickin' String Theory. And I dare say, there was understanding going on there.

As an '80s child, the small town public schools I attended, sucked at encouraging learning, so I spent my childhood not living up to my full potential. Now I'm a sponge. Whether it's anthropology, a new knitting pattern, or a frickin' dinner recipe, I can feel my brain light up as the understanding takes hold. I so hope I can pass that light onto my own kids down the road. But I'll also understand where that eye roll comes from when I try to get them to watch NOVA with me, because I know their time for appreciating knowledge will poke its head out in due course. And not before.

A similar thread for another time: dragging your kids to Home Depot and not understanding why they're bored stiff.

I just love working in a cubicled environment.....

.....she said sarcastically.

It's not the noisy coworkers that bothers me. It's not the occasional fragrances wafting over the wall that make me want to quip, "nice cologne. Must you marinate in it?" It's not the meat-market temperature settings that set me ranting.

Today, it's the BO.

Someone either had chicken soup for lunch at their desk or took one too many smoke breaks outside. There's a distinct BO lurking in my general vicinity. I've checked; it ain't me.

This is Florida, people! If you've gotta be outside, bring your frickin' deodorant to work!

This public service message brought to you by Melanie's nose. We return you now to your regularly scheduled workday.

Patience

Ain't it purty? Found it on the NRDC site.

Patience is never something I had a lot of, pre-meds. Since my chemical imbalance has been tempered by some beautiful pharmaceuticals however, my ability to take things in stride has become a wonderfully calming influence in my life. I can usually sit in gridlock without bitching out my fellow inmates, and the diddley-shit happenings of life don't have me climbing the walls like they once did. If I ever meet Tom Cruise, I will beat the living shit out of him before he has a chance to flash his smug smile at me. I'm a functioning human being thanks to modern medicine, and Scientology can kiss my large, cottage-cheese ass.

Where'd that come from?

I guess from the mindset that if I'm going to be held up timewise, that it at least be for a good reason. If it's going to take 10 minutes for me to negotiate the exit ramp off of 95 heading toward my work, then there'd better be a 3-car pileup waiting for me afterward. But no, not even a stalled car; just people not letting each other merge in a polite fashion in all likelihood. Dipshits.

Oh yeah, patience. The thread was actually going to be about how I started something last night that I wouldn't normally have the patience for. The Candleflame shawl from Knitpicks is a 36-row lace pattern, but to start the shawl/stole, you do 18 rows of garter stitch first, which means if you goof up irreparably once you get going on the pattern, you're ripping out a discouraging amount of work. Had one fellow KBer already come up against this, so I decided to build a swatch. With a little bit of work, hopefully this'll get me more confident about ssk and lace in general, as well as the pattern, so that when I finally order the yarn, I'll be ready for it.

Downright sensible of me. Very unMelanielike.

Blogs have themes?

What a great shot! Can't you just picture the cameraman saying, "now, c'mon guys, spread out. You look like bowling pins!" graphic courtesy of http://www.webshots.com/g/d2006/7-nw/59814.html

I'd forgotten blogs have themes. CBS Sunday Morning did a story on blogs this weekend. This blog used to be about knitting and witchcraft and turned into a diary instead. Not a bad thing, but I'll have no one to blame but myself 6 months from now when my identity's stolen. Just mean it's been getting pretty personal lately, and I'll be trying to gloss over the personal for a bit to assuage my paranoia, stick to the exploits of a knitting witch.

Problem is, I'm getting really bored with my current UFOs. I'm working the body and 1 sleeve of Beach from Knitty, the SSS, and a curly brimmed hat that I'm pretty sure will fit no one I know once I'm done with it; maybe I'll mail it to Keelin. I'm just not much of a sock gal, so I need something else lacy to challenge me, have several ideas on what to try, but can't buy yarn until payday. Wah! SSS is still fun, but I'm about 2/3rds of the way there, so you knit one row and it's like, ok, brain's dozing off; what else can I work on?

Can't......resist......diary......mode.....what a fantastic weekend! Spent Saturday working out, helping our wonderful Terra and her brood pack their moving van to escape Florida (the lucky shits!). Came away with a nice wingback chair, an office chair, and one of those indoor fountains. And came home to discover that the wonderful husby had torn the bedroom apart to move the chest of drawers we'd also inherited from the Terra clan into the bedroom. He'd stowed the winter clothes trunks in the closet, put his and my spare clothes into the drawers, and viola! A bedroom that doesn't resemble an explosion in a clothing factory!

I'm S....L....O....W....L....Y cutting the apron strings on my papasan chair, because we plain don't have the room for it unless we get a storage space, and I really don't want the added monthly expense. I mean, we could EASILY justify a storage space; there's 2 extra coffee tables in the dining area and I turned the corkboard into a worktable by laying it on top of the boxes I already store stuff in. But we can certainly do 9 more months the way we are.

Sunday was Bob Evans with husby, talk about our futures, goopily looking into each other's eyes (barf bags are available in the lobby), and a delicious day of relaxing and hanging with each other. My biceps are good-sore from the moving, and my energy level's up. Full moon tonight, may try some meditation with the fountain on. Lughnassadh will be here before we know it, and I want to catch up on my blessings :)

Dedication to Miss Terra

So this is Terra, one of our Knitting Bitch founders and a wonderfully warm, fuzzy person altogether. Her hair's a little shorter and darker now, and her belly's quite a bit smaller, since her daughter escaped from her little gestational house about 3 months ago, but it's a great candid shot, stolen from our firefightrix's blog (try saying that 3 times fast!).

This tall, beautiful, amazing chef of a lady and mommy is leaving us Bitches in Jacksonville this weekend for good, for the wilds of northern California, where she can raise her 2 granola children and wild-haired techie husband in an adorable little town that's rife with nature and probably doesn't have a yearly murder statistic. There's no pleasing some people.

I can't help looking up to this girl, and not just because she has about 4 inches on me. I'm 10ish years older than she, but she's accomplished so much more, from raising younguns to having a decent career to fall back on, one that she enjoys and can take pride in, one that'll add to her family's health and wealth should she ever need it to, while at the same time being able to stay home and raise her kids her way. She motivates me to get my life on a better track. She's a great listener and puts forth the appearance of someone who's secure in who they are, someone who's centered without being annoying about it. I'm sure she doesn't really wear the cape I'm putting on her, that she's as insecure as the rest of us, but to the innocent bystander, she's one sharp cookie!

I'm going to miss the heck out of her, and I'm thankful for this information age we live in, so that we can keep up with each other's lives as the future progresses. I mean, I'm all for the occasional road trip to visit friends, but Florida to Callie definitely requires significant planning so it could be years before we see each other again. I take comfort in the fact that I have family near where she's moving, so I could plan a joint family/friends/Napa touring trip someday, but for now, my life is all about SC, creating our own small people, and better careers for Les and I.

So I write to let her know how much she'll be missed, and that we'll be blaming her when ruthee bails on KB for work or because her turtle shell's more comfy than Panera when her best bud is gone. There'll be some wound licking, but we'll go on, better people for having you in our lives and secure in the knowledge that this isn't an ending; it's a transition. Goddess speed, Terra, Kevin, Draken, and Keelin!

~ Irish Blessing

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
And the rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May Goddess hold you in the hollow of her hand.

Four-Day Weekends Go By Too Fast :(

Where'd this sucker go? I lazed my way through Saturday and Sunday, spent most of Monday with Mom and Meara, and Tuesday afternoon at Steve & Lynn's. Poof! Back to work!

One thing that sucks is when I get great relax time on the weekend itself, but then the night before work starts up again, the insomnia hits. Took me forever to get to sleep last night, which was compounded by asshole neighbors who felt it necessary to celebrate the 4th with firecrackers into the wee hours of the night. Isn't it like, common courtesy to not perform loud noises, like setting off firecrackers, after 10 p.m.? Someone send a memo to the ethnically diverse individuals in my complex.

Monday was nice; hit the mall with Mom and Meara, got some great Bath & Body Works stuff and a new pair of Birk wannabes out of it. We hit Carrabba's for dinner (holy hell they went heavy on the garlic on the Shrimp Damian!! Gargled twice and was still scaring off vampires!), and then saw The Devil Wears Prada. Very nice movie in spite of the vacuously materialistic subject matter...made me want to lose 125 pounds instead of 75, but also made me want to pay more attention to my appearance for self-pride's sake.

Steve and Lynn's was bliss, pure joy! Poor Steve got heat exhaustion from working the grill for us, but I spent the better part of the afternoon entertaining a rather beautiful almost-2 year old. Sandy hair, cute face, small, light, prone to smiles and hugs, answers to Lukas. Reminded me of just how much small people take over your entire life though, which left me pensive. We've got a ways to go before we're near that stage still, and for all my impatience, I know this year pre-small people will be good for us.

Ah, poo, work meeting; more later.

Independence

It's hard to feel patriotic when you're against the war your nation's fighting. That's a short-sighted view, I realize; for example, I had trouble enjoying any kind of national pride on Memorial Day, when I should've been looking beyond the damn Middle East to all the other wars our country has fought in to preserve our freedoms. So sue me; I've got a cousin in AIT at Fort Gordon, probably headed to the sandbox on his next hitch.

But I'm a huge fan of the movie "Yankee Doodle Dandy," consider it Cagney's best, and an excellent interpretation of a bygone era, so I'll probably pop that in the VCR this weekend to help remind myself how this is still the best country on the planet in which to reside.

It's Friday before a 4-day weekend, a knowledge that brings a rather orgasmic smile to my face. Time to clean some house, get some sun, look ahead a bit, do some knitting, get some rest. Keep from drinking. Energize/motivate the husby. Maybe start working on my bike. I've been wanting to clean the rust off the sucker for a while now, have the supplies, just gotta bring it in, take it apart, and start in on it. It may not be worth it, but I'm going to try to salvage it; take everything apart and clean it down, reinflate the tires. It's been exposed to the elements for far too long, which is why I say it may not be worth it; it's only a Magna from Target, not a Cannondale or anything.

The brake calipers are a shade different than what I'm used to, but everything else is standard. I lived on a bicycle back in college; even though I had a car, most of my campus travel occurred on 2 wheels, was just easier than dealing with parking. I'd love to get back to using it more, stick a basket or bag on it for grocery shopping and such. Jacksonville absolutely blows for bike paths and sidewalks in my area, but I'm still not walking nearly enough and something's gotta give.

Probably can't start Folly this weekend, no $ for needles :(

Just had an exquisite thought.....a Knitpicks credit card. aaaaaahhhhhhh......

ehem, as I was saying, my Western crave may get served again this weekend, as Hallmark is playing the first Lonesome Dove straight through Sunday afternoon/evening and HBO is playing the first 3 episodes of Deadwood sometime this weekend too...neat! Also, Terra & co. are looking to get rid of a dresser (one less thing to move), and in spite of our complete lack of space for another stick of furniture in our apartment, I want to take it off their hands. We need it badly; Les and I are fighting for shirt space in our respective dressers, and I dream of the day when I have a different vessel for keeping the winter stuff in, because the plastic piece of shit that currently houses it absolutely isn't moving up with us next year. If you'll excuse me, the organizational wheels in my head are turning...

graphic courtesy of http://www.usahistory.org

Quickie remembrance

graphic courtesy of http://www.amazon.com

Subtitle: How soon we forget, or Reason #614 why I don't want my kids in public school...

Yeah, like private school's any better nowadays...

I saw Dawn Anna last year when it first came out on Lifetime™, I'm guessing around the 5-year anniversary of Columbine. Dawn Anna is the true story of a mother of 4 who contracts a form of cranial vasculitis and the resulting surgeries force her to relearn everything from talking to eating. Fast-forward 5 years, she's recovered, but still symptomatic (severe vertigo, concentration issues), engaged to be married, and her youngest daughter, Lauren Townsend, is ripped from her by Klebold and Harris at Columbine.

I remember being impressed with this movie when I saw it last year, how it managed to give us the whole fighting-through-life-with-the-help-of-her-amazing-kids storyline without being saccharine or schmaltzy about it. So when it was on TV last night, I kept it on because we're in the midst of the summer TV drought of decent shows, and with the beers I was imbibing, I thought I could use a little uplift. Thing was, I'd forgotten about the Columbine link until it was almost on top of me, as the youngest daughter is walking away from Mom's car with a friend in a Columbine letterman's jacket. I was surprised that it happened back in 1999. I'd forgotten that the little bastards killed themselves and saved taxpayers the trouble of doing it for them. How in the world do you reconcile yourself to a death that random? I really need to compile thoughts like these into a book of essays, because there's a bunch of different tangents going off in my head, as I sort through the impact that movie had on me. How sad that the movie and not the act itself is what I remember. And how easy it is to forget.

There's still this cold spot in my belly as I think about it. I really need to get a copy of the Pagan Book of Living & Dying (M. Macha NightMare & Starhawk). I've always had a problem with the concept of death; not a fan of the fact that we can't remember what happens from one life to the next, plus the implied/assumed permanence of it, and I think that's one concept I need a grip on before kids enter the picture, so that I can eventually let them outside the house without going apoplectic. Probably smart, since I already recognize that one of the reasons I want to homeschool them is to shield them maybe too much from what's "out there."

Stupid Thursday

Four-day weekend...four-day weekend...four-day weekend...

Meara's been making fun of me for watching Westerns this week (Broken Trail this past weekend and Deadwood last night), so I thought this piccie would be appropriately vexing for her ::snickers:: graphic courtesy of http://www.webshots.com

Again, fairly average week, not much to report. FINALLY started a 2nd ball of laceweight on the SSS, right around row 100. Enjoyed brews this week more than once, but I'm hitting a turning point on 'em again, I think. Unfortunately, I have my dad's appetite for alcohol and my mom's constitution for it. This means when I crave a 6-pack, I can drink a 6-pack and feel no hangover the next day. I feel like the poster child for alcoholic denial. Never mind that I want to be healthier and making babies, never mind that I shouldn't touch the stuff with the meds I take, never mind that I'm an f*ing depressive to begin with. It's not about logic.

Needless to say, I'm going to enjoy a simple night of coffee and...with the gals tonight (and robbie). The ole SSS is finally starting to look like something, and I've got an inch or so going on the base of Beach which, at 280 stitches to a row, feels like an accomplishment. Knitting a sweater in the round is like channeling The Little Engine That Could or something...

Couldn't decide which illustrated me more, belly or buns, so went with all three on the Big Girl Knits button that should be showing up at left. I'm really looking forward to trying a couple of those patterns!

Rebounding (again, and again, and ...)

How can people see pictures like this and still want to drill in the Arctic?

Better today; last night was just brutal though. Gotta be PMS. Went from the attitude of that last post, to Smokers Express to buy cancer sticks for the husby and had to listen to a conversation involving the realism of TV wrestling vs. those small claims court shows. Never mind that it took $15 to fill the tank halfway. By the time I got home, I was like, don't touch me, where's the beer?

Today was free food at work (pre-4th of July picnic) and sitting outside at lunch helped; sat really still so that I could feel the light breeze on the hair on my arms. It's getting damn hot out there, but when you quiet yourself, the mind-over-matter thing is still possible. Also I asked for Monday off, so I have a 4-day weekend to look forward to. Meara's coming home for a quickie break; might take in a flick with her and Mom.

One very neat thing: I emailed Amy Singer of Knitty last week because I had a question about a pattern and couldn't figure how to reach the designer, Jillian Moreno. Hadn't heard back from her, so I did some more digging for Jillian's email addy, since she and Amy also wrote Big Girl Knits recently, and was able to email Jillian directly about my question last night. Had an answer by this morning, so I'm definitely starting Folly with the rest of the blasted Wool Ease once I can invest in the circulars, hopefully this weekend. In the meantime, all my in-the-round things (SSS, base of Beach, and sleeve of Beach) are keeping me busy.

graphic courtesy of http://www.defendersofwildlife.com/

Tuesday rant...

Paraphrased from M*A*S*H:
"Boys, in 16 months and 4 days, I intend to be barbecuing in my backyard in Hannibal, Missouri, with my wife. Why are you wetting on my charcoal?"
~ Colonel Potter

Not much to write today; just one of those days where I'm a little too bored and the little person in my head is screaming "YOU'RE WASTING YOUR LIFE IN THIS CUBE, LES NEEDS A JOB, AND IF YOU TWO DON'T START TRYING FOR A BABY SOON, YOUR OVARIES ARE GONNA DRY UP AND FALL OUT!"

Ah. That feels better.

Monday ramblings...

So Club Paris is opening this week in Jacksonville...a new club downtown someplace, owned by Paris Hilton and some other guy. Wonder if the skanky little twig will grace our humble, ethnically diverse little city with her presence for the grand opening...better tell the convenience stores to stock up on celery sticks and amphetamines. Oh, and treats for that overgrown rat she always carries with her...

Believe me, this ain't jealousy. I can't understand the purpose of people like her, except to make us Americans look bad. Like we need her help in that department with Bush in office...I'm sure she's a nice person, but to the intelligent bystander (me!), she's vacuous beyond comprehension.

Fairly lazy weekend; again, it's the baby steps that give me that feeling of accomplishment. Purged the dressing area around the bathroom sink of dust, hair, half the beauty accoutrements that don't get used, and did laundry. Whew! I'm spent :)

Got myself in the mood for Westerns yesterday; AMC played Open Range and The Man from Snowy River (sigh!) to market their new Robert Duvall vehicle, Broken Trail. Damn decent story so far, 2nd half's tonight. But getting back to Man from Snowy River...where the heck has Tom Burlinson got to, and why isn't he posing nekkid somewhere?! I think I need to own that movie...

Work's so dead, they sent us home til lunchtime. I'm pretty sure it's due to a new phone system being put in at our sales center in Washington, rather than an unexpected drought in website sales. We should be back to being behind sometime tomorrow.

A fresh outlook?

From whence comes this energy? Is it really as simple as getting some fresh air at lunchtime and laying off the junk food? I haven't even been exercising yet...baby steps. I've been puttering around the house at night or knitting. But something's stirring. Les feels it too, I think, in his own way. His physical limitations keep him from like, taking walks in this weather; he'd get a headache that would lay him out for 2 days afterward. But he was awake enough this morning to suggest tearing into the apartment more this coming weekend. And that's my kind of suggestion, not his.

I need to store up these feelings, because soon it really will be too hot to go outside at lunchtime without creating some serious stink. As Junes go in Florida, this one's been average. Supposed to get up to 92 or so today, but it didn't feel like it, even with the breeze having taken a leave of absence. Only reason I didn't stay out longer was the damn ants eating my ankles alive.

Pray for rain, y'all, and enjoy your weekend!

Embracing the summer

Not something I've ever been able to do...I've hated Florida for about 15 years now, but somehow the knowledge that I have it in me to orchestrate our egress from this blasted state is creating a renewed tolerance for it. I've been sitting outside at lunchtime. To your average Floridian, I'd be considered nuts, but in all honesty, it's not that bad if you sit in the shade and listen to the air. There's still a breeze and the cloud cover keeps the sun from being unbearable. I sit and listen and read, and find myself channeling all this fantastic energy once I'm forced back inside. It puts a silly smile on my face, makes it a little hard to contain my body, which wants to break into a run around the building. So I try to store it away for later, when the sleepies hit mid-afternoon. Actually I don't get sleepy of late, just hungry, because I've been eating healthier all week for some reason and staying away from the sodas. Just drinking my fruit juice at lunch has me feeling more in touch with nature.

I also performed a simple solstice ritual last night. Wish it could've been more for Summer Solstice, and outside for that matter, but I made do. The great thing though, was the protection spell I conjured for my family; again, my attempts at visualization were entirely successful, and I came away from it feeling so strong!

Embrace the summer, gang!

graphic courtesy of http://www.thomashawk.com/

Summer solstice and other ramblings

Where the heck is Yahoo! today? Don't those people realize that they've thrown my whole day outta whack by not allowing me to check my email and connect with my peeps? Did I really just write that sentence?

I hate when sabbats fall on a workday. I was going to wake up for sunrise this morning and trance, but with the way I've been sleeping, I knew it wasn't realistic and reset the alarm. The one sabbat where it's like, pivotal to wake up with the sun and I can't pull it off. I'm not ticked with myself, because I know I needed the sleep; I'm just ticked in general. I think I need to do ritual outside tonight to make up for it. Maybe at the little park off of Old Kings...

Wonderful surprise yesterday; Christy stopped by work and we got to catch up! Such a relief; hugs, a little crying, and a good step toward shoving away that thing hanging out there. She's taking classes to get her GIA certification (jewelry making), and gave me the most wonderful bracelet, made of garnets, rose quartz, and moonstones. The ice is broken, and thank goodness, because we're about to lose long distance phone again. Seems ridiculous that St. Augustine is considered long distance; whatever happened to just dialing 1 and then the number for calls that were nearby long distance? Am I showing my age by asking that?

Did just a bit of work on SSS and Beach last night...that's the problem with long-rowed projects, you finish 1 row and it's like, ok, I'm bored, new project. May start a sleeve for Beach too, so that I've got something else to turn to in times of boredom. Got 2 balls of sock yarn from Miss Carrie last week at KB, but I think I'll offer 'em back to Steph, because I know socks aren't in my immediate future, or if they are, they're with the purple striped yarn that I've never finished. I'm thinking of talking myself into ripping out my L O N G shaft of sock that I started and starting over with a K2P2 rib instead of single. We'll see...

Merry Solstice everybody!

graphic courtesy of http://www.webshots.com

Find a happy place, find a happy place, find a happy place...

I should call this whole blog "Vent;" that's what it is half the time. But hey, it helps my sanity, and that's the important thing.

Living in an apartment complex has its drawbacks. Living in an apartment complex with no built-in washer/dryer connections is a pain in the tush. We live right in the middle of our complex, which normally means schlepping the laundry to the top or bottom of the complex to one of the two not-quite-ample laundry facilities that the management company was kind enough to grace us with. These are equipped with those commercial washers and dryers, which are operated with a makeshift credit card that you add money to. Given the colorful diversity that makes up my neighborhood, these machines have seen better days.

We'll now pause for a moment of irony: my apartment HAS built-in washer/dryer connections. The complex put them in months ago and then proceeded to appropriate the dough for the machines toward the renovations that are occurring on the entire complex. We can't put in anything ourselves until the city inspectors come to look over the work. In other words, we should be moving out next April before that happens. I asked the assistant manager yesterday about the washer/dryers; she just started laughing before she could help herself.

So it was with sunny intentions that I went down last night to start 2 loads of laundry. Had plans to do 4 loads last night. I start one washer fine, then the other. The 2nd one, it turns out, is out of order with no sign posted on it to this effect--it's not agitating. Terrific. So I add detergent to the next machine in the hopes of transferring the load from the bum washer. Slide the card in--Card Error. Try again, same response. Examine card, must've gotten it wet. Dry it off copiously with my shirt, not an easy thing since it's 110% muggy in that laundry room. Try again. And again. And again. Try another machine. Start to get those giggles that you get when your frustration is reaching sub-human proportions, kind of like Denis Leary's character in The Ref.

Ok, fine, the 2nd load just won't spin; at least it'll get a good soak and rinse. Hope it burns out the f*ing motor on the damn thing. I hop back home to inform husby of the difficulties and wait out the wash cycle. Elect not to bring down any more wash, because of the sinking feeling that the card ain't gonna work for the dryers either.

Hate it when I'm right. Have you ever tried carrying 2 loads of WET laundry up a flight of stairs? I hoisted it onto my shoulder waitress-style (discovered the ease of carrying laundry baskets this way quite recently...been living without washer/dryer for oh, 10, 11 years now ::sigh::), and I still sounded and felt like I was re-enacting the training scene from Rocky IV. Les jumped into action and we rigged a clothesline from the bathroom to the closet for the light stuff, and put the heavier stuff on hangers. Given the dynamics of our apartment, it'll take a solid day or so for everything to dry.

Now I get to go to my management office and sweet-talk them into giving me a fresh card and my money back; I had nearly $15 on that card, so I anticipate a song-and-dance about them not having enough petty cash on hand--it's happened before. But what can I do? It's an inconvenience; nothing more.

Except dream of SC, where our next abode, be it apartment or rental house, will HAVE f*ing washer/dryer connections that we can operate!

graphic courtesy of http://web.mit.edu/seagrant/edu/res/nemo/index.html#peach

Getting focused...again...

When DID I find time to model this shot?

JK, this is from Knitty, and the model has on my latest attempt to get rid of some of the blasted Wool Ease. It's a REALLY simple looking sweater knit in the round. My base will be Blue Mist (heathered navy blue) and the variegated section and sleeves will be in Heather Rose; only the 2 best colors to go with my eyes (she remarked immodestly). Might do the Blue Mist on the cuffs and collar, haven't decided how dorky that'll look yet. The only problem I can see is just how simple it is; the base is knitted in stockinette in the round for 16" or until you shove a knitting needle in your eye out of boredom.

I need a new pair of Doc Maartens; wonder if I can borrow hers?

Funny thing though, there's something about working with bamboo needles in medium sizes like 7s or 8s, that just chills me out. I poked away on this and on the SSS (in 7s) this past weekend and felt nothing but centered. Put the garter stitch poncho on the size 11s in my hands, and you would've had a different story. But in fairness, I've become a yarn and needle snob of sorts, and that project has enough petroleum in it to fuel my car ;)

Had a decent weekend; caught up on rest, thanks to a bottle of wine on Friday night (heh), and tore into one small section of the living room...just the interior and underneath of one of those dust-catching end tables. Tried Kung Po shrimp for the first time...it's pretty spicy, will only order in future when I'm REALLY in the mood for spicy. You couldn't wash down the spicy with beer like you can with Mexican food. It's scary trying new Chinese dishes; they're just so different. I NEVER ate Chinese when I was growing up (or vegetables for that matter), and my folks' idea of Chinese was Chun King Chow Mein in a can. ::shudders:: I digress...anyway, hoping to hit the VCR tape bookcase and CD area this week, get the CDs closer to the actual stereo so we'd, ya know, play them occasionally.

Summer solstice this Wednesday and not a moment too soon...I need to bury the talismans from my healing spell last week in a fresh plant and create a protection spell for a separate party. I'm going to try my darnedest to perform ritual at sunrise on Wednesday, outdoors someplace. Beach would be perfect of course, but I don't think I want to spend the gas. Then again, the city parks don't open before 7 a.m., so beach will probably be best.

Happy Monday, y'all!

Bloglet

No news is good news on the Nanie front, however I still think she stopped by my cubicle yesterday.

Working a website called Smashing Jewels. Female jewelry designer. Is it just me or does that company name suggest that she just got done with a bad divorce or something? Sounds therapeutic.

What's weird is I'm not currently harboring any animosity toward the opposite sex. That's just the way my mind works.

It's maddening having a nice fat stash, a couple of projects in mind, and knowing that you need new yarn to start said projects. Also impossible to explain to spouse why you need more yarn when you already have plenty...words like gauge, tension, and fiber type fly clear over his head and settle somewhere behind him in the couch cushions. And then he gives you this look that says, just admit you want new yarn. Well, YEAH, that's what we were just talking about, but see, this yarn would have a set purpose (until I change my mind mid-project)... I guess that's what drives people to try and only shop for yarn that they're planning to use for a specific project. I oughta be laying off the sheep fur between now and Columbia anyway. Well, maybe I'll try that, but in the meantime I'm still up to my ears in Wool Ease and White Buffalo.

Damn Spidey sense

If only my sixth sense was reliable...

I've worked through enough coincidences, deja vus, and "how the hell's..." to consider myself a little psychic. When I smell Half Mile Road, my Nanie's old house, I know it's time to ask about her to my folks again. Once in college, I had this wave of feeling hit me, enough for me to call my folks right there at work and confirm that everything was ok. It was. I got back to the dorm that night and found out that my best friend (at the time) Brian had been in a car accident that afternoon.

So I'm sitting here at work, and I think I may have had a visit from somebody. Out of the blue, it's as though someone else breathes out through my mouth. The taste is slightly different, and it floods me with that "someone's walking over my grave" feeling. It feels like Nanie, and I pray it's not, even though that same apprehension is coupled with a "this is ok" feeling. Like she's close to being between worlds or something. She turns 95 next month, so I certainly wouldn't fault her for taking a dip into the netherworld here and there as she gets closer to it; I'm just selfish and not ready to give her up.

Hair on the back of your neck standing up? Yeah, mine too.

I resisted the urge to email Mom and Meara. It's probably nothing, why worry anybody? My system's low on Paxil at present, could be my brain playing tricks on me. That's rationalizing though; it felt too real. I'll definitely meditate tonight to try and trance myself to a level of exploring what happened a shade deeper.

And then I'll rip out my pink and blue projects, because I keep forgetting that Wool Ease sucks for knitting lace; gotta buy me some real yarn, like from Knit Picks. Is it pay day yet?

I'm not an aloe murderer!!!

graphic courtesy of http://www.globalherbalsupplies.com/herb_information/aloe_vera.htm

Will wonders never cease? Granted, it's the only thing I've managed to keep alive on that porch without serious sun damage, but I really thought that I'd be facing some sad looking plants when I got off work yesterday. Instead, the rain was exactly what that potting soil needed to give it the necessary density to hold my fragile fronds. And the water did wonders for every pot; their color was starting to pink up from all the sun, but I faced some nice green aloe in the 4 transplant pots and even a new baby or two poking its head above the soil.

Big boy Sylvester surprisingly, is the one needing a little TLC. He's comprised of 2 quite large plants in a big-ass pot, but it's evident that from the manner/direction he's growing, he's about to seriously outgrow the pot on one side. His bottom leaves are dying off, which is probably natural, but it still appears that he needs to be separated from his twin. Aloe can survive on shallower pots than I've got (their roots grow laterally rather than southward), but his general size would still be the issue--I will officially run out of room on the porch if I separate them into 2 pots, so I think Mom is going to have to inherit one of them. Better to cut some of the cord now, since at the rate I'm going, all the KBers will be gettting some aloe before we move to SC next year.

Would love to pass some onto Miss Terra, but when I think about it, all I picture is their minivan packed to the very ceiling with their livelihood that couldn't fit in the moving van, plus the infant and 5-year-old clamoring for attention at every rest stop. I'm thinking plants are low on the list of things meant to survive that cross-country trip. She put some beautiful pictures up on her blog (link at left) of where they're headed; just makes me ache. They're so far north, it was frickin' 42 degrees at 5:30 a.m.! It'll be 6 months before we see those temps here again :(

Crud. I need to focus or I'll spend the whole day reading Columbia, SC websites and trying to plan for next year instead of, you know, editing websites.

Tuesday rambles

This blog (and graphic) brought to you today by the US Blueberry Council. I picked blueberries for the first time on Saturday; Les and I (yes, folks, the husband woke up at the crack and joined me...I still think it was because he didn't trust me with the new car) hoofed it down to Middleburg to pick blueberries, which I turned into a rather tasty dump cake the next night. Dump cake is a southern concoction normally involving two types of fruit, a box of cake mix, and at least a stick of melted butter. We used the mashed blueberries, a can of crushed pineapple (should've used 2 cans), a box of Duncan Hines Butter Recipe Golden, and a stick and a half of melted butter. Layer blueberries in 13 x 9 pan, add pineapple, sprinkle cake mix evenly over it all, and drizzle the melted butter evenly over that, trying to wet as many dry spots as possible. Bake at 350 for about a half hour or until the top is golden brown. Probably not an ounce of nutritional value, but damn, is it delicious!!! I only wish we had vanilla ice cream to go with it :)

It dawned on me around 4:00 a.m. today (Tuesday) , as the winds of Alberto were pummeling our little apartment and soaking us with rain, that I forgot to take all the aloe down from my porch ledge.

Crap.

Granted, aloe is a tropical plant, so I'm sure to a certain extent it's used to this kind of weather. But it's also a succulent, which I think means it's susceptible to drowning once it's all filled up with as much water as it can take. Hell, that's probably true with any plant. I know the one in the biggest pot is probably safe, but the others, the ones who've been trying to take root in straight, not-nearly-dense-enough potting soil, will probably reach floating capacity this afternoon.

Shit.

You know it's time for a new computer when.....was all set to download a new stole pattern from my Yahoo email last night, because I fell in love with it and wanted to start it (because I'm into stoles right now apparently, and a big chicken in that the stoles aren't nearly as intimidating as those shawls that start from the center top back with like, 8 stitches...apparently you can't think too hard when you're starting those, but if you just follow the instructions, it works out--kind of like turning the heel on a sock). Umm, where was I...oh yeah, thing is, if I'd left my computer to download it last night, I think it would've been finishing up right about now (it's 9 a.m. the next morning). Holy craptastic, it was slow! So I printed it out at work, but that has its own level of suckiness because the paper that it's printed on is practically unreadable in black and white. There's no pleasing me.

Performed full moon ritual on Sunday night, for the first time in an age; really helped bring me back into my witchy self. I performed a healing spell for a friend of a friend, and the visualization was as good or better as the one I performed to protect Cyril when I thought he was heading to Iraq. My friend Katherine's friend, Spring, has cancer. I met her at Kath's college graduation and her wedding; nice girl. Her bonehead doctors thought it was ovarian, performed a hysterectomy, and assaulted her body with chemo only to discover that it was actually colon cancer, which had spread to parts unmentionable. Now that she's had reconstructive surgery to fix that mistake, and spent the last 5 months being treated for the wrong cancer, now they're finding spots on her liver and lung. There's gotta be a lawsuit in there somewhere, but in the meantime, she has 2 boys, ages 5 and almost 2, who'll probably lose their mom far too early.

The visualization was excellent though (wish I could write about it, but I'm superstitious about that. It's like telling a birthday wish after blowing out the candles; I'm afraid it tempts fate somehow. Suffice it to say that it was powerful.), and silly me, I forgot to ground afterwards, so it took me forever to fall asleep, but I think I was still riding the good feelings from that ritual well into the next day. Pulled out Silver's To Light a Sacred Flame, because she has a great method for rededicating yourself in there, and I've pulled out Starhawk's Spiral Dance to bone up on the basics. I'm glad Solstice is just around the corner; I keep skipping holidays and then wondering why I feel so lapsed--that'll be the perfect time to rededicate myself.

But first, earning the ole paycheck :(

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!