WWII knit your bit kit...

This is darn interesting. Leigh-Anne at Over Coffee works at the Red Cross and asked me about a knit-your-bit kit they might be doing.

The commemorative knitting kit will raise funds for the American Red Cross and is based on the original world war era "Knit Your Bit" campaign, which enabled civilian volunteers to support troops by knitting needed clothing and blankets. Their goal is to release this knit kit for the 60th anniversary of D-Day and as the world remembers and memorializes the 60th anniversary of the ending of World War II (throughout this year). SHE IS LOOKING FOR FEEDBACK FROM KNITTERS--POSITIVE OR CONSTRUCTIVE.

And, oooooh, I feel all special because she let me post the prototype/preliminary design here to give you an idea about the kit. It is a sock-knitting kit that will include instructions and all the tools necessary to produce one pair of WWII regulation socks. There also will likely be two other sets of instructions for vintage/era knitting projections such as a muffler, gloves and/or cap. In the original sample there were going to be three smaller skeins of yarn (20% wool/80% acrylic), but they are now considering a single large skein of high quality (80% wool/20% acrylic) yarn to add value to the kit and for greater authenticity to the original wool yarn distributed by the Red Cross to volunteer knitters. The kit is contained in a reusable tin--good for storing needles, buttons, notations, instructional booklets, etc. (My personal opinion that I wrote back was that the more authentic, the better; e.g. no nasty acrylic).

click the image for full size

The kit will be sold by the Red Cross to help raise funds to support their emergency and disaster services, including but not limited to their Armed Forces Emergency Services which include emergency communications, care packages and on-base canteens for troops. The price point would be around $25.

PLEASE LEAVE YOUR COMMENT HERE ON WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THE KIT OR SEND HER AN EMAIL BY CLICKING HERE.

Thanks Leigh-Anne for letting us be part of your research!

destination: hammock...

At 2 p.m. today I will walk out the door of my office for a week. A WHOLE week. The semester ended two days ago and my instructor emailed my grade...an "A" by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin. Gi-i-i-i-i-inngggggg-g-ger! (sorry, inside joke).

Most of my vacation days this year have been taken to work on a paper, study for a test, or because I was at the point of chasing imaginary bugs on the wall with the cats--and saving their imaginary exoskeletons to make imaginary mosaic wall art and sell it on Ebay.

This is different.

This is planned relaxation. I am going horseback riding with my mom and maybe running up to West Virginia to see DH's mee-maw. The rest of the time is free for creative endeavors (felting and dollmaking) and swinging freely in the hammock.

I haven't decided if I'm really going to ignore the Internet for the week or not. I'll let you know. C'mon 2 p.m., I'm ready.

damn it Jim, I'm a feminist, not a Buttercup!

Which Princess Bride Character are You?
this quiz was made by mysti
Buttercup, sheesh. What next?

thank you...

"That soldier said, 'There are some things going on here that I can't live with,'" said Kimmitt, who also confirmed that CBS had obtained the photographs.

Thank God there are a few people in the world who say "no more." I would hate to see a pie chart representing humans with a conscience and those without.

what do you WANT?!!

I was grumpy and tired last night. I got into bed about 11:30 p.m. and was prepared to snooze like a baby--until a troop of EVIL FELINES descended upon me. For most of the night Rooney slobbered and made "biscuits" in my hair while Baxter decided my face would be his roost of choice. And God forbid one of them get too close to the other and set off the dreaded kitty-in-my-space-alarm. But they did and the batting, smacking and whining all ensued upon my groggy and grumpy head.

The only way I can get Rooney to stop slobbering and pulling my hair is to coax him under the covers. Then he settles in for a while and purrs like the little mad animal he is until he gets too hot after which he shoots from under the covers and disappears. That's the routine. Last night he apparently dipped into some kitty crack because once he got under the covers he decided to root his way to the end of the bed and start furiously licking my husband's toes.

Dear Kitty, what is WRONG with you? Dear Kitty, is your food missing an essential vitamin? Dear Kitty, are you trying to dissolve me with your stinky-gum-disease slobber, wrap me in a cocoon and save me for a late night snack? Oh dear, Kitty.

I hate to say it, but...

Sometimes I am just a dumb ass. If you're trying to make a point (NOTE TO SELF) do not misspell "Holocaust." Don't even ask how I had it spelled. ANYWAY, the final for the semester, which was strangely easy (I think), is turned in. I am getting freer still...and the excitement continues to grow in my own curmudgeonistic way.

Outside my window I hear the wild chirping of newly hatched fledglings. There's a bird nest of little black birds, perhaps Starlings, nestled in an "old house hole" under one of our gutters. Noisy little bastards, but I just love hearing them.

Well...damn it; out of toilet paper, out of alcohol, out of tomatoes, out of bread, out of cat litter, out of fresh sheets (thanks to a stealth-puking-cat). Better get busy. I have to wash those black pants again for tomorrow you know. Eh, maybe I'll wash them tomorrow. Sheets, definitely. Pants, maybe.

yummy...

Because it's delicious: guild.com.

how many times will we witness...

Thank you All Seasons for the reminder to pay attention. Feel free to steal and share the image (genocide in the Sudan).

It really strikes me that there are enough evil people in the world to band together and commit mass atrocities. Rape and torture have always been tools of war since the beginning of time. It's strategic purpose is to eat away at the fabric of humanity in the enemy's camp. Families are broken. Spirits are broken. Hope is lost. Fear is ever-present. The damage to the ethnic group is long-term and painful. We watched genocidal efforts happen in Bosnia, in Guatemala (although lesser known) and during the Holocaust. There are others.

And I am sickened by my own passivity.

*For some reason the link to Passion in the Present is currently down, but I hope it will be back up soon.
NOTE: UNTIL THE SITE COMES BACK UP, THE ICON COMES OFF, BUT PLEASE REMEMBER THESE PEOPLE (AMONG SO MANY OTHERS UNDER SIEGE, IN YOUR PRAYERS, DRUM-BANGING, OR WHATEVER THE HELL YOU DO TO SEND OUT GOOD VIBES...

it's only fitting...

Sometimes you fit Where You Are, but sometimes You Don't Fit. It only matters if you are not okay with Not Fitting. If you Must Fit, then expect to give up Valuable Things in order to become One Who Fits. If you realize You Do Not Fit when you are in a place where You Must Fit, then you must remove yourself from the Ill-Fitting Situation. Then begins the journey of finding the Place Where You Fit. If there is No Place Where You Fit, then you must make your Own Place Where You Fit. You might be The Only One Who Fits There.

And That's OKAY.

le poop...

It's Monday, doggone it. And it's raining. BUT, next week I'm off...as in vacation. Oh dear God, it could not get here fast enough. The semester ends on Wednesday. I only need to turn in a final exam and I'm free.

I am hoping I can get some creative stuff done while I am off and I'm thinking I'll take the week off from blogging as well. I want all strings to be snipped for a week. I want to roll around in the grass like a dog on a stinkbug.

it's ONLY 2:30...

It's 2:30 p.m. and I am still in my pajamas. I don't know what else to say. Perhaps I should get dressed. Maybe.

dear God,

This is just a note to say "thanks" for letting me live through another work week. And another note of thanks for keeping me just sane enough to not be admitted to an inpatient psychiatric facility. Oh, and one more "thank you" for allowing the butt seam of my black pants to hold the buns in one more week. Whew.

craft and knitting books on Ebay

Go to my Ebay Store for unscrupulous deals on craft and knitting books!!! I'm cleaning out the craft book shelves. Tell your friends! All the books are in fabulous condition and are offered at a fraction of the original purchase price (read: I'm broke).

I'll probably close this Ebay store soon. It costs to keep it open, you know...and I haven't been listing a lot of stuff there lately. Dunno, I'll think about it.

I would like to thank my loyal assistants...
Grayson (front) and Atticus work hard while I list my books on Ebay. I couldn't have done it without them.

junior grows up...

Junior has already grown up and is nearly as large as Big Honkin' Mama Bloom. They kind of look like boobs, don't they? And, true to life, one is slightly bigger than the other.

Baxter continues to do okay, but we are going for our monthly bloodwork to check his thyroid on Saturday. He's sitting in an old fireplace thing (what do you call them, log-holders?)...anyway, it's a wonderful, and very heavy, thing to put potted plants in. Why no potted plants? I killed them. Not on purpose mind you, but they have all fluttered away to Compost Heaven.

Here's a closer image. You can see smudges of that nasty vitamin stuff I have to give him every night. It looks like gravy and stinks like putrid hell. He gags and gets through it. Poor kitty! He's about 13 years old now and was a shelter kitty.

I don't know why I am so picture happy this week. Must be Spring.

junior is here!

Like I said in the last post, it's always a surprise to see what's come to be in the yard whilst I have been working. Yesterday, I got home to find junior cradled in the shadow of Big Honkin' Mama Bloom.

And whoever said a dog can't smile, hasn't met my little fat dog Sadie...

Poor little Pickles doesn't take kindly to the camera, but I, as Wile E. Photographer, caught her unawares...

and one more Spring-like portrait for the day, because she really DOES smile. See?

I hope Spring is on the way wherever you are! Have a happy Wednesday!

Oh, how I lerrrrrv Spring...

And oh, how I miss my window. I was lucky in the office window department from 1989 until fall of 2000. Now, I am bathed in the sickly glow of flourescent nastiness all day. I am very light-sensitive. The more light I get, the happier I am. Literally.

Anyway. One of the highlights of the day is always being greeted by new blooms in the yard during Spring. Yesterday my peony, which is planted in the center of my herb garden, decided to explode. Wow! I sank my face down into the the bloom and inhaled deeply with total disregard for the plumes of pollen wiggling up my nostrils.



Then, I was greeted by my favorite welcoming committee, Pickles and Sadie.



After feeding the pupgals their dinner, it was such a beautiful day I plopped down in the hammock behind the shade garden. What a view! Beyond the arch you can see the blooming dogwoods (It took us at least five years to get those vines to properly grow around the archway). Every year I find another plant for the shade garden that can survive my inept gardening skills. Only the tough survive in my yard.



Ahhhhh, Spring. Breathe it in.

paranoia sucks...

Like the song goes, para-noi-ya will de-stroy ya. I had a community activism workshop to go to Friday afternoon, so I had to take off early Friday. Still haunted by the red pen dashing through my paper Wednesday night, I was compelled to ask my instructor about my paper. She didn't seem to remember so she said "let's go look, I have them with me." She said she had glanced at it the night before. As I watched her flip through, I didn't see any red ink. NO red ink. It wasn't my paper upon which she had unleashed her wrath. Hmm. She said it looked fine and it was okay I had written it on my own. Sheesh, all that worryin' for nuttin'.

This past weekend you may have noticed I didn't peck out nary a word on the blog. That's because it was one of the most beautiful, warm spring weekends I can remember. Temperatures were between 75-80 and every dogwood and apple tree was bursting with blooms. I worked in the yard and planted arugula, sage, tarragon and cilantro in the herb garden. I also transplanted a ton of peppermint to a new area. I wish someone had told me that peppermint is the herb of satan. It is EVERYWHERE. When I went to bed Saturday night I saw PEPPERMINT when I closed my eyes. Kudzu doesn't hold a candle to that stuff.

I also knitted and felted a bit. Unfortunately my three hours of knitting has to be ripped because the damn pattern was wrong. Experienced knitters see these things before a great amount of energy is spent. We perpetual beginners blindly follow the pattern and then are put upon to invent new curse words when we finally figure out we just tortured our tendons for no good reason. Rip!

Happy Monday!

bring it on...

Turns out I was sent the wrong forms for field placement. I don't start working three million hours a week this summer, but in the fall. Woo-hoo, that gives me time to do some art fair material, which makes me do the happy dance. I have been temporarily pardoned!

what's my address again?

There's nothing like a little geography test to make you feel like a moron...
Can you pass the third grade?
I got close, but no cookie. What do you expect from someone who still has to check her driver's license EVERY TIME she has to give the number over (I've had the license since 1996).

oh, poo...

Last night's class turned out to be a little field trip to the University Center auditorium to hear a speaker on environmentalism and social justice. It was interesting and quite scary to hear. I might write more about that later.

Before the speaker began our instructor took the opportunity to start looking over my paper. I was sitting about five rows behind her and about 10 seats to her left, so I could see what she was doing. And what she was doing was scribbling like mad with a red pen. It went like this:

...one-thousand-one, one-thousand-two...scribble, scribble, scribble...one-thousand-three, one-thousand-four...scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble...one-thousand-five...scribble, scribble...scribble, scribble...

She's going to run out of ink on the damn thing. I fear for my grade for the first time in graduate school. I had a bad feeling when I turned it in, especially after I learned that it was supposed to be a GROUP paper. I did mine by myself because I didn't absorb that little snippet of information. Maybe I'll get some pity points (NOT).

It is what it is. Gotta look at the big picture. I mean, when you see THIS FREE KNITTING PATTERN you just have to wonder just what is really important in this world.

important scientific breakthrough...

I have found that my anxiety level has a positive relationship to the number of blog entries I produce. The more anxious I am about a project or some other tasty morsel of impending doom deserving due procrastination (did you get that play on words?), the more I write. I've figured out that blogging is the equivalent of pinching myself to make sure I am still here and capable of the most sophisticated form of avoidance known to man. If other people are reading this, then I must STILL be ALIVE and successfully procrastinating! Either that or we're all burning in hell together and making friends while we fashionably fry.

That's a good thing. To be alive, I mean.

I am nearing, dare I say it, a WEEK of v...a...c...a...t...i...o...n... Right after the semester is over. And this pudgy little gal ain't doin' nuttin' except making arty farty fun things, ingesting food and drink that are plastered with warning labels and happily playing with the dogs and cats. The only thing between me and paradise is a final exam (well, and work). The idea of just hanging out makes me swoon.

I might even buy some fancy underwear for the occasion. You know, the kind that doesn't come in a six-pack.

fine...

As in done. Kind of. As done as it gets.
Anyway.
Get over to Dooce's house and send her some good vibes. She's needing some strength for all that weight she's carrying right now.

I'm trying not to whine...

This paper is driving me insane. I see a round hole, I pick up a square peg. So what if I had to nibble off the corners in a fit of insanity? It fits, right? Peg wood is roughage, right? Kind of like when you get a bug in your teeth. That's protein.

This is one rotten paper. It's worse than my high school school paper comparing two books, for which I read one. Yes, I will burn in literary hell forever while Dorothy Sayers tortures me with papercuts made with the pages of that unread book.

That's what happens when you insist square pegs go into round holes. You get bugs in your teeth and toothpicks in your stomach.

And, for God's sake, will someone stop me from blogging multiple times a day?!!

purdy is as purdy does...

I contend that The Swan is the worst reality show ever made. Why? Because it reflects our real-life warped values we present for women to digest on a daily basis. I watched a bit of one show and I was just sick.

Number One: There is nothing WRONG with the women in the beginning other than a serious lack of self-esteem and confidence.

Number Two: The experts are all shallow plastic morons with giant fake Chiclet teeth who do not have a CLUE as to what life is really all about. I guess they know all these hopeless gals are going to be repeat customers when they start the ageing process! "Oh my God, I'm ugly AGAIN!"

Number Three: The panel of experts includes a therapist. Gah! No decent, ethical therapist would be on such a panel because beauty isn't created by a knife and a vat of greasy make-up. I hope the money's good, because I know the therapy ain't.

Number Four: People LIKE this show. That alone is indicative of a serious problem in our society. If these people were missing arms and legs or had cleft palates or something I could get into the show. Watching women blubber on about how they've never thought they were pretty...well, honey, a knife, 10 pounds of make-up and a nice dress ain't gonna fix that.

Number Five: They are then JUDGED! How about that for the most ridiculous and dysfunctional ending to the process? Let's "grade" you and see if YOU ARE PRETTY ENOUGH. These women came in with a plethora of inferiority complexes to begin with. I abhor pagents anyway. Don't give me that "it's all about scholarships" shit. It's about how you look, whether or not you know how to use duct tape on your boobs and if you can string a couple of sentences together. Period. Got an apple shape? You ain't gettin' no crown. Can't we get PAST THIS CRAP?

I can't stand the thought of pre-pubescent girls clamoring to see this putrid garbage.

At least once a day I wonder why the human race is not extinct.

poor kitty!

This brings new meaning to the words "fat cat"...

look what I got...

Aren't you jealous? Lori's art cards arrived yesterday. Aren't they great? Click on the picture to go see for yourself.

don't ask me...

The prize-winning Google search for the day landing at my site? (drum roll) "sniff my father's stink underwear"

Now my life is complete.

fresh air and sunshine...

It looks like this old girl just needed some fresh air and sunshine, which I got plenty of on the drive over to my friend's house. On the 3 1/2 hour drive I had the sunroof open, windows down, and Badly Drawn Boy playing--I forgot how much I liked their music. I had fun at LA's house. We didn't really do much, just relaxed, cooked, walked around the neighborhood, etc. Her little dog, Hattie, is really hysterical. Since my friend sleeps with her, she gets a bath and blow-dry at least once a week. The funny thing is that when LA dries her hair in the morning, Hattie runs over to get her blow-dry, too. LA gives her a couple of passes with the dryer and pats her on the head so she can go on about her business. And like LA says, she is a VERY busy dog. I just loved her.
	I also got to see a painting LA commissioned of her house. Isn't it cool? Nashville has so many neat old houses. I forgot to take a picture of the chandelier she bought--it was made by Paige's mom! It is really wonderful and is extremely simliar to this one. It might be the same one for all I know. Fun stuff.
I happily did NOT work on my paper all weekend--all the material stayed in my trunk. I'll have to rush a bit tonight and tomorrow night to get it done, but I don't care--mama needed a mental break. Hope everyone had a great Easter!

running away...

I'm "off" today, meaning I took a "vacation" day to work on my paper and leave town after lunch to see a sorely missed friend of mine in Nashville for the weekend. My morning consisted of staring at the computer, trying some things with my paper, reading journal articles, feeling sick, crying my eyes out because I can't concentrate, attaining a dizzy headache, taking a shower, throwing my very fattest clothes and 10,000 books and articles in a bag and getting ready (which is where I am now...blogging before I go.) I hope my attitude changes before I show up at poor LA's house. "Hi girlfriend, I'll be your friendly basketcase for the weekend"...at least I can be an Easter Basket-case, eh? Well, Happy Easter all. I won't be such a grumpy egg the next time I blog--I hope.

how's the paper going, honey?

Argh, I can't get a grip on this stupid research paper. Papers are always EASY for me. Why is this one so hard? I have this nagging voice in the back of my slightly melted brain that's saying, "Your scope is too small. Your SCOPE is too SMALL." Somebody shut that bitch up before she makes me scrap the whole thing and start over. Grrr!

asshole...

My imagination is the only limit to what I'd like to do to this sack of shit. There's a link for sending condolences to Gizmo's owners.

in my email box this morning...

Happy Easter, hippity-hop style...

I'm getting implants!

Cuticle implants, that is. By the time I finish this dastardly research paper I am going to need the ends of my fingers replaced. I've gnawed them down like a hungry little beaver on crack. Only ice cream can help with a situation like this...

drive-by shooting...

On the way to a video editing session yesterday, I passed by my old neighborhood and took some photos where DH and I first lived together. It was a really cool first floor apartment, and where we met our little Pickles, rescued a roadside kitten and added a funny little Manx kitty. We loved that old house with its porch swings and Victorian elegance. It had really high ceilings and light to kill for. I took lots of good black and white kitty portraits there before my autofocus broke and I couldn't see worth shit to focus myself. (Guess I need glasses after all.) I look back and wish I hadn't been so horribly depressed during those years--I would have spent a lot more time on that porch swing. I miss that porch now.
	For the Critter Chick, another drive-by shooting of the mounding habits of phlox...

Class tonight. Man, I'm wearin' down.

NO WAY!!!!

Yes, way. I just noticed as I was posting my previous sarcastic/bitchy post that Hatamaran passed 10,000 visits today. And only 9,492 were me!!! (Actually I have my IP blocked on my stats, but still...) Ten-thousand crazy people have gotten so bored that they have visited this site (well, okay, 10 people who visit a lot...). Amazing. Gosh, I wonder how many people would visit if I said something IMPORTANT. Hmmm *twiddles thumbs as wheels turn*

Well, in honor of 10,000 visitors, I'm going to change my UNKY MOOD to EXCITED. Gosh-darn-it. You love me. You REALLY love me!

I'm going to pretend I'm excited as I return to my research paper. *la, la, la, la, denial...denial...denial*

my inner evil child...

My inner evil child comments on this article in italics
Survey Reveals More Americans Are Using Tax Refunds for Periodontal Plastic Surgery for Health, Cosmetic Reasons

CHICAGO, IL--(MARKET WIRE)--Apr 6, 2004 -- It's tax time and for people who are getting a refund (you son-of-a-bitch-I-hate-you), many of them already know how they'll spend it (I'm gonna poke yer eyes out right after I finish this gallon carton of no-name-knock-off of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia, you son-of-a-bitch!). A new on-line survey conducted by the American Academy of Periodontology shows that nearly one-third of people getting refunds are putting their money where their mouths are by having periodontal plastic surgery.(You self-absorbed piece of yak dung!)
According to the survey:

-- 84% of respondents say the appearance of their teeth and gums is
extremely important
-- 79% expect a tax refund (Why the hell am I in the 21%?!!!!????? You cock-a-mamie son-of-a-bitch, I'm gonna break yer teeth off with my discount drugstore eyelash curler that causes my eyeballs to swell shut cuz it has nickel in it! Right after I finish this 12-pack of Black Label beer. Then, I'm gonna git my cousins to open a can of whoop-ass on you!)
-- 34% will spend tax refund on periodontal plastic surgery

I wish it wuz me.
/end evil inner child

holy shit...
And I was afraid of having a baby without an epidural...One tough broad on the other side of this link.

ohhhhhhh, Tuesday's here...

Muggly-buggly, I don't feel great today. Camp o' Crampo. You'll be in tent Torso Torsion. Well, whatever.

I think DH are doing taxes tonight finally. Oh, how I dread it. Oh, I hope I don't have to get a loan to cover it. (insert general gnashing of teeth here.) Well, whatever.

I knitted a little on Kyoto, studied and watched some tube last night. Average Joe turned out to be Typical Joe and Socialite Skank ran off with the money-laden doofus. The other gal can do much better. Well, whatever.

I'm listening to my Dandys this morning whilst I work, but not too loudly lest I be pegged a dastardly sinner. Well, whatever.

Flub-lubbb-lubbber...just too tired to tweak and twizzle today.

p.s. Check out the Yum-Yums list...there are some new artists listed in there who are really cool, namely Loretta Lux and La-Dee-Da Folk Art (found over at Looby Lu).

happy monday...

And that is an oxymoron (well, a two-word one, but nevertheless). Thank God for Daylight Savings Time. I need more vitamin D. I had a pretty boring weekend...working in the yard and watching movies (we rented "Something's Gotta Give" which was fantastic!). DH had a boy's night out on Saturday night, so my weekend was pretty boring. That happens when you're broke. Oh, have I mentioned that before? I have? Are you sure? Sorry about that.

I took my little project list off the left column because I decided that it was a hindrance, rather than a motivator. Sometimes I go through a creative angst period where I don't create a lot and feel anxious about it the entire time. I guess my irrational fear is that my creative self has taken a permanent flight. I have a couple of paintings in mind that I think I need to try to do. I'm not a really painter, but I know enough that I can use the medium as self-expressive therapy. The ideas won't really work as 3-D figures and I don't want to force the images into a medium that doesn't nurture the message. I think I am anxious about so many things right now that it's really got me creatively constipated.

This week is one of catching up at work, writing papers and reading articles for school. Bah humbug. I am going to get out and go to Nashville this weekend to see a good friend of mine. I really miss her. We worked together for many years.

Baxter continues to do better and we are still feeding him a dropper of vitamins everyday. It's much like one of those "shoot the duck" carnival games where the little tin ducks are flying across the target range and you just have to point, shoot and hope for the best. In other words, I get a lot of the stinky vitamin mixture on me as well.

Well, happy monday, oxymoron or not!

Mus reed Glurp, now...

Barry at Glurps inn of last home has the Rocky Top Brigade Volunteer Tailgate Party this week. This one is truly priceless. I laughed out loud. Go see!!!

fifteen...

Today I get recognized for fifteen years of service to my company. Fifteen-that's a teenager. Fifteen-that's um, three times five. Uh. Anyway.

I started working at this company in 1989. I've held many positions, but they've always been within the marketing/advertising/PR departments. I've had the titles of editor, coordinator, director, manager and general idiot pasted on my badge (okay, one of those titles isn't real--c'mon the LAST one--sheesh). I am hoping I will only be here one more year. The finish line year. The transitional year. The year of gnashing of teeth. Okay, that's dramatic.

So, I get to go to a luncheon where my boss will get up and say a few words. Hrm. I think these things are useless. Give me money. Plus, they will make no concessions for a vegetarian lunch. I asked about it and the event coordinator said "oh I don't know what the menu is but I'm sure they'll have some vegetables and salad--they always do." You know what went through my mind at that point? Fuck you. That's right, I said a wordy-durd. I am slowly becoming a belligerent vegetarian. Tennessee is NOT a vegetarian-friendly state. There's a couple places that know how to serve vegetarian fare, but for the most part this is meat-n-taters country honey! You gotta' be a Baptist, pig-feet eatin' kinda gal around here. Dear God, please bless this cow intestine casserole I am about to consume. I'm not asking for much, just to make sure that after FIFTEEN YEARS OF SERVICE, that at MY CELEBRATORY LUNCH, I get to eat something besides a buttered piece of stale bread and a cup of green beans. Bah. I'm going to wear a sandwich board that says "Bite me, I'm meatless." I not a meat-eater-hater (my husband is a meat-eater), but I just want to be able to eat something without meat in it.

Whatever. I do like green beans though. I wonder if they'll have green beans? (Seasoned with bacon fat I'm sure.)

Update for above: Yes, I now feel like an ungrateful bitch. Which I am sometimes, like today. I really had fun, ate about a pound of delicious asparagus that didn't taste like bacon grease and my boss, who is WAY too nice to me, said some really nice things about me and my work. Sometimes I am brutally moronic. *smack, smack* Snap out of it! I wonder if being an ungrateful bitch is hereditary? Well, you know I told my boss just how awesome she is and how much I appreciate her flexibility and support. And I do.

And, if you'll notice, the Yack-O-Meter has slowed down tremendously. I started feeding the kitties Purina One Sensitive Stomach and everyone is gaining weight and keeping their food where it belongs--in the tummy or in the litter box. We only had one puke yesterday and I think that was from getting a chicken soup treat from my husband. I was feeding them Science Diet Sensitive Stomach and they hated it--not to mention that is was more than twice the price. Mama likes fat kitties; yes, she does.