one-and-a-two-and-a...

You guys are music to my ears. Thanks for all the kind comments and support. They are very much appreciated.

Today is Friday, which beginning at about 4:00 becomes the best day of the week. So, Kyoto and I will play for a bit this weekend (don't get excited, it will take me a year to finish it) and hubby and I want to use our little free movie tickets to see Big Fish. I'm a huge Tim Burton fan, so I hope it's as good as I expect. Maybe I'll do some felting this weekend, or maybe not. Maybe I'll start reading Seabiscuit, or maybe not. Maybe I'll start on the Kansas City doll, or maybe not. Maybe I'll get the felting slide show up on the site, or maybe not.

It will be a whatever-breathe-in-breathe-out type of weekend with a short stint of filming work on Sunday...no biggie. Have a fantastic weekend!!!

turn and cough...

I have something stuck in my jugular vein and it seems to be a bad gene. I've been feeling it bulge all day with impatience, indifference and insecurity. I think sticking cocktail forks directly into my eyeballs would feel better and be more aesthetically pleasing than watching me struggle through my workday.

How do you act like you like something when you hate it? For years. How long can you "suck-it-up" without the bad (or reasonable?) gene digging a hole in your jugular? How long before you start performing like the lead little green man in a musical about little green men that you spontaneous created in your head in order to keep from cutting your head off with the dull pair of scissors laying on your desk? My brain is a smoothie...stolen, pureed and returned without a receipt. Dear God, I hope school is worth it. Dear God, I hope waiting out this horrible poor-as-shit period is worth it. Dear God, help me to stay employed until I can get my wings back. All this is wearing on my confidence, hope and abilities.

Other than that, I've had a good day. I'm fine. A few rows of Kyoto tonight and I'll be fine. Really. Fine. Fine, I tell you. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow will be Friday. And Friday is better than Thursday.

sucker!!

I try to not be a sucker for those "tests" and quizzes, but alas, I have failed in resisting once again. I openly blame Marcia at Purls Before Swine for this one.

you are lightcyan #E0FFFF

Your dominant hues are green and blue. You're smart and you know it, and want to use your power to help people and relate to others. Even though you tend to battle with yourself, you solve other people's conflicts well. Your saturation level is very low - you have better things to do than jump headfirst into every little project. You make sure your actions are going to really accomplish something before you start because you hate wasting energy making everyone else think you're working. Your outlook on life is very bright. You are sunny and optimistic about life and others find it very encouraging, but remember to tone it down if you sense irritation.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

you can keep your catheter and...

Bah. Snargle-foofen-durgle. Pbbbblllllllllttt.
Well, I had a grand old time at the urologist. I got a dandy little ultrasound and a quick and painless exam (thank Gawd). The only bad thing is that now I have to have an IVP (intravenous pyelogram) and a cystocopy. That just pisses me off (no pun intended). An IVP is a dye study of the kidney and urinary systems and the cystocopy is an examination of the interior of the bladder with a small camera. Of course they're not on the same day and not in the same place. I do have to say I have a nice urologist (that just sounds creepy, doesn't it?) It would have been nice if he was a she, though. Man, I just feel like going home and crawling under the covers. At least I got in a good 45 minutes or so of knitting in the waiting room. Afterward, I had Krispy Kreme doughnuts to heal the emotional pain *wink*.

I have class tonight--macro social practice. Maybe I'll learn how to save the world...or at least form a support group for people with crappy bladders and irrational fears of urologists.

wah...wah...wah...wah...

I have rescheduled long enough. Today I have to face the music (well, hopefully there won't be any music!) and go to the urologist. Oo-h-h-h-h, how I hate going there. What's worse is that the last time I had to go, the assistant who catheterized me didn't know what she was doing. No, really. I had to tell her she was in the wrong place. "Uh, where did you go to school?" Or better yet, "Did you EVER go to school?" Or even better, "You know you have these things, too...you should know the difference between the two." Being a shy idiot back then, I didn't tell the doctor about it, but being the brazen bitch I am today, I will definitely report such ludicrous treatment. TMI, huh?

p.s. I started Kyoto...no shit. I hope it doesn't wind up in the UFO Knitting Horror Show.

not just for dessert anymore...

I really must get this marshmallow cream out of my head. Worse than fog, but sweeter than rain. Over the weekend, I did some process photos of felting. I'll post the slideshow in the next few days. I'm behind, so there will be no sneaky-blogging. The battle is on:

"You! Yeah you, Marshmallow Cream! What kind of mother gives a kid a name like that?! Right here, right now. We're duking it out. I'll be wiping you off my knuckles before the week is through...I've had enough of your sticky smartmouth..."

cryptic note passed to Karma during class...

Going backward is not an option...ever.
I can't play it safe anymore...I know that now.
It's gonna hurt a lot, ain't it?
How come you're so mean to me?
I'm merely entertainment for you, aren't I?
I'd better get a good novel out of this...

p.s. Do you have any gum?

Uh-yuh...

Have you checked out the "Recently Updated" list at Blogrolling.com? Of course there are a few bloggers who still try to have both a subject and verb within a sentence, but verily I say unto you, it's mostly downright frightening. It's like a car wreck--I can't help but look, but I'm always worse off for doing so.

With that said, I'm getting away from this blood-sucking computer for a few days and do some recharging--okay, maybe a couple of days...unless I have good pictures...or if something interesting happens...oh, to hell with it. *Note to self: increase medication tomorrow.

hey, pull that thorn out of my paw...

Class time on Wednesday helped me revisit my capacity for hopefulness and connectedness. And prolonging the infusion of sunlight in a suspension of vacation time really let me absorb its warmth into my bones. Feelings of such ilk have to be dealt with swiftly and with candor.

Huh?

I feel better. I am feeling very fiberish. I have a twinge of energy. I can almost think straight. Wings are sprouting as we speak. I feel like playing with my wool this weekend. I used my mint shampoo this morning. I am in love with Good Things.

Gotta' keep climbing that silly hill, no matter how many little Band-A*ds you have to use along the way. Otherwise the view will never change.

I found it on Ebay...

Finally, something to protect me and all my dogs and cats from George W.
Click here to get protection from the government
Only on Ebay France.
Link shamelessly lifted from Wendy, the most fearless knitter on this continent. Ringleader of Scary Knitters Worldwide.

that's that...

I took the day off today. There go my vacation hours again.

Last night's class (macro social work practice) made me feel so much better. I felt alive again, talking about things that are important to me, being around people who want to do the same thing...getting out. And I think that's what prompted my vacation day today. I didn't want to go to work and feel dead again. I just wanted to enjoy feeling satisfied a little longer. It's not the people I work with--far and away they are some of the nicest people I've ever met. But the more I grow into myself, the more I grind against the grain working in PR. Quite frankly, working in PR has nearly killed my love for writing. I hope once I leave the field that words will eventually excite me again.

I've decided to chronicle my horrific knitting failures in the UFO files. I like to knit, but apparently I have KADD (knitting attention deficit disorder). It's bad...really bad. Oh well, if you can't achieve, laugh your ass off about it instead.

Baxter is continuing to lose weight and I am really worried. The vet says his bloodwork shows borderline hyperthyroidism, so I have to take him back for repeat bloodwork in February. At this point the medication will do too much, so we're waiting to see if his condition improves or worsens. It's hard to see all the kitties lose weight as they get older. They were all so big in their "teenage" years. People made fun of us they were such big boy kitties.

Oh yeah and don't forget, you're invited to the RTB PARTY hosted by the lovely Dagley Dagley Daily. If you have ties to Tennessee, you know you can be part of the Rocky Top Brigade if you dare. Just let me know and I will submit your blog or you can click on the RTB blogroll flag (on the left) and submit yourself. It's down-home fun.

chatty mcfeisty...

I know I'm being way too chatty today. So forgive me already. Now that Gephardt has become presidential roadkill, my NEXT MATCH is John Kerry. My match score? 100 percent. Hmmm.

In other news: considering I'm going to be stuck in a classroom for three hours tonight, maybe I shouldn't have eaten a 12 ounce can of pinto beans and a Moon Pie for lunch. This might interfere with my ability to learn material; not to mention my classmates'.

back up, back up, back up...

Some of my code has mysteriously disappeared. Maybe it was the UFO. Don't forget to back up your code. I don't have a current copy of the bottom of my left column, so I'll have to test my memory and rebuild. Bah! Feesheetziebubzzles.

Must have eaten something bad...

Man, there's nothing worse than a creative slump. Feeling dead inside. Disconnected from the power source. I keep telling myself I feel better, but I don't. I have a hard time waiting these things through because I used to live everyday depressed and hopeless. Unfortunately, you can't recover from depression and never have a depressed day again, because well, that's part of the human experience when things are not going so great.

Bah. I'll be fine. I just don't like to go through episodes that remind me of Those Bleak Days. Enough of that.

I swatched for Kyoto, and as usual, I need to go a needle size up. I am a tightwad little knitter. But I didn't have that size in circulars so I haven't started yet. The lure of about 20 other patterns continues to tug at me as well. I think I might make a UFO (unfinished objects) section. Notice I didn't mention the FO (finished objects) section. I'm a great starter, but not a good finisher when it comes to knitting. But hell, felting is what I do, so knitting is gravy-free-time-stuff for me.

What I REALLY want to knit is THIS.

the letter I'd like to write...

Dear Tampon Manufacturer,

I just wanted to write and tell you how grateful I am for your ingenuity and concern for women. Your built-in alert system for tampons is truly a spectacular example of fine engineering and design.

I have gotten out my meter and was so amazed that you've hit 80 decibels with your new wrapper. I almost cried when I saw the improvement. Every time I go to the bathroom during "that time of the month" I can truly be assured that your new alert system will notify the entire building of my activities. I can't thank you enough for this wonderful and discreet method of communication. My boss is especially happy about the wrapper because I don't have to spend time sending out those annoying emails anymore!

Another reason I am writing is to share with you some of my business ideas for your incredibly crinkly super-wrapper. You know the Superbowl is right around the corner. Why not encourage the female fans to recycle their wrappers and use them as economical noise makers?! Another fantastic idea I had is to use the wrappers for a new, stronger type of papier mache. If concerned women would donate their discarded wrappers to elementary schools, we could solve the arts crisis for public school children. Hey, after the Super Bowl, all the women could collect the wrappers in a big barrel...what a great charity project that would be!

And just to let you know the wrappers, when connected, make one of the finest novelty yarns I've ever seen. I have knitted up both a summer jacket and matching skirt. When knitted, the wrappers are not as noisy--and they dye great!

But it's the noise they make that will make you extra millions. I've never seen a noisier material. You should be congratulated and I personally salute the scientists who worked so hard to come up with this material. It must have taken years to create something that noisy!

Sincerely,
Happy Tampon User

And...

You should avail yourself of Dooce's soliloquy today.

happy birthday to the good doctor...

Even though it was the 15th, we'll tip our hats today...

And now on to my long rant of bitching, moaning and complaining--the traditional Monday-riffic thing to do at HATamaran.

I didn't blog much over the weekend...sometimes you just need to break your routine to escape the rut you're in. I'm feeling better but I am none-too-happy to be here on a Monday. I'm never happy about Monday. I burned out about five years ago and still I am trying to get to a point where I can leave this job behind.

Anyway, Friday night was especially fun because hubby and I met another couple and we all went to see The Breakfast Club. They are a really great 80's cover band. We had fun singing and dancing to all our favorite songs. The only bad thing was that we were a group of old farts surrounded by a sea of drunk puberts. I felt like everyone's freakin' mom when I went to the bathroom...with all of them primping and tugging at their tiny lycra outfits. Ah, to be that firm all over again... Oh well.

And that's one of the most irritating things about Knoxville. It has about 17,000 university students who take over the bars and nightlife. There are NO fun places to go if you are in your 30's or older. You are either drowning in a sea of puberts or you go out to eat. Or you can hang in the famously cheesy Mich*els restaurant and bar...for which you must be over 30, divorced, hopelessly horny, have an creepy-looking tan, smoke five packs a day, bathe in cologne and have no class or high school education. I know that's mean, but I've been there and I know *chuckle*.

The other thing that pisses me off about nightspots in general is the gigantic cloud of smoke you are exposed to. I am always sick the next day with a horrible sinus headache--drinky or no drinky. And I stink so bad I have to take a shower before I can go to bed. Friday night we didn't get home until about 2:30 am and I although I was dead tired I STILL had to shower and wash my hair because I just felt filthy. Ugh. And I'm an ex-smoker, too!

Let's see...what else pisses me off? How about when I am suddenly one stitch short while knitting a lace scarf? Oh yeah. And I can't figure out where I screwed up, so I rip half of it out and I am still a stitch short--so I rip it all out and start a 5x5 rib angora scarf instead and feel utterly defeated. That's okay, I'll fight that battle again another day. Lace knitting makes me sweat, but I'm not giving up yet.

What else, what else...And then there's people who are just plain scary. While recently shopping the local dollar store for batteries and cheap dog toys for Sadie-the-destroyer, I couldn't help but hear the conversation of a man and his son standing behind me in the check-out line. The son had picked out a toy gun and the father remarked that the gun would be good for "shooting cops."

Okeedokee. (Note to self: avoid this person and all his relatives--forever.)

And you wonder how kids get f*cked up. That's how.

Ahhh-h-h-h-h. Sometimes it just feels good to be bitchy for a minute or two.

Late Addition: Oh, and don't even get me started about the Google-search of "poison + raccoons." You are a just an asshole. Unless these intelligent little creatures are eating your newborn babies, call freaking animal control or your local wildlife agent. What is WRONG with you?

Now. I feel all better.

who's your presidential dream date?

Click here to find out who matches your mindset on current issues. I matched Gephardt most closely in the test.

pity my score...

This is what you get with a one-word title, a crappy Scrabble score!

Pholph's Scrabble Generator My Scrabble© Score is: 14. What is your score? Get it here.

Shamelessly stolen from Barry at the Inn. Thanks Big B.

a little horse with heart...

I printed out my syllabus for class last night and noticed the instructor is at a seminar for the first meeting, so I scampered on home and nestled into my knitting needles. I made an ugly scarf. I will probably wear it Friday night and then rip it out and do something else with it. I am a freak. I also cuddled up with Unexpected Knitting to do some more reading...I think I am going to learn a lot from this book. I'm a theory person, so I don't really get something until I understand its larger scope. And this book definitely belongs on the Larger Scope Bookshelf. I'd like to make my own stuff someday, especially with my handspun stuff.

I've also been feeling really distressed and blue over the past couple of weeks. I keep frantically trying to find more and more distractions to keep the Beast away, but I'm having to walk around in a garlic suit to keep the thing in its cage. I'm really going to try hard to get some felting done this weekend. Doing always helps. I have a bunch of bag designs I want to try that are far more sophisticated than what I've been doing. If I can muster the energy to GET STARTED I'll be okay. My energy level is almost at zero it seems, but I keep cheering myself on, knowing there's a fiery little Seabiscuit inside of me somewhere. If I keep believing I'll win this race someone might just hang some roses around my neck someday.

Well, Unexpected Knitting was in the mailbox last night. What a crazy, crazy book! This lady is nuts (in a good way). Her gallery includes handknitted teacups and saucers. If you didn't know they were knitted you wouldn't be able to tell them from the real thing at a distance. Really it's apparent that this woman, Debbie New, is a freakin' genius. I have a feeling she's really a mathmetician at heart. It's not a book of patterns, but an expanded view of knitting as fiber art. I intend to read the entire thing in a voracious manner. It's very interesting. She's so far out of the box that one of her knitted coats includes duct tape. What a weirdo. I love her immensely already.

And now for today's entertainment. From left: Sadie says "I'm ready for my close-up Mr. DeMille." My husband took this darling shot. Next, a shot of some of my drop-spindled yarn I handpainted; swatched up in a lazy-ass seed/garter-stitch scarf. Next, our darling little Pickles reclined on the sidewalk (she's 10 1/2 now). Last, another swatch of some more drop-spindled wool and handpainted by yours truly. I don't care what anyone says, I love garter-stitch!

Lastly, I made a stash raid and found some Cascade Key Largo (pima cotton/alpaca) and have it separated out to do Kyoto. Let's all pretend that is going to happen, okay? Humor me, or else. I do own a tire iron. I have strange colors planned, as you can see in my "repaint" of the Knitty photo.

Class starts tonight. Clinical social work practice III. I wanted to take Forensic Social Work but the f*ckers wouldn't offer it in the late afternoon or evening when I have to take classes (because I work...which reminds me, it's time to go). Have a fiber-infested day everyone (that's good).

but that's beside the point...

Even though I never finish shit when it comes to knitting, I CANNOT WAIT to get my hands on a new knitting booklet or magazine. Despite the fact I have almost nothing to wear to work, I will buy a knitting book over new pants, socks, underwear, or whatever. Despite the fact I cannot afford the yarn to make the damn stuff, I can barely concentrate at work because I know that the new Vogue Knitting is out and that I ordered a cheaper, damaged copy of Unexpected Knitting and it MIGHT be in my mailbox today (normally it's a $40 book--I got it for a little less). Despite the fact I need to be making a doll for the Kansas City Doll Fair, and need to be FELTING for upcoming spring shows, I can't wait to salivate over a whole crapload of stuff that I neither have the time nor the money to knit.

So what. That's beside the point.

tuesday...

There's really not much to say about Tuesday. It is an extension of Monday's torture and does not qualify as another day unto itself. It's only another day on paper.

This is where hubby got to go on my birthday (can you tell I'm not going to let him forget it)?

Kinda purdy out thar in Collyrawdo, ain't it? This was the backcountry he went snowmobiling through to get to a ranch resort. The area behind him is a frozen lake with a 2 ft. ice thickness. Well, I am glad he had a good time...I just wish I could have gone, too!

I swatched up some of the yarn I handpainted and just hated it. I think I will Navajo-ply the stuff and see if livening up the color mix does anything. I reckon I am going to have to break down and get some acid dyes. I like fiber-reactive dyes, but not for dyeing wool. Bah. I'll have to sell something on Ebay to justify such a thing. Double bah.

Bah! Bah! Bah! *crack!* Back to work.

conspicuous whining...

Monday is like the worst cough syrup in the world. You close your eyes and just try not to gag until it's over. And it ain't over yet. I really wish I didn't hate my job. But you don't want to hear about that shit. Well, maybe you do, but I'm too busy gagging.

Anyhoo. Hubby got home earlier than expected last night which gave us time to talk about his trip and such. It was sooooo nice to have him home. I can't wait to see the pictures...snowmobiling in the back country, hanging in Vail...good times, good times. Without me. A-hem. Ok, I'm over it. I'm just thankful he was with another person when he tried to go to sleep in a snowbank. Of course he was NOT intoxicated at the time. A-hem. I'm just sorry I missed him sleeping with a chocolate doughnut half-eaten on his pillow. Men. I swear they'd be extinct if we didn't look out for them.

I painted some wool yarn I had laying around last night--stuff I had spun with no projects in mind. Oh wait, that's all I ever spin. No planning, just "oh, me likey dat color. oh, me thinky feel good. me buy it. me spin it and place in basket. me stare at and wonder what to do with it..." Hmmmph. Anyway, I had a lot of skeins that were either very light or natural and I painted them. Because I wanted to. Because I needed to get SOMETHING fibery done. Because I was in a fiber PANIC. I feel better know. But now I have to figure out what to do with the stuff. Hmmmmph. So now I have a commercial yarn stash and a handspun stash. What the hell is WRONG with me?

I've figured out that my husband is making me fat. Every time he's gone I lose a couple of pounds. Maybe he is teleporting his belly fat to my ass. And perhaps he can only do that within a 50-mile radius. That would explain EVERYTHING.

**And thank you everyone for all the nice birthday wishes!!! I just love y'all!**

smile...

Hey, it wasn't such a bad birthday after all. I'm still a little miffed to be abandoned by hubby for the weekend, but hell, I'm a grown-up now (at least on paper).

So I, ma, my brother and his wife went to a fun little mexican restaurant to have dinner and I was not shocked when the servers all came out to sing and plop sombreros on our heads. They also brought me a birthday sopapilla, which was nice. The server who was tending our table set down the dessert in front of me and spooned up a big blob of whipped cream and acted like he was going to feed me when he detoured from my mouth and smeared the dessert all over my face instead. We're there often enough for him to know I am a good sport and I was laughing hard as I was extracting whipped cream from my nostrils and wiping it from my cheeks, nose and chin. We all had a good laugh over that, and I can bet there will be a lot of people who request they not be taken there for their birthdays after seeing that.

Also, my in-laws dropped by with my two cuter-than-cute nieces (ages 6 & 8) and brought me presents, hand-drawn birthday cards (the best kind) and a german chocolate cake. Pretty cool of them. Hubby called me twice today and had been snowmobiling (grrrr...).

My dad even got a birthday card in the mail which arrived TWO days before my birthday. In the old days, I'd get it a few weeks late or not at all.

Not bad. Not bad at all. Has everyone been taking extra vitamins or something?

Thanks to everyone for all the birthday wishes. They were VERY much appreciated!!!!! *smooch*

In other news, the puppies got baths last night (i.e. I got a bath) and went to the vet today. They both got clean bills of health, except Pickles has cataracts. Maybe we'll save up to get her eyesight corrected. They do lasik surgery for dogs now, too, you know. Of course, it is $1000 per eye, so it won't be happening this year! They're not bad at the moment anyway.

One aside here--I didn't know there was a saying "older than a turd." Heh. I have to laugh at that. So, raise your glasses because here's to the YEAR OF THE TURD. Hopefully it won't stink like 2003. :-)

icing on my cake!!!

It snowed last night. What a nice treat! I love snow...especially Tennessee snow. It never hangs around long enough to be either inconvenient or dirty-looking. And it never snows more than five or six inches at the most. Last night's snow was about 2 inches at our house. The picture is from my drive to work this morning. I have a nifty little shortcut to work that is nothing but little windy country roads. I probably should have picked a main road this morning given the conditions, but the beauty of the drive was more important. Hey, I never said I was a practical person! I only slid once.

Yesterday was vet day for the kitties. I took all four for their yearly check-ups yesterday and got a bulk discount of 20 percent! Ha!!! I thought that was so funny. It saved me nearly $40! Everyone is doing okay, but Baxter, the oldest, is being checked for a thyroid problem. He's down to about 9 pounds and he used to weigh 18!! The weight loss has been over years, but over the last year he's dropped it faster than normal aging would suggest. So, we're waiting on blood work for him. Tomorrow is the puppies' day at the vet! I hope to get a clean bill of health for them...I especially don't want bad news on my birthday.

Oh, did I say it was my birthday tomorrow? Oh well, in case you didn't know, it is! I'll be old as dog shit. Well, not really, I'll be 39, which was old as dog shit when I was in my early 20's, but now I realize life has just begun! Please feel free to PayPal money to me at anytime. Hee hee.

Gosh, I could really go on and on today, but I'll not bore you. More later. Have a wonderful day everyone!

um...how the hell did I get THAT?

Recently I had a bladder infection for which I was forced to swallow copious amounts strong-ass antibiotics for a good two weeks. Well, my lab results came back and my urine showed traces of e. coli. Now how the f*ck does a vegetarian get e. coli? And how can you not show symptoms of it? The only way I can think of is if I had lunched on the tootsierolls in the kitty boxes. Unless I've been sleepwalking in a very, very hungry state, I just don't think that has happened...although my mouth has tasted like shit a couple of mornings... Anyway, more pee in a cup for me to see if there's a little family of mobsters setting up shop in my bladder. Why can't daily life be boring?

I aspire to be a risible sort of gal...

My word for the day from yourdictionary.com is worth sharing.

Risible (Adjective)
Pronunciation: ['ri-zê-bêl]--bah, the carets freak; say it like this: RI-zeh-bul

Definition 1: (1) Given to laughter, likely to laugh; (2) related to laughter; (3) eliciting laughter, laughable, funny, comic.

Usage 1: This word reminds us that, in addition to all the other clever things humans do that distinguish them from other creatures, we are also the risible creature, the only species capable of laughter. Babies begin to laugh when they are only 3-4 months old and those that laugh the most throughout their lives, seem to have the healthiest relationships. The adverb is "risibly" and the noun, "risibility."

Suggested usage: Today's word is a bit odd in that it can mean either laughing oneself or causing others to laugh. In this sentence, it could mean either: "Everyone loves that risible Irish darling, Beryl O'Laughs; she keeps everyone in stitches." Here are two that separate the two main senses: "Risible foreigners must enjoy the antics of the US Congress" (sense 1) and "You've invented an electric pencil? That is as risible an idea as I've ever heard" (sense 3).

Etymology: "Risible" comes from Late Latin risibilis, from Latin "risus," the past participle of ridere "to laugh," a root that doesn't seem to appear in recognizable form elsewhere among the Indo-European languages. (We thank Katy Brezger of somewhere in Michigan for the initial spark that provided the risible information in today's word.)

mixed nuts...

This could only happen to us. Last night my husband was dragging some stuff out of attic storage when suddenly I hear him screaming. I look up from my magazine and realize it was a real scream, not a "oh I stepped in cat poop" utterance. I run down the hall and open the door to what we call the "sunken room" where the attic storage door is and expect to see the rats from "Ben" lunching on my husband's eyeballs. Instead, I see this darling little squirrel, which turns out to be a Southern Flying Squirrel," sitting on the weight bench. I ran to get my camera. The reason my husband was screaming was because the "little darling" had jumped from the darkness of the storage room straight onto his chest!!! I'm surprised he didn't have a heart attack. We tried to capture the poor thing for a long time and finally gave up and shooed him back into the attic storage room. He jumps like a kangaroo and glides like a bird. Apparently we have lots of flying squirrels in our attic because we can hear them in the walls. We thought it might be rats, for which I can, with a great deal of guilt, set out poison. But, I can't exterminate these little beauties. We'll either call a critter removal/relocation team or just call them neighbors. Since we have no money, it looks like we'll be neighbors.

We had seen these little guys from time to time at night in our driveway, but never got a good enough look at them to really be able to identify them. More about the little nut-munchers here.

that warm fuzzy feeling...

This Saturday is my illustrious and slightly painful 39th birthday. I will be home and my husband will be HERE. Now, being the reasonable woman that I am, I only chopped off three of his fingers. Any other woman would have taken the whole arm. I even took the three fingers from both hands so he'd have enough left on each to properly grip his ski poles. After all, I am a truly caring woman.

Well, actually, it's a free trip for him, which is the only kind of trip we can take right now because we are somewhat destitute. Hold on, I should correct myself. It's not "we," it's "he." Hubby works for a small company and the boss is generous with perks, like trips to Vail and the beach--guy-bonding trips. I work for a really big company where you are identified by a nine-digit number lost at least quarterly in the database. I get a generic $20 gift certificate at Christmas. That's right. He gets Vail. I might wrangle a pair of closeout shoes before tax. I'm not snubbing the the $20. I'm just saying it's just my luck.

So while I am doing laundry (I pray to the laundry gods for strength, for I have to battle the mountain of soiled despair), cleaning the four giant-sized cat litter boxes, wiping up hairballs, puke, and doggy butt Rorschach stampings, he will be on the slopes, or at the bar, or at the hotel's adjoining sledding slope or ice rink. I would think him an idiot if he didn't go. But on my birthday...? He knows the rest of his fingers are in grave, grave danger. Ha. Ha. Ha?

Prevent Stupidity---A CIVET IS *NOT* A CAT...

By Beth Adelman for The Daily Cat

By now you've probably heard on the news that scientists think the SARS virus may have originally come from the civet, a weasel-like animal that the media insist on referring to as a "civet cat." This is a very unfortunate choice of words, because it has sparked many people in Asia to get rid of their pet cats and round up the local strays, and has left people worldwide wondering if they ought to do the same. It's also an incorrect choice of words, because a civet is not a cat.

A civet is a type of mongoose, which is closely related to a weasel. If you have seen pictures of civets, they look like a sort of raccoon-skunk-ferret. If you remember your high school biology, you know all animals and plants are classified by Latin names that indicate what broad family of creatures they belong to. Civets are in the Viverridae family. Cats are in the Felidae family. The families are related, but only very, very distantly. How distantly? Civets and cats are not as close as people and chimpanzees.

You can't get SARS from a cat. The World Health Organization and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention have confirmed this. Please, spread the word.

Fluffy does not need to be exterminated. If you are this stupid, please be proactive and poke your own eyes out.

mondayne...

Damn it. It's Monday again. What idiot made up Monday, anyway? Better yet, who decided my hormones would fluctuate, stealing my perfectly good wings made for flying high and replacing them with two damp moldy sponges that have been cleaning gas station toilets. Get the picture?

Last week I felt happy, powerful and like I could control the cosmos. Then, for some reason, with the arrival two days of bizarrely warm weather over the weekend and the my own personal recurring Hitler (PMS), some one got out the hedge clippers and sawed off my pristine magical wings and slapped the stinky sponges on my back instead. Who did that? Who DID THAT??!!!! Off with their head!!!

So, I did a lot of staring at the wall. And not doing the things I said I would. I DID get the doggy butt-stamp off my seat and took a bag of garbage out of my car. And did two loads of laundry and went grocery shopping. And I spun for an hour. But that's over two days. Not a lot. Didn't get two little dolls made for a person waiting on them. Didn't get a hat resized that a friend is waiting on. Didn't do those things. Couldn't figure out why. Got cranky about it. Ate popcorn. Watched football, funniest home videos and Growing Up Tiger on Animal Planet. Cuddled with the cats and dogs. Stared at knitting books. Didn't knit. Mumbled about my pants being too tight.

Mumbled. Just mumbled. I want my wings back.

knitters, get thee to a hat...

Knitters, have you visited KnitWhits? Major-cute hat projects there. And they look easy (as in, *I* can do them). The Scary Knitters are getting to me...they are turbo color-grinding machines. I think Wendy might be the Almighty Leader of them all. If you really want to feel like an unproductive slob, visit her site for a few days in a row. I swear, she knits a sweater a week. And I ain't talkin' garter stitch neither. I know, I'm just jealous. ;-)

so it shall be written, so it shall be done...

Well, I didn't write it down, but I do have to do it. Clean up my car, that is. I tend to be somewhat (hysterical laughter) of a slob. I clean my car up about once a year--maybe. Basically it's a trash can on wheels. If I rolled all the windows down things would fly out as I drove down the street.

Pray-tell, why does it bother me today? Well, it IS the new year and when I got in the car to go to work this morning I looked over at the passenger seat and noticed a half-dollar sized poop stain. After we took the pups for a long walk last night Sadie apparently decided to plant her butthole on the back of the seat--she likes to stand while she rides for some reason. Ugh. I'm messy, but I'm not disgusting, so it's time for the annual clean-a-thon. Just thinking about that poop stain on my velour seat makes me nauseous.

I did find my pastels last night (they are NuPastels, not oil pastels as I thought) and did a cartoonish cat drawing. It's really quite horrible, but it was fun and I learned a few things: You CAN blend too much. Pastels are really messy. I have no idea what I am doing (and that's OK). And that I can be NON-judgemental when trying something new--and that's the best part. I used to be very critical of myself and I've gotten a lot better about that. Staying in the learn-mode is what I'm shooting for this year. Exploring. Remaining open to experience. Etcetera.

Eight more days and I'll be freakin' 39 years old. ACK!!!!

ah-h-h-h-h, 2004...

I'm ready for it. We took the pups out for a long walk and ate way too much today. Except for eating like pigs, it was a fabulous start to the new year. I have to work tomorrow, but who cares; Saturday's around the corner. Ah, if only we could have a 35-hour work week like the Europeans.

I'm off to see if I can find a set of oil pastels that has been stored away in my "studioette" for eons. And browse through my knitting books to pick out a fun project. Hope everyone had a great start to the new year!