Welcome to the RTB tailgate party!!

Welcome to the RTB tailgate party, where I am in charge of misinterpreting, no, no...INTERPRETING the finest postings the RTB bloggers have to offer. If you thought I was going to rhyme this whole thing, well, you're downright crazy (I mean that in the friendliest way possible).

One note of caution: I do have a quirk or two, so in complete understanding of possible grievances against the following summaries, I would like to offer a complaint email. If you find yourself violated, offended or in general dissatisfied with the job I've done here, please email me at youcanbitemybigfatsouthernass@yahooey.com. I have a special folder set up for these emails, so you can be assured that I will respond immediately. Cheers and---ah, just pass the whisky bottle.

Anyway, read on, because you can't get any more diversity in one big honkin' post than this!

Smijer takes the notion to present some thoughts on critical thinking and shows us the way
and the light toward what's supposed to be grey and what's really just black and white.

Manish over at Damn Foreigner repeatedly tells Nader to stay out of the race and makes note of the yammering political types who have spines of Jell-O.

Peggy at Moveable Beast tells us a story of tried and true love. Her gay little kitties united by the great catnip gods are just the thing to remind us the most important aspect of marriage is LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. Meow.

Thomas of the Newsrack Blog speaks candidly about claims of the Slobodan Milosevic trial collapsing.

Sue stands in for CJ at Up for Anything and provides us with a handy mathematical equation we can all use in support for suing the Senate.

Stoney over at Rebel Yell gives us a clear sociological assessment of the land of charming and not-so-charming oddities--the American mall.

At the Castle, Queen MedB sets a place at the table for a cat-loving possum who looks like he's recently visted the hairdresser.

Fletch over at A Smoky Mountain Journal unfurls his insider's view on the North Shore Road planning process and calls attention to a not-so-democratic process that may be followed--despite public opinion on route choices that may do significant damage to our beloved Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

Granny Rant has found coal in everyone's stocking, but in 20 years we may not need stockings. Or perhaps we could just snip them up and fashion some snazzy-looking respirators. Granny has also been kind enough to introduce us to an amazing creation of natural evolution--the talking dog! Take him for a walk--he needs company.

According to our illustrious leader, South Knox Bubba, ain't nothin' wrong with using good old fashioned paper so they can't freakin' mess it up.

At Second-Day Lede, a spin-off from the famous Dagley Dagley Daily, the majority rules idea gets a thorough lashing from well--reality.

Barry, over at Last Home takes a look at what Kerry and Bush don't quite understand about a Christian God. He points to good ole' Honest Abe for the clear perspective.

Guy Montag doesn't want a ring from the Feds or the State and gives old Maxine a bust in the chops Powell-style. All that while he stares at himself in his sparkling shoes.

At the Conservative Zone, there's more than a battle being fought, there's a good bit of honesty, courage and heart--something we could all use a little more of. On the lighter side, you might want a rescue dog around if you're going to work on a team with the guy.

Gun-totin' SayUncle has a thing or two to say about the IQs of gun control yahoos and welcomes a new writer to the blog. He's into the group thing (get your minds out of the gutter!).

If your a hillbilly, you'd better rush on over to Wandering Hillbilly's new Hillbilly Dictionary--the most authoritative tool for translating even the most challenging backwoods-bonics to regular old English. Why, you can even earn a valuable scholarship by contributing to the landmark work.

Voluntarily in China gives us a unique peek at political cartooning in China. He also hopes his blog doesn't get SHUT DOWN.

Aaron over at The Golden Calf is pretty sure Jesus isn't a democrat and somehow wound up at the Jesse Helms Center for Right Wing Propagandation and Intolerable Indoctrination. Hmm.

Aunty Goob at Goobage offers "Captive Customers," and gives us the low-down on those nasty automobile companies doing nasty things to get nastier money to do the nastiest things to their employees. Nasty. Or as Aunty says, "an exploration of differences in pension plans, business vs. government," which makes a helluvalot more sense than what I said.

Chris at My Quiet Life is simply on the verge of poking his eyes out over the misunderstanding of well...everything about The Truly Disadvantaged.

New addition to the RTB, Doug McDaniel, ponders the real meaning of solomizing same-sex marriages. Pass the mayo--for the sandwich, stupid. I'm not going to tell you again to get your mind out the of the gutter.

Big Stupid Tommy isn't stupid at all, and proves it to us in his insightful analysis of Leap Year trivia, hard cold formulas for determining the requisite amount of excitement the 29th really deserves, and a tip for the best Leap Year Feast ever--Hamster Stew. To share the love, scroll down to the subhead "February 29."

Does Anthony Pellicano Have Incriminating Tapes of Michael Jackson? That's the question Les Jones is trying answer as he dusts for fingerprints in this developing "thriller" series.

So, there you have it. Salami? Hamster stew? Not me, I'm a vegetarian. Enjoy your day and appreciate one another's diversity. I send you all off into the vast desert of contemplation with a flask full of finely aged wine and fresh fruit. Or something like that. Thanks for letting me host, I think.

zippitty-zap...tippity-tap...

Six straight hours of typing furiously last night to finish my mid-term essays. Nothing but typing furiously at work today. My fingers are numb!

noted, filed, secured...

I declare Crisis #h7b-125 over. Filed. Why? Because I say so, and because I'm just sick of recycling the same pile of garbage over and over. It's my blog and I can "wah, wah" if I want to, but there's a point where I can "wah, wah" no more. And this is it. No more "wah, wah." Die "wah, wah," die!

I'm sure I'll "wah, wah" again, but we'll open a new case file and recycle a completely different batch of refuse for that one.

Back to being ridiculously idealistic! Hand me my rose-colored-glasses because I can't see shit without them (actually I would prefer purple, but I didn't make up the expression).

Disclaimer: Closing of Crisis file #h7b-125 may or may not preclude various platitudes regarding naturally occurring premenstrual states, violation of intrinsic values by other human subjects or general dissatisfaction with current employment (one which has been previously established as an ill-fitting career for said subject referred to herein as "Hatamaran,") and acts of God which can neither be defined nor ascertained by any ensuing legal authority such as those referred to within Crisis file identified under the official code #h7b-125, which is now closed to the public.

In other words, I'm stayin' in school, fool.

p.s. If you've never read Coming of Age in Mississippi by Anne Moody, you should run, not walk, to your local bookstore. It should be required reading of every American, period. If you'd like to read about the 60's Civil Rights movement from the inside-out, then this is the memoir to read. I never remember to tell people about this book. Today I finally remembered.

cinnamon gravy...

That's Old Prospector language (buy the best of Will Farrell if you're confused). Oh, Peaches! I'm still writing my freakin' case study/essay/stinkin' mid-term/going-on-forever test thing that's due tomorrow. Bah...back to typing.

casserole of the gods...

You know, you guys made me feel better, or at least not alone in my indecisive misery. Hey, that's worth something, isn't it? Of course it is. I finally started doing my exam last night (it's was a take-home, case-study essay kind of thing) and plan to write it up tonight (since it's DUE tomorrow). I have to work on it at lunch today, too, which means I'd better type fast. Blah, blah, blah.

This Friday is hubby's 41st birthday. I won't be spending oodles of money for the occasion, but he'll like his smaller gifts just fine I'm sure. We're planning to see the Ice Bears (hockey) in the evening and maybe go ride horses on Saturday. That sounds good to me!

Speaking of horses, there's a very neat place here that does clinical work using horses. I got to do a workshop there a couple of years ago and was really inspired and amazed by the process. Maybe I need to go visit them again sometime soon? Inspiration is the elixir of the gods. And, as I say, cat puke is the casserole of the gods. Blech, I'm gross.

Anyway, I sent the equine therapy facility an email, basically asking if they are interested in doing field placements and if not, could I work for free or trade communications services for training/education/mucking stalls/whatever. What the hell, right? I'm getting too old to not just get out there and go for things. I wish I were a little further along in my "equine education" because EAGALA is holding a Level I therapy training. Bah, maybe next year (and when I have $600!).

Click here for pictures from the workshop I did at New Directions Farm.

I do not...

I do not like feeling lost. I do not like being indecisive. I do not want to write out my exam for Wednesday's class. I do not feel like cleaning the house. I do not feel like being at work. I do not feel creative. I do not feel like exercising. I do not feel like knitting. I do not feel like doing anything...

I'm used to reaching an impasse with myself every once in a while, but not every other week. Usually I break through the dry spell with a better understanding of myself and who I am becoming. Usually. Instead, it seems my soul has given way to vascillating between this and that--and maybe one of those. All that gray, hazy drama was supposed to end in 2003. I guess calendars don't care how you feel. I know I put way too much pressure on myself to be settled on things and moving through a plan, but, but, but...

Sometimes I wonder, wander, wonder, wander, wondering, wandering. Maybe I need a damn vacation. The only vacations I have had in about three years is some art workshops. I haven't stuck my toes in sand, drank irresponsibly and gotten a good sunburn in years. I wonder if...

oh, my achin' synapses...

Ugh. I have a lot on my mind since hubby and I had a heart-to-heart about where I am going with my career. I know I definitely want to leave PR behind. It truly does not match my personality, even though it did give me an opportunity to write for a living to a certain extent.

But hubby has reservations about the master's in clinical social work. I am primarily earning that degree to be a therapist. Now, if I had opted to get a PhD (debt Piled Higher and Deeper), I would be more likely to go straight into a therapist's type of job, but the road from social work degree to outpatient therapist is not so clear cut. There are a variety of hoops to go through, crappy jobs to earn your stripes, licenses to earn and a horrible salary to draw. At nearly 40, working the lower levels of the salt mine can be pretty painful. He wonders if it will be worth it. I can't answer that question. What he did express is that he feels I should follow my art more fully. I think he believes there's something special there.

This coming fall, I will have to work a social work field placement, my full-time PR job, take classes and try not to lose touch with my art. I don't know how I am going to do this. Money is too tight to go part-time unless I clean out my retirement funds and pay off a bunch of stuff. Even then it would be pretty tough.

I have been thinking through many different scenarios, all of which are giving me a terrible headache. It's important to me to fulfill a destiny, to follow my heart and to perform the tasks I was meant to do here on this dusty little rock.

Well, thank God I compiled an obscene stash of knitting yarn while finances were fluffier. At my stitch per second rate, I've got enough yarn to keep me busy until I retire. Hey, you gotta look at the bright side. ;-)

just another INFP blabbering...

Yesterday, hubby and I visited the East Tennessee Historical Museum to view the 9-11 exhibit on display there. It was definitely strange to touch twisted steel from the Twin Towers and view pieces of the planes that crashed into them. It deeply affected me. There's not much more to say about that. I was really speechless afterward.

Wednesday night's class was interesting. We were given back our Myers-Briggs analysis and I, once again, was a strong INFP. We also had a union organizer as a guest speaker. This was particularly interesting to me. Having worked most of my time in corporate offices, "union" has always been a nasty word, although privately I never really thought so. I keep a lot of things to myself at work. It is a very conservative, company-line chattering type of atmosphere (reason number 349,202...).

Anyway, my BA in Advertising, the first round of my college education, was all about getting the sale, however creatively. The mindset was more of what is taught in the business school: executing a plan, making it work and getting a big payoff. Going back to school to get a master's in social work was a rude (and good) awakening from that "must win" mentality. It was also a reality check about how we stereotype one another. The "bleeding hearts" versus the "heartless businessperson." Neither is correct most of the time, but even our educators teach us to take these adversarial positions. I wish I could "split screen" two classrooms--one in the business school and one in the college of social work. The effect would be just phenomenally bizarre.

Having been educated in one arena (the heartless moneygrubbers) and then the other (the bleeding hearts who just don't understand the way of the world) has provided to me a really unique view into how we all (don't) work together. It's not that anyone is all right or all wrong, it's just that we are constantly fighting each other to get something better than what exists now. Half the time the fight is just a misperception of who and what we are. The older I get, the more bizarre I view human behavior in general. You would think by now we would know how to be human. We are the most troublesome species on the planet.

With that said, it should be a beautiful weekend and I have plenty to do: preparing an exam, finishing a hat for a client, working on my Kansas City Doll (finally). Time's a wastin'. Gosh, I'll never finish knitting anything, but right now that's way down on the list.

Sorry such a long post, I just had to get that out. Toodles and hugs to you all!!!

What'd Y'all Get?

87% (Dixie). Did you have any Confederate ancestors?
I just love this little Yankee/Dixie quiz. I reckon' my score's about right.

Thank God above I am among the living today. I haven't had a stomach virus like that since I was a kid! Awful!! Avoid all germ-carriers with fervor or suffer dire consequences! Wash thy hands! Commit all unclean brethren to the hinterlands!

The silver lining is that my pants are loose today. Hope Y'ALL have a nice day!

moan, groan, complain...

Two words: stomach virus.
Two more words: Since Saturday.
Even two more: Still miserable.
Will return when I can stand up straight again.

must...take...nap...

Our laundry room these days is inaccessible to the kitties, but we used to live in an apartment where the washer and dryer were adjacent to the dining room. When we took hot laundry out of the dryer and plopped it on the table to be folded, it wouldn't be long before some little furkids of ours found the warm fluffy mountain and laid claim. I gave up having non-hair-covered clothes long ago. Atticus is the orange kitty hiding his eyes; Baxter is the white kitty, who is nearly 20 pounds in this picture; Rooney, our Manx kitty, is hiding the back. Grayson apparently hadn't found this luxurious feline spa at the time of snapping this shot.

top of the food chain...

When stories like this pop up, I sit there dumbfounded. While millions of people ponder whether or not what he said was appropriate and whether or not he's a jerk and whether or not the allegations are true, I am INCREDULOUS that IT EVER HAPPENS ANYWHERE. EVER. I am reminded that the human race can be as FOUL and undeserving as can be imagined. Our culture is disturbingly accepting of sexual violence and coercion. Just a reminder of how ridiculous the problem is when it comes to sexual assault:

National Statistics:

1,871 adult women are raped every day.
Rape in America: A Report to the Nation. Kilpatrick, Edmunds, and Seymour; National Victim Center, 1992.

78% of rapes are committed by someone the victim knows: an acquaintance; a spouse or intimate partner; or other relative. 22% of perpetrators are strangers to the victim.
Rape in America: A Report to the Nation. Kilpatrick, Edmunds, and Seymour; National Victim Center, 1992.

It is estimated that only 16% of rape offenses are ever reported to law enforcement and 98% of rape victims never see their attacker arrested, tried, or imprisoned.
The Response to Rape: Detours on the Road to Equal Justice. Senate Judiciary Committee, May 1993.

A convicted rapist is 50% more likely to receive probation (not go to jail) than a convicted robber. 50% of all convicted rapists serve an average of a year or less behind bars.
The Response to Rape: Detours on the Road to Equal Justice. Senate Judiciary Committee, May 1993.

Even if the statistics are way off, they would still be unbelievable. It's almost statistically impossible to NOT know someone who has been assaulted. I am reminded of the statistics everytime I am in a public place alone; especially after dark--every woman is.

party at the RTB...

Les Jones is hosting the RTB Tailgate party...check it out.

but, can't I be Snoopy?

You are Schroeder!


Which Peanuts Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Shamelessly stolen from new visitor and super-cutie-pie Beagle owner At the Green Frog.

Iman! Iman! Donde esta Iman?

And that's what I remember from taking six years of Spanish in school. Pepito was looking for his dog, Iman. That line is ingrained in my mind forever. I even named a parakeet after Pepito in high school. If I'm lucky enough to make it to slobbering-old-cootdom, I'm sure that's what I'll be screaming as I run down the halls of the nursing home.

So, I put my pups on Dogster last night because basically I have no life. But it's still cute and it's still fun. Look on the menu bar on the left for the Dogster logo you'll see links to Sadie and Pickles. Pickles already got a request for a doggie friend. (Man, I've really lost it.)

Here's a nice quote I found worth sharing:

Mankind's true moral test, its fundamental test (which lies hidden from view), consists of its attitude towards those who are at its mercy: animals.
-Milan Kundera

ah, shaddup!

My stomach has been talking to me all day. I don't think gastrointestinal pieces and parts should talk to one another. They shouldn't be in one another's business, and if they are, I don't want to know about it. Guts have no manners. The large colon has been sending Bronx cheers to the small intestine most of the afternoon, who, in turn, has responded like Mrs. Cravitz in spreading the gossip throughout the entire GI system. Nosey bitch. The sphincter community is all worried and has instituted a neighborhood watch for these inconsiderate jerks. The police are stuck way up in the pancreas eating doughnuts to convert into insulin, so they are no help. It's societal dysfunction at its worst.

In other news, P*ris H*lton is putting together an album...you know, of music, uh, where she sings and stuff. Pass the cocktail forks darling, I'm going to poke my eyes out.

Speaking of poking my eyes out...next month I will have worked for my company for 15 years. Count 'em...FIFTEEN. Gah, that's sick! This ain't the 50's, dude. Move on!

This is going to be a big year of change for me; some of which I can't blog about just yet-but would like to! Like Peter Brady says, "It's time for a cha-a-a-nge." I want to get going. Now. I'm tired of feeling impatient. *furrows brows, sports quizzical look*

time's up...

Doggone it. I think I hail from the Land of the Not-Being-In-the-Moment.

1. What do I think about on Monday? Friday.
2. What do I think about while I'm eating the main meal? Dessert.
3. What do I think about while I'm eating breakfast? Lunch.
4. What do I think about while I'm eating lunch? Dinner.
5. What do I think about while I'm eating a rich dessert? Going on a diet.
6. What do I think about while I'm knitting and watching TV? Exercise.
7. What do I think about while I'm knitting something? Knitting the other project I started.
8. What do I think about after I put my shoes on? Being barefoot.
9. What do I think about while at work during the day? 5:30 p.m. (when I go home)
10. What do I think about while I'm petting one dog*? That the other dog* isn't getting petted.
11. *insert "cat"
    
12. What do I think about after I wake up? Going back to sleep.
13. What do I think about while I'm trying to go to sleep? Staying up later.
14. What do I think about while I'm working? Blogging.
15. What do I think about while I'm blogging? Working.

Sheesh. Maybe I need to rustle up my Zinn book Wherever You Go, There You Are.

if it hadn't been for those meddling kids...

Well it looks like Shag and the crew abandoned the van for good. On the way back from the cabin I finally decided to take a picture of the old Mystery Machine. This van has been on the side of the road for years near the Ocoee River, site of the 1996 Olympics white water rafting event.

I have no idea why it's there, but it gives me a good chuckle everytime I see it. If it hadn't been so muddy I would have taken a photo of the other side which is in better shape. We also pass The Purple Bus on this same road. It's a big bus painted bright purple and it serves as a jewelry and bead store. There are twinkling lights inside and, I'm sure, one terribly eclectic person. Maybe next time I'll talk hubby into stopping.

ahhhhhh.

Just what I needed--a weekend away. Hubby and I got away to a relative's cabin in the Chattahoochie National Forest for the weekend. Quiet. Time to talk. Time to laugh, build a fire and relax. It was really the best Valentine's Day of my life. We were able to relocate the peace within us.

We saw quite a bit of wildlife including a bobcat and more than 40 deer. We think we saw a coyote crossing the road, but we couldn't catch up to it to see for sure.

I swatched and started Banff from Knitty while there and knitting by the fire was soooooo relaxing. I hope everyone else got to have a weekend just as nice.

han yammer...

::::censored for your protection::::: The post got so negative that I censored myself! Bah! Man, I've GOT to bounce back from this! Sorry about all the negativity, y'all. So, I'm done yammering for the week. I'll be back next week, having morphed into something better or worse than what I am now. Ciao! Have a wonderful Valentine's Day everyone!

Millan.net

peta-poo

Even though I'm a vegetarian, I get really frustrated with PETA. I really think they do more harm than good for the vegetarian "movement." First of all, they pick the poster-child for no-class-surgically-altered-bimbos as one of their main spokespersons. I ain't namin' names, I'm just sayin' it helps to pick credible people to speak for you. I also don't like their sensationalistic tactics, which usually involve the act-now-and-think-later train of thought. I don't think they are radical, but I do think they are reckless. A message imbued with passion is a powerful thing, but a message levied as an attack lessens credibility in my eyes. I don't think they understand the fine line between the two.

Back when I was taking undergraduate classes in psychology I actually had a multiple-choice question about PETA. One of the answers was something like "PETA is a useless organization filled with crackpots..." Of course, I didn't pick that one, but when I got my test back that was the right answer. There should have been an extra choice that read "and the professor is an opinionated asshole," but really that incident demonstrates my point. That's the kind of reaction PETA inspires. I wish they would be more Schweitzer-esque in their strategy. I think it would improve their results.

I'm not saying they don't do good work to help animals in abusive situations, etc., I'm just saying their communication style could be more effective and credible.

Sheesh, you're wondering, what crawled up her arse? This morning I heard on the radio that PETA had attacked the Atkins diet because of the good doctor's condition at death. Even though I don't think anyone had all the facts on that yet, they started yammering anyway. Bah. Note to self: Get clawhammer to get panties out of a wad.

Mama, intarsia made fun of me!

Gosh, I don't know what to do, I have a finished knitting project. Although I am far too lazy to knit intarsia, I muddled through it anyway. I'll probably redo the intarsia part again because I learned my lesson about cheating with intarsia. Bah, I hate intarsia. Pattern from Mags Kandis Simple pattern book.

In other news, we went out to dinner last night for the mother-in-law's birthday. It was pretty uneventful, but nice I guess. Everyone seemed to be in a pretty good mood. My one niece ate everything except the table and the other refused to eat at all and talked the entire time about how great she was. Reading Dooce yesterday almost made me doubt my decision to not have kids, but then, er...no.

The worst part about not having kids is the jealousy you create in others who do have kids. "Must be nice to have time to do that..." "Just think if you had kids, you'd..." "Well, you don't have kids, so..." Then there's the people who tell you outright you are selfish for not having kids. Yes, I've been told that point blank. My older niece is always asking me why I don't have kids...wonder who put her up to that? I like kids just fine but not having them was just the best thing for us. It was a painful decision that took a couple of years to get clear on and now that I'm 39, I don't think I'll back out now. I have isolated moments of regret (like when I read Dooce's entry), but I know I will have to deal with those from time to time. So, don't lash out at your childless counterparts--it does hurt.

Well, ok...

You are Merino Wool.
You are very easygoing and sweet. People like to
keep you close because you are so softhearted.
You love to be comfortable and warm from your
head to your toes.


What kind of yarn are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

suck this...

I mean, I got a new vacuum cleaner. The other one had a variety of problems and with four cats and two dogs, 2 1/2 weeks of no vacuum means certain death from "fur-lung." We were dying. So, this new "turbo" bagless would probably shred a small poodle like a food processor. I am afraid of it. It doesn't get hung on the throw-rug fringe and make an awful burning smell like the old one, it rips the fringe out and afterward laughs like Linda Blair in the Exorcist. It likes to dismember things. The cats scattered like a surprise sneeze when I revved up the 12 amp motor. Poof! They know evil when they see it.

We finally went out to see Big Fish, so here's my review. You're either going to love it and cry your eyes out, or you are not going to get it and be bored. It's not a typical Tim Burton movie, although there are plenty of fantasy elements to the story. If you get it, you'll love it. I thought it was really touching in a way I would not forget anytime soon. It's been a long time since my heart hurt that bad during a movie. But, I can't really say that it was a sad movie. If you haven't seen it, you should. If you don't like it, well come on over and I'll show you my vacuum cleaner...

Holy shate. I might actually finish something in the giant UFO stash. I started this cute little duffle bag by Mags Kandis more than a year ago and, as is tradition in my house, let it languish--er, I mean "season"--in a project bag for at least a year. So, I'm really close to finishing it. And I now I'm pretty sure I hate intarsia. In fact I cheated and you can tell. For some reason I don't care and I can't figure out why. Usually I'm kind of anal about visible mistakes. Even worse, I got so cocky I finished out the intarsia hearts how I saw fit, completely ignoring the chart and doing it by sight. Eh, who cares. I'm a freak, what do you expect?

I guess I need to be putting up some Ebay items since I bought a new vacuum cleaner. Can't have more going out than coming in you know!

I don't know if you've noticed, but I did find a cheap photoblog and there's a link to it right under my 100 things link if you are so inclined. It ain't no gallery of fine images, but mostly a record of projects, ideas, pets, friends and family, etc.

Later, taters. Hope you've all had a great weekend and that you're "fine as frog's hair," as one local used to say to me. Gawd, I love the South.

Gah, first the giant ball, now...

Dammit K-town, can't we be in the news for something more interesting than giant balls and conservative cow-poke law? Wah. Pass the grits, me thinks I seen a boob!

so I'm a lemming...

Looks like I have been neglecting my northern neighbors...states I've visited are in red.


create your own visited states map
or write about it on the open travel guide
Well, everyone else was doing it...

happy baby!

And in a HAPPY post that deserves its own spot, the Dooce-meister has had a healthy baby girl. Congratulations to mom and beautiful baby!

no more...

My heart is heavy for the family of Carl*e Bruc*a. Every time something like this happens I watch the headline fill the top slot of the breaking news...and slowly throughout the day or week, it drops down through the list, becomes old news and then the grieving is left in the family's lap while we all go on about our business. It's not possible to really understand the "why." They will walk around with gaping holes in their hearts that will not heal. But, eventually they will learn to live with the hole and from time to time will be able to touch it and remember what it was like before it was ripped away.

Why, indeed.

not so bad...

The test wasn't so bad. I didn't even need happy juice. The best thing is there's no cancer cells or deteriorating bladder lining...which makes me wonder why the hell I just went through all that, but I shall not look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm due back in a couple of months for monitoring. And that's that.

Hell, I might even be in a good mood tomorrow for a change. Thanks for the happy thoughts. I'm counting my lucky stars and being thankful.

remember, killing people is against the law...

Class was short and sweet last night, but afterward was a rekindling of the last-nerve-abrasion-syndrome I seem to have lately.

On the way home, I stopped to get one of two expensive meds I have to take. My insurance company that is owned by the company I work for, has raised the Rx cost to include a $100 deductible at the beginning of the year and now only pays 60 percent of brand-name drugs. Well, lucky me, both drugs I have to take every freakin' day do not have a generic equivalent. So I pull up to the window, having paid my deductible, and ask for my script. "That will be $75." Instant headache. The moment money is tightest for us is the moment everything everywhere has doubled. Arrgggghhhh.

I got home, having cussed my insurance company the whole way, and hubby is not there, but there is a message on the machine. "I'm at the emergency room in room X." He had fallen and seriously bruised his ribs and nearly broke his wrist. Oh my God. Let me also throw in that I am at the very peak of PMS.

So, I got right back in my car, talking to myself the whole way like someone who has escaped the bowels of a turn-of-the-century institution and made my way to the hospital. Yup, there he was, white-faced and couldn't move without releasing a gutteral groan. I said half-jokingly, "I don't know whether to poke your eyes out or hug you." Dear gawd. The nurse brought his anti-imflammatory and pain-killer scripts and we proceed to check-out, where we pay our $100 co-pay. I go BACK to the drugstore, fill his scripts and throw him in a bath of epsom salts when I get home.

Heavens-to-mergatroids. I think I am going to ask for that happy shot when I get my cystoscopy done this afternoon. I need to be knocked out for an hour or two.

just call me "Gardyloo"...

Look out, because I'm in one hell of a mood today...again. Gah, enough with the bad moods already! Very bad night of sleep. Oh well, I'll get over it. Tonight is filled up with social work class and maybe a few rows of poor little Kyoto. Hell, it keeps me out of trouble I guess.

I added some links to some of the information in my "100 Things" list. I also decided my list should grow with even more absolutely worthless information. Being the curmudgeon I am, I had to be different; thus, the "Addendumb." Get it?

Tomorrow, the cystoscopy. No big deal. Just get it over with so I can go about my business!!! I have things to do, wool to felt and strange little figures to make for crying out loud!!!

Today's conundrum: I want a photoblog that's easy and free. I don't want to install MT. I have a limited number of brain cells and I have to protect them all. I want something easy like Typepad, but I don't want to pay for it, or at least not pay over $15 for a whole year. It seems I can get either "easy" or "free," but not both at the same time. Why? Why?!! WHY!!!???

confessions of a naughty knitter...

I had to rip Kyoto down to an inch of work. Yes, I had to rip the easiest pattern available in the modern world. Somehow, I didn't pay attention to, oh, say, at least three spots in the seed stitch sash section. Seed stitch needs to be perfect. Because I like seed stitch--it's like Stockinette with a perfectly proportioned rash. Ew. Well, I like it anyway. But I do not like bobbles. I don't know why but I think they're sissy. I just don't like 'em. [Update:The truth is I'm too "big-boned" to look good in extra yardage piled up in little wads. Bobbles are for skinny people...damn them.]

Anyway, lessons learned the hard way:

Do not knit anything more than Stockinette Stitch with anything more than a buzz.

Do not knit while sick--period. It's going to look just how you feel.

You may knit while angry, but check your work twice as often.

Knit more slowly while gossiping, er...discussing current events.

Do not knit while on the toilet. It's just not right. Really.

Oh, and I added one of those ridiculous "100 Things" list. Gah, I'm such a follower.

Well, uh, that was fun...

I had my intravenous pyelogram yesterday. The test wasn't all that bad, but I really had a hard time with the prep stuff. You know, the blast-your-guts-out saline solution gunk. I've had to take it before to prep for surgery, but for some reason, it made me really ill with nausea this time, not to mention it didn't start working until it was time to go to bed. I was up all night either so nauseated I couldn't sleep or presiding over the World of Musical Stink on my shiny white throne.

And all of that would have been okay...

except for the fact that when you take that stuff that makes you go, go, go, there's nothing to make it stop, stop, stop...until you are just empty. Apparently, I'm quite full of shit, which I admit I have been told before. I think the anxiety of exploding during the test was worse than the test. The only bad part of the actual test was trouble with the IV insertion. Apparently my veins decided to go AWOL. I've had IVs before and these (it tooks tries on both hands) were by far the most painful. Usually I don't flinch at needles. I was probably too dehydrated or something. I still feel crappy today from having my electrolytes sizzled and rearranged.

Janet Jackson's boob? Whatever. She has an album coming up. What a coincidence. Oh, the scandal. I couldn't care less. I thought it was a classless fiasco, but hey, it worked...she is the talk of the music industry this week.

The only show I make sure I get to see? My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance. Oh yes. Randi is being such a good sport, but her family is the most self-centered bunch of people I've ever seen. Even though it's a joke, their only concern is how they feel about her "fiance." Can you say "enmeshed?" Boundaries are good things people--she's a grown-up. Now, his family? Too entertaining in such a bad, bad way. It's going to be a culture clash extraordinare next week.

I dropped a bunch of stitches on Kyoto and have to rip three rows of seed stitch. Bugger. That's what I get for knitting on the toilet. No more dehydrated knitting.

AND HURRAH!!! DOOCE IS HAVING A BABY! RIGHT NOW, IN FACT.

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

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

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

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

turn and cough...

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

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

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

sucker!!

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

you are lightcyan #E0FFFF

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

the spacefem.com html color quiz

you can keep your catheter and...

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

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

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

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

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

not just for dessert anymore...

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

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

cryptic note passed to Karma during class...

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

p.s. Do you have any gum?

Uh-yuh...

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

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

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

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

Huh?

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

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

I found it on Ebay...

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

that's that...

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

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

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

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

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

chatty mcfeisty...

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

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

back up, back up, back up...

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

Must have eaten something bad...

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

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

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

What I REALLY want to knit is THIS.

the letter I'd like to write...

Dear Tampon Manufacturer,

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

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

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

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

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

Sincerely,
Happy Tampon User

And...

You should avail yourself of Dooce's soliloquy today.

happy birthday to the good doctor...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now. I feel all better.

who's your presidential dream date?

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

pity my score...

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

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

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

a little horse with heart...

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

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

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

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

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

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

but that's beside the point...

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

So what. That's beside the point.

tuesday...

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

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

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

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

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

conspicuous whining...

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

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

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

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

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

smile...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

icing on my cake!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

mixed nuts...

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

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

that warm fuzzy feeling...

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

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

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

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

By Beth Adelman for The Daily Cat

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

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

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

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

mondayne...

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

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

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

Mumbled. Just mumbled. I want my wings back.

knitters, get thee to a hat...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

welcome 2004...

It's almost here and quite frankly, I'm more than ready to let go of 2003. It was a rough year with lots of personal tests along the way.

There are some new/renewed things I want to try in 2004 (part of my "exploring" for the new year):

pinhole camera photography (Quaker Oats, here I come!)

get back to my B/W 35mm photography; I started getting sort of good at it and got lazy...

oil pastels (mainly of animals--I'm obsessed with animal portraits)

get back to writing poetry (it's where I came from)

get back to playing my piano (I can't figure out what has happened there)

resume fiddle lessons (so much fun!)

maybe a little oil painting for fun (exercising different muscles)

triangular weaving (my mom built three looms for me!!!!)

I think one of the most wonderful things I have found out about blogging is that I have found so much inspiration in other artists and crafters. I mean, some of you guys are just INCREDIBLE! Painters,collage artists, writers, photographers, sculptors, silversmiths, fiber artists, you name it! There's even a group of you knitters whom I personally identify as "Scary Knitters"--you people frighten me you are so prolific and skilled. Don't you ever sleep?

All of you guys are such a source of inspiration. Thank you for sharing your work and your wonderful gifts. Sometimes I feel alone in my aspirations, but having this e-connection to other similar folks has really given me a feeling of relatedness I needed, however virtual it might be. It's so nice to go to a blog and feel like "hey, we should live closer!"

Here's to 2004...I hope it's a fantastic and exciting year for you all! EXPLORE!!

Creation is a better means of self-expression than possession;
it is through creating, not possessing, that life is revealed.
--Vida D. Scudder (social activist and educator)

spinning and such...

Finally, some photos. Here is the hand-dyed angora/silk/wool I spun up and Navajo-plied. I started a little neck scarf (one end is pulled through the hole) last night. I hope I'll finish it tonight.

Next batch (from L to R): 2 ply Shetland, commercially dyed blue wool sample, single ply merino cross I processed myself from raw fleece; Navaho-plied mohair, wool and silk from roving I got at SAFF. At the front is a little mystery sample skein.

And more lovely wool/mohair roving from SAFF I spun into two-ply. To the right, some merino I spun into thick singles--gonna dye it soon.

And of course the gratuitous picture of our youngest kitty, Grayson. He's sleeping on an afghan I knitted--between Daddy's ankles, who is watching the tube.

really?

From The Guardian:

A psychiatrist who evaluated Germany's self-confessed cannibal told the murder trial yesterday that Armin Meiwes was completely sane but had "emotional problems".

No shit.

monday...

I thought today was Monday, but I just realized today is Tuesday. How about that?

Last night I took pictures of all the yarn I spun and plied over November and December, as well as progress on a tiny pull-through handspun angora scarf I started last night. (I could only afford a tiny bit of the beautiful hand-dyed roving from a vendor at SAFF so there wasn't much yarn to play with after it was all spun up. I navaho-plied it and lo and behold, the plying technique does indeed preserve the color sequence just like the spinning gods said it would. I could have done a better job on spinning it, but it turned out okay...first time I've spun angora...much easier to mess up than with wool. I think I might try tonight to dye some of the skeins I've spun. Ooooooh, fun! I'm stuck doing laundry all night tonight anyway.

So, why aren't you seeing any of those pictures? That would be because I forgot to bring my USB card reader with me. Yup...brought everything with me except for that handy little tool. You'll have to wait until evening. I know you are balling your eyes out.

I'm off to eat crackers for lunch and knit a few rows on my angora scarf. What an exciting life I have.

moving right along...

Ah, crap. Back at work. But that's okay--it's a short week (again, woo-hoo!).

So, to recap this stellar year of 2003:

I gained the 30 pounds back that I lost.

We went totally broke.

I started selling my artwork in earnest.

I learned to spin and got a wheel.

I bought way too many knitting books and had no time to knit.

I spun more yarn than I know what to do with.

I destashed my commercial yarn by at least one-third on Ebay.

I made my first non-A (B+) in grad school.

I got to enjoy two one-week classes with Jean Hicks and Akira Blount.

I found out that Akira's first name used to be Betty.

I found out that my dad has learned to show some love and sympathy.

I learned that there is yet more serious work to do in my marriage but feel confident we are going to make it for the first time.

I realized that I need a bigger support network.

Daddy's kitty, Peanut, passed away from a cancerous tumor.

I didn't get my hair cut even once in 2003.

I quit coloring my hair.

I colored my mom's hair for the first time in her life. We both hated it.

I got a drum carder (oh-la-la!).

I got my first pair of Brittany birch knitting needles. Now I wish all my needles were Brittanys.

I made my husband swear he wouldn't back out on a hobby farm when we can afford it.

I learned how to Navajo ply and make silk fusion.

I actually printed business cards for my artwork.

My dogs continued to get fatter, as both my husband and I did.

I gave up on one of my old friends.

I made new friends.

and it was good...

I had a great Christmas. I felt connected to my family...shopping was kept to a minimum and I got some gifts from hubby that were really meaningful to me--one of which was a prayer box necklace. I am going to put into it my one and only resolution for 2004: "Explore."

Now, on to the pictoral:
Rasta Santa (played by my brother with my mother by his side) came to see us and gave us all prettily wrapped reindeer droppings...you should hear his Jamaican accent--my brother is so terribly white...


whilst Princess Sadie munched upon delicious Christmas rope monkey...


darling Pickles enjoyed treats of exotic biscuit...


and the kitties were enthralled with jungle toys of plush and feather...




all in all, we were exhausted from the excitement and fellowship Christmas brought to us in abundance. Atticus was the first to nap...


After Christmas, we gave my mother a surprise birthday party. It was her 70th! Happy Birthday Ma! You are awesome!

merry Christmas!!

I love Christmas. I really do. And to completely copy Lizzie's idea:

And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.
-Dr. Seuss

I miss Dr. Seuss.

So, when I got home, the inevitable happened. I took the first niece's hat out of the running. I wasn't happy with it. The purple wool I made it with turned out to be a disappointment and wouldn't firm up the way I wanted it to. So I ditched it and laid out wool for TWO new hats--that had to be done in one night. These were "hats-on-a-ball" so I needed a partner to cover the wool with pantyhose (I'll explain this all someday with pictures so you can see what the process is). But hubby didn't get home until 8 p.m. Yikes! I was getting really nervous, especially since these hats were going to be the girls' main Christmas presents from us. But, as luck would have it, they both turned out really great and I actually got to bed at a decent hour. I used superfine Merino wool which felts really fast and smooth. I think I turned these two out at absolutely record time. No matter how bad I feel, felting almost always makes me feel better. It's great upper-body exercise and so satisfying to me. Now, the challenge is to get them DRY before tomorrow morning!!! Merino really hangs onto moisture. I guess the hairdryers will have to come out tonight.

Speaking of tonight....my family is coming over for a little potluck Christmas fun. My family is very laid back so I don't have to scrub the house with a toothbrush like some people feel obligated to do. It should be fun and the cats will be thrilled to have eight more hands in the house to pet them!

Then later tonight, hubby and I will exchange stockings and give the pups and kitties their presents. I will be sure to take pictures.

Tomorrow, we trek over to spend Christmas morning with hubby's family and the nieces. It should be fun and I will be excited to see the girls in their hats. They are really well-off financially and sometimes I really worry about them becoming spoiled. They get so many presents that they get TIRED of opening them. That's too much. They get everything they want all the time. Oh well, I don't have kids, so I guess I shouldn't talk, but I just worry that they will not understand the difference between things and love. I think that's why I like to MAKE something for them because it's not a store-bought luxury.

Hubby and I will exchange our few gifts somewhere in there...we haven't decided where we fit in the schedule just yet.

And I am so thankful for all the wonderful blessings I have enjoyed this year and continue to enjoy.

Whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope yours is filled with love and generosity of spirit!

OH, I ALMOST FORGOT: TODAY IS MY BROTHER'S BIRTHDAY---HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRO'!!!!! LOVE YA!

whine.com

That's what I should call my blog at this point. And I'm about to do it again today. After taking my first dose of mega-biotics, I woke up with the most tremendous headache I have ever had in my life. I was getting sick to my stomach, could only open my eyes to slits and stare straight ahead. Like Joe Schmoe says "What is going on?!!!" Anyway, I had to take some headache medicine (that made about 25 pills fighting over my body) and lay back down for a while. Maybe I should rename the blog "pill-popper.com."

The bladder infection symptoms have been greatly lessened. And THAT IS A GOOD THING. I peed a beautiful emerald green this morning. I was hoping it would be blue. I really am not fond of emerald green. Oh well. I don't expect peeing to be an artistic endeavor. I've been sent to the urologist again for January. Going to see the urologist rates pretty high on the humiliation scale. Pretty soon I won't even care if I'm walking naked down the street.

Last night I mustered up the energy to crank out one the niece's hats. One more to go before Christmas, which is uh, soon. I'm a little disappointed in what I made last night, but I'm not sure I feel up to redoing it. The silk separated a little from the wool and though no one other than a fellow felter would even take note of such a thing, it bothers me. The more I think about it, the more it bothers me. I guess I'll wait until it's drier before I panic.

Friends M and B bought my dinner last night before I embarked on the hatmaking. Thanks! They both ordered hats for one another, but neither knew. It made for some careful conversations on my end. I couldn't let one know the other had talked to me. I almost felt (ha, no pun intended) bad taking money from both of them. It was kind of funny I guess. They've already exchanged gifts before heading out of town to see family and love their hats. I made a question mark hat with a navy background for B and the whipstitched toque (one of my favorites) got resized and went to M. Thanks guys! Hope you enjoy them.

Afterthought--Sheesh, and then tomorrow my family is coming over. Gotta cook. Christmas Eve is also my brother's birthday--gotta get a card. Then Saturday there's my mother's surprise birthday party for which I need to go get decorations and make her hat. These antibiotics better start hoofing it--I gotta lot to do!

choose your poison...

Back from the doc with a script for mega-antibiotics and a pill that makes my pee turn blue. Yee-haw. Surprise, I have a bladder infection. Duh.

aw shit.

Crap. The doc's nurse pratitioner called back and said I have to come in today. Expletive!!! Expletive!!! Expletive!!! Expletive!!! Expletive!!! Expletive!!! I know why I'm peeing blood. I've had these gawd-awful things three million times. I've already been to the urologist, the uro-gynecologist (who gives me the creeps) and everyone else in the world. Bleh. Now I have to pee in a cup. Again. Bah! Bah! Maybe I can just install a line from my toilet to the doctor's office so they can examine everything I excrete. Here's your daily pee and poo, Dr. C (primary care), Nurse P. H (the nurse practitioner at Dr. C's office, Dr. L (gynecologist), Dr. F (urologist) and Dr. D (uro-gynecologist--the one who creeps me out). Hey, maybe *I* am the reason for the high cost of healthcare!

Makes sense to me.

uggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

Well, now I know why have a been so sluggish and feeling really hot over the past couple of days (needing no coat in 25 degree weather just ain't normal). I have a terrible bladder infection, of which the symptoms decided to appear at full blast last night. Oooooooooooh. Miserable. Just taking a piss brings uncontrollable tears to my eyes. I called the doc first thing to try and get some antibiotics to get it under control. I have interstitial cystitis, a chronic inflammation of the bladder, so it's really easy for me to get these little bastards. Usually I can get it under control with over-the-counter meds, but not this one. This one has laughed at the little orange pills and continued to make me miserable. Bah!

The situation with the loved one is under control, thanks to good old fashioned communication. I had to say some things that were horribly uncomfortable, but getting it all out on the table helped a lot.

I got another hat order 90 percent done over the weekend, which is a good thing. I am going to try and finish it up over lunch.

Must...drink...water...

wtf?????

Roto-Rooter stock jumps on purchase of rest of Vitas Healthcare
This is one of those times when it's perfectly acceptable to just turn your head to the side and say "huh?"