potholes...

Feelin' kinda low this week. Not because of the squirrel, although that was a sad moment, but a variety of other things. All will be fine, but I despise "dips" in the road of life. Sometimes there are too many potholes to fix at once.

Thanks for all the sweet messages about the flying squirrel. One person commented about rabies, but the Southern Flying Squirrel is wonderfully notorious for being practically disease and parasite-free. They are really beautiful little creatures and have been kept as "pocket pets" for hundreds of years. You could never tame an adult, but if you bond with a baby then you'd be happily stuck with a friendly squirrel for about 10-15 years!

I am halfway through the last sleeve of Klaralund, but I dread blocking it because I really don't have a good place to block. No carpet, dog and cat fur everywhere, not enough table space, etc. I'm sure I'll figure out a way to solve it. I am (really) going to post some pics tonight.

I have to work some this weekend, but man am I glad it's Friday!

need alternate ending...

I haven't posted about the flying squirrel, because I just couldn't. The first thing I did was go to the fireplace after work and I saw the apple hadn't even been nibbled. Just beyond the apple, I saw a little tail. I touched it and nothing happened. I let out an "Oh, no!" and ran to get a little cotton washcloth. I pulled the poor little thing out by the tail and it seemed dead. Since it was still warm and pliable, I decided to massage its chest and blow in its nose (from a distance). After a couple of minutes I saw a little twitch. It was still alive.

Meanwhile, my husband walked in and immediately asked how the squirrel was. My answer was dismal. I kept giving it little chest massages and DH gave it a little water with a dropper every few minutes. She got more and more agitated, started to breathe regularly and squirmed, so we were hopeful she (I'm assuming it was a female from the rows of nipples on the underbelly) was just dehydrated. We took turns cradling the little thing in our warm hands. Finally she opened her eyes and make a squeak. More squeaks. We were happy. But after a few minutes the squeaks seemed more like cries and she let out a couple of tremendous coughs, sticking out her little pink velvet tongue like a child would. A couple of loud cries followed. We thought she might be frightened by us now that she had her eyes open, so we put her in a dark vented box lined with cotton washcloths. Neither one of us could stand it for more than five minutes, so we lifted the lid to see how she was doing and she had died. Apparently the coughs and cries were her last moments. I rubbed her chest again for a while, but she was really gone this time. I gently closed her eyes.

It took me two days to muster up the courage to write this stupid entry. Sucks to be me.

critter magnet...

Last night I was on the couch thumbing through a knitting magazine while my husband was lamenting about his fantasy football loss to a friend on the phone and out of the corner of my eye I saw something move in the fireplace. I put down my magazine and went to look behind the glass doors along with the cats who had seen the same movement.

Another Southern Flying Squirrel. We know we have families of them in the attic, but since they are practically disease-free critters, we don't see any reason to oust them from their warm little suburbs. This little guy must have fallen down the chimney and crawled through the flue. We don't burn our fireplace because of structural damage in our chimney--thank goodness for him (We have ventless gas logs, but they stink!).

The cats were going nuts, trying to paw right through the glass, so we put the kitties away in other rooms while we opened the doors to attempt capturing the little fellow. Then, poof! he was gone. He jumped straight up through a little hole in the flue. We started to wonder if he was really trapped or just playing, but a few minutes later, plop! he parachuted back down onto the gas logs, just standing there looking at me.

I could hear the kitties tapping on the glass from time to time throughout the night, fascinated by the little snack on the other side.

We decided to see if he was still around today to make a better judgement call on his state of freedom. DH stopped by and saw that he was still there--asleep in the fake ashes, so DH cut up a little apple for him. He was so sound asleep (they are noctural animals) that, not only did he not notice the door was being opened, but DH actually nudged him with the apple and all he did was turn over and curl right back up. Talk about a heavy sleeper! We don't want to put him out during the day when he's so groggy, so we'll attempt to help him escape to freedom tonight. I'd like to take a picture of him but I don't know if that will happen, plus it would probably blind his little noctural eyes. The picture linked in the second paragraph is from the big escapee incident from the storage room--the lights were on then so I snapped a pic. Whee! Boy can they get around in a hurry! It was like a circus. Tickets are on sale for tonight!

persimmon power-pucker

For the truly anal-retentive, a linguistic analysis of the Kerry-Bush debates. It's kind of interesting. Not that I am anal--I poo far too often to earn such a moniker.

more fiber, please

No, I'm not going to pontificate on scat, feces, poo--as it were. I'm looking forward to this weekend so I can do some felting. I have a pulled muscle in my back and a sinus infection that's going to give me grief, but I say we'll work it out--literally.

The front and back of Klaralund is done and I've started on a sleeve. I was going to do the sleeves at the same time, but I didn't have a circular in the same size and I wasn't in the mood to squish that many stitches on my trusty bamboos. I really like Silk Garden, although some of the skeins have giant silk zits. That add something sometimes and then other times, it's just too zitty and I have to poke...it's always something. I've run into at least four knots so far. I do NOT take kindly to knots. I just don't.

I got a ton of hair chopped off last night. I have bangs for the first time in about 10 years. I kind of look like a deranged mushroom...but I do like mushrooms. Have a good Thursday...we're almost there!

stay the course...

...straight into the New Vietmam (even 81 year-old Walter Cronkite will tell you that and he covered the war); straight into more economic unrest; straight into cuts for social programming and money for research and sound environmental practice. I just hope it can all be fixed when he leaves.

That's all I'm going to say.

the joy of poo...

I can't believe I have so many friends in the "must poo because I'm in my favorite store" category. Okay, some of you poo because you're on the phone, but a lot of you are poo-enhanced shoppers. Whodathunkit? Not me. No wonder it smells so bad in there. If you are a real poo-enhanced shopper, however, you know to perform procedure 3B (that would be the trusty Courtesy Flush). I'm going to get a bumper sticker that says "I'm proud to poo in public." I suppose I've said enough here.

I just can't get into the bloggy thing over the past couple of weeks. Don't know why. I've finished the back of Klaralund and have begun the front. I have custom hat orders to work on this weekend. Woo-hoo, felting fun.

Gotta run. No pun intended! ;-P

flurble-goink

That's right, the title means nothing. Move along, there's nothing to see here.

I had EVERY intention of taking photos last night, but hubby and I wound up at the bookstore and I didn't get around to it. We always laugh when I go to the bookstore because it makes me go to the bathroom. Bookstores apparently change my body chemistry and I have to go poo within 15 minutes of arriving. Seriously. Creative supply stores do the same thing to me. Yes, I'm aware you didn't need to know that mental stimuli causes craptacular-itis in me, but I think it's so odd I had to share. Given the frequency of my visits to said stimulating places, I am one lucky unconstipated woman.

Speaking of nastiness, my lovely little nieces are coming over this Saturday to make Halloween yuckies like "boogers on a stick" and "puke stew." It should be fun. We don't have them over often enough.

I'm going to cast on for Klaralund Friday night. Hubby is going to a local football game so I'm footloose and fiber-infested for the entire evening. I also have some felting projects to get going...

Which reminds me, I just signed up for probably the most exciting workshop I'll take in 2005--advanced felt hatmaking with Beth Beede. She is the teacher of the person who taught me and she travels internationally sharing her techniques. I am seriously excited about it. If you are a felter, check out the class. It's being held at the John C. Campbell Folk School in North Carolina. I've been there before and really loved it.

Well, I've flurble-goinked enough for today...as my dad says, "See you in the funny papers."

testing, testing...is this thing on?

Well, that stupid mid-term was a cinch. I thought it was going to be horrible and, since I fully embraced said assumption, I took off Monday to memorize everything we had been told, shown and assigned. I was kind of pissed off it wasn't harder. How whacked is that? Anyway, I was glad I was able to do well.

After the exam was over I headed straight to Bask1n R0bbins to get a scoop of Nutty Coconut. Mmmmmmmmm, rewards! Then I decided I needed more rewarding and I got out some of the roving I scored at SAFF and started spinning like a mad woman. Then I decided that was not enough, so I headed to the store and bought limes and a six-pack of one of my favorite beers, Tecate. Mmmmmmm, beer. After that, I decided that was enough rewarding and drank, spun, plied and vegged out like a moron. Hey, it was the perfect day!

I don't know why I'm so photographically impaired recently. I will try to force myself to take pictures of the SAFF haul and the four capelets/ponchos I've knitted up. Egads, I'm a lazy one on the blogging recently.

Oh, and my hats are going to be in a nearby fashion show, which I think is really cool. More about that as it draws near.

Happy Wednesday...I think.

schwa-ness

I just haven't felt like bloggin' it lately. Perhaps I deserve to be blog-flogged and hog-tied with a schwa. Or maybe it's because I'm about 2 1/2 months away from 40 and I can't decide what to do with my hair--again. Or maybe it's because my husband's boss is taking the "guys" to Zurich and Paris four days after I turn 40. Or maybe it's because all that health junk temporarily took the wind out of my sails...or the sails off my boat. Or maybe its because I can't stop knitting up Paris Loops or poncholettes make of Kureyon. Or maybe it's because I can't wait for my Silk Garden to get here so I can make Klaralund. Or Lara with the Silk Road Aran I scored. Or maybe its because I went a little overboard in rewarding myself for the art fair with a "little" yarn. Or maybe it's because I can't get the green sweater in the new Queensland Collection off my mind and how I might dye some natural yarn and mohair I have to mimick said sweater. Or maybe I should stop typing out freakin' sentence fragments before I force said schwa down my throat and choke to death (I love to say schwa...schwa! schwa! schwa! You can't stop me!). Then again maybe I'm just tired.

This Saturday, I'm going to SAFF. I'm going to do some serious scoring of roving there. I feel like skipping through the building when I get there. Wool! Mohair! Angora bunnies! Alpacas! Llamas! Cashmere goats! Angora goats! All kinds of sheep! All for me! me! me! I'll also get to meet my wooly commrades in the Southeastern Felters Guild in the afternoon. We're a new guild, so we're trying to figure out what the hell we want to do with our time. I'll also be dropping off some hats to a weaver who is going to use them in a fashion show in November.

Tonight is studying for next week's cognitive behavioral therapy mid-term. It's over the entire freakin' textbook, plus several suicide assessment topics. Bah. Hopefully I can multi-task and knit while studying--that could be dangerous for this little pea brain...

Gotta go, I'm about to schwa all over myself...

it's just karma...

It's just fate that I would park for my meeting this morning and have a pept0-bism0l colored leopard car just two spaces away. I don't even know what to say, other than the gods of oddity have been good to me today. Click the pic for a really big scary version in a new window.

I AM AWAKE...

I weaned myself off the beta-blocker over the weekend and I'm finally awake again. I didn't realize how much of a fog I was in until I started to snap out of it. I had to take a half-dose for three days before I could quit because this beta blocker can cause heart spasms or heart attack if stopped cold turkey. I thought that was scary. I thought it was even more scary that my doc didn't tell me that. I found out myself (I research everything--nerd!) and asked him how he wanted me to taper off.

Whatever.

More importantly, I knitted up Glampyre's Paris Loop over the weekend and I love it! I'm making another one in some girly yarn. Mine has a wider opening at the top. I could promise pictures, but I probably will get lazy and not post them, so I'll say I'll try to post pics if I think about it. A vague half-promise. Or half of a vague promise. Either way, it's not looking good for you.

Yes, I am awful.

And awake.

And little bit rotten.

slower, slower, slowest...

Just like the witchy lady says to Jason Robards in "Something Wicked This Way Comes"...

I just don't think I'm going to be able to stay on this beta blocker. I've become a lump of barely formed lukewarm poo. The only thing I think about all day is getting home so I can take a nap. The only thing I think about when I stand up is when I'm going to get to sit down. The only thing I think about when I sit down is when I'm going to lie down. I have no idea how I'm going to get my work done and study for a mid-term.

I said I'd give it a full week...maybe 10 days...but no more. Beta-sucka-my-big-fat-ass-blocker. I feel like a wilted piece of lettuce...not even nice lettuce like arugula, but plain old iceberg lettuce with week-old rabbit slobber on it. Wilted, man, wilted.

halloween treats...

For you guys who have kids, you're going to love this RECIPE LIST. How about some Toasted Tongues or Chuckie's Upchuck? Or some wonderful Noseblow Pizza? Or Diaper Dump Porridge? Mmmmm.

oh yeah? beta this!

Well, I said I was going to avoid beta-blockers for the tachycardia, which was officially diagnosed as "inappropriate sinus tachycardia"--which is shorthand for "we don't know why your heart acts like it's on crack"--so Well-Trusted-Doctor talked me into a very selective beta blocker called Toprol. It seems to work, but damn, I can hardly keep my eyes open...I am SO sleepy and tired. I'm hoping these side effects will subside.

So much for showing you my lovely Kureyon poncho. A friend of mine bought it right off my back for a good sum. I did the smart thing and bought six more balls of Kureyon, so I can make another. I loved that poncho! Money is evil!

Man, I wish I didn't have two more chapters of textbook reading to do tonight. Yaa-a-a-a-wn...I just want to cat nap. Meeeeeooooowwww. Snoozzzzzzzzze.

Who invented Monday? I want to find them and strangle them post haste. Or whatever...maybe I'll stare at them and think mean things...or lay down and think about doing it.

zzz-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z

insert title here...

Here's some tech support for ya...

I'm okay, just kinda takin' it easy away from the blogworld. I need some recharging...

dot dot dot...

The show was a tad bit puny on the money side, but definitely worth going to. I think sales in general for everyone was mediocre. The caliber of artists was excellent, which always makes me feel good as a newcomer to be included in such good company. I am zapped though. I'm just devoid of energy right now, so I'll have to catch up on the blogosphere later this week. My goal for my next show is to be able to MAKE CHANGE for my customers. It's just like a math test...I go completely blank and appear to be legally retarded. So embarrassing. Even the calculator couldn't save me from my display of stupidity. More later.

lost boys...

Hubby and I watched this documentary on PBS last night. My heart broke over and over again while, at the same time, I was in awe of the courage these young men had in their hearts.

Unrelated brain smatterings:
"...he had dandruff the size of mice...Bill Brasky!!!!"
--from the Best of Will Farrell, vol. 2

unrelated to anything anywhere at any time...

Have you ever met someone with eczema in her ear? Well, now you have. I have had this really, really annoying eczema in my left ear for over a year now. Nothing will get rid of it--not steroids, not hydrocortisone, not Rx cream with a really long name...

So, I dig. How unladylike. And I drag out big flakes of skin. And it itches like poison ivy. And I unload the skin underneath my nail. And I feel like a heathen. But it must me scratched because I feel like ants are marching down the canal to eat what's left of my brain...my left brain no less, which means I might not remember to write bills or be able to add up the cans of cat food in the cabinet. That would be a disaster. I want to have some left brain left. So I dig.

There, I said it. That's why I'm driving down the road with my left hand hanging in my ear like a gas pump. That's why. I can't help it. It's not my fault. Oh, dear Gawd!

Right. Well, anyway, I got my bill for the electrophysiology study in the mail yesterday. The total hospital bill was nearly $15,000. Whoa. That made me really thankful for insurance. What do people do without insurance? Give up and hope they don't die?

where will you be?

I'll be HERE this weekend. They have me listed as "art dolls," but I will have more felt than dolls. I spent most of the weekend working on some more items for the fair--that and nursing a very sick hubby. He's better now. I know, I know, I promised pictures and I have not delivered. Be patient, young grasshoppa...

yammer time...

There's not much going on today. I'm waiting on other people who are approving things that I have done so I can re-do them when they send those things back. The longer they keep them, the more I worry. Of course, I have to watch my negative thinking. DO NOT LEAVE ME TO MY OWN DEVICES. Respond before she blows!

ANYWAY, I now have two ponchos (Click HERE for a list of free poncho patterns collected by Faerie Crafty--excellent list!). I had a little leftover Kureyon from an old project and I knitted up Yarn Harlot's simple poncho, but instead of doing fringe, I crocheted a picot border with little amber glass beads. Crocheting with beads is easy, but putting those suckers on the yarn beforehand...well, SUCKS. I swear I will take pictures of them both tonight. I'm also still doing the raglan body hugger (I got sick of fiddling with little yarn, so I hopped on the poncho wagon for relief). I guess I'll take pictures of that, too. Gah, you bunch of slave drivers!

And here's a couple of sweet faces to send you off for the day, Pickles (top) and Sadie. They say life can be "ruff"!

alpaca and llama show...

Here are some pics I took at the alpaca/llama show I went to a couple of weeks ago. These are Huacaya alpacas. There's another kind of alpaca called Suri--they have long silky locks instead of fluffy teddy bear hair. They are soooo cute, but very shy. These guys have already been shorn for the year. If they had all their fleece they would be mega-fluffy.

Click pics for larger images...

There was also an obstacle course for both alpacas and llamas. It's always funny/tragic to watch because leading alpacas and llamas around is about like running cats through an obstacle course. They usually humiliate their owners. They go through obstacles, get petted by a stranger, get their feet sprayed with water, have their feet picked up by the owner, get a hula hoop passed over their heads and show they can be trailered. Some were cooperative and some didn't want to do anything. The pics below are llamas (just remember to look for the "banana" ears...alpacas have teddy bear ears).

This llama was undecided about me taking his picture.

welcome worshippers...

If you're warm and have a pulse, you can go to this church. I've started collecting funny church signs, and in the South, there is a plethora from which to choose. Most of them are scary, but this one made me chuckle a little. Note: I removed the name in Paint Shop Pro.

this is a hoot...

If you haven't seen this, you're in for a treat. Funny stuff.
Kelly Ripa Gets Ripped

It turns out the rain missed us, so we were not drowned over the weekend as expected. In fact it was a beautiful sunny, cool weekend. How about that?

next...

Well, the electrophysiology study did not work for me. I am one of the lucky people who have supraventricular tachycardia that can't really be treated. The only treatment for it is beta blockers and I can't take those. I was really discouraged when they couldn't do the ablation.

The test was kind of scary, but the worst part was the catheters being inserted into my larger veins on each side of the groin and upper chest. It was only a couple of seconds of pain and I was already on happy juice, so it wasn't terrible. They inserted long wires all the way up to my heart and sent electrical signals to different parts--but no "extra pathways" were found to ablate. I think my cardiologist was as sad as I was. At this point I wish I had never known about the abnormality, but I'll get over it. At least I know why just a little activity can make me breathe hard and get my heart racing...and that it's not the "woos" factor.

I'm sore, bruised, grumpy and tired. And disappointed.

But, I'll get over it.

THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR ALL THE ANNIVERSARY WISHES!!! It was great to open up my email and read all those congratulatory messages.

We're headed for a torrent of rain here in East Tennessee thanks to Ivan. Even most of the schools have closed for tomorrow--a possibility of 15 inches of rain. Ugh.

happy 8th anniversary...

Hubby and I have been married eight years today. And here we are, skinnier than we are now, on our honeymoon. All together now: "Awwwww-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w!!!!!!"

With all the impending medical CRAP going on, we've empowered ourselves to reschedule our anniversary celebration for Sunday. :-)

I shall report all the gorey details about the procedure when I regain my, a) senses and, b) access to a computer.

Cheers!

ugh...

First, I would like thank all you cool people out there who left reassuring and wonderful messages for me. You guys are really something. I mean, hell, we don't even know each other--but I love you all still!

My cardiologist started me on an ace inhibitor (lisin0pril) Friday to control my blood pressure and oh my, it made me so sick! I usually tolerate medications very well, but this one gave me the worst back pain and abdominal cramps of my life. I'm still sore. So, we'll just cross that little cyanide pill off our list and try something else.

I'm not really nervous about having the heart cath, but it does creep me out a bit that I'll be lying there while they stimulate my heart with little wires threaded through my arteries; not to mention possibly burning off some of the tissue in my heart. Dr. Cardio said I'd have five tubes--two in each femoral artery and one in the artery just below my clavicle. I haven't had conscious sedation before, so I'm hoping it's "I don't give a crap about ANYTHING" sedation. I'm curious as to what they're going to do, but not THAT curious.

The funny thing is I'm more worried about having to lay completely still on my back for four hours afterward while the incisions in my arteries close up. I can't move around, go to the bathroom or anything. I thought about asking if I could knit, but I'm pretty sure that's on the "don't do" list. Well, that and the fact that I'm being worked on by co-workers who probably know my name from seeing it on the company intranet and newsletter (ack!).

I did manage to go to a llama/alpaca show on Saturday and courtesy of my company, hubby and I went to this show. I just wanted to see the horses. The show was kinda hokey, but pretty much everything is hokey in Pige0n F0rge. I did wear my new summer poncho to the show. I was proud as a peacock pigeon.

I know, I know...pictures. I have them--I just can't get motivated. Later, I promise. :-) Thanks again for all the support.

results...

Well, I saw the cardiologist and he said my tachycardia was pretty bad. "Your heart rate shouldn't get this high if you were doing the worst possible exercise on a 110 degree day." So, maybe that explains why I sweat so much when I exercise? Uh, probably.

Anyway, he said I have one of two things. I could have some extra fibers that short-circuit my heart and send it into tachycardia or it could be inappropriate sinus tachycardia.

He wants to do a special kind of heart catheterization called an electophysiology study Wednesday. If he sees the fibers he'll burn them off and I will be "fixed!" If not, then I'll have to manage the tachycardia another way. My EKGs suggested both, so we wants to make sure of the diagnosis with the catheterization.

I'm a little nervous, but I know it's a common procedure. I will receive conscious sedation and if he does the ablation (burning of the naughty fibers), I'll have to stay in the hospital overnight. If not, I can go home that evening.

My cardiologist said that if I can indeed be "fixed" that this could greatly improve my quality of life. I've always had exercise intolerance and general fatigue. Gee, and I thought I was just a big pansy!

Oh and he put me on blood pressure medication, too. My bp was 150/100 in the office. Sheesh, I NEVER used to have high blood pressure until this year.

Anyway, I said I would report...and that's the report. Not pleasant exactly, but I am hopeful for some good results.

Happy Friday!

the canine sweet tooth of revenge...

The headline should read: "Why didn't the pup shoot him sooner?"

But that's just my take on it.

He could have at least dumped them at the shelter. Too bad more paws didn't make it to the trigger. They are so beautiful.

Hmmmph. Humans.

spiders in my hair...

For the second time this week I have left for work and, while locking the door, a giant "granddaddy long-legs" has kamikazied into my hair from the porch overhang.

Note to God: This is NOT funny.

I'm swamped at work and I have worried myself into ZERO-concentration-status. I feel like I should be swinging a club and wearing an animal skin. "Fire gud. Ow! Wait, fire BAD!" That's about how smart I'm feeling.

Death by whining is terrible way to go.

One more spider in the hair though--I'm taking it as a sign.

I think I hear an echo...

I had an echocardiogram this morning, which is an ultrasound of the heart. They look at all four chambers, the valves, etc. I have to wait until I see the cardiologist on Friday to see what's going on. It made me a little nervous that the sonographer spent so much time on one particular valve - it sounded a little different than the others - but, I shall not worry until I have something to worry about (repeat bolded area as needed).

So, I did finish my summer poncho (no shit!) and I will post some pics in a day or two. I have class today, which means I have to leave work early. I got in late because of the test...sheesh, I hope I don't get put out to pasture. Moo. Ugh.

I'm kind of a wreck right now. I know it will get better though. I'm not good at waiting on information. I really feel the need to hit an "eject" button. Perhaps I will tape the word "eject" to one of my computer keys.

onward...

Well, despite the fact my mind went wild yesterday, I was only victim to a minor amount of anxiety before my appointment.

The EKGs I sent in showed my heartrate was getting up to 195 while exercising. Now I can have some appreciation for why I could never build up any distance when I tried to run in previous years. My heart has always done this, I just didn't know it was abnormal.

Anyway, next week I'm having an echocardiogram to check for structural problems and see a cardiologist who is also an electrophysiologist - a rhythm dude. I'm probably headed for a combo of blood pressure medication and something like a beta blocker to control my wacky ticker.

We'll see. At least he didn't diagnose me as having a pig heart or something. Oh, and he said the ants in the pants were normal.

Thanks for all your concerns and thoughts. I'm still wearing the contraption so I can (hopefully) capture the palpitations, but so far the well has been dry.

we'll just let you guess...

I sent in two EKG recordings from my workout last night. This morning I picked up a message from my doctor's office telling me to come back in tomorrow morning. My follow-up appointment related to all this bullshit was originally set for September 30th.

Hmmm. A mind could really go wild with this kind of information.

Hmmm. Reality is I know absolutely nothing.

Hmmm. The heart is a pretty important organ.

Hmmm. Why so quickly?

Hmmm. Why even ask questions? You can't answer them until tomorrow morning.

Hmmm. Don't think about it. You're healthy. You're strong. You've got plenty of ants in your pants. You're funny and happy in your own strange way. You worry too much. You're worrying about the unknown. You're creating anxiety. Consult your cognitive behavioral textbook. Do the three column intervention. Stop thinking about it. There's nothing to think about. Stop being a hypochondriac. Stop making terrible assumptions about yourself. Do the three-column intervention again. Stop these irrational thoughts. Somebody call the wah-bulance. Why all the whine when I love cheese?

Okay, so I'm worried.

I'm allowed.

I guess.

reminders...

A couple of years ago, one of our co-workers died in a freak accident involving a flooded road. She drowned--only in her 20's and a vibrant writer. I wish I had known her better from the eulogies given by her friends. I'll never forget they had to videotape her funeral because her father was very ill in the hospital. Awful.

She didn't work in my building so we didn't have the opportunity to "hook pinkies." Anyway, I ran across this poem I wrote after she died. Being in a PR office we had to "handle" the release of information, etc. And of course her death warranted a few seconds on the news. I wrote the poem after I saw the newscast.


That Was Good

On the news
You were just a blurb
At first nameless
Until they found your next-of-kin.

Now they have your name
Now they have your age
And where you lived.

I watched as the reporter
Stood in your last place
Cinched in a wrinkle-less trench
Worried about enunciation
She mapped out your demise beyond
Her pointing fingertip.

You had been here
Your car there

In that clip that lasted
A few seconds
It rained and rained and
Swallowed you whole

They furrowed their brows
In dramatic concern
And then it was simply
"back to you"

After which the reporter's
Face released from its nervous
Actor's pinch
And the camera man
Hoisted the machine from his
Shoulder and nodded,
"That was good."

written January 31, 2002

See you in a couple of days...

that awful screeching sound...

Thankfully, I didn't have to set off my "fax machine" last night during class, but I accidentally hit it on the way back to my car. I sounded like a malfunctioning android.

After class I went to the gym and got onto the elliptical trainer. Twelve minutes into the workout I pressed the button. Thankfully there was no one working out directly next to me and the machines muffled the sound a bit. After about a 1 1/2 minutes it finally stopped squealing. I know I shouldn't care, but I feel like a freakin' hypochondriac with this contraption on.

Anyway.

When I got home I sent in my recording. Now I think this is kind of neat. You call a toll-free number and tell the person who you are and that you have a recording. The person asks you what you were doing at the time of the recording--and oh, how I was so tempted to tell her something like, "I was participating in an interactive community sex seminar," but I didn't. Then they say they are ready. You place the oversized beeper-looking-thing at the phone receiver and press "send." Then that god-awful screeching replays. How they can get detailed information from that lousy whining I do not know. But they do.

After I played the recording the woman on the line asked me if my heart had slowed down and then she made me take a live reading and play it over the phone. I guess my heart had been beating really fast. They will interpret my recording and send it to my physician.

I don't plan to talk about this crap everyday for two weeks, but I just thought the technology was kind of cool.

In kitty news: I'm a little worried about Baxter. He seems fine but he won't leave the sunroom--a room I have rendered useless with felting supplies and work tables--and he sleeps more and more. It's time to re-check his blood again anyway. He's pushing 14 years now, so I guess it's time for him to slow down in a serious way. Poo.

All I have left to do on my summer poncho is a three-needle bind-off to join the front and back and fringe it. OH...MY...GOD...I MIGHT FINISH SOMETHING!!! I don't care if it is a giant piece of garter stitch---I MIGHT FINISH SOMETHING!!!!! This just might change my life.

are you getting a fax?

So I'm all hooked up on this godforsaken cardiac event recorder today. It looks like a big beeper attached to two EKG leads, one on my upper chest and one on my opposite ribcage.

Of course now that I have the damn thing on NOTHING has happened. It's unbelievable. But if something does, I get to push a "record" button and it will capture the event. The cool thing is that it operates like TIVO and goes back a few seconds before you've pressed the button. I was wondering about that because these palpitations I have are like thunder but only last a few seconds. Pretty cool technology.

The bad thing is that when I press the button it sounds like I'm receiving a freakin' fax. That's gonna go over great in meetings and graduate school classes.

"Oh sorry, I'm getting a fax. It's being transmitted through the old metal fillings in my molars. I'll be done in just a second..."

Lovely.

I can't even talk about the Nepalese executions today. I can't talk about the war. How do you dissect mass insanity? How do you make sense of that which does not make sense? It causes me such grief. Even further down on the rungs is the decimated Sudan. How can these things be allowed to happen anywhere in the world? Did people ignore the Holocaust the way we are ignoring the Sudan? Does outrage only happen after the final report is drawn up and the historians have penned best-sellers? It's like mass inaction. Everyone feels bad but doesn't really do anything--me included.

welcome to malfunction junction...

The weekend wasn't too much of a malfunction except for one dismal spousal pseudo-argument...and both birthday functions functioned quite well. It's my junction that's malfunctioning.

I started the morning by going to the doc and talking about blood pressure. It wasn't that high this morning, but I did tell him that my heartrate shoots up over 170 or so when I exercise--light or heavy exercise produces the same result.

That got his attention.

They did an EKG (which was fine) and some extended listening to the old ticker (which was also fine). Since my "events" seem to happen either sporadically or during exercise, I'm being put on an "event monitor" for two weeks, a kind of small-time Holter monitor, to see what my naughty little squeeze box is up to.

There's no escaping now you neurotic sump pump!

I'm more relieved at this point because all this stuff has been worrying me to death: high blood pressure, high heart rate during exercise, sudden arrythmia. I mean, hell, I'm turning 40 in January, not 95!

We shall beat her organs into submission! We will triumph through science and logic.

Anyway, it will be taken care of in a timely fashion (excerpt from "memo to self.")

We rented Cold Mountain last week since we didn't go see it at the theater, and I can say it was the most f-ing depressing movie I have ever seen! Gah! However, Jude Law has joined the ranks of the Deppster. Heavens-to-mergatroids, I'm going to have to get a pacemaker...

helping youngsters find answers to very important questions...

A most interesting search came up on my stats: "Does Johnny's Depp's Poop Stink?"

Oh, gentle Googler, let's consult the Magic 8 Ball to end your tortured plight for large colon knowledge.

*shake, shake, shake*

"It is decidedly so."

I'm sorry, yes, the Deppster's shit got stank all over it--through and through I'm afraid. End your quest now. And don't forget your medication. And stop picking your nose.

happy Friday!

Linky Loverlies:

Where's that bill in your pocket?

Eye candy at Woman Made art

Hey, I feel great today! Ahhhhhhh. I'm not complaining about nuttin' today! Which is good because I'm starting to sound like a whiny vinyl.

I'm now reading another wonderful book Stones from the River by Ursula Hegi (recommended by dear bloggy-friend Critter Lover). There are sentences I read over and over because they are so beautiful. Sometimes it reads like poetry and it's really rich with unusual vivid description. Yum, yum, yum.

I thought working in PR had killed my love for words, but the last few books I have read have reawakened that original excitement. I cradle the "a," smooth the pregnant bellies of "b" and "d" and spoon with the lovely "g." I stretch from the capital "T" and steal a nap in the crook of the "q". I wish I could arrange all the letters to make a soft springy bed--I find comfort there.

In Never-Gonna-Finish-Nuthin' Knitting Land, I'm 80 percent finished with the Boogie Knits Summer Poncho. If I can't finish this one, I'd say I need to hang up my needles. My gauge was MUCH tighter than the Boogie Knitter, so I am having to add many rows to make it big enough to suit me. Of course, I could have ripped and started again with bigger needles, but, um...oh well.

It looks like a good weekend with birthday parties, outdoor movies on Market Square, and Greekfest on the World's Fair site...I'll try to not be lazy and take the digicamera.

Happy Friday!

Well, hell.

I guess I should come back some time. Today looks like a good day.

So, how have you been? I have tried to not blog OR blog-surf, at which I was only moderately successful, but I needed to de-blog myself--kind of like de-lousing, I suppose. Perhaps I should buy a monkey to pick the bugs out of my brain. Protein for him; sanity for me. I think that's a pretty nice trade-off and besides, my husband has always wanted a pet monkey.

How did I veer down that road?

I don't know.

It's been "Attack of The Uterus" (rated R for violence and language) week and I've been sick and in pain. About a year-and-a-half ago I had endometriosis and gigantic fibroids removed (one the size of an apple and another the size of a grapefruit) and I felt better. Now, I'm starting to wonder if they are growing back. And if they are, that old pear-shaped organ is going in the medical waste bin. I ain't kiddin'--or havin' kids, so... I have had enough. At the time of the operation we weren't 100 percent sure about kids, so we spared the Organ of Evil Distress and Despair (OEDD). Chop that sucker out, I say. Chop, chop, whizz, whizz; oh, what a relief it is...I am not sentimental about my Womb of Doom (WOD).

Enough of that. Especially the acronyms. That was starting to get on my nerves. Acronyms are bad, n'kay?

I have much more to say, but why expend all my energy in one sitting? Why, you'd have nothing to read tomorrow.

My evil uterus didn't miss you all, but I did. Hope all is well in your respective worlds.

p.s. The Color of Water by James McBride was quite a wonderful book. Go getcha one and read it! Or you can borrow mine and mail it back.

bleh...

Feelin' crappy today. Yucky, even. So I won't share the details because I am gentle and sweet with my wonderful readers :-P

I think I need a bloggy break, too. I'm starting to think about entries in my car and when I go to sleep, which basically means I'm developing a new mental disorder--OCB (Obsessive Compulsive Blogging). Most of the time these entries never make it to the blog anyway, which means I am blogging into the abyss that is my somewhat rotten frontal cortex. And what's the point in that?

I...need...to...get..out...more.

See you in a few days.

well...

I hate it when I don't have a title. I hope you didn't miss the dramatic 4x200m swim relay last night. Wow, what a finish. Thorpe may win the amazingly-cute-even-though-he-could-be-my-son award, but the last and first touch was ours. Phelps got so excited his crack was hanging out of his suit.

Which brings me to the suits. Obviously I haven't been keeping up with this techno-suit thing. What's with the bodysuit stuff? They are stealing my last few good lustful years away. More skin, please. I mean...well? I'm only human.

Anyway, I actually had a dream about the cute Aussie Thorpe, but to show my age, we were competing in freakin' bake-off. How lame is that? My super-ego has a nun standing over it.

Good news from Zack Braff's blog today. Garden State is going to be opening up on 600 more screens. I really want to see this movie, so I'm hoping it will dribble down to our little art house soon.

In me, me, me-news, I'm just kind of moving forward but at a snail's pace. I hate these lulls in life where no matter how hard you pull or push yourself, there's The Grande Pace that will not surrender to your desires. So, I'm here, getting ready to do lunch at the job I "love" (insert hysterical laughter) and I shall knit while I eat and then I will work some more, have a meeting and go home. Then I'll think about my real life and what I want to do with it.

Everything will be okay.

Really.

Even with my hormones.

Even though we're broke.

If I dream about having a bake-off with an Olympic sex symbol, then, well, I still have my sense of humor.

Have a magnificent day. Seriously.

sigh...

Every time I turn around it's freakin' Monday.

Anyway, Breath, Eyes, Memory by Edwidge Danticat was a wonderfully poetic book. Short, sweet and powerful. Recommended.

Not only is it Monday, but I am officially under siege by Nazi hormones within my body. I feel so bloated they could just wrap a string around my neck and march me in the Macy's Day parade.

Announcer: We return to Katie and Matt at the three millionth annual Macy's Day Parade...

Katie: This year we have a new entry, a kind of new giant balloon to pay homage to the women of the world who are tortured by their own reproductive organs.

Matt: Right Katie, I believe they call this one (shuffles papers), yes, here it is--Hormonal Helga. Wow, look at those swollen-

Katie: A-hem, let's look at the stats on this one. Wow, Matt, she's 60 feet tall and retains 3000 liters of water. Gosh, how did they get all that water in there? You can see they really took their time getting the evil grimace on her face just right. Oh wait, now the face has changed--she's crying! What a technical feat!

Matt: What's that in her hand? Oh Jeez, they went all out. She's got a dagger and she's looking for a penis to cut off!

Katie: Matt! We can't say "penis" on this broadcast!

Matt: We can't? How about vagina?

Katie: (sighs...)

******************************************************
On a serious note, if you are swimming in cash, cough up some of it to Catholic Charities so some desperate folks in Florida can get some additional aid.
******************************************************

moths beware...

I keep smelling moth balls. I have done all the requisite cleaning a fastidious person would be wont to do, but yet, Grandma Moses Tinkerbell looms above me sprinkling her Mothball Faerie Dust upon my brow.

I sniffed my clothes--check. I sniffed the ginger perfume on my wrist--check. I whisked my head back and forth to get a whiff of my organic hair products--check. Shoes--not a bed of roses, but about as good as shoes ever smell--check. So, I have surmised that the blend of lotions, perfume and hair products I am wearing today meld into a hippy-smelling version of moth balls. Patchouli meets mamaw. Granny Clampett goes organic.

Lend me your wool sweaters for a day and they will be protected forever.

Happy Friday the 13th. To hell with the number 13, it's Friday!

and one more thing...

This is the best salsa in the world. I tripled the lime and used a large bunch of cilantro instead of a small. The tomatoes came straight from my mother's backyard garden. Mmmmm...ain't nuttin' better.

ka-pow!

As directed by my physician, I took my blood pressure over a two-week period because it was so high in the office. All the readings were bad, mostly 130/100. That diastolic reading (the lower one) puts me in stage two hypertension, which means medication. Which sucks. How can someone so NOT type A have hypertension? I exercise six days a week, never eat meat; I'm a little overweight, but not by much and I don't give a rat's ass about, well, most anything that doesn't personally violate my highest code of ethics. That is, I usually don't sweat the small stuff.

Of course, knowing you have high blood pressure gives you...all together now, kids-higher blood pressure! That's right. I walk around thinking my heart is choking the life out of me, that my arteries are being ripped apart by stirred and shaken corpuscles on crack (a mini-series, perhaps?). I envision my jugulars sticking out like two stiff twigs in my neck, just waiting to snap ...pant... pant... pant... See, I worked myself up into frenzied unbearable state of being.

WTF. Anyway, back to the doc I go to get doped up again. I swear I am starting to look like the crazy lady at the pharmacy on SNL. I won't shop with a basket at the corner drugstore; I'll shop with the Big Metal Buggy. By next year, I'll have lipstick smeared all over my face and false eyelashes pasted to my eyebrows because I won't know where the hell I am.

And, God help me, I'm bloated, which means I might blow sky-high at any moment, pinging the unsuspecting passerby with my jet-propelled eyeballs. My eyeball will be wiped away with a Kleen*x, only to have the victim mutter obscenities about pigeon poop.

Boy the sleeves on that jacket they're bringing me sure are long...

But, before they lock me up or I explode, I would like to see Garden State. It really looks wonderfully quirky. And wouldn't you know, Zach Braff has a blog, too. He has been imprisoned in my blogroll.

travel plans can always change...

Places I would like to go:

Australia

France

Italy

Hawaii

Canada

Alaska

New Zealand

Philippines The reason right here...

Thanks to St. Kellen for scaring me away...

do you ever...

Do you ever look at your blog and wonder why the hell you're doing such a crazy thing? I wonder how bloggers rate on the narcissistic scale? Me, me, me, me, me. All about me. Pics of me. Pics of what I'm doing. Pics about what I'd like to be doing. Pics about the things I love. Pics of my hair, my cats, my dogs, my artwork, my stack of knitting UFOs, cat vomit, dog stitches, new yarn, old yarn, plants on the deck. Ah, we are so terribly NOSEY, aren't we?

But, for some reason, it's fun.

I ran over to my hometown last night to visit with mi mama (yes, the seed has not fallen far from the stinkweed). We had fried green tomatoes, green beans, cole slaw, stewed tomatoes, salad (with, uh, tomatoes) and garlic bread. I felt like a vegetable myself after all that. We chatted on the deck and I knitted while she talked a mile a minute. I like to write. She likes to talk - A LOT. I know why I am so quiet - who could ever get a word in whilst she is spinning her web of excessive verbiage? I couldn't talk that much if you put a gun to my head.

It was good to visit and relax - just us gals. Sometimes I don't like visiting because that town holds a lot of old crappy memories, but last night I was able to break through the Great Wall of Mental Poop. It's a stinky old thing to scale, but it's worth it when you get to the other side.

Have a great Tuesday, y'all.

thunderin' hooves and toothless speckled taters...

We had an interesting weekend. Saturday night we went to a local horse show that benefitted disabled folks. The only information we had about the event was a lone billboard with an image that led you to believe the show might feature dressage.

When we got there it was quite a different story. There were plenty of beautiful horses to look at, but I think we might have been the only people there with a full set of teeth. Only two of the riders wore helmets and a scant few actually dressed for the occasion. Some of the riders looked like they had spent a hard night in jail and had never used a new-fangled toothbrush.

Everyone grimaced as they rode, except for one particularly smiley gal and the announcer played recorded pipe organ music the entire time, which was "graciously" donated to terrorize anyone with a shred of musical taste.

The highlight of the evening was petting a seven-day old miniature foal, which was worth the whopping $4 admission.

Then, because we had not seen enough gums for the weekend, we went to nearby Dollyw**d with some discounted tickets I got earlier this summer. The park has an awesome new wooden rollercoaster and we enjoyed getting our brains scrambled. We also partook of a dog agility show, which would have been a lot more enjoyable if someone around us hadn't been stewing in body odor. I couldn't believe I found a veggie burger there, although it was a ridiculous $7. A large drink was nearly $3. I can't believe how expensive amusement parks are: $6 to park, $21 for two burgers and drinks, $3 for a frozen lemonade and if I hadn't gotten heavily discounted tickets through my credit union, they would have cost us $42.40 per adult! I had to wonder how the toothless set afforded it. Hell, that's Rowan sweater kit!

There were some young girls with hot pants on that were so short their cheek creases were hanging out. If they only knew what that middle-aged guy with the comb-over was thinking, they wouldn't do that... maybe I'm just getting old and frumpy. I know I wouldn't get to leave the house like that when I was a teenager. Maybe I just miss my ass from yesteryear...

It was still a fun weekend though and it was good to get out and do some stuff.
Happy Monday (ew.)

what's another black eye?

Hubby called a little while ago and said his car went completely dead in the busiest intersection of a nearby tourist town. It had to be towed. Family members are rescuing him as we speak.

Hoo. Rah.

Chuh. Ching.

Give the therapist

A ring-a-ling.

Murphy has been camping out up our asses for about three months now and he's smokin' some powerful weed. He's getting a little too comfortable up there. Get out, ain't no free hook-up on this campground!

Poor old Rick James died today, too. What the funk?!

I'm looking for the silver lining, but so far I'm just getting mecury poisoning.

Hey, an update! I got another call and some wiring to the car's computer had come loose...he's back on the road again, minus a $35 tow fee. Woo-hoo, no disaster! Whew. HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND EVERYONE!

damn that Wally Lamb...

That damn fart of a writer made me cry after all. I finished She's Come Undone last night. I was being dragged down by the whole thing quite frankly, and wanted to get it over with. Then, when I finished, I'll be damned if I wasn't glad I'd read it. That Lamb pulled the wool over my eyes. Shithead.

Anyway, Rooney is starting to plump up a little since we put him on soft cat food, which makes mama kitty very happy. Baxter is due back for a thyroid test and Sadie is due back for a liver enzyme check. Sheesh, I wish I had bought pet insurance when they were younger.

I've been down lately, hating my job, hating being broke, hating everything happening to Dolores Price in that book. Today, I feel like I might have popped off a big barnacle on my ever-crusty exterior. I'm just a tad lighter, a tad happier; maybe on the upswing. I've been writing a lot, too - writing without being so judgmental, writing bits and pieces of fiction, ripping scabs off with some caustic poetry - just getting stuff down. It's good to get things out.

ice cream will kill you...

I TOLD you those ice cream trucks gave me the creeps...

you've got shitty mail...

Can't you just hear the little Micr*soft lady saying that? "You've got shitty mail..." It's, well, kinda funny.

Anyway, I got a rejection letter yesterday for a really big and important fine craft fair in the fall. They had twice the applicants of last year and I got put onto a waiting list. Fine. *smirk*

However, I did also receive an acceptance letter for another fine craft fair that may prove to be just as good. It was just kind of a let down to be rejected, especially since the product shots I sent in were double the quality of last year's (and I got in). I was also let down because of the potential for repeat customers--people who said they would definitely look for me next year. Sorry, Charlies and Charliettes...

The financial stress is really getting to me and beating me down. I had to escape, so we went to the movies last night. A frivolous purchase I know, but I would have spent my last penny to disappear into someone ELSE'S story for a little while--one that isn't as dismal as Deloris Price's in She's Come Undone. We saw The Bourne Supremacy, which was just as engrossing as The Bourne Identity. I needed some excitement, some reckless abandon. It fit the bill nicely and snapped me awake for a little while. Awake is good.

bye, Smarty!

You were one cool racing horse...

damn sheep...

Which flock do you follow?

this quiz was made by alanna
Yeah, but I'm a reluctant Goth Sheep...
Stolen without remorse from DD Fiber Farm.

pbbbblllllttttt...

I posted something earlier and it vanished thanks to our godforsaken firewall here. I talked about what I did over my weekend trip to West Virginia and all kinds of stuff. Then, poof. Here's the new version:

I was gone. Now I'm back.

I didn't have time to read over the weekend so I'm still reading She's Come Undone. I like it, but not as much as everyone else seems to. The writing style is clever and funny, but it seems more tragic than humorous. Maybe because I know people whose lives have been that shitty and worse. I don't know. I'm only halfway through it. It's definitely a different style of writing than I am used to, but it's good.

Once again poor hubby's clients aren't paying their bills, which means we can't pay ours. That makes me feel, oh, let's say---MURDEROUS?! My blood pressure continues to run high as well with the diastolic hovering at 100-- which also makes me mad, which makes my blood pressure even higher I'm sure. I swear my jugulars are sticking out like idiot-cord.

Which reminds me, I'm halfway through the Boogie Knits Summer Poncho. I think it's going to be really cute.

And school starts back in less than two weeks.

Later, McTaters. It's Monday and that's exactly how it feels.

pondering...

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

--Anais Nin

...see you guys on Monday

reading...

Whilst I was being most puny with strep I read The Magician's Assistant by Ann Patchett. It was a pretty good book. I really liked the characters and didn't want to leave them at the end of the book. The ending was somewhat lackluster, but I liked the characters so much that I didn't really care. The only thing that drove me crazy was that she uses "towards" all the time instead of "toward." Oh my gosh, it stopped me in my tracks every time I came across the word and I came across it a lot. See, I AM anal in some ways! I am a "toward"-preferring gal.

Now I'm finally getting around to reading She's Come Undone by Wally Lamb. This is so typical of me. I'm either reading all the time or I go a year or more without reading anything but work stuff and textbooks.

My only pleasure-reading rule is that I only read writers I would want to emulate. No pot boilers. No quickie mysteries. I want to be wowed by the witty, wise and musical words of a great writer, or at least a great writer in the making. I don't ever want to say "good grief" to myself while I'm reading a book.

Well, I have to get back to feeling like shit, croaking like a frog and blasting snot out of my nostrils to the chagrin of all office mates. At least I'm back at work, sweating because I'm so blasted hot, but still, back in the "swing" of things. I know: wah, wah, wah.

everyone is alive...

Well it turns out I was feeling cruddy last week because I was coming down with strep. I've felt like crap over the past few days but got to see the doc yesterday and began some antibiotics.

Rooney is now on all soft cat food. His bloodwork came back ok. At this point we think he's simply not able to eat enough with this gum/tooth condition. He always comes down to eat breakfast and starts munching away, but feeding the kitties is usually the last thing I do before I leave so I don't see how long he eats. So, he's getting two small cans of soft food everyday and antibiotics twice a day to help the inflammation in his gums. Don't we all love to give the cats pills?! Hopefully we'll fatten my little boy up and get him happy again. Which will make me happy. It horrifies me to think that he's been hungry.

It's funny that Rooney and I are both taking antibiotics at the same time. Thanks for all the nice comments--sorry I didn't update sooner--just feeling awful... hopefully tomorrow will hold an upswing...

Oh yeah, and one more fun tidbit. For the first time in my life my blood pressure is high and now I have to monitor it for two weeks and fax it in to the doc. WTF??!!! I'm answering work email from home today because I feel like crap--not to mention I'm probably contagious. Whatever...going to lay down now...thanks again for all the comments :-)

wah.

I took little Mr. Rooney (a.k.a. Secret Agent Eyebooger) to the vet at lunch and they wanted to keep him for the afternoon to do some testing: feline AIDS, feline leukemia, bloodwork, etc. They're also going to give the poor little guy some prednisone to help with his lousy mouth condition. Rooney has a genetic condition that promotes an immune response to his own teeth. His gums are always raw and the enamel is disappearing from his teeth. Short of having many, many fillings done by a feline dentist-which I would do if I had even half the money-there's nothing we can do but have his teeth professionally cleaned every year. Somehow, he remains the most cheerful cat I've ever met and jumps into the lap of every person who comes into our house.

So, I hope nothing is wrong. My poor little bony boo-boo...he hates going to the vet anyway. I didn't expect to leave him there. I'll pick him up at the end of the day and I've already stopped by the store to buy him a big supply of soft food-no more crunchies for his sore little mouth. He likes Fancy Feast.

:-(

well, poo...

I really don't feel well today. And I didn't feel well yesterday. I feel suddenly and extremely tired--abnormally tired. I just had bloodwork done a couple of weeks ago and nothing is way out of range. I just feel like I'm out of gas... don't understand it. Must...sleep...now...(even though I have napped and slept enough for four people over the last day or so). WTF? I don't have time for this crap! *stamps foot*

check it out...

Check out the Rocky Top Brigade tailgate party over at Big Orange Michael's place

it had to be done...

We finally had to close off the bedroom to the kitties, especially Baxter (below), except when we are physically in the room.

Why? Because of his unexplainable puking. Baxter likes to sleep on the bed and now that he's older he's not interested in jumping off the bed to spew up his gastric juices. Thus, we were getting surprises on the bed on a daily basis (see below).

The vet still has no explanation for his puking. He's healthy minus a borderline hypoglycemia problem and is at least 13 years old (we rescued him when we was estimated to be 2 years old). I just don't know how his system takes it, but it does and we can't find a food or remedy anywhere that works. We recently began giving him liquid vitamins on a regular basis. No change in the puke schedule but he looks better. We had washed our sheets so many times they were starting to resemble cotton postage stamps.

So, mommy's sorry, but you have to go sleep somewhere else while we're out... :-(

All our animals are over 10 years old now, but the one I worry most about is Rooney (below).
Rooney's weight has dropped off significantly over the last year. I am taking him to the vet on Friday to see what's going on. Although I haven't noticed him drinking more than usual I'm afraid he might have diabetes because I have been feeding him more but to no avail. At his last vet appointment he checked out fine (just needed his teeth cleaned) but had obviously lost some weight. Ugh, as soon as there was no money, everyone needed vet attention. That damn Murphy bastard.

Tonight's feature...

DH rented The Butterfly Effect last night and I was surprised to find I thought it was really pretty good. Okay, fine, I really liked it. There.

Oh, and being the closet poet that I am, I rented Sylvia last week. The movie is about Sylvia Plath's life and while I thought it was intriguing and Paltrow's performance very good, there was something missing, although I'm not sure what...anyway, if you are a Plath fan you'll like it; if not, you'll fall asleep or poke your eyes out with, as Dooce would say, "hot forks of displeasure." (Note to self: quoting other bloggers is likely to lead your gentle readers to believe that you neither have a life of your own nor do you ever plan to have one...)

BUT, the renter of the YEAR in my opinion is The Station Agent. Quirky, intelligent and extremely witty, this movie really captured my heart and I did not want to say goodbye to the characters. YOU MUST RENT THIS MOVIE. I absolutely adored it and by golly, I'm pretty picky.

Go forth and partake of mid-week entertainment!

I'm so sorry California...

I don't like politicians but at least most of them are not this publicly and completely obtuse.

"Nohhwww, line up all de kitties and paaahhhpies where I cahn shoot dem and save ahs lots of maaaahney for ah new Hummahhs..."

"may I speak with Miss..."

There's nothing more humbling than getting a bill collector call AT WORK. We are going to be destitute for about another year until DH gets out of his "training period" for his new career. Having slashed our income by about 60 percent or more has been shitty to say the least. We pay our bills, but sometimes we have to juggle. Sometimes I can afford a smidgen of yarn; other times I can only drool--like today. DH works on strictly commission--factor in lowly trainee cuts and you've got a recipe for disaster. Almost 40 (oh dear, less than six months now!) and struggling...hmmm, not my idea of fun. Happy friggin' Monday. That electrical cord is looking more and more like licorice all the time...

I'm baaaa-a-a-ack...

Just like that frightening childhood wart...
Anyway, I had a great time tooling around Asheville (took mi mama with me) and had some good vegetarian food whilst I was there. I wish I could have taken pictures and shown you all the good stuff I saw at the show, but you know how that is...kinda naughty and all. I found another dollmaker I am very impressed with--Lesley Keeble. She is also a new member of NIADA. See her work on this page. The pictures do not do her figures justice at all. They are really exquisite.

On the way back over the mountains it rained and made us feel like we were "in the clouds..." (click the image for a monster size...)

I've also been working on some more laminated scarves... (click the image for a monster size...)

I also wanted to show you what I did with Lori's Art Cards. I look at them every day when I open the fridge! I found some magnet frames that are just perfect. Now isn't that a well-dressed fridge?

ah, the weekend...

I took some pictures of another laminated felt scarf I did, but they are so dark and boring that they don't do the piece any justice at all. I'll have to retry and post some others tonight. I'm also continuing to knit on the rib-hugging raglan sweater from The Purl Stitch book.  But I have to tell you, although I think the Filatura Di Crosa Millefili Fine Print is mucho delicioso, it has friggin' knots in it, which is my number one pet peeve. Expensive yarn should not have knots in it. If stinkin' Red Heart can make a one pound skein without knots then, by golly, other manufacturers ought to be able to perform the same feat for 136 yards. The yarn has zero give so I don't like joining anymore than I have to. Pbbbbllllllt!
 
Something exciting for the weekend: tomorrow I'm going over to Asheville, NC to attend the Southern Highland Craft Guild show. I am so excited. It's the guild I hope to get into one day. Their application process is worse than getting into graduate school. Ah, something to shoot for.
 
Seabiscuit is still snorting and stamping around in my head. I've never hated to finish a book so badly. In the book one of the horse owners' dogs is named "Wee Biscuit." I thought it would be funny someday to have a small dog and name him "Crouton." I know, I'm warped. And damn proud of it!

p.s. I am staying in school. Really.

waffle up...

Do you ever write something so stupid, so whiny, so self-absorbed that you just have to delete it?

Well, I did. All that's left is the title...it should say "shut up."

I'm into self-deprecating humor. If you don't like it you can suck my dill pickle. :-P

whinny...

It's always a bittersweet moment when I close the cover to a really great book. I have to say Seabiscuit is the best non-fiction book I have ever read. I am really sad to see it end and feel like I've been booted out of gentle-reader-bliss. I guess I'll console myself with a little bit of knitting.

If you are looking for more gripping non-fiction, I would definitely recommend Level 4: Virus Hunters of the CDC. Amazon has them used for shit-cheap and it's hard to put down. It's nothing like Seabiscuit, but it just came to mind as another page-turner.

neigh, fair maiden, get thee to your trusty steed...

Last week I was obsessively knitting on the 2x2 rib raglan and this week all knitting was cast aside to read Seabiscuit by Laura Hillenbrand. Yes, I know I am the LAST person in the world to read it--shaddup already. I was kind of obsessed with the movie and started reading the book and can't get enough--I'm nearly finished. It's been a long time since I picked up a book I couldn't put down. The only other book that absorbed me so completely was Anne Rice's Interview with The Vampire, which I read in one day (very unusual for me) and my favorite book of all time To Kill A Mockingbird. Well, I have to throw in Coming of Age in Mississippi by Anne Moody, too. Ah, heck, I was trying to make a point...

Anyway, I was previously somewhat possessed by horse information and now I'm demonically and awesomely possessed. If you gave me a job of staring at one horse for eight hours a day every day, well, I'd take the job without hesitation. Yet another rabbit hole is opening up for me to fall through. I hope to take some lessons before the year is up so I can get horsey with it. If you offered me a horse but told me I had to quit school, I wouldn't even blink before saying "the horse, please." Neigh, fair maiden, you have lost your mane as well as your brain... Gah, work has been terrifically soul-squashing this week. I would do almost anything to get out of it. *The visualization: a poor animal caught in a steel trap chewing away at its own leg to escape.* I was going to write a commentary on the killing of Bobo, but what's the use? I could have written the news story the day the big cat disappeared.

mergers...

Blue sound of flute
So childish tenderly little
Dull beat of drum
Triumphantly scarlet sounding of kettle-drum.

These verses are written by Russian poet Balmont early in this century. The ability to compare, to confront visual and auditory impressions is called "synesthesia." In the case the coloristic aspect of visual impressions is emphasized, or, more specifically, when visible component of the association is limited with color, they usually use another, more vivid and possibly lightly embarrassing term "colour hearing."
--editor's preface to the book "Children Draw Music" by I.Vanechkina, I.Trofimova. - Kazan: FAN, 2000, in Russian.

I mostly see music as shapes and textures in my mind's eye with color being secondary--which doesn't really qualify as synesthesia. Most people who truly have the condition (or ability) see colors, shapes and images projected outside of themselves. I can still sort of identify with this experience though. Usually when I hear music I really love, I will not only describe the actual tones of notes, but their shapes. There are certain notes in pieces that are distinctly round and some that are quite square or pointed, glassy, rough, curved, metal, wood, warm, cold, fluid, still, vibrating, expanding, contracting, exploding, dissipating, regenerating, etc. It's more than a sensory description, but a physical image of the sound that pops into my head. I've often thought about painting "sounds" to see what kind of composition would come out.

I also get hung up on the visual and musical qualities of words. Sometimes it slows my reading to a crawl. I can read quickly, but I really don't enjoy it. I like to munch on words and repeat their "sing-song" qualities in my head. Unfortunately it's a great way to lose track of the plot and who begat who and all that stuff. Anyone else "see" or "visually experience" music or words?

p.s. Thanks for all the hairy compliments! I haven't regretted the big "locks-off" yet!

It would be a shame to lose it...

I think I finally talked my dad into recording the stories of his youth. He's a pretty good writer, but he's decided to tell the stories into a tape recorder and give them to me. "Writing is hard work!" he said. I'll second that one.

I love hearing the stories my parents tell of the Great Depression. My grandfather on my dad's side was somewhat of a "round-a-bout" in his younger days, and it's no wonder after being thrown out of his own house at one year of age and raised by his uncles, one of whom shot his father off his horse and killed him. He never knew which uncle lifted the rifle and they all went to their graves holding the secret--probably because my grandfather would have exacted revenge. I am quite sure of that.

He began working in the coal mines when he was only 9 years old and pretty much raised himself, hopping railcars to find work, living in hobo camps in between and doing his share of fighting. During Prohibition he ran the most popular moonshine still in the area and had a standing order with the county court judge. He literally had no fear and practiced hard-knock justice, but every few months he would drink himself into oblivion when he began thinking about how he was treated as a boy. It was a rare occurrence when he showed vulnerability. I guess it hurt so bad he intended to render himself unconscious.

His mother never took him back in but he loved her. Many years later when her husband, a very large man, decided to "smack her around," my grandfather grabbed a huge piece of wood, marched over to the house and whacked him in the head. He stayed in bed for three weeks recovering. I am pretty sure he never again lifted a finger toward her and she lived to be 101.

By the time I knew "papaw," he was old and gnarled, working in his huge garden well into his 90's. "Let me put some 'maters in a poke, fer ya," he would say. Who knew he had been dubbed the "meanest man in the county" before his graying years? With the hardship he endured, I'm surprised he didn't wind up behind bars or worse. He lived a few months short of age 100- bent in every direction; crooked as "a dog's hind leg," but never completely broken.

hoopty-do...

Whoopee. It's Monday. It's Monday and I have no hair. Which is okay. I added another picture below after the haircut, because I don't fix my hair like my stylist does. I feel perfectly weird when I post photos of myself. It makes me feel all self-absorbed and boring. Anyway, it was all for the hair, I promise.

I found a quote I really like, so I'll share it with you:

"If you have men who will exclude any of God's creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity, you will have men who will deal likewise with their fellow men."
Saint Francis of Assisi

one hairy mess...

Well, I did not chicken-out. I like it. My dearest hairstylist Chaundra always fixes my hair sleek, but I mess it up when I get home and make it more piecey. Yah, I know it doesn't look exactly like the picture I took with me, but I DO need to see. How I fix it is more swept forward like that...maybe another pic sometime... Next on the agenda is to lose the 30 pounds I gained after surgery about a year-and-a-half ago. Pics of the hair: before, after at the salon, after I have washed and fixed it myself and the leftovers that will be donated to Locks of Love.

It feels good. It's not that I didn't like my hair before--I just needed a drastic change. Maybe it's because 40 is only six months away. Maybe I just need to feel different in some way...whatever it is, a major whack-job seemed to do the trick...for now.

hair today, gone tomorrow...

Currently my hair is halfway down my back and is all one length. Tomorrow it is going to be not much longer than my ears. I NEED A CHANGE. Here's the pic I'm showing up with after not having my hair cut for at least two years (minus one hatchet-job by yours truly).

creativity killers...

This morning at the gym (I never thought I'd be saying those words), I was reading an article about creativity downers and realized I am guilty of a few. I think I really get hung up on trying to different, when all I need to do is be GENUINE. Genuine is always as unique as you ever need to be and has no "false fire" within it. Like the article said, "It's all been done before, so get over yourself, honey." And I suppose it has, so I'm going to try to be very aware of the genuineness in my work. I need to trust myself more and stop censoring what I need to express...

I did another nuno scarf last night, but I forgot to take a picture. Shate. I'll take one later, I promise.

And the knitter's nightmare. Yes, I AM knitting something--a raglan body hugger (like my body needs to be hugged)--but I think I accidentally mailed off a ball of the yarn I am knitting it with! Gah!!!!!! I was going to knit on the raglan at lunch yesterday so I threw in a new ball of yarn (the other only had a couple of yards left in it) with the other Ebay yarn to be mailed that day. Then, I wound up not knitting at lunch, but going to the post office to mail off the other yarn and got in a hurry when I mailed...when I got back I couldn't find my project yarn. *sinking feeling* I think I will send the buying ladies an email...what to do?! I suppose I could knit short sleeves instead of long ones, but...gah! piss! bugger! doggie doo!

dial the phone...

The Phone.
Found at Alas, A Blog

Speaking of being transported...man, I feel like crawling under my desk and hiding out today. All this family bullshit/drama has rubbed raw every nerve I own. I'm tired of being the person who steps up to the plate all the time. Where's the escape hatch? I want out!

hey ma, no stitches...

Sadie got her stitches out yesterday, so other than still owing $150 to the vet, we're back on track and in the healthy zone--the biospy of the growth came back benign (yippee!). Next off to the vet will be Rooney, my little Manx kitty who is getting TOO skinny. He has a genetic gum disease that makes it hard for him to eat crunchy food (so I suspect anyway), so I've been giving him little cans of Fanc*y Fea*st cat food. You know, the prissy stuff. I hope he's not developing feline diabetes. I had a friend with a cat that developed the disease and it was just awful. Rooney has the cutest little cat butt I've ever seen--one ball is cream-colored and the other is tan--and they're topped by a petite (and usually quite clean) pink pucker. The cuteness meter goes up even more with his stubby little tail. I guess I just love them a bunch from head to toe. :-)

Oh yeah, we took the nieces to see Spiderman 2 last night. Ooooh, I just loved it. I'm sure I'll find a way to see it again. I forgot what a wonderful mental break a movie provides when you have too many worries rattling around in the noggin'.

broken-hearted...

I am upset that my brother doesn't want more for himself in life. It absolutely tears my heart out. I said my peace, but I feel no peace. Nevertheless, I can't live my life without putting up my dukes on his behalf.

bookish, are you?

You're "Master Harold"... and the Boys!

by Athol Fugard

Even though you should have realized it for years, you're only just
starting to understand how bad your society is. It's been keeping some of your best
friends down for ages, and even you have been complicit with this system. When you
make a mess, someone else is quick to clean it. When you need help, someone else is
quick to your rescue. But when they point out injustice, you've pulled the wool over
your eyes. Until now. If you ever need a cast, it will be small.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Lovingly lifted from Dogs Steal Yarn

my crappy little elf name...

My crappy little elf name is Tealeaf Granitebottom.
What's yours?
Powered by Rum and Monkey.

Shamelessly stolen from Atypical Female

anger management...

Gah, I wish I had the balls to leave my rant up, but that damn shred of decency keeps interfering...damn it. If you missed it, you missed it. At least it made me feel better to keep it up for a couple of hours--and I only commented it out...it DOES still exist for posterity.

drift would...

I am floating around...pointless bullshit deleted...I just couldn't stand looking at all the whining, so POOF! I deleted it! Ah, I feel much better...
An update: I did find out that my brother has been to the doc and is now on Gluco*phage for his diabetes, so that's really great news. I guess it was worth being the bad guy after all. :-)

nuno felt

I've been working on some large nuno felt scarves. Nuno felt, also called "laminated felt," is the process of felting fibers into lightweight cloth...in this case, I used silk gauze. I laid out very thin layers of superfine merino and handyed silk and felted the silk gauze between the layers. The whole idea is to make super flexible lightweight felt that is still durable. "Nuno" is Japanese for "cloth." Click thumbs for monster-size photos.

Oh, and don't forget about the yarn on Ebay! See post below!

YARN ON EBAY

Louet Worsted Wt. Cream Wool--great for dyeing 1700 yds
Adriafil Leaf nylon papertape yarn; white 20+ balls
Worsted Wt. burgundy 100% alpaca yarn; 1100 yds

Starting at horribly ridiculous prices I might add.

still taking a psuedo-break...

I'm broke, so I may be destashing soon on Ebay. I'll put a notice here if I'm selling any yummy yarns. I'm still laying low for a little while blog-wise.

"Life shrinks or expands according to one's courage." --Anais Nin

fly guy...

Try Fly Guy (thanks, Susan!). Outer space is particularly interesting.

little boo-boos...

Sadie was just fine when I picked her up at the vet. She has about six stitches in her leg and a couple in her chin. She wasn't even groggy...just noisy and wanted to go home. The vet said she barked all afternoon wanting out of her cage so they had to put her outside in the little fenced yard. She's a demanding little critter. What Sadie wants, Sadie gets. It takes poor Pickles a day and a half to recover from being put to sleep. One of her liver enzymes is elevated though and we're going to have a repeat bloodtest for that. Yesterday's bill: $251. Cha-ching. There went my wool money.

I spent last night taking photos of my work to submit for the TACA shows in the fall. I hope they turn out okay because the autofocus on my big camera is broken...let's hope I still have 20/20 vision, eh? They're slides, so there's nothing like a giant, out-of-focus hat on the wall. Sadie barked at me from the porch the entire time I was working (she cannot be left unattended inside because she is A Destroyer). And yet, I love her--my problem baby.

I am still really upset about my brother, but I'm working through it...and it's really helping to exercise. Hubby and I have been going to the gym BEFORE work (which is almost unheard of in my anti-morning world) and I am already addicted to that morning zing it gives me. I'm actually showing up at my job on time, too, which is getting me looks of befuddlement.

Thank God it's Friday--that's all I gotta say.

everyone is seeing red...

I am ready for this week to end. Sadie is having minor surgery today to remove some terribly ugly growths on her leg and chin...she is Miss Moley...the older she gets the more skin tags, moles and growths she gets. The growth on her leg, which looked like a little midget brain (ew!) will have to be sent to the lab and analyzed. Poor baby! She will be coddled like the little princess she is when I pick her up after work.

Today we get a red chair. I took advantage of a no finance charge for a year deal and got a chair for our living room. I never used to like red things, but I've suddenly become quite fond of the color. I don't know why. Maybe I'm in touch with my anger these days...

...which brings me to the fight I had yesterday with my older, and only, brother. His blood sugar has been skyrocketing over 300 and he hasn't been doing anything about it. I read him the riot act, which made him none too happy. His wife is dangerously obese (and has major health problems as a result) so in an email I sent to his WORK address detailing the dangers of diabetes, I said "I know X doesn't take care of herself, but you don't have to go down that path..." Well, little did I know, she has access to, and READS, his work email. The subject line was "hello bro!" Would you read an email that was obviously meant as a personal message?

Anyway, she is never going to speak to me again and my brother is livid because I upset her so badly. He left an angry message on my work voice mail and when I called him back I just let it all fly, which has caused a rift that may never be repaired. He is an absolute slave to his wife, who does need more care and help than most (which is ok), but I also see that the marriage ONLY revolves around her and her needs and never anything pertaining to HIM. That upsets me and makes me angry--so I told him all that. And I probably lost a brother in the process. So, I've been really upset over all this crap. I did sent an apologetic email to them both and related to X that I do NOT care about appearances, but I am concerned about her health--and its impact on my brother. And that's true. I don't care if she weighs 3,000 pounds or even a metric TON--as long as my brother has a good life with her, then so what?

Sigh. Going back on bloggie vacation (yeah, right).

takin' a break...

Rooney, a.k.a. "Secret Agent Eyebooger," says I should take a little break from blogging. Be back in a few days. Don't do anything important while I'm gone! :-P