the temperatures today were a bit cooler than they have been, but so very nice. the sky was a bright blue (which seared my eyeballs), the breeze playfully kicked leaves up in swirls (which activated decayed organic matter and distributed the microscopic spores into the air, making it much easier for them to invade the tender swollen irritated tissues of my sinuses and lungs, ahhhhhhh fall), and it was just so beautiful outside (which is why i burrowed beneath my covers and took a nap).
since i have an entire dresser top of baking supplies (why yes, my dresser is in the kitchen; isn't yours?), including peanut butter and two bunches of nicely ripening bananas; i decided to bake some bread. now this isn't bread as in yeast bread, it is bread as in quick bread. quick breads are those cake-like loaves which do not rely on yeast as the leavening (rising) agent. quick breads rely on soda (baking) and/or powder (again, baking. many partiers rely on soda and powder to get a rise out of things. i myself before tea and do not like to snort powder (but do in the form of decayed leaves and sticky pollens; oh! and dust).
the bread is now baking and the smell is so good, i could slice it and eat it right now.
06 November 2007
nappage, part 2
i'm bound to get my nap today.
currently my brunch is in the oven and i've already been to town and back. i've done the dishes and changed back into my comfy clothes. after i eat a little, i plan to snuggle down with Laura Child's Chamomile Mourning. if i drift off into a good snooze, that'd be delightful!
currently my brunch is in the oven and i've already been to town and back. i've done the dishes and changed back into my comfy clothes. after i eat a little, i plan to snuggle down with Laura Child's Chamomile Mourning. if i drift off into a good snooze, that'd be delightful!
vote! and whatta day!
this will be short, cuz i've sleep on my mind. i didn't get my full nap. i had just assumed the comfy position of hips splayed and left knee under chin, my left arm wrapped around my baby-pillow and my right arm straightened under my head, my head turned sharply at a 45 degree angle so that my throat is elongated just so (to maximize my breathing potential, see). i find the best way to get into this comfort zone (others eat oatmeal cookies and drink warm milk, i contort my body, it's all about comfort) is to flop onto my belly and then sprawl into pose while in the second bounce. if i do this just right, the covers flutter down just like those laundry detergent commercials.
my alpha waves were beginning to suck me down deeper into snoozing, about to dump me into drooling dreaming sleep. i heard a nasally honk and bounded out of bed, heart racing, pleading, "screw the cap on, for god's sake, screw the cap on" (maybe i was dreaming about gas stations and the rising cost of gas and escaping gas fumes; that or leaking pens). i stuck my head out the door, then remembered that my postal-dude doesn't need to see me in my whites (in fact, he asked me not to greet him in my panties, and wanting to be of service to the postal service, i agreed; i'm an easy-going people-pleasing gal). so i stuck my "wait a minute" finger out the door and set off to the bathroom in search of my pants.
by the time i made it out the door, my postal-dude had placed my package and day's mail in my car and was pulling back onto the dirt road (he does have a schedule to keep, ya know, thru rain, sleet, and snow. today was bright sunny blue and sorta warmish, still that's no excuse for being late, the show must go on). for those of you who remember walter and bonnie, you may also remember that walt has died in april, and that bonnie doesn't do much of anything on the computer (and certainly not anything online). so between bonnie's avoidance of the computer and my avoidance of the phone, we rely on the age-old form of communication; hand-written notes amongst tea bags, dog treats, and colored pencils~all delivered thru the US Postal Service (gotta love america, where the postal rate increases on a twice-yearly schedule that seems outrageous (.41?!?!?) til viewed from the gas per gallon perspective (oh whew, 41 cents), perspective, it's allllll about perspective). bonnie is my furrbee's faerie goddess. they are so spoilt.
because the postal-dude usually goes around 3ish (but on friday last went around 4:30), i was slightly panicked with the realization that i didn't have much time to run my errands (get drugs, drop off books/renew domiKnitrix, brave the campus curves and pedestrians to get to the registrar's office to pick up another transcript for my guy, pay my electric bill at the new office on the highway (it's been there for a year, but it is still new), pump a few gallons gas into my car, and pay the garbage bill at the old bank (which is not considered the garbage place yet, it's only been 5 yrs, after all); then make my five-ish appt); so I rushed around, hacking a brush in the general direction of my head and strapping on a bra (hideous things, i threw this one away when i took it off tonight, i felt like i was on a half-shell and spilling out with profusion, my cuppeth diddith runneth overeth majorly), then jumping into the car.
i then ran all my errands as quickly as i could, never realizing that my car's clock was not 2 minutes slow, rather was 58 minutes fast. so when i arrived at my 5ish appt at 4:30ish, gasping out apologies for being so late; well, they just took my odd behavior in stride, cuz i'm uhm odd.
later, when i did get home, my landlady had called to leave a message and i got all panicky again (see the pattern here? i get panicky lots) and called her, expecting the worst, like maybe they sold the farm and i had to find another home cuz the new owners were planning to burn the trailer (blight that it is). instead my landlady told me that the king sized featherbed that she had that her husband (i love you, mr landlord!) detested and that i wanted for my guy's king sized bed (cuz my guy does like my queen sized feather bed on my queen sized bed; so i think it is a pretty safe bet that he will like one sized for his very own bed) was cleaned and ready for me!! oh yes! oh happy day! oh blissful night! or wonderous wonders!!
so i grabbed seven bags full of yarn and half completed projects (or half begun projects, perspective it's allllllllllllll about perspective) and drove down the dirt road to the Big House with much glee and cheer (or was that the no-sleep, extra dose of meds?). so i just now got home from a crochet lesson (pretty good trade, huh?) with a very fluffy backseat. i thought about sprawling out in my car tonight, but decided that oddness ought only to go so far.
besides, sleeping in my car is so 2001.
my alpha waves were beginning to suck me down deeper into snoozing, about to dump me into drooling dreaming sleep. i heard a nasally honk and bounded out of bed, heart racing, pleading, "screw the cap on, for god's sake, screw the cap on" (maybe i was dreaming about gas stations and the rising cost of gas and escaping gas fumes; that or leaking pens). i stuck my head out the door, then remembered that my postal-dude doesn't need to see me in my whites (in fact, he asked me not to greet him in my panties, and wanting to be of service to the postal service, i agreed; i'm an easy-going people-pleasing gal). so i stuck my "wait a minute" finger out the door and set off to the bathroom in search of my pants.
by the time i made it out the door, my postal-dude had placed my package and day's mail in my car and was pulling back onto the dirt road (he does have a schedule to keep, ya know, thru rain, sleet, and snow. today was bright sunny blue and sorta warmish, still that's no excuse for being late, the show must go on). for those of you who remember walter and bonnie, you may also remember that walt has died in april, and that bonnie doesn't do much of anything on the computer (and certainly not anything online). so between bonnie's avoidance of the computer and my avoidance of the phone, we rely on the age-old form of communication; hand-written notes amongst tea bags, dog treats, and colored pencils~all delivered thru the US Postal Service (gotta love america, where the postal rate increases on a twice-yearly schedule that seems outrageous (.41?!?!?) til viewed from the gas per gallon perspective (oh whew, 41 cents), perspective, it's allllll about perspective). bonnie is my furrbee's faerie goddess. they are so spoilt.
because the postal-dude usually goes around 3ish (but on friday last went around 4:30), i was slightly panicked with the realization that i didn't have much time to run my errands (get drugs, drop off books/renew domiKnitrix, brave the campus curves and pedestrians to get to the registrar's office to pick up another transcript for my guy, pay my electric bill at the new office on the highway (it's been there for a year, but it is still new), pump a few gallons gas into my car, and pay the garbage bill at the old bank (which is not considered the garbage place yet, it's only been 5 yrs, after all); then make my five-ish appt); so I rushed around, hacking a brush in the general direction of my head and strapping on a bra (hideous things, i threw this one away when i took it off tonight, i felt like i was on a half-shell and spilling out with profusion, my cuppeth diddith runneth overeth majorly), then jumping into the car.
i then ran all my errands as quickly as i could, never realizing that my car's clock was not 2 minutes slow, rather was 58 minutes fast. so when i arrived at my 5ish appt at 4:30ish, gasping out apologies for being so late; well, they just took my odd behavior in stride, cuz i'm uhm odd.
later, when i did get home, my landlady had called to leave a message and i got all panicky again (see the pattern here? i get panicky lots) and called her, expecting the worst, like maybe they sold the farm and i had to find another home cuz the new owners were planning to burn the trailer (blight that it is). instead my landlady told me that the king sized featherbed that she had that her husband (i love you, mr landlord!) detested and that i wanted for my guy's king sized bed (cuz my guy does like my queen sized feather bed on my queen sized bed; so i think it is a pretty safe bet that he will like one sized for his very own bed) was cleaned and ready for me!! oh yes! oh happy day! oh blissful night! or wonderous wonders!!
so i grabbed seven bags full of yarn and half completed projects (or half begun projects, perspective it's allllllllllllll about perspective) and drove down the dirt road to the Big House with much glee and cheer (or was that the no-sleep, extra dose of meds?). so i just now got home from a crochet lesson (pretty good trade, huh?) with a very fluffy backseat. i thought about sprawling out in my car tonight, but decided that oddness ought only to go so far.
besides, sleeping in my car is so 2001.
05 November 2007
sleep's siren song
nnnnnnnnnnnnnnappage
nnnnnnnnnnzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
ngah, schhhuuuuuuuu
nnnnnnnnnnzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
ngah, schhhuuuuuuuu
04 November 2007
...why oh why am i not surprised...?
mom is not here. last evening, she sent me email (i abhor phones and avoid them when i can) telling me that the guys determined that her brakes need new shoes (and socks, mom's crocheting them now). they lamented that they don't have the equipment to replace them, so she must go to the shop to have them done. also that means that they will be done correctly and with warranty. i'll sleep better knowing this is driving with brakes that have been put on by the professionals (albeit a slow-blinking, slow-speaking, slow-thinking one or group of ones~~that'd be four or more), mechanics who know their stuff and gosh darnit, i like em!
so, we will try the whole mom-visits thing again, at the end of the month. which means that the 15 pounds of flour, 10 pounds of sugar, 5 dozen eggs, 3 pounds shortening, 2 pounds butter, and half a pound of yeast (along with a myriad of other baking ingredients) will be used by my lil ole self. i've decided to venture into unchartered territory, cuz i'm brave like that. actually, i'm not; but the siren songs of all the pounds of fattening stuffs sings thru my bloodstream, keeping me awake and visions of sugared scones are dancing thru my head (they are nonfattening there, in my head).
i've decided scones are just the ticket. and bread; harvest bread and dinner rolls will be my contribution to my guy's family's thanksgiving. and of course there are the reliable standards of my holiday baking, cookies! lots and lots of cookies will come from my oven between thanksgiving and christmas. you feed the oven creamed buttery sugar with eggs and flour and it gives you cookies!! i can smell em now.
or that could be my sugar-cookie scented candle.
so, we will try the whole mom-visits thing again, at the end of the month. which means that the 15 pounds of flour, 10 pounds of sugar, 5 dozen eggs, 3 pounds shortening, 2 pounds butter, and half a pound of yeast (along with a myriad of other baking ingredients) will be used by my lil ole self. i've decided to venture into unchartered territory, cuz i'm brave like that. actually, i'm not; but the siren songs of all the pounds of fattening stuffs sings thru my bloodstream, keeping me awake and visions of sugared scones are dancing thru my head (they are nonfattening there, in my head).
i've decided scones are just the ticket. and bread; harvest bread and dinner rolls will be my contribution to my guy's family's thanksgiving. and of course there are the reliable standards of my holiday baking, cookies! lots and lots of cookies will come from my oven between thanksgiving and christmas. you feed the oven creamed buttery sugar with eggs and flour and it gives you cookies!! i can smell em now.
or that could be my sugar-cookie scented candle.
03 November 2007
where have all the flowers gone,
girls have picked them every one.~~folk song of same name, by Pete
Seeger and Joe Hickerson (also first to record KumBaYa), after Senator
McCarthy interrogated them (1956; McCarthyism); song gained popularity
thru-out the 60s, sung at peace rallies
Earlier I was researching, describing, and selecting a wide array of flowers for my friend who just got engaged and will be marrying at the end of Jan, beginning of Feb. I couldn't simply paste a pic into eMail, since my friend is blind and that would be defeating the purpose. so there i am, describing petals and leaves without waving my arms around to help you visualize my words (and to help me speak, cuz ya'll know i can't just say something without keeping my fingers and arms busy. i contort my face and mouth words silently as i type, fingers flying almost as fast as i can talk. when i am talking with my guy, i often am driving, or knitting, or crocheting and keeping my fingers and hands occupied. if i were tied up, i would be rendered speechless. pervs. wink)
her sister had sent her a list of winter wedding flowers and a list of year-round wedding flowers. it's from those lists that i then reviewed the selections. below is an excerpt of what i had to say in my email to my friend:
these are *only* suggestions, k? you won't hurt my feelings at all if you go with something different. i made the suggestions so that you might have a smaller range of options and not feel so overwhelmed, but if you like something entirely different, it is *your* day and you should make it special for you!!
my top choices for bouquets: winter wedding flowers~~ Ranunculus (fave of bunch for you), sweet pea (fave of bunch for *young maid of honor, her 11 yr old daughter*); camillas; daffodils; tulips; year-round~~calla lily is tres chic, very elegant with no other accompaniment other than a simple bouquet of long stems of these (for you); lily of the valley (for *young maid of honor, her 11 yr old daughter*); gladiolus might be a good choice for you, if you'd like lots of color with a friendly familiar flower (might be too large for the girls)
perhaps the flower girl can have petals of a mixture of larger scented blooms, or very small individual blooms in a basket; i was at one wedding that gave the flower girl a basket of confetti to toss and one that used a mixture of bird seed and rice (i know those are traditional for after the ceremony) sometimes, the flower girl has a small simple bouquet and does not toss anything (saves on clean up and also can keep a small child on task, instead of having lots of stuff to remember)
maybe if you did calla lilies for your bouquet, you could do lily of the valley for your hair-piece, katie's bouquet, and the flower-girl's. just an idea.
Earlier I was researching, describing, and selecting a wide array of flowers for my friend who just got engaged and will be marrying at the end of Jan, beginning of Feb. I couldn't simply paste a pic into eMail, since my friend is blind and that would be defeating the purpose. so there i am, describing petals and leaves without waving my arms around to help you visualize my words (and to help me speak, cuz ya'll know i can't just say something without keeping my fingers and arms busy. i contort my face and mouth words silently as i type, fingers flying almost as fast as i can talk. when i am talking with my guy, i often am driving, or knitting, or crocheting and keeping my fingers and hands occupied. if i were tied up, i would be rendered speechless. pervs. wink)
her sister had sent her a list of winter wedding flowers and a list of year-round wedding flowers. it's from those lists that i then reviewed the selections. below is an excerpt of what i had to say in my email to my friend:
these are *only* suggestions, k? you won't hurt my feelings at all if you go with something different. i made the suggestions so that you might have a smaller range of options and not feel so overwhelmed, but if you like something entirely different, it is *your* day and you should make it special for you!!
my top choices for bouquets: winter wedding flowers~~ Ranunculus (fave of bunch for you), sweet pea (fave of bunch for *young maid of honor, her 11 yr old daughter*); camillas; daffodils; tulips; year-round~~calla lily is tres chic, very elegant with no other accompaniment other than a simple bouquet of long stems of these (for you); lily of the valley (for *young maid of honor, her 11 yr old daughter*); gladiolus might be a good choice for you, if you'd like lots of color with a friendly familiar flower (might be too large for the girls)
perhaps the flower girl can have petals of a mixture of larger scented blooms, or very small individual blooms in a basket; i was at one wedding that gave the flower girl a basket of confetti to toss and one that used a mixture of bird seed and rice (i know those are traditional for after the ceremony) sometimes, the flower girl has a small simple bouquet and does not toss anything (saves on clean up and also can keep a small child on task, instead of having lots of stuff to remember)
maybe if you did calla lilies for your bouquet, you could do lily of the valley for your hair-piece, katie's bouquet, and the flower-girl's. just an idea.
02 November 2007
master-procast'er
i just talked with mom and she said that the guys (my father and brother) are going to change her oil tomorrow and look at her brakes. which means that there is NO way in hell (or here in mississippi or there in arkansas; all of them are the same place) that she will get on the road tomorrow. and maybe not even sunday.
this is because my father has taught my brother well. i know other men (and women, too no doubt) are good about procastination; but my father, he is truly the master-procast'er. i am but a mere grasshopper. not that i want to be anything but, at least in this area of putting off til next year what should have been done last week.
my dad, bless his heart, manages to make a fifteen minute job spread over four hours (and that's on a fast/bad day; his best times for the fifteen minute job are: first place, never. second place, 25 yrs. third place, 7 yrs. fourth place, 2 months. after that, it is hardly worth counting). changing the oil can take a good week of total focus for my father. in case you think i jest, let me give you a sample of the last time i let my father change my oil (cuz, he reasoned, it would save me money so that i could make my trip from his home (which then was in pa) to my home (which was then in ga); stupidly i thought so too, not realizing that what i saved in money was not worth what i spent in time). the task went something like this:
Preparation: (if only i had my father's notes from this event from over 10 yrs ago, i know he still does!) first, make a lengthy and detailed list of all steps, tools, instructions, and dance moves necessary. pause often during the writing of this list so that he can make coffee, fix his cup of coffee, drink his cup of coffee; discuss the quality of materials, where i should buy said filter and oil, and which brands are to be avoided at all cost (and why). the discussion can cover (and does) hours and hours. arguments and debates ensue as the myriad of multitude of guy friends stop by to also have coffee (which means that more pots of coffee must be made, followed by the ritualistic preparation of the perfect cup with precisely the right ratio of sugar/cream/coffee/air). the discussion of materials for the oil change has now shifted into the pontification of perfect coffee. the discussion then branches into particular types of beans of coffee with the arrival of pete (who never drinks coffee but only beer, and has much curiosity of the coffee selection and grinding and making and drinking process). the apartment now has so much testosterone in it that i feel myself growing balls the size of grapefruit (and find myself scratching and rearranging them often). the sun has set, so the Great Oil Change of the Summer of 96 must wait til tomorrow.
Day Two: We all straggle into the kitchen (social mecca) at various times, much imbibing of coffee commences (i didn't LIKE coffee, the texture is all wrong, it should have a more substantial body instead of being liquid; so i chewed the used grounds, and learned to spit from the skoal tuckin' good ol boys). by the time we have all began to say sentences instead of merely pointing and grunting, it is now after noon and lunch must be contemplated. this entire time, my father has carried the list and pencil with him so that he can add notes and check over it often. the list has now become an outline with several pages (backs of envelops), complete with roman numerals, capital letters, numbers, and little letters. he has began to list which tools MAY be needed at each stage of the process. this includes parts and tools which may be kept on hand, at the ready, just in case they are needed. my father deploys josh and bobbert and pete to locate the chainsaw. we run out of coffee beans. josh cannot find his chapstick. hal and jim are sent to the store to get cream and coffee. josh finds the stick of super glue my father lost 3 yrs prior to that. pete screams like a little girl from the depths of the big garage. josh has sealed his lips together (but can't tell anyone he did so). bobbert rushes into the kitchen sweating and gasping. hal and jim arrive with the coffee and MILK. must return to store to get CREAM. pete must be taken to the clinic for a tetanus shot and 25 stitches because he sliced his arm open on a rusty nail. bobbert goes too, because he has been bitten by spiders and 3 snakes. hal returns because he forgot money. josh must also go to the clinic because he tried to use acetone to unseal his lips. pete is now drunk on rolling rock, yet insists he drive the guys to the clinic. my father remembers that he loaned the chainsaw to doug and makes a note (on a different list) to call doug to retrieve chainsaw.
things continued in this fashion while i sneaked from the house and drove my car to a garage and got the oil changed. i then went to visit my mom and several friends. when i returned to my father's 5 days later, he was still making a list and there was a chainsaw sitting on the kitchen counter next to the coffee-maker. he said that doug heard about The Oil Change Project and brought it by, cuz he was sure they would need it.
I may not see mom til next decade.
this is because my father has taught my brother well. i know other men (and women, too no doubt) are good about procastination; but my father, he is truly the master-procast'er. i am but a mere grasshopper. not that i want to be anything but, at least in this area of putting off til next year what should have been done last week.
my dad, bless his heart, manages to make a fifteen minute job spread over four hours (and that's on a fast/bad day; his best times for the fifteen minute job are: first place, never. second place, 25 yrs. third place, 7 yrs. fourth place, 2 months. after that, it is hardly worth counting). changing the oil can take a good week of total focus for my father. in case you think i jest, let me give you a sample of the last time i let my father change my oil (cuz, he reasoned, it would save me money so that i could make my trip from his home (which then was in pa) to my home (which was then in ga); stupidly i thought so too, not realizing that what i saved in money was not worth what i spent in time). the task went something like this:
Preparation: (if only i had my father's notes from this event from over 10 yrs ago, i know he still does!) first, make a lengthy and detailed list of all steps, tools, instructions, and dance moves necessary. pause often during the writing of this list so that he can make coffee, fix his cup of coffee, drink his cup of coffee; discuss the quality of materials, where i should buy said filter and oil, and which brands are to be avoided at all cost (and why). the discussion can cover (and does) hours and hours. arguments and debates ensue as the myriad of multitude of guy friends stop by to also have coffee (which means that more pots of coffee must be made, followed by the ritualistic preparation of the perfect cup with precisely the right ratio of sugar/cream/coffee/air). the discussion of materials for the oil change has now shifted into the pontification of perfect coffee. the discussion then branches into particular types of beans of coffee with the arrival of pete (who never drinks coffee but only beer, and has much curiosity of the coffee selection and grinding and making and drinking process). the apartment now has so much testosterone in it that i feel myself growing balls the size of grapefruit (and find myself scratching and rearranging them often). the sun has set, so the Great Oil Change of the Summer of 96 must wait til tomorrow.
Day Two: We all straggle into the kitchen (social mecca) at various times, much imbibing of coffee commences (i didn't LIKE coffee, the texture is all wrong, it should have a more substantial body instead of being liquid; so i chewed the used grounds, and learned to spit from the skoal tuckin' good ol boys). by the time we have all began to say sentences instead of merely pointing and grunting, it is now after noon and lunch must be contemplated. this entire time, my father has carried the list and pencil with him so that he can add notes and check over it often. the list has now become an outline with several pages (backs of envelops), complete with roman numerals, capital letters, numbers, and little letters. he has began to list which tools MAY be needed at each stage of the process. this includes parts and tools which may be kept on hand, at the ready, just in case they are needed. my father deploys josh and bobbert and pete to locate the chainsaw. we run out of coffee beans. josh cannot find his chapstick. hal and jim are sent to the store to get cream and coffee. josh finds the stick of super glue my father lost 3 yrs prior to that. pete screams like a little girl from the depths of the big garage. josh has sealed his lips together (but can't tell anyone he did so). bobbert rushes into the kitchen sweating and gasping. hal and jim arrive with the coffee and MILK. must return to store to get CREAM. pete must be taken to the clinic for a tetanus shot and 25 stitches because he sliced his arm open on a rusty nail. bobbert goes too, because he has been bitten by spiders and 3 snakes. hal returns because he forgot money. josh must also go to the clinic because he tried to use acetone to unseal his lips. pete is now drunk on rolling rock, yet insists he drive the guys to the clinic. my father remembers that he loaned the chainsaw to doug and makes a note (on a different list) to call doug to retrieve chainsaw.
things continued in this fashion while i sneaked from the house and drove my car to a garage and got the oil changed. i then went to visit my mom and several friends. when i returned to my father's 5 days later, he was still making a list and there was a chainsaw sitting on the kitchen counter next to the coffee-maker. he said that doug heard about The Oil Change Project and brought it by, cuz he was sure they would need it.
I may not see mom til next decade.
a few lessons
there is a local program and center called Emerson Family First Resource Center that hosts many other sorts of workshops and sessions, including Healthy Marriages, Healthy Kids (which hosts other programs in turn, including Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University). With all the nesting of programs within programs, it can get confusing; fortunately, they don't stress that (but I do, cuz I like to know who is doing what and why, i'm just nosy that way). Also, every month, Family First hosts a series of classes for that month. Sometimes they're more serious (Eating Healthy) and other times they are more fun (stamping creative classes). Usually you need to pre-register, so that they have an idea how many folks will be there...cuz the classes are FREE and they usually serve sandwiches or something if the class is during lunch or supper hours. AND they provide child-care while you are in class, FREE. (gasp)
So, this morning, I called and pre-registered for several classes: pattern and skirt making; purse making; disability educational support group; i'm ok, you're ok (self-esteem); and how to relax with clay. That's alot of classes, but there is a method behind my madness. See, usually I get more anxious and more depressed during the holidays. One reason is because folks will ask what I'm up to lately and I have a hard time thinking of stuff that makes sense. So I figured if I schedule things to get me out of the house (and away from my bed) then I might feel better. Especially since these projects are finite and there is a feeling of accomplishment when I can bring home something I've made, like a skirt, a purse, knowledge that leads to conclusions.
And also there is something about feeling better about myself that makes dealing with others (esp those folks at the holiday gatherings) easier; I feel more confident and more at ease and it comes thru. I think not only am I more comfortable, but i think others are more comfortable with me.
So, this morning, I called and pre-registered for several classes: pattern and skirt making; purse making; disability educational support group; i'm ok, you're ok (self-esteem); and how to relax with clay. That's alot of classes, but there is a method behind my madness. See, usually I get more anxious and more depressed during the holidays. One reason is because folks will ask what I'm up to lately and I have a hard time thinking of stuff that makes sense. So I figured if I schedule things to get me out of the house (and away from my bed) then I might feel better. Especially since these projects are finite and there is a feeling of accomplishment when I can bring home something I've made, like a skirt, a purse, knowledge that leads to conclusions.
And also there is something about feeling better about myself that makes dealing with others (esp those folks at the holiday gatherings) easier; I feel more confident and more at ease and it comes thru. I think not only am I more comfortable, but i think others are more comfortable with me.
01 November 2007
Last Wed, 24 Oct, my guy's sister delivered a little girl. She's the only girl baby amongst all boys in my guy's family. Well, my guy has two sisters, but I mean in their families, it's all little boys. Anyway, my guy comes from a family of little people. His sister (A) who is a few years younger than we are, is 4'8". His mother is 4'10. And his other sister (B), the baby, is 5 foot. So my guy is the largest one of the lot. He stands about my height, 5'6" or so. Both sisters are married and have children. Sister A's husband is 6'2" and they make a striking couple; so much so that their wedding photographer uses their pictures for promotion purposes!
So I asked my guy if he knew any of the stats (he has been very busy, so I wasn't expecting him to remember much of anything; I reminded him that Sister A was pregnant and due sometime really soon, the weekend before she delivered). He didn't remember but said that he spoke with his mom and his sister and they both said that Baby Girl is very small. Yes, I'd imagine so.
It's been a long time since I've seen a little baby. Three was a ten pound newborn. And Sister B's youngest was small yes, but average for a newborn. I'm really looking forward to seeing Baby Girl. I know the name that they were considering, but I'm not sure if that's what they decided on. I hope so because it really is pretty and we all have been referring to her for months now by the name!
Well, I stopped at Wal-Mart today and picked up two skeins of soft pink baby yarn (super soft, but not all fuzzy) so I can do a baby-blanket. I've already got several rows done. I knew that Sister A was to deliver when she did and that the baby was a girl, but I was kinda hesitant for a couple reasons. One is that Sister A has had miscarriages in the past, and I didn't want to jinx anything. That may seem silly, but I just didn't want to take the chance. And another reason I held off is cuz Sister A is particular.
I didn't want to make something that she wouldn't end up using. I like to make things people like and want to use. But I didn't want her to feel like she has to use it, if she doesn't want to. So I was sorta waffling on making anything.
I'm not tremendously close to my guy's family. I've been able to relax more around them, this year than the last few. But we only see them half a dozen times a year, even tho they only live an hour away (from either of us). His nephews have never not known me, I've been around as long as any of them remember. One of his nephews remembers my guy's ex, but he isn't sure what happened to her (kids don't really worry about that stuff; like we think they might; they take tons in stride).
Anyway, I decided to do a variation of the Tunisian stitch, which looks like stockinette (a common knitting stitch that you see lots of sweaters in). It's thick and soft and doesn't have lots of loops that babies might get their fingers caught in. I'll edge it in a simple single crochet and might make several passes so that it increases the blanket size and still looks tasteful. I really want to do a good job that she will like.
But I do realize that she might not like it and that I shouldn't pin lots of hopes on that. I also shouldn't worry too much about her reaction, cuz to her it might be just another blanket. The point should be for me to do this cuz I want to and never mind whether she likes it, uses it, or what her reaction may be. Yeah, I know that. But I really want her to like it, use it cuz she wants to, regardless of how I should feel about it all.
Sorry that my entries haven't been a barrel of witty laughs of late.
So I asked my guy if he knew any of the stats (he has been very busy, so I wasn't expecting him to remember much of anything; I reminded him that Sister A was pregnant and due sometime really soon, the weekend before she delivered). He didn't remember but said that he spoke with his mom and his sister and they both said that Baby Girl is very small. Yes, I'd imagine so.
It's been a long time since I've seen a little baby. Three was a ten pound newborn. And Sister B's youngest was small yes, but average for a newborn. I'm really looking forward to seeing Baby Girl. I know the name that they were considering, but I'm not sure if that's what they decided on. I hope so because it really is pretty and we all have been referring to her for months now by the name!
Well, I stopped at Wal-Mart today and picked up two skeins of soft pink baby yarn (super soft, but not all fuzzy) so I can do a baby-blanket. I've already got several rows done. I knew that Sister A was to deliver when she did and that the baby was a girl, but I was kinda hesitant for a couple reasons. One is that Sister A has had miscarriages in the past, and I didn't want to jinx anything. That may seem silly, but I just didn't want to take the chance. And another reason I held off is cuz Sister A is particular.
I didn't want to make something that she wouldn't end up using. I like to make things people like and want to use. But I didn't want her to feel like she has to use it, if she doesn't want to. So I was sorta waffling on making anything.
I'm not tremendously close to my guy's family. I've been able to relax more around them, this year than the last few. But we only see them half a dozen times a year, even tho they only live an hour away (from either of us). His nephews have never not known me, I've been around as long as any of them remember. One of his nephews remembers my guy's ex, but he isn't sure what happened to her (kids don't really worry about that stuff; like we think they might; they take tons in stride).
Anyway, I decided to do a variation of the Tunisian stitch, which looks like stockinette (a common knitting stitch that you see lots of sweaters in). It's thick and soft and doesn't have lots of loops that babies might get their fingers caught in. I'll edge it in a simple single crochet and might make several passes so that it increases the blanket size and still looks tasteful. I really want to do a good job that she will like.
But I do realize that she might not like it and that I shouldn't pin lots of hopes on that. I also shouldn't worry too much about her reaction, cuz to her it might be just another blanket. The point should be for me to do this cuz I want to and never mind whether she likes it, uses it, or what her reaction may be. Yeah, I know that. But I really want her to like it, use it cuz she wants to, regardless of how I should feel about it all.
Sorry that my entries haven't been a barrel of witty laughs of late.
November First
November first is today and has lots of implications and meanings. My birthday is in a couple weeks. Mom's birthday was last week. Thanksgiving is in a few more weeks. My guy's birthday is after that.
It is also day one of NaNoWriMo and NaBloPoMo. National Novel Writing Month encourages folks to just write. Just get it all out and not to impose the self-monitoring which edits, censors, and can cripple you into thinking you must be perfect. And since perfection is not possible, an unreal expectation, a standard so high that we cannot possibly attain it; so why try? And then that creativity that should be nurtured within, so that it can bloom; dies off before it even sees the light of day. So there is the encouraging company that all over the world, there are writers scurrying, tongues tucked into the corner of their mouths, maniacal chortles erupting from their throats, tears coursing down their checks, fingers cramping over keyboards...ah, such wonders and joys of writing! (actually, i can't speak for others, only myself...and all ya'll wonder why i don't post pix of myself! geez can ya blame me? one time i considered a webcam, and then i shuddered when i realized that i would be sharing visions of myself with tangled bedhead, groggy eyes, imprinted face, slovenly holey clothes, blowing my nose and contorting my face in real-time. i only considered the webcam one time. and that was enough)
National Blogging Post Month is much more attainable for some folks, who want to commit themselves to a goal but not a huge one like 50,000 words (as is the case for NaNoWriMo); so they (read "me") decide to post once a day for the entire month of November. Now some of you may snort and roll your eyes, thinking that shhhhyeah right, like that's so hard; but some of us don't post daily. Some of us intend to post daily, and we don't. cuz life happens. cuz we think that each post needs to be witty. cuz we think we have nothing worth saying or worth reading or worth sharing. cuz we don't honor ourselves enough to write it anyway. or to choose not to, instead of feeling we can't because it is too inane, embarrassing, etc.
well, i intend to participate in both. and the road to hell is paved with good intentions and republicans. i know, i've been there and back.
in a handbasket.
It is also day one of NaNoWriMo and NaBloPoMo. National Novel Writing Month encourages folks to just write. Just get it all out and not to impose the self-monitoring which edits, censors, and can cripple you into thinking you must be perfect. And since perfection is not possible, an unreal expectation, a standard so high that we cannot possibly attain it; so why try? And then that creativity that should be nurtured within, so that it can bloom; dies off before it even sees the light of day. So there is the encouraging company that all over the world, there are writers scurrying, tongues tucked into the corner of their mouths, maniacal chortles erupting from their throats, tears coursing down their checks, fingers cramping over keyboards...ah, such wonders and joys of writing! (actually, i can't speak for others, only myself...and all ya'll wonder why i don't post pix of myself! geez can ya blame me? one time i considered a webcam, and then i shuddered when i realized that i would be sharing visions of myself with tangled bedhead, groggy eyes, imprinted face, slovenly holey clothes, blowing my nose and contorting my face in real-time. i only considered the webcam one time. and that was enough)
National Blogging Post Month is much more attainable for some folks, who want to commit themselves to a goal but not a huge one like 50,000 words (as is the case for NaNoWriMo); so they (read "me") decide to post once a day for the entire month of November. Now some of you may snort and roll your eyes, thinking that shhhhyeah right, like that's so hard; but some of us don't post daily. Some of us intend to post daily, and we don't. cuz life happens. cuz we think that each post needs to be witty. cuz we think we have nothing worth saying or worth reading or worth sharing. cuz we don't honor ourselves enough to write it anyway. or to choose not to, instead of feeling we can't because it is too inane, embarrassing, etc.
well, i intend to participate in both. and the road to hell is paved with good intentions and republicans. i know, i've been there and back.
in a handbasket.
Love Letter to My Self (ala john gray's format)
Dear Debra,
I'm writing this letter to release a portion of my resentment and negative emotions and to discover and express the positive feelings that I deserve. I'm also writing to ask for my support as I explore these issues. It's ok to not have all the answers and to be scared and to make mistakes. you can do this, debra and you might benefit by examining things instead of trying to avoid their presence (the living room is becoming crowded with all those elephants and i might need to build on an additional wing; and i promised my landlord that i would not wield any more hammers, saws, drills, &/or nailguns).
Level 1: Anger
I don't like that I am so impatient with myself and other important people I love, like my guy. I resent that I don't have a better understanding of how to be more flexible and allow differences in abilities and functions. I feel frustrated when I am unable to do those things that I treasure, like being quick witted and able to comprehend and focus. I feel angry that I am not more caring with myself, that I don't seem to realize that things fluctuate and that being so hard on me is not being helpful and is being hurtful. I want to be able to be more accepting and loving and give myself the allowances and the attention I may need as I need it.
Level 2: Sadness
It hurts to realize that I am hurting myself when I am so impatient and unforgiving and disallowing. I feel disappointed when I have to relearn the same lesson over again; because I think I got it when I didn't really get it (or maybe i got it for that time, and need to get it for this particular time). I feel sad when I get frustrated or impatient with myself (and others), because it isn't very loving nor respectful. I wish I were more nurturing with myself and with others.
Level 3: Fear
It is painful when I beat myself up. I worry what message I'm sending to my guy when I am sharp and short with him. I'm afraid that I will undo the steps I have taken with learning to accept my shortcomings and embrace my strengths when I am impatient with me. I need to have the reassurance that it really is ok that I have lapses and that temporary set backs are just that, temporary. I need to know that I'm ok, even if I am not able to function at this time or that time. These things happen and it's ok that they do, cuz to not accept that they do just means that when they do happen, it will be even harder for me to get thru.
Level 4: Remorse and Apologies
I'm sorry for being so hard and for not being more loving at the very times i need to be loved. I feel embarrassed when I lose my patience, and lash out or stifle in. I feel ashamed for not being more accepting of needing reassurances. I'm willing to learn how to be more accepting and to provide more reassurances, even if I feel awkward learning how to be more compassionate at first. All things are awkward when new, til they've become more familiar and comfortable (providing comfort can be comforting, rest assured).
Level 5: Love, Understanding, Gratitude & Forgiveness
I do love me and my guy and other people. I love that I can see how much I've grown in my ability to accept me as me. I appreciate the ability to realize that it truly is ok to be upset, slow, frustrated, impatient, tired, fuzzy, etc. even if those are not enjoyable, they are still ok to experience. I realize that sometimes I am very compassionate and loving, and that sometimes I just don't have the resources to be that way (even to myself). I forgive me for not being perfect; for not being able to accept all of me all of the time. Thank me for being me, for allowing all those good and cool things to exist along with all the not so fresh parts too. I would like to be more realize that it's safe for me to be me, even when I am not a likable me. I trust myself more so than I used to; and altho I will have times when I'm not too proud of me, I hope to continue to trust my Self more as time goes and accept that I'm me and that's ok.
well, more than ok.
I'm writing this letter to release a portion of my resentment and negative emotions and to discover and express the positive feelings that I deserve. I'm also writing to ask for my support as I explore these issues. It's ok to not have all the answers and to be scared and to make mistakes. you can do this, debra and you might benefit by examining things instead of trying to avoid their presence (the living room is becoming crowded with all those elephants and i might need to build on an additional wing; and i promised my landlord that i would not wield any more hammers, saws, drills, &/or nailguns).
Level 1: Anger
I don't like that I am so impatient with myself and other important people I love, like my guy. I resent that I don't have a better understanding of how to be more flexible and allow differences in abilities and functions. I feel frustrated when I am unable to do those things that I treasure, like being quick witted and able to comprehend and focus. I feel angry that I am not more caring with myself, that I don't seem to realize that things fluctuate and that being so hard on me is not being helpful and is being hurtful. I want to be able to be more accepting and loving and give myself the allowances and the attention I may need as I need it.
Level 2: Sadness
It hurts to realize that I am hurting myself when I am so impatient and unforgiving and disallowing. I feel disappointed when I have to relearn the same lesson over again; because I think I got it when I didn't really get it (or maybe i got it for that time, and need to get it for this particular time). I feel sad when I get frustrated or impatient with myself (and others), because it isn't very loving nor respectful. I wish I were more nurturing with myself and with others.
Level 3: Fear
It is painful when I beat myself up. I worry what message I'm sending to my guy when I am sharp and short with him. I'm afraid that I will undo the steps I have taken with learning to accept my shortcomings and embrace my strengths when I am impatient with me. I need to have the reassurance that it really is ok that I have lapses and that temporary set backs are just that, temporary. I need to know that I'm ok, even if I am not able to function at this time or that time. These things happen and it's ok that they do, cuz to not accept that they do just means that when they do happen, it will be even harder for me to get thru.
Level 4: Remorse and Apologies
I'm sorry for being so hard and for not being more loving at the very times i need to be loved. I feel embarrassed when I lose my patience, and lash out or stifle in. I feel ashamed for not being more accepting of needing reassurances. I'm willing to learn how to be more accepting and to provide more reassurances, even if I feel awkward learning how to be more compassionate at first. All things are awkward when new, til they've become more familiar and comfortable (providing comfort can be comforting, rest assured).
Level 5: Love, Understanding, Gratitude & Forgiveness
I do love me and my guy and other people. I love that I can see how much I've grown in my ability to accept me as me. I appreciate the ability to realize that it truly is ok to be upset, slow, frustrated, impatient, tired, fuzzy, etc. even if those are not enjoyable, they are still ok to experience. I realize that sometimes I am very compassionate and loving, and that sometimes I just don't have the resources to be that way (even to myself). I forgive me for not being perfect; for not being able to accept all of me all of the time. Thank me for being me, for allowing all those good and cool things to exist along with all the not so fresh parts too. I would like to be more realize that it's safe for me to be me, even when I am not a likable me. I trust myself more so than I used to; and altho I will have times when I'm not too proud of me, I hope to continue to trust my Self more as time goes and accept that I'm me and that's ok.
well, more than ok.
31 October 2007
Babies and Bathwater: nurturing one while draining the other
yeah yeah yeah, we've all heard it and we've heard it expressed in various ways. it's not a new idea, and we all would agree that it has merit. however, there are many times we do discount entire theories because of one area that doesn't set well in our minds. well, maybe you don't, but i do and when i catch myself doing it, i cringe and wonder about those times when i don't catch myself.
today while i was wrapping yarn around myself in intricate designs and then extracting myself in time to make it to the bathroom (i shouldn't have drank 7 gallons of tea within 2 hours, but i was thinking that my kidneys needed a workout. tomorrow i plan to breathe often and deeply so that my lungs don't get jealous. it's all about balance, ya know), i was listening to John Gray's "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" (and then i found a website "rebuttal from uranus"). Now, I have glanced thru the book before, I'm sure. I mean, it's been around and has been referred to by various folks we listen to with sage adulation (wait, sorry, was that my slip showing?). But actually listening to it was a much different experience than idly thumbing thru a few pages here and there.
First off, I didn't care for the way a significant portion of the book (it was audio, but still a book, cuz it was an unabridged reading of the book; so i'm calling it a book) was devoted to foretelling with great enthusiasm what was to come and how improved my life would be. I often feel that if ya gotta hype up something that big, there is less than substantial matter to be had. Please don't tell me how I will feel or what the results will be, cuz I might feel differently than you predict. And if you must tell me what is coming up, do so briefly; a summary as an intro is good, a retelling of the entire book is, well, the entire book. so don't do this, it's wasteful and allows my mind to wander away from the chalkboard (and that defeats the purpose of my listening to the friggen book in the first place).
Then, there were so many assumptions about gender-roles and relationships and all that that i was gobsmacked with how retro-nostalgic we humans are portrayed. It was just, just, well, so Stepfordian that images of helpless whining women (who loved shopping and fashion) clinging to manly cavemen kept pushing their way into my musings time and again. I do get that he does the standard disclaimer that some of these assumptions may not apply and that there may be some gender role reversal going on. He does reassure us that we are normal and all is fine and not to worry about this. Just skip the stuff that doesn't apply and keep the stuff that does.
And that was where I caught myself chucking the baby out the window with the bathwater. Fortunately the baby was imaginary so I was able to retrieve it and wash it off again (what with me being in the bathroom anyway). See, for all the stuff I was scoffing and snorting at...there was a ton of stuff that was legitimately good and worth noting.
And since Gray repeats himself ad nauseum, I didn't have to loop any CDs. I knew that he would go over it again and again and again again. and then once more. he does this so that we really get it. and i can appreciate that. cuz even tho i've been having difficulty with focusing, i think i did get most of the lessons to be had.
i just had to wash them off first.
today while i was wrapping yarn around myself in intricate designs and then extracting myself in time to make it to the bathroom (i shouldn't have drank 7 gallons of tea within 2 hours, but i was thinking that my kidneys needed a workout. tomorrow i plan to breathe often and deeply so that my lungs don't get jealous. it's all about balance, ya know), i was listening to John Gray's "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" (and then i found a website "rebuttal from uranus"). Now, I have glanced thru the book before, I'm sure. I mean, it's been around and has been referred to by various folks we listen to with sage adulation (wait, sorry, was that my slip showing?). But actually listening to it was a much different experience than idly thumbing thru a few pages here and there.
First off, I didn't care for the way a significant portion of the book (it was audio, but still a book, cuz it was an unabridged reading of the book; so i'm calling it a book) was devoted to foretelling with great enthusiasm what was to come and how improved my life would be. I often feel that if ya gotta hype up something that big, there is less than substantial matter to be had. Please don't tell me how I will feel or what the results will be, cuz I might feel differently than you predict. And if you must tell me what is coming up, do so briefly; a summary as an intro is good, a retelling of the entire book is, well, the entire book. so don't do this, it's wasteful and allows my mind to wander away from the chalkboard (and that defeats the purpose of my listening to the friggen book in the first place).
Then, there were so many assumptions about gender-roles and relationships and all that that i was gobsmacked with how retro-nostalgic we humans are portrayed. It was just, just, well, so Stepfordian that images of helpless whining women (who loved shopping and fashion) clinging to manly cavemen kept pushing their way into my musings time and again. I do get that he does the standard disclaimer that some of these assumptions may not apply and that there may be some gender role reversal going on. He does reassure us that we are normal and all is fine and not to worry about this. Just skip the stuff that doesn't apply and keep the stuff that does.
And that was where I caught myself chucking the baby out the window with the bathwater. Fortunately the baby was imaginary so I was able to retrieve it and wash it off again (what with me being in the bathroom anyway). See, for all the stuff I was scoffing and snorting at...there was a ton of stuff that was legitimately good and worth noting.
And since Gray repeats himself ad nauseum, I didn't have to loop any CDs. I knew that he would go over it again and again and again again. and then once more. he does this so that we really get it. and i can appreciate that. cuz even tho i've been having difficulty with focusing, i think i did get most of the lessons to be had.
i just had to wash them off first.
30 October 2007
ideal, for now
Judith HeartSong's October's Artsy Essay calls for us to describe our ideal day. Because ideals motivate us toward goals that we have based on our values, I've decided to focus on an aspect that may not suit everyone. And that's quite all right. For me, and for them.
In Nocturnal Turnings, Truman Capote interviews himself. It is during one mock- exchange that I nodded, thinking that was exactly how I feel right this minute. Here is an excerpt:
tc: if you could be granted one wish, what would it be?
tc: to wake up one morning and feel that I was at last a grown-up person; emptied of resentment, vengeful thoughts, and other wasteful childish emotions. To find myself, in other words, an adult.
As we enter the holiday season, I feel this reflection could not occur at a more appropriate time. Many of us are confronted with folks we don't normally choose to be around; then we feel guilty about the fact that we don't enjoy these family members, especially at such an outwardly festive time. But we also have reasons for why we avoid these folks throughout the year, and to deny those reasons (even to ourselves) would be hurtful and disrespectful. Yet, we might feel that we need to endure what might be extremely unpleasant and painful memories and feelings, to keep the peace in the family. In the long run, we end up feeling frustrated with ourselves and others; we end up exhausted instead of restive and content. It's a tensely anxious foreboding that curses the holidays for many of us.
My birthday is in a few weeks, and yet again, I am surprised because I certainly don't feel as old as I am. It isn't the aging process that bothers me per se, it's because I think I ought to be more mature than I am; ya know, act (think, feel) my age. I am most assuredly not like how I think adults are. Somehow, as a child, I figured that adults know things, that they are reasonable, that they are in control, that they don't have petty peevishness, that they aren't like me.
Well, with those expectations, is it any wonder I failed to live up to my notions of adulthood? Still, I would love to let go of the resentment, the old hurts and cringing anxiety, the awful memories, the fears, the awkwardness, the discombobulated dissociation. I would like to honor myself, by acknowledging and validating that yes this person has been hateful and I do have reason not to trust them, to be wary. At the same time, I'd like to be centered enough, to be true enough to me, to realize that all those negative inner feelings are only harming me more so. I'd like to be comfortable with being me and to know that I can control some aspects of encounters. Ya know, like an adult does.
(*note*i've been having difficulty focusing here lately; and am feeling some frustration at the moment, because i'm afraid that i am not able to clearly communicate. i hope that i have conveyed what i meant to, and if not, then i apologize. on another note, if this fuzziness continues, i may need to go see my gp for yet another med adjustment. hopefully this too shall pass)
In Nocturnal Turnings, Truman Capote interviews himself. It is during one mock- exchange that I nodded, thinking that was exactly how I feel right this minute. Here is an excerpt:
tc: if you could be granted one wish, what would it be?
tc: to wake up one morning and feel that I was at last a grown-up person; emptied of resentment, vengeful thoughts, and other wasteful childish emotions. To find myself, in other words, an adult.
As we enter the holiday season, I feel this reflection could not occur at a more appropriate time. Many of us are confronted with folks we don't normally choose to be around; then we feel guilty about the fact that we don't enjoy these family members, especially at such an outwardly festive time. But we also have reasons for why we avoid these folks throughout the year, and to deny those reasons (even to ourselves) would be hurtful and disrespectful. Yet, we might feel that we need to endure what might be extremely unpleasant and painful memories and feelings, to keep the peace in the family. In the long run, we end up feeling frustrated with ourselves and others; we end up exhausted instead of restive and content. It's a tensely anxious foreboding that curses the holidays for many of us.
My birthday is in a few weeks, and yet again, I am surprised because I certainly don't feel as old as I am. It isn't the aging process that bothers me per se, it's because I think I ought to be more mature than I am; ya know, act (think, feel) my age. I am most assuredly not like how I think adults are. Somehow, as a child, I figured that adults know things, that they are reasonable, that they are in control, that they don't have petty peevishness, that they aren't like me.
Well, with those expectations, is it any wonder I failed to live up to my notions of adulthood? Still, I would love to let go of the resentment, the old hurts and cringing anxiety, the awful memories, the fears, the awkwardness, the discombobulated dissociation. I would like to honor myself, by acknowledging and validating that yes this person has been hateful and I do have reason not to trust them, to be wary. At the same time, I'd like to be centered enough, to be true enough to me, to realize that all those negative inner feelings are only harming me more so. I'd like to be comfortable with being me and to know that I can control some aspects of encounters. Ya know, like an adult does.
(*note*i've been having difficulty focusing here lately; and am feeling some frustration at the moment, because i'm afraid that i am not able to clearly communicate. i hope that i have conveyed what i meant to, and if not, then i apologize. on another note, if this fuzziness continues, i may need to go see my gp for yet another med adjustment. hopefully this too shall pass)
29 October 2007
wahoo...and other yippettee-skippettees
Altho the student loan discharge mess is still ongoing (i've not heard from the ombudsman, other than the initial contact; but! apparently she has lots to say to other official peeps who have informed me of stuff~which is her job, which makes me think, what else is her job that she isn't following thru on...?), I do have excellent news on other fronts.
i got my flu shot this morning (yea!)
i also went to campus (my guy did his master's studies here) and went to the registrar's office and got fifteen (15) official transcripts in signed with blood, sealed with super glue sticks, and stamped in five different colors of ink (one which disappeared as soon as she stamped it~~muwahhhhahhahha) so that my guy can apply for various and sun-dried internships.
i discovered that i can crochet and knit lots better than i thought (including crocheting a stitch that looks exactly like stockinette knitting; damn-skippee, i'm good!).
my young friend, eight, presented me with my very own special fob that she has labored over and perfected this last month. it was well worth the wait.
AND the best news of all, ya know that matter of the continuation review that i've been waiting to hear a decision on for like 6 months? ok, it's only been 5 months (but in their own policy for procedures it states that the process should take 90 days max, that's like uhm way different than 150+, ya know? i'm just sayin'). the point is tho that i'm glad it's a done deal for the time being. cuz when i got the mail today, there was a very official looking envelop from the Social Security Administration.
it says that they recently reviewed the evidence and have decided to continue my benefits cuz girl, you crazy. no, they didn't say that. the psych eval dude said that. no, he didn't say that. what he said was, "good god girl, if they don't continue your disability, they won't continue anyone's". and that's a dude that the social security administration hires to tell them things that weigh in their favor so they don't have to continue payments.
to all the taxpayers, thanks! i appreciate your dollars helping my to pay rent and see my doctors and counselors and get my seven (7) daily meds so that i can function at the level i do. i know sometimes people grumble when they see me use my food-stamp card to buy those vegetables, yogurts, and other non-essential items like milk, cheese, and the (occasional splurge, gasp) .59 cent chicken thighs...and i apologize for not being in a better place, or to continue to function at the pace i was...so i just wanna let ya know, i appreciate the portion each of you help me with. thanks, dudes!
i got my flu shot this morning (yea!)
i also went to campus (my guy did his master's studies here) and went to the registrar's office and got fifteen (15) official transcripts in signed with blood, sealed with super glue sticks, and stamped in five different colors of ink (one which disappeared as soon as she stamped it~~muwahhhhahhahha) so that my guy can apply for various and sun-dried internships.
i discovered that i can crochet and knit lots better than i thought (including crocheting a stitch that looks exactly like stockinette knitting; damn-skippee, i'm good!).
my young friend, eight, presented me with my very own special fob that she has labored over and perfected this last month. it was well worth the wait.
AND the best news of all, ya know that matter of the continuation review that i've been waiting to hear a decision on for like 6 months? ok, it's only been 5 months (but in their own policy for procedures it states that the process should take 90 days max, that's like uhm way different than 150+, ya know? i'm just sayin'). the point is tho that i'm glad it's a done deal for the time being. cuz when i got the mail today, there was a very official looking envelop from the Social Security Administration.
it says that they recently reviewed the evidence and have decided to continue my benefits cuz girl, you crazy. no, they didn't say that. the psych eval dude said that. no, he didn't say that. what he said was, "good god girl, if they don't continue your disability, they won't continue anyone's". and that's a dude that the social security administration hires to tell them things that weigh in their favor so they don't have to continue payments.
to all the taxpayers, thanks! i appreciate your dollars helping my to pay rent and see my doctors and counselors and get my seven (7) daily meds so that i can function at the level i do. i know sometimes people grumble when they see me use my food-stamp card to buy those vegetables, yogurts, and other non-essential items like milk, cheese, and the (occasional splurge, gasp) .59 cent chicken thighs...and i apologize for not being in a better place, or to continue to function at the pace i was...so i just wanna let ya know, i appreciate the portion each of you help me with. thanks, dudes!
28 October 2007
happy samhain
happy halloween
happy harvest
happy however you decide to celebrate the day/time of the year
the last few days i've been keeping myself occupied with books and knitting needles and crochet hooks and yarn and ripping and purling and re-ripping. and haven't been on the computer, not even a smidgen. my guy has been here and usually on the weekends of late, he needs the computer, access to the net, and access to his stuff, so we set up both computers for him to use and i occupy myself in some other fashion.
good news!
he is defending his dissertation proposal friday morning! yea!! he is in a mad scurry now with application for internships and all the accompanying paperwork and such. for the past coupla days, he has been checking out appic and their listings of internships sites and those hosting websites and all that other gory stuffs. there are a ton and a half of places with deadlines coming up (but are still viable options) and once applications are made, then there are the interviews with prospective places and positions (we are talking national here; i think for the most part that he will be focusing on the southeast region, but there are a few far-flung possibles). all of it culminates with match-day in february (i think). then there is acceptance or clearing house and blah blah blah. the whirlwind never dies.
at this point, he needs to complete the master app for appic, plus all the individual apps; and make sure that the folks that are writing letters of recommendation have done so (or are soon to do so), and obtaining official transcripts from all post-secondary schools, and essays and such. i'm not sure but i think he has to sign over the rights to his first born son and give 12 pints of blood, two gallons of spit, and a pear in a fig-tree (i'll be coming to see you, russ. wink).
i expect things will get busy in more ways than one.
i've heard a few things from a few key peeps re: student loan forgiveness. there are a few things that i want to stay on top of. like the fact that i haven't heard from the ombudsman since the initial contact a few weeks back. and i still haven't heard anything from my review of continuation (the examiner told me a month ago i would be hearing something in two weeks). i've called and left a message inquiring about the status of my case last week. i will call again tomorrow. i need to get my flu-shot (way overdue, but i keep forgetting to do it, bad on me). my mom is probably coming next weekend for a few days, adn she will teach me (and my friends) how to bake bread. it will be great to visit with her and share crafts and such. however i always get twitterpated when i know mom is coming, a whirlwind of cleaning and tons of questions of, dude, is she gonna notice that i haven't cleaned the shower lately and will the dog hair in the corners be a problem and omg debra don't forget to wash the bedding before she gets here...
more later
happy harvest
happy however you decide to celebrate the day/time of the year
the last few days i've been keeping myself occupied with books and knitting needles and crochet hooks and yarn and ripping and purling and re-ripping. and haven't been on the computer, not even a smidgen. my guy has been here and usually on the weekends of late, he needs the computer, access to the net, and access to his stuff, so we set up both computers for him to use and i occupy myself in some other fashion.
good news!
he is defending his dissertation proposal friday morning! yea!! he is in a mad scurry now with application for internships and all the accompanying paperwork and such. for the past coupla days, he has been checking out appic and their listings of internships sites and those hosting websites and all that other gory stuffs. there are a ton and a half of places with deadlines coming up (but are still viable options) and once applications are made, then there are the interviews with prospective places and positions (we are talking national here; i think for the most part that he will be focusing on the southeast region, but there are a few far-flung possibles). all of it culminates with match-day in february (i think). then there is acceptance or clearing house and blah blah blah. the whirlwind never dies.
at this point, he needs to complete the master app for appic, plus all the individual apps; and make sure that the folks that are writing letters of recommendation have done so (or are soon to do so), and obtaining official transcripts from all post-secondary schools, and essays and such. i'm not sure but i think he has to sign over the rights to his first born son and give 12 pints of blood, two gallons of spit, and a pear in a fig-tree (i'll be coming to see you, russ. wink).
i expect things will get busy in more ways than one.
i've heard a few things from a few key peeps re: student loan forgiveness. there are a few things that i want to stay on top of. like the fact that i haven't heard from the ombudsman since the initial contact a few weeks back. and i still haven't heard anything from my review of continuation (the examiner told me a month ago i would be hearing something in two weeks). i've called and left a message inquiring about the status of my case last week. i will call again tomorrow. i need to get my flu-shot (way overdue, but i keep forgetting to do it, bad on me). my mom is probably coming next weekend for a few days, adn she will teach me (and my friends) how to bake bread. it will be great to visit with her and share crafts and such. however i always get twitterpated when i know mom is coming, a whirlwind of cleaning and tons of questions of, dude, is she gonna notice that i haven't cleaned the shower lately and will the dog hair in the corners be a problem and omg debra don't forget to wash the bedding before she gets here...
more later
26 October 2007
because imma ijjut
so earlier this evening i call mom to wish her happy birthday and also to find out when she is coming this next weekend (not this weekend, but next weekend; i never know what to call it so 'this next' covers it). then i called a friend (omg, they are popping up everywhere, i tell you) to let her know when mom is coming over (when i say over, i mean oooover, i live on the east side of ms and she lives on the west side of ar, so oooooooover is 8 hr drive over) cuz my mom is gonna teach me and all two of my friends how to bake bread. my friend, the one i called (not the mother of eight and three), was musing to me while penciling me in on the calendar (she said she would use pen, but the ink runs backward and she can't get it to write. yeah, that's what she said.) and i hang up and really quickly call mom back.
me: omg, mom you can't come visit me then!
mom: uhm, hm?
me (gushing anxiously): you'll miss tuesday.
mom: and this is important why?
me: cuz you'll miss Election tuesday.
mom:...?....
me (as it slowly sinks in that we can't vote for a new friggen pres til next year): right, then. can't wait to see you. loveyouhappybirthdayb'bye.
all this is like two months' worth of phone activity for me. and way too exciting. i'm tired, g'n'nite.
me: omg, mom you can't come visit me then!
mom: uhm, hm?
me (gushing anxiously): you'll miss tuesday.
mom: and this is important why?
me: cuz you'll miss Election tuesday.
mom:...?....
me (as it slowly sinks in that we can't vote for a new friggen pres til next year): right, then. can't wait to see you. loveyouhappybirthdayb'bye.
all this is like two months' worth of phone activity for me. and way too exciting. i'm tired, g'n'nite.
25 October 2007
filet'ed roses
they're tasty!
no, not really. i'm talking about crochet. ya know that lace that has some solid blocks in it? like ya know, it's sorta woven into it? table runners, doilies, tableclothes, curtains, bedspreads...wait, here, let me show you an example:
so, yeah, ya know what it was, it's just my explanation sucked. it's actually easy to do this sort of thing. filet is a mixture of two meshes, some are open and some are filled. both meshes are a combination of chain stitches and double crochet. the hardest part is initially learning it accurately, so that you can understand the entire scope because there is alot of planning that goes into it. if you mess up, it's not so easy to fix; so it requires some amount of attention (albeit minimal at times).
over the last couple days, i read about it and tried to understand the instructions. now you might remember that i first read crochet instructions (and began to follow them, well, some of them) only a couple months ago. so it was with great trepidation that i picked up the hook and cotton yarn last night. i wanted to make sure each and every stitch was done perfectly, because it can mess ya up later if you don't do the foundation stitches right.
it's fun and appeals to my more spacial-related parts; altho, the graph can seriously mess with my eyes (cuz small repetitive patterns like boxes can create some nausea and some vertigo), so that might not have been the wisest choice of stitch combinations for me to pick.
but those filet'd roses are soooooooooooo pretty!
no, not really. i'm talking about crochet. ya know that lace that has some solid blocks in it? like ya know, it's sorta woven into it? table runners, doilies, tableclothes, curtains, bedspreads...wait, here, let me show you an example:
so, yeah, ya know what it was, it's just my explanation sucked. it's actually easy to do this sort of thing. filet is a mixture of two meshes, some are open and some are filled. both meshes are a combination of chain stitches and double crochet. the hardest part is initially learning it accurately, so that you can understand the entire scope because there is alot of planning that goes into it. if you mess up, it's not so easy to fix; so it requires some amount of attention (albeit minimal at times).
over the last couple days, i read about it and tried to understand the instructions. now you might remember that i first read crochet instructions (and began to follow them, well, some of them) only a couple months ago. so it was with great trepidation that i picked up the hook and cotton yarn last night. i wanted to make sure each and every stitch was done perfectly, because it can mess ya up later if you don't do the foundation stitches right.
it's fun and appeals to my more spacial-related parts; altho, the graph can seriously mess with my eyes (cuz small repetitive patterns like boxes can create some nausea and some vertigo), so that might not have been the wisest choice of stitch combinations for me to pick.
but those filet'd roses are soooooooooooo pretty!
24 October 2007
Bad Body/Brain Day
The weather on Monday put us all in a drowsy mode. Tuesday was chilly, indeed it was colder during the day than it had been the previous night. Wednesday (oh yeah, today) is even more chilly, probably it seems that way because I've got slush for circulation and once I'm cold, I can't get warm. So my body is having a bad day today, the rain is kicking my arthritis into great swollen proportions. The condition of my brain is not much better (it too is swollen, and I have big head syndrome). Ok, that's not true, but I feel like my brain is severely congested and so I'm having difficulties functioning and focusing. But Friday and thru the weekend, it is to warm up and be sunny (unseasonable, I tell you!) and I may have thawed out in time for the next big chill.
(but debra, you say, turn the friggen heater on! and to that, i say, great idea, thanks! and well i have a gas space heater and it's not in the condition to be fired up yet. i'm working on it, but i'm slow, see above)
california, i'm feel for your plight; it must surely be awful. perhaps the fires there and the chill here could meet up and balance each otehr out. but ya know, without all the damage and loss of life and property.
(but debra, you say, turn the friggen heater on! and to that, i say, great idea, thanks! and well i have a gas space heater and it's not in the condition to be fired up yet. i'm working on it, but i'm slow, see above)
california, i'm feel for your plight; it must surely be awful. perhaps the fires there and the chill here could meet up and balance each otehr out. but ya know, without all the damage and loss of life and property.
Happy Birthday, MeMom
Earlier today I mailed Mom's birthday card, she will have finished her 60th year on Thursday. I enclosed a small swatch that I'd used as a stitching sample as a clue for her to guess her birthday gift, which I finished tonight. Since I know she won't be reading this (she knows about my journal, she just doesn't read it unless I send her a specific link or copy the entry over into eMail), I can tell ya that I decided on the bibbed apron as the project. I don't have a camera and keep forgetting to suggest to my guy that he bring his digital, so that I can take a picture to post. Maybe that's a good thing though.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)