So Many Other Dreams...

New Year, New Blog

2010-01-07T11:43:00.000-08:00

It's still under construction, but it's up and running...

Cheese...

2010-01-02T15:14:00.000-08:00

When we recently visited Weese and MAW, we had occasion to sample some cheeses ne to us. One had bacon (or maybe ham) and horseradish in it and though I couldn't eat a lot of it because of the heat, I really liked it a lot. Another had some sort of Iris maybe?) stout in it and that was my favorite, and the other, I think, was a type of Gouda.

Did I ask MAW for the names or brands so I could seek them out here? No. We talked about it and I mentioned writing thwm down, but never actually got that taken care of.

I decided it was time to try a few new cheeses anyway, and whie I think that Spec's will have the best array to choose from, that would be the downtown location and I just haven't made it there yet.

The HEB that we frequent has quite an assortment and their cheese staff is pretty helpful. In the past when we have commented that a particular house made cheese ball looked interesting, they immediately cut into ot and prepared a sample. Same for any cheese we might want to try before buying, and thay have also told us that any cheese can be scaled down to a smaler portion just by asking. Nice.

Yesterday we went there to get a pork shoulder to roast away in the dutch oven at 275 degrees. For 4 hours. Can you smell it? It's rubbed with a mixture of Ancho chile powder, cocoa, oregano, salt, cinnamon, brown sugar, and sugar. I think that is everything. It's currently about half done and when it is finished it will fall off the bone and be fork shredded for eating with tortillas. Inhale...2...3...4...smell it....

So until it is done, I will quell our hunger with a small array of grapes and cheese and crackers. I got three and while I know Martha and Ina sugget that a cheese platter have a soft, semi-soft and hard, I got three hard. There is Somerdale Tintern which is a cow's milk cheddar with onions and chives. Add to that Somerdale Red Dragon, another cow's milk cheeddar with mustard and Welsh ale. Finally we have Wensleydale with Honey & Figs, also cow's milk, but near as I can tell, Wensleydale is a type of cheese like cheddar is a type. I think all three are from the UK.

Reports on both the pork and the ceeses to follow...

Presence vs. Presents

2009-12-30T09:15:00.000-08:00

Happy Almost New Year! Almost Twenty Ten. Wow.

I just changed out our big at-a-glance wall calendars at the office. Once I got them moved, I went and got the official company "Closed Holidays 2010" list. Those days are all now blocked off in green so we don't schedule work crap on those days accidentally. Sometimes the deadlines require that we work anyway, mostly during Thanksgiving and Xmas (like, even today...) and when that happens we take other days. This year that meant our "Thanksgiving" trip to NYC/CT/NJ. *That* was a whirlwind drive!

Another bit of housecleaning was to make a list of my acupuncture treatment for tax purposes. I have been told this can be itemized as medical treatment but have been unable to get any sort of official confirmation. All the appointments were on the old calendar, so before taking it down I made a list. I have a few CPAs I can ask about it, but I know there are so many little loopholes, that I still might not have any sort of difinitive answer. If it works into turbotax, I'll go with it.

I was able to wrap up my official GratitudeProject2009 list. Everything is done and out the door. Sort of. Sally's gift is done, packaged and in my car ready to mail, but it is going to Canada so I couldn't just post it from work as I don't know how to set the machine for international. I will get it officially in the mail next Wednesday for sure. It has been done and ready for more than a month but I just haven't been able to fit in a visit to the post office. The one time I tried I discovered that our official office for our house has been torn down and is not new town houses.

GFB also asked if she could be added to the list as she found out about it very much after the fact. I added her, but haven't added the end of 2009 deadline for myself. Still trying to decide what she is getting.

The xmas holiday for us was pretty awesome. It began when we enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner with Elizabeth's nephew Greg and his wife and our kids and some various friends at Greg and Laurie's compound. It was a cooperative effort and truly an enjoyable day.

Then we went on the previously mentioned whirlwind. It takes 30 hours to drive to NYC from Houston with minimal stopping along the way. I mean all totaled our stopping was probably 4-5 hours. But it was also all necessary. By minimal I mean that we didn't break it up over 3 days. In the future, we will be flying to NYC unless we have the luxury of many more days to make the trip via automobile.

While up there we got some time in NYC at our beloved Pearl River Market. I should have bought more tea, cookies, and soba noodles, I think. The tea is in good supply for the moment, and I haven't been adventurous yet with the noodles, but the butter cookies I bought are gone and I had...umm...none of them. We'll just have to go back.

After NYC we slipped over to visit Weese and MAW in CT. It was delightful and I shall say no more.

From there we went to NJ to see Aunt Patty and my mom who will be visiting for most of the winter which translates until Aunt Patty gives her the boot. It was a hoot seeing them and we wish it could have been longer. Elizabeth has dubbed them the Ya-Yas. What was supposed to be a nice quiet dinner for 5 ended up being an awesome dinner party for about 10. The only thing missing was Aunt Patty's tassies(holiday fare of old), but the alternate dessert wastotally awesome, a mandarin cake with pineapple whipped cream and pudding topping. I need to make that some time soon. I came away from the dinner party with a recipe for Potato Casserole that we enjoyed at WTXB6.

After NJ, we had GFI for the weekend. After that we had WTXB6 and GFD for the weekend. Then it was xmas weekend, last night we capped it all off with dinner with GFS&V(who had to miss WTXB6) and now it is soon New Year's weekend. All of this, from Thanksgiving to now, that was Xmas for us.

Peoples' *PRESENCE* is way better than presents. In fact, in discussing the holidays last night, we realized that we haven't bought or made a single** gift for Xmas. We have made a lot of GratitudeProject gifts, yes, but there were no Xmas gifts. No more stuff that is bought just for the sake of stuff.

Welcome 2010.

(** I did sort of buy one gift for Elizabeth. While in Los Angeles, we came across an awesome store called Zinnia and I had them send a mystery box of stuff they sell for crafting, but that was more something to treat us both to a surprise rather than a specific holiday gift.**)

Happy Holidays!

2009-12-21T08:31:00.001-08:00

We have been making art every Sunday this month. It started with a couple of cool chicks from CTm Weese and MAW. Then it was at our house with GFI who was visiting from CA. Yesterday, it was with GFD who was visiting from IL. I made this xmas card yesterday for my mom and Aunt Patty and thought I would share it here before sending it out.

I recently came across artist Teesha Moore . More precisely, I came across a list of you tube tutorials she has done for making a 16 page journal out of one sheet of 22 X 30 watercolor paper. I like the idea and have most of what I need to get it going, but I have been making a few pieces in that style as a sort of warm up. The card above is one of them. The image below is another.

First Kiss was a lot of fun to make and I did it on Make Art on Sunday with GFIrene. We had a lot of fun cutting and pasting that day. I first found the peaches and knew they would be eyes, and then I started to envision the owl, and then I found the fish. All of a sudden they were kissing and the collage took off.

missing from this image is the border which is just strips of magazine ads. I used some pastel pots to lay in color for the background and then began embellishing with markers. The process was a lot of fun. and I thinak Teesha Moore for taking the time to make the videos explaining the process. I think the only thing I need to get started with making the 16 page book is the waxed thread for binding the book. I think I might be able to pick that up in the next few days, but the process can get started before then. I am going to set the pages and maybe paint backgrounds tonight. Maybe. I haven't knit in the past few days, so I might do that instead. Or too.

Tomorrow might be summer again, but today, it's definitely fall...

2009-09-29T11:30:00.000-07:00

I have to make it official. I just increased the acceptable distance to travel from the office to pick up lunch to eight and a half miles. This is to include Spring Creek Barbeque in the offerings of places I can run out to when our efforts to be more frugal and healthful in our eating wane ever so slightly.

My knitting guild meets at SCB on the last Monday of the month and this is how I learned of the place. Sure, I have driven by it often enough, but bbq places can be a dime a dozen 'round these parts and I already have a favorite (that would be Goode Co. on I-10) so why bother trying another that I had never heard of?

Well, last month I had the slices beef sandwich which was pretty good, definitely good enough to eat once a month before a guild meeting, but it did nothing to shake the standing of my favorite. Then, last night, I had the chopped beef sandwich. It was nothing short of perfectly delightful. It was so delightful, that when my boss gently urged that she might want me to go pick up some lunch, I complied immediately with the SCB plan.

There potato salad? not so much. There banana pudding? I'll let you know after I have my afternoon snack.

I took the elevator down to the main floor of our building and braced myself for the heat and humidity of mid-day to wash over my 68 degree popsicle extremities. I opened the door and low and behold, it's Fall. Do you hear the glorios splendor that this announcement brings. Fall. In Houston. And it's still September. Heat of mid-day, and it was only a blessed seventy-seven degrees with only 53% humidity. I want an office window that opens! At least until tomorrow when this freakishly Fall weather disappears.

Might be a good night for some chiminea action.

Forty...five...

2009-09-14T08:23:00.000-07:00

What a lovely birthday weekend. Too late in the week, Elizabeth and I discussed the fact that I should not be working on my birthday (Friday, 9/11 in case you've been under a rock). I say too late because our admin at work had already asked me what I wanted for my birthday dessert and sent out the appropriate email announcement to the rest of the office.

As fate tends to be kind to me, I finished my work on Friday at 1:56, just in time for my office dessert to kick off the birthday weekend, and I consciously finished my work day but did no further work. Happy Birthday to me. For the office dessert gathering, I have a theory. If the admin likes you, she bakes something herself. Truth be told, I think she likes everyone, just some, less so, and they get store bought. Me, she likes. My answer to her query was peach cobbler or pie with vanilla ice cream. She made a peach cobbler in a 13X9 baking pan and I can't even hazard a guess about how much butter she used, but I can safely say it was definitely an all butter crust. There was about a 4 inch square left over and as I walked past her desk to leave on Friday afternoon, she asked, "You didn't like your cobbler?" I just rolled my eyes to acknowledge she was crazy, and she told me I had better go get my leftovers. I threw it in the fridge when I got home knowing I would eat it before the weekend's close.

Elizabeth had asked me what I wanted to do for dinner Friday morning, too early to know for sure, but I had been jonesing for the cornmeal crusted fried shrimp and cheesy bacon grits appetizer from Shade. Regardless of what else I might think I want, Shade is always a good bet. Their menu changes with what's seasonally available, but it is always been fabulous. We should be going there at least once a month. I ordered the shrimp and the trio of soups. The trio changes with the soup chef's mood I think (or at least with what is available) and usually there is one soup I think I want and two that I think, eh, not so much. The waiter rattled off the three soups and they all appealed, so an easy choice. There was a carrot ginger, potato bacon, and a tomato/shrimp/rice. All three were excellent, and the tomato had a bit of zing. The shrimp were also dipped into the carrot ginger. tres yumm all around.

My entree was a scallop and shrimp dish that was in a ginger saffron broth. It included rappini, chorizo, fennel and vermicelli. Oh my. If scallops are on the menu, I am likely to be ordering them. The only scallops I have enjoyed more were from Tupelo Honey in Asheville, NC. I am not likely to be having that any time soon and these certainly make my tummy happy. Elizabeth had a salmon dish that she thinks was just divine and she rarely orders fish, so there you go. If you are in Houston, you need to be visiting Shade.

The waiter came and handed us the dessert menu. We promptly handed it back. Was he insane? We were just too full to even look at the dessert menu.

It was still pretty early so we went on the next leg of the birthday adventure. elizabeth had told me that her plan involved going domewhere and dropping about $300. Now this is pretty vague. She said we could do it at any point during the weekend and since we had planned to go in to work on Saturday, and it was still early enough, we would go do it then and there after dinner. At dinner she looked over at me and said, "Go ahead and guess..." I always do (she mentioned this, too) and it always makes her pout, but I always then tell her how it goes toward our fated compatibility. How to soften the blow...hmm...

"Well," I gingerly offered, "If there is a choice of places ( a small clue she had offered, that it is a specific thing she wants to buy me, but really, I need to pick) then my first guess (deliberately a throw away to ease her pout) is a yarn store." Her smile brightened and she said "No!" We all know that yarn stores are already closed by this time on a Friday night. So my second guess (really my first), was Williams Sonoma (or Pottery Barn, Crate & Barrel). Bring on that cute little pout.

About 5 years ago for xmas, the boss gave me a WS gift card and I used part of it to buy a six inch Wustoff Chef's knife. I had seen an episode on FoodNetwrk where Sara Moulton had gone over different kitchen knives and how some were so much more useful than othere. She particularly waxed poetic about how much more useful she, as a woman, found a six inch chef's knife as opposed to an eight inch or ten inch. Her babble sold me on the idea, and I was woefully lacking in a decent kitchen knife and found mydelf more and more leaning toward cooking fresh at home. I had done a little research and decided that Wustoff Classic was where I should begin. I totally heart that six inch chef'f knife still, and it has just recently become in need of sharpening.

The Wustoff Classic legacy has continued in the form of a bread knife, paring knife and utility knife as well a diamond steel. I have been eyeing the paring and utility knife for some time, but other things bump it down the list. No more. Unless I get worked up over a particular kind of cooking that rrequires a particular knife, I think I am set with just these four. I don't want miscellaneous knives that I just won't use.

shopping is exhausting. At least it serves a purpose. It allows the fabulous dinner to settle enough that you might think that you can consider dessert. We stopped on the way home at Brenner's. When it's your birthday, 2 exits past and u-turning is definitely on the way. I ordered the croissant bread pudding and elizabeth ordered the chocolate mousse cake. We both had only about three bites and had the remaining boxed up. I also had a Praline Freeze cocktail. Tuaca, Frangelica, Cointreau, all blended with vanilla ice ccream. Essentially a Tuaca Milkshake in a martini glass. I could have one of those every night and I might just stock the ingredients on the next visit to Spec's. The bartender also poured a sample of a Black Muscat dessert wine. Too sweet for Elizabeth, but it didn't go to waste.

So here it is, the end of my birthday, and we have three luscious dessert leftovers in the fridge. Oh my.

On Saturday, we went to work from 10-4 and then on to Empire cafe to continue the birthday merriment. I had the salmon salad and some shrimp bisque. Elizabeth had a chicken dish. Very yumm and very filling. I hit the ladies room before we left, and on the way there passed the counter of cakes. Since we stood in line to order, they had put out a new one, the yellow cake with chocolate buttercream. I was too full, but that is my favorite cake there these days, so I got a slice to go. Saturday evening I was knitting away and when it occurred to me it was time for something sweet, what I really wanted was two chocolate cremem oreos. Four awesome desserts in the fridge and I wanted Oreos. I could have played the bday card and asked Elizabeth to go to the store. She would have. But reason and sense converged and I had some cake. I ate a good portion of it and the saved some for later. So, so, good.

Sunday morning and it was time for my peach cobbler. I put all that was left in a shallow pasta bowl and hit the micro. Not only did I heat up the cobbler, but I used a plastic spatula to scrape out all of the pan juices. The peach gravy. Once I ate it all, I set about the tak of licking the bowl clean. Yes it was that good. I put the dish on the counter and thought about putting a post it note on it to confirm it was dirty. I confessed my misdeed to the cook this morning as I passed her desk and thanked her heartily once again for my awesome cobbler.

Phase two of birthday merriment begins on Thursday at 6pm when we load up the car and head to Sedone. We'll be spending a few days amidst our people, the gays. Woohoo for continued bday merriment.

It was a totally dead-pan response

2009-08-31T08:34:00.000-07:00

As it's widely known, I have custody of more than a thousand negatives from photos my dad took in the 50s. I heart them a lot and my brain is in a tailspin about things I can do with them to give them a new artistic life.

When we went to visit my mom last November, an additional stack of about a hundred of them had been found. Adding that to the 900 I already had pushed my total near 1,000. On Saturday, I got a small package from my mom who found them when she was cleaning out a cabinet of ammo she had finally gotten rid of.

I originally got custody of the negatives in 2006 when I went home for a visit. When I planned to go, there was some minor upset from my mom because she was going to be visiting my Aunt Patty in NJ so she would miss my visit. I can't remember now why I couldn't change my trip, but I knew my mom would get over it. As it turns out, that was the last visit I was to have with my dad, so I 'm really glad I went then and that we had a nice week together.

The only real drama to come out of it from my mom was when she learned that my dad had given me the negatives. "I was going to do something with them. You need to send them back."

My reply was hasty and came out more abrupt than I intended. "You''ve had those negatives more than 40 years and haven't done anything with them so now it's my turn..." She was really put out with me.

When I was visiting with my dad, I asked him if he wanted to go through the negatives and see if there were any in particular that he would like me to scan first for him to have as prints. He didn't really think about it at all and he responded quite readily, "No, I went through them and removed all the nudes a long time ago."

It wasn't something he seemed to want to discuss further, and though I was curious about "all the nudes" and whether they ever existed or not, I was more sure he was kidding, or that by "removed" he actually meant destroyed.

When I got the new batch from my mom, I learned that "removed" actually meant separated and stashed in the ammo cabinet that no-one ever goes into. As I looked through the new negatives, I saw several for prints my dad has as 8 X 10s that I really like, and just as I was about to forego looking through the rest until I could scan them, there she was, naked on the bed. Who, exactly? Likely no one knows.

There are about a dozen nudes, all of the same woman. Fortunately, there is also a photo of her fully clothed so I can scan that one right away and send it off to mom for possible identification. I am currently considering a matchbox series. Move over Vargas.

Obtuse

2009-07-30T09:29:00.000-07:00

I have a coworker who might be obtuse. I say might be in acknowledging the possibility that it is I who might be the obtuse one. It's possible.

I find it bothersome that this is nothing more than a language barrier, she being of the younger buzz word dropping I might have gone to school for this variety, and me being of the older I've learned how to do this on the fly so maybe I am not explaining myself properly variety.

One of us is clearly obtuse.

Clearly the answer is to not over-think it or just not give a fuck. This is only one small part of what I do, updating a website that has paid subscribers. I feel that they should have a certain ease of access because they are paying for it. The real issue is that the file naming requirements produces a redundancy on the page that upsets my Virgo sensibilities.

I think I just need chocolate.

Trust your body

2009-06-04T11:15:00.000-07:00

When your body is talking, it's wise to pay attention.

A month ago, my acupuncture student had a schedule shift. While I am very flexible in terms of when I can go for treatment, really, any day, any time, Dr. Zhong is only at the clinic on Wednesday morning. He has been following my treatment for more than a year, and he is known at the clinic as the herb guru. He knows his stuff people!

When my friend Elisabeth moved her acupuncture practice from Houston to ElPaso, she recommended the clinic where she went to school and in particular that I see any student supervised by Dr. Zhong as he still mentored her and was already familiar with my file.

My first student graduated and isn't quite ready to start her own practice. I really liked her and would have followed. My second student was okay, but English is not her first language and I often had to struggle to understand her. Her schedule shifted and somehow, she didn't understand my request for a student of Dr. Zhong.

My third student, hmm... I suppose I liked him well enough, but I was a little put out to be seeing a man. I tried really hard to specifically not judge the experience based on gender, but really it did make a difference, and I say that is equanimously as possible. In addition to his he-ness, he is followed by a different Dr. A Dr. not the herb guru as the herbs he switched me to made me pretty sick.

Sick is totally a relative term, but I was almost willing to go to a regular clinic (it was the weekend) because I had a major headache that I knew was not sinus or stress. I also had major joint and muscle acheyness, to say nothing of the fact that my disease was a little out of control. And let's not forget the fever and chills running rampant. And let's not forget, I was emotional and crying at the drop of a hat as well as feeling increasingly antisocial.

I had been given different herbs and it took about three weeks for all of this to build up to feeling like crappola. Then, after eb playing the concerned card, it occurred to me finally (D.U.H.) that it might be the herbs. I didn't take them the next day and I felt about 40% better by noon. Then I didn't take them the following day and I was feeling normalish. On the third day I took what was left from my previous prescription (for three days) and I called to reschedule my appointment from student 3, stressing that he was not the problem, and that it was essential to me that I have a student of Dr. Zhong. Nothing else mattered.

Student 4 has the same disease I do and has gotten treatment for it so she knows what works for her and that can guide her in working on me. She also used to get treatment form Elisabeth (who I started with) so there is some synergy going on.

Seems this time fourth time might be the charm. Stay tuned.

Tissues or not?

2009-05-22T13:45:00.000-07:00

I finally updated CG again. Sometimes I feel like a total slacker for not posting there more, and then I post and remember all things happen in their own time.

Tonight we see the Indigo Girls. I am excited to finally be seeing them. I think we have had occasion in the past and either just found out too late or been out of town. As it is, we just found out about them playing here last week so we nearly missed them again. I guess all things in their own time applies to this as well.

Time to scoot and it's a looooong weekend! Woohoooooo!

Be Generous...

2009-05-05T14:12:00.000-07:00

I lifted the following from Annie Modesitt's blog . I like the idea of spreading the love. And besides, Be Generous is one of the 37 Days principles... I wasn't able to be one of Annie's first 5 peeps, but I thought I would join in regardless.

The first five (cinq) (cinco) (5) people to respond to this post in the comments will get something made by me.

This offer does have some restrictions and limitations so please read carefully:

I make no guarantees that you will like what I make. (No refunds... no exchanges!!!!)
What I create will be just for you, with love from me.
It'll be done this calendar year (2009) and when you get it, you have to let me know it arrived.
I will not give you any clue what it's going to be. It will be something made in the real world and not something cyber. It may be weird or beautiful. I may even create something totally unbelievable and surprise you!! It will be handmade and may be any medium I choose. Who knows? Not you, that's for sure!
I reserve the right to do something knittish or crochetish or not - it may be just weird!
In return, you must post this text into a note/post of your own and make 5 things for the first 5 to respond to it. If you don't, it's just bad karma heading your way.
Send your mailing address to me at queenmaxine at yahoo dot com.

The Power of One

2009-04-18T09:20:00.001-07:00

One compassionate word, action, or thought can reduce another person’s suffering and bring him joy. One word can give comfort and confidence, destroy doubt, help someone avoid a mistake, reconcile a conflict, or open the door to liberation. One action can save a person’s life or help him take advantage of a rare opportunity. One thought can do the same, because thoughts always lead to words and actions. With compassion in our heart, every thought, word, and deed can bring about a miracle.

–Thich Nhat Hanh, from Teachings on Love

fyi

2009-04-16T11:08:00.000-07:00

Since I am no longer employed at JCP, I can no longer access the internal JCP web, and therefore am unable to email my peeps the Friends and Family sale coupon. I did, however, get my own coupon in the mail yesterday. The sale is this Sunday and you get the associate discount, an additional 20% off on most purchases. If you need anything from JCP, shop this Sunday and ask any associate for the event coupon.

Left of Center

2009-04-02T07:20:00.000-07:00

I knew when I parked the car that he would be waiting for me when I came out. Maybe knowing this is what led to me being able to maintain an equanimous mind during our confrontation. And really, it should be far left of center. As left of center as possible still allowing my fat ass to get out of the car.

For the most part, I have given up on Starbucks as a drive-thru experience. At least when I am in the store, if it isn't scalding hot, I can taste my chai latte and know if it needs more chai or not, but even if it is hot, I am watching it as it is made and can intervene at that time if I think the chai hasn't been properly dispensed. I just want my chai right. Is that too much to ask if I am being very specific when I order? It is too much to ask about 50% of the time, but I am developing patience to win the war.

The down side of this is a day like today. I want a chai and it is pouring. I wanted a chai enough to get out of the car in the pouring rain, but only if there was a space near the overhang. There was such a space, and the rain let up just enough, however, there was a big honking truck dangling precariously over the parking space line. I parked there anyway, knowing he would be waiting for me when I came out.

As it turned out, this man was in line right in front of me and we had exchanged pleasantries. We discussed the dynamics of making a decision on which sandwich to choose for lunch when it is hours away and you might change your mind by then. It was cordial. Light. And somehow I knew.

Make my order. Watch barrista like a hawk. Ask for more chai without even tasting. Taste. Ask for yet more chai. Next time it is this same girl barrista I will give her the Chef/Barrista chai pumping comparison test because she has failed three times now.

Chai in hand, I head out the door, and as predicted the window of the truck comes down right away.

Truck Man: (with his cordial smile still in place, but as I find out, it turns on a dime) Next time, you might consider leaving enough room for the person next to you to get into their vehicle.

Me: (equally cordial) Next time, you might park between the lines and not over the line into the next person's space.

TM: (his face was red and he gestures wildly) Well that's because that asshole (one space further right of me) was over the line.

Me: (lay on some sugar) So perhaps you made a poor choice when parking your big truck in a space not big enough to accomodate it's grandness while still affording you enough space to comfortable enter and exit your vehicle. (can you tell I have had this conversation before?)

Truck Man's face was still red, but now also all scrunched up like a cartoon character getting ready to blow his top. I could tell in this instant, he was consciously contemplating whether or not to cuss me out. To his credit (there's no way this man was going to win if he raised his voice further and started cussing me out) he chose to retain some gentlemanly dignity, but only some.

TM: Oh, go eat your sandwich!

Me: (doing my best to scrunch up my face and mock him a little while remaining equanimous and not crack the fuck up) Oh, go buy a small car!

TM draws in a deep breath as if he is readying himself for a long explosive rant and then as if a lightbulb went on over his head, he exhaled and said nothing, just continued looking at me.

Me: Good choice. Have a nice day.

unscathed

2009-03-20T12:04:00.000-07:00

This morning, I went to collect my chauffer for the day from his other job. He was ready on time and even willing and able. Chef has finally taken some driving lessons and has an appointment to take his test on 4/3 and damn but that biy needs practice. So I actually extended the olive branch and told him we were going shopping and out to lunch.

All in all, not too bad. I see the irony of it all because the same things I have to tell him as critique, my father had to tell me, mainly to be committed if your going and give the damn car some gas. I think that is the chief difficulty and I have to give myself big points for expressing this in a much kinder and gentler fashion than my dad did to me.

I might even go clean out the car so it is presentable when he goes to test in two weeks time.

Tuesday...

2009-03-17T07:38:00.000-07:00

I was really awake whn I got out of bed this morning, and now, a mere two hours later, I am really jonesing to crawl back. There is a certain listless quality companion to the frigid temps we have been experiencing of late.

Frigid. Yes! It has been frigid here in Houston, seemingly forever though realistically I suppose it has been less than a week since it was eighty degrees. On Saturday when I was driving to a knitterly meetup, I thought I saw a snow flurry or two even though I know it likely wasn't colder than 40, but 40 in March, in Houston, well, that's just criminal. I even wore socks one night out to dinner. Mismatched lovely hand knit socks with my sandals, and I was totally cozy at that point.

Today however, there is something disturbing in the listlessness. I feel on the precipice of something, though not necessarily in a bad way. I can't even vaguely identify what is disturbing about it all, but that label totally captures the feeling. Maybe I should just go home and crawl under the covers and knit a while.

some knitting

2009-03-11T13:04:00.000-07:00

Since I keep forgetting to take a pic of this and finally it is finished, I decided to throw it onto the scanner this afternoon. The scanner makes the colors much more muted, almost as if being viewed through a filter of sorts, or maybe under a piece of waxed paper. The Pueblo Stole is glorious. It is the first project where I actually felt as though I were knitting fabric. I think part of the reason it took so long to finish was how totally ennamored I was with it and that I just didn't want it to end. Now that it is done, I never want to take it off. If Lauren Bacall sees it from the stage tonnight and begs, I will resolutely have to decline. I seriously heart it that much.

The sock pictured below was like this also, I was totally digging the knitting, but unlike the Pueblo Stole, I knit the first sock in about 5 days, which for me is really fast. Of course I have not yet been motivated to begin the second sock, but it will happen soon. The pattern just really kept my attention and the repeat was easily remembered.

I have something new on the needles keeping me from the second Guernsey sock. No kidding? No kidding. I bought a Fleece Artist Lady of the Lake sweater kit when we were at my mom's in November. The colors are bright and leafy in a chocolate, red, orange, gold sort of way. There are burgundy and purple flashes here and there, too. The sweater is knit in two different yarns and the pattern is daring and brilliant in a very simple way. Let's all take a moment to hope it fits when I am finished, I kinda think it will. It is just a little obsessive at the moment, but in a new to the needles sort of way. My downfall with sweaters in the past has been the bigness of the project bringing on monotony or boredom, but so far I have to say that won' be the case this time. As a side note, any of these pattern names can be googled or searched on Flickr if you are at all interested in seeing many versions of them.

45 minutes more to kill at work and then it is off to the theater and Mz. Bacall via California Pizza Kitchen. My favorite go-to pizza there Pear and Gorgonzola, has been off the menu for a while, so something new will have to do.

Guernsey Sock

2009-03-07T06:48:00.000-08:00

The Big Sit

2009-03-01T07:35:00.000-08:00

This morning marks day seven of The Big Sit. Woohoo!

It is an interesting prospect on the weekend. I am up every day usually around 6, and then I have sat first thing, then let the dogs out of their crates. On the weekend, however, I am up and let the dogs out, then go back to bed for a while, and when I rise after that I sit. This morning that was about 830.

We have a terrier mix, Sawyer, who is 7+ and about 40 pounds. Then there is Nola, the MinPin weighing in about 12 pounds who is 6+. Finally, we have Lilli Munster, the Yorkie whose weight and age are currently the same, just over 3.

Nola is never a challenge to my morning sit, because there is almost always someone still in bed, and if someone, anyone, is in bed somewhere in the house, that is where Nola will be found. Sawyer can also pretty much take it or leave it and not be interested in Mom meditating, but when he does show an interest, he will sit facing me, upright and alert. It’s startling when I open my eyes and he is there just being.

Lilli Munster, well, she is my challenge. I try to consider myself her meditation teacher and I try to lead by example. Some days she gets it, some days not. She has classic monkey mind. Today, she would bring me a puppy thing (stuffed toy) and put it directly in my palm. I would treat it as a passing cloud and place it in my lap without acknowledging Lilli in any way. She did this thre times. Then suddenly, Sawyer was sitting in her way. She put the puppy thing in my other hand, I put it in my lap. Sawyer then snatched it and ran, instigating a round of chase. This happened several times, and I managed to keep my composure long enough to finish my sit.

Katherine (our Yoga and meditation teacher of old) told us that when we meditate, if a thought or distraction arises, treat it as a passing cloud...notice it and then let it go on by. She said there will always be environmental influences from the outside and the challenge is to let them just be.

At 20 minutes on the dot, Sawyer was again sitting right in front of me and just before I opened my eyes, he placed a paw directly on my heart center and leaned in with all his weight. Lilli was curled up in my lap.

Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm…

We made it 50 days...

2009-02-19T13:37:00.000-08:00

Sometime toward the end of last year, I had a moment of clarity and decided that one of our goals for 2009 should not only be a serious reduction to our credit card debt, but also a total cessation of use of the demon cards. Surprisingly, this really hasn't been terribly difficult because most of 2008 was a time of transition.

I think what facilitates the ease of this decision becoming reality the most is the fact that in our mid forties (well one of us is there...) we are pretty much home bodies. This is speaking to normal day to daym not vacation time, but the first vacation of the year has been totally paid for in cash. This is major for us, and the only reminder we need is to not celebrate this monumental occasion excessively while on said vacation. Admittedly we do still need to work on that one.

In the title of this post I say we made it 50 days, but realistically I think we made it more to 75 or so as this started before the holidays, but for accuracy, we consider the first of the year as marking the beginning of the concerted effort.

We still haven't had our official putting away of the credit cards party, but both eb and I carry just one in our wallets now and have agreed to emergency use only. So what constituted today's emergency?

For some time now, I have been putting off coing to the eye doctor. I really can't remember if I was due January 09 or 08, so I am either close to right on time or a year past due. For the past 6 monthe or so, I have been wearing glasses that are about 12 years old. My sun glasses are the current prescription, but my regular glasses broke and the frame had been discontinued soon after I got it, so, no luck in replacing the broken stem. My old glasses, though I know it is a huge no-no, were close enough.

I was putting off going to the eye dr because I decided I had to see someone new. When I went last time, the doc I had been seeing for about 5 years totally dismissed my questions about it perhaps being time for bifocals and made me feel crazy for even suggesting it. Truthfully, I was never really fond of my Woody Allen lookalike eye doc, it was a matter of convenience that I stayed with him as long as I did.

A friend of mine is a bit fanatical in her choice of any type of doctor and one day when we were discussing the whole bifocal dilemma, she told me about her doc and how long she has been with him and finally, today, I went to see him. I got the most thorough exam I have had in a long, long time. And I liked him right off, even though he is...a doctor.

The credit card came out because what I paid today, close to what I expected to pay, was only half the final bill, which means I will in all likelihood whip out another credit card when I pick my new car...I mean glasses up next week.

The doc asked me why I haven't done lasik. I told him what a wuss I am, and also that the expense when weighed against a possible vacation, seems too high to me. His only reply was to think about how much vacation I might be missing seeing less than I potentially could. I think he also knew that sticker shock might settle in. If I have to replace these glasses with any frequency, lasik might be moving up on the decision list. The doc seemed pretty confident I would come around and he told me when I was ready that he would refer me to the right person.

It isn't like I don't know several people who have done it, and I don't really know what I am so afraid of, but the idea of being awake and alert when that is going on just totally creeps me out.

Home body mode is secure for the time being.

Flash blogging to get it out of my head...

2009-02-14T09:32:00.000-08:00

McD*nald's is your kind of place
Hamburgers in your face
French fries up your nose
Pickles between your toes
And don't forget those chocolate shakes
They come from polluted lakes
McD*nald's is your kind of place

Where does this shit come from? Most likely this is a camp song, sung to pass the time while hiking up to Lookout to camp out or to the waterfall to swim. Definitely not a dining hall approved camp song.

More importantly, why this morning???

CSA

2009-02-13T10:09:00.000-08:00

The check is in the mail. Woohoo.

I just mailed the check for our first effort at being part of a Community Sponsored Agriculture program. There are several available throughout the greater Houston area, but most of them don't have a convenient pick-up point, and the ones that deliver to the home don't yet deliver on our side of town.

In the interest of omproving our quality of life, and because I have the luxury of a very flexible schedule, I decided that I was going to make the commitment to better living regardless of where I had to go for pick-up.

The other concern when making the decision is cost. Being new to it and not knowing what to expect, it's hard to commit to the $$ that some of the programs cost. Broken down by week, they really aren't excessive, but if you are paying in some cases annually, in some semi-annually, it can be a considerable chunk of change.

In my research, I came across Wood Duck Farm. They have an established presence at one of our local farmer's market, and they are starting a CSA program this spring. Their set-up for it seems to me like a bit of a pilot test program, and I think if it is successful it will continue forward. I like that the smaller scale means a smaller initial $$ investment. It lets us try it on in a comfortable manner, and there is a pick-up location about a mile from home.

And now we wait for it to begin...

Alec Baldwin is the new William Shatner

2009-02-04T11:16:00.000-08:00

I tried to embed the video directly, but as you might see, that didn't work right. Here's the link in case you haven't seen it.

http://superbowlads.fanhouse.com/quarter4/Hulu-Alec_Baldwin/2409778

So I saw this commercial and that was my immediate thought. "Priceline Ne Go Ti A Tor." Has Alec had some work done or what?

In other news, EB and I went to see Maya Angelou on Saturday. It was lovely to be awash in such glorious energy. I bought her latest book, Letters To My Daughter once I got the tickets to see her and I read it in a day. It isn't to her daughter, but to women and girls everywhere. Some of it is pretty deep. And jarring. It really is a worthy read.

Not a whole lot else I feel like blogging about at the moment, maybe more later.

It all started at 5:35

2009-01-25T06:34:00.000-08:00

That's A.M.

Nephew one, nearly eight, busts in to the bedroom and says:

N1: Aunt Maxine, I really need something to eat or I think I might throw up.
AM: Do you want me to cut you up an apple?

N1: No. That just won't do it.

I had to think fast because cleaning up vomit might just make me do the same. Really. I was reviewing what I had seen in the fridge and trying to think what might fill the bill. His mom says he will eat whatever we eat, and of her, that might be true, but we, umm, eat a little better than she does. We're all about cultivating our food snobbery.

AM: There's a bagel. Do you want it plain? Toasted? With butter?
N1: What I really like to eat is corn with peas.

I look in the fridge and lo and behold, there is a bowl covered with saran wrap of corn with peas.

AM: OK! Corn and peas it is.
N1: Don't make fun. It's not nice and I really like it. Really.

I'm not one to take being admonished by a seven year old(there is no nearly eight at this point, he's seven) and especially not at 5:35 in the morning, but he was all curled up on the couch looking pitiful and I was still concerned he might yak, so I cut him some slack. His corn and peas were warmed and I let him have them right there on the couch and I went back to bed.

About half an hour later, he is standing right next to the bed.

N1: Aunt Maxine. I have to get into bed with you guys because it's freezing on the couch.

Not one to argue half awake I help him settle in between us where it's nice and warm. He went right to sleep and I was graced with his corn and pea breath. Charming.

About 730, nephew two enters the picture. I could hear him calling s brother, looking for him. He had fallen asleep on the couch last night before seven. When I was up with N1, I noticed he wasn't there and even though he has his own keys to everything, I was pretty confident his four year old industrious self had in all likelihood awoken during the night and gone up to bed. Aunt Betsy (that's eb) had asked me if he was still sleeping after the N1 ordeal and I told her I thought he must have gone up to bed. She went and confirmed because she's good like that.

The bedroom door was closed and it was sort of like hearing a game of MarcoPolo. I could hear him calling and I then called him. He didn't hear me or was just distraught at not finding his brother. I finally got up and went out to see where he was and he was on the couch all sad looking.

N2: Where's N1?
AM: Getting warm in bed with us. Want to come?

Head nodding was the only answer. There really isn't much room left in the bed when the two of them are hogging the middle and Aunt Betsy and I got up around 8. N2 followed. N1 is still sleeping off his corn and peas.

It's a good thing we were both freezing our asses off enough to wear our pyjamas to bed last night.

PS...I alomst forgot. According to N2 (he with the heavy southun accent), you fry eggs in the payun.

Please tell me she was kidding,,,

2009-01-22T08:57:00.000-08:00

Earlier this month, Persetta graduated. She was my TCM student doc for the last 6 months. I go to the local college of acupuncture for treatment every two weeks.

LiAn is my new TCM student doc. I was a little hesitant going with a second year student (Percetta was a fourth year), but LiAn is who Percetta and DR. Z(the supervisor and recognized herb guru) both recommended. I was expecting her to be a little less sure of herself, but let me tell you, she is confident with the needles and somewhat aggressive about it. These are good things. There are subtle differences in my results that aren't really something I can verbalize, small improvements difficult to quantify, but improvements nonetheless.

Yesterday I had 41 needles. LiAn said, "Some of your needles today will be bigger."

I held up my hand and told her, "Stop right there. I don't need to know more." Percetta knew how wussy I am about the whole needle thing and that I didn't want to know anything about it, that I trusted her to just do her thing. I don't need to see them. I don't need to know they might be bigger. I don't need to know that bigger needles go deeper.

Well, I forgot that all, and now I know. I need to clue LiAn in on my next visit. When she mentioned this and I told her to stop, I also opened my eyes. I was laying down on the table, glasses off and relatively relaxed. As I opened my eyes, my heart was racing just a tad. My spine tensed up and being already full of needles, I couldn't really move to stretch it out, so I asked LiAn to pause which she did, until I could breathe a little and calm my racing heart. From my vantage point, prone, eyes open, and glasses off, the needles on either side of my nose came into focus and they looked like small finishing nails. In my face. That did little to help slow my racing heart so I closed my eyes and tried a few deep cleansing breaths. I was relaxed again in a few moments and LiAn quietly went about her work.

After the needles came out and I met LiAn at the desk, She told me, "Your pulse slippery today, so new rules...no sweet. No fried. No cheese. No spicy"

"What's left," I innocently queried.
"No sweet. No fried. No cheese. No spicy."

No food love? Oh my.

The new rule journey begins today. I think no spicy will be the greatest challenge, and I am modifying that right out of the box to less spicy. I told LiAn this and she frowned and basically conceded we have to start somewhere.

Birth Day

2009-01-14T07:26:00.000-08:00

Twenty-four years and a few hours ago, I was in crazy pain. I was twenty years old and at that very moment, I had the harsh realization that maybe I didn't know quite everything. Harsh. Very harsh.

Sometime the night before, I was awakened in the night to these sudden and sharp pains in the small of my back, pausing just a moment, and then searing up my spine. I thought I was going to die. Then, my water broke and the only thing that came to mind was a big "Uh oh..."

At the time, I lived in a house on the hill in a fairly wealthy section of Lake Placid. The only way this was affordable was to have five of my nearest and dearest move in with me. It was a four bedroom and I shared a room with Chef's father. It was downstairs and had an attached full bath. Kathy had the other downstairs bedroom, also with an attached bath. Upstairs was Kim in her own bedroom and Danny and Val, sharing the fourth bedroom. Both upstairs bedrooms shared a bath, and each were equipped with two twin beds. The place had oil heat, but we mostly relied on the woodstove downstairs in the living room, and since we were all coming and going at various odd hours, it was pretty easy to keep it going most of the time.

Kim was my best friend and we had fully discussed her taking me to the hospital when it was time. It was very naive of us to presume that "time" would be convenient to our schedules, and that making the 15 mile ride to the hospital wouldn't be that big a deal. We hadn't considered that it might be the middle of the night. Or that I would be in excruciating pain. Or that it would be one of the worst snow and ice storms we had ever known. Or that Kathy would be the only person home at the time and
not the person I wanted in attendance.

I think it took us well over an hour to get to the hospital, and it was a miracle we didn't freeze to death in a ditch on the side of the road. As bad as the pain was, I couldn't fathom giving birth in the back seat of the car, and home delivery was in no way an option.

My OB doc, Dr. V, was a pleasant older man. He was nearing retirement and had a new young partner. A very handsome and sexy new young partner, Dr. M. I made it my entire treatment schedule managing to see only the aging Dr. V. and having done nothing more than shake hands at the initial meeting with Dr. M. You know who was on call that night. Damn.

Had I taken child birth classes? Umm, no. Had I read up on the process? Nope. I was 20 and figured anything I needed to know would be explained along the way. I didn't ask a single question. I had no idea that an epidural might leave me paralyzed. But when that answer to my excruciating pain was offered up very matter-of-factly, I signed the consent form and held very still for that long thick needle to be inserted into my spine.

And then, the next thing I knew, from about my boobies down, I. Felt. Nothing. Not a thing. It was as if my body just stopped at my boobies. My contractions were still charging away as evidenced by the monitor, but I didn't feel a damn thing. I was liking it.

Since that illustrious time in my life, I have learned a wee bit more. I know, for example, it is quite ordinary to have an epidural and still be able to push. Mine was administered a tad too high. No pushing for me. All of a sudden it was time and my thighs and knees were right there on the table along side my shoulders and upper arms. This struck me as terribly funny. I was laughing uncontrollably at the sight of it all and it still gives me a chuckle today.

Delivery was a breeze and suddenly there was a baby on me. Kathy had to hold him there because I still could feel nothing. The nurses took him away after a few minutes and I was cleaned up and wheeled back to my room.

The next three days were a bit of a blur because I had a nasty reaction to the epidural. "I suppose she's allergic," one nurse quitly said. I was violently ill for three days. At one point it felt as if I was vomitting with every breath I drew. And in spite of it being 94 degrees in my room and me having multiple layers of blankets, I was freezing.

In the middle of all this, round about day two, I met my almost mother and sisters-in-law. Almost. I had been dating Chef's father for more than three years, two of those years living together, and I had met his youngest sister. Turns out she was the sane one in the family. Kathy had told Chef's father how sick I was. She told him that she could take him to see his son (and maybe me, too) at any time because she took those days off. Did he show up once? No. But I was lucky enough to meet his mom and sisters under those charming circumstances. Go team.

When I went home on day six, I had plenty of help to figure the mom thing out. Mostly, I sat in the rocker in front of the fire and drank a lot of juice to try to rehydrate a little. Someone always brought home some homemade soup from the deli for the first month or so, and it slowly became apparent that I was seeing less and less of chef's father. At that point, I really didn't care.

Enough thinking about the physical pain...Happy 24th, Chef!

A year ago...

2008-12-29T13:48:00.000-08:00

My good intentions have been straying for nearly a year. How does that happen? It isn't that there haven't been other good intentions in the mean time, but honestly a year? I don't understand how I could have been so remiss. It has been a year since I have posted over on the new blog, Cultivating Grace. I am so ashamed.

I need some sort of publishing goal for that blog. Daily is definitely out of the question and weekly, too, seems daunting. Monthly seems lazy. Twice monthly seems achievable. I will declare it. My goal for CG for 2009 shall be twice monthly.

I read an awesome book a few months back, so awesome that I took notes as I reread it immediately upon finishing it the first time around. I had an entire post in my head surrounding the notes for the CG blog and poof. It is missing. The notes might be findable and I think I might make this an immediate task. I think I will order the book too as I had it from the library on the first go round.

The book is called The Knitting Sutra and it is by Susan Gordon Lydon. It is subtitled Craft as a Spiritual Practice. I know there are those among you who scoff at the idea of reading a knitting book, but honestly, this book is suitable for the non-knitter. I challenge you to check it out from the library, read it, and then tell me it isn't great. You know you want to...

My other goal for the new year is to get my Etsy.com shop up and running. That has been languishing since Nov 07. Imagine renting a store front and just letting it sit there for a year. That wouldn't happen so I guess it is time to take it a wee bit more seriously and be a tad more proactive in its pursuit.

That leads to my other goal. More knitting.

Simple enough.

Really.

The saga begins...

2008-12-12T05:18:00.000-08:00

Aunt Flo wasn't quite kicking my ass, but I wanted nothing more that to lie in bed all afternoon, so when I got home from work shortly after four, I did exactly that.

Deep under the covers is right where eb found me when she got home around 530. I had wanted to go with her to her appointment with La Querida, but I just wasn't getting up for anything. I even had the jar of Skippy and a spoon on my bedside table so I was pretty settled in. I was toggling back and forth at that point between an old Kurt russell movie, The Thing, and an episode of Stargate. I was into the movie until the thing first appeared, but then lost interest. I wanted to put a movie on, but was too entrenched in my covers to get up even for that.

Before I started dozing, I decided to get up and make some mac and cheese and cheddarwurst, always good for what ails you. I knew eb would be coming in around the time it all came together and made the family size box with extra pasta. Velveeta Shells and Cheese always needs extra pasta to make it edible so it was a nice stretch and it left extra for the boys.

I dished up our portions and eb asked where I was going to eat. I think she knew the answer would be in bed, but she was just being sure. As I was getting settled back amongst the covers, she asked if I wanted her to put a movie in. She was all prepared to indulge me with The Rock when our newest TV on DVD addition caught her eye, and thus the saga begins... Witchblade...

Sarah Pazini looks good in HD at 42 inches.

xmas comes early

2008-12-02T07:38:00.000-08:00

EB and I , in a round about way, sort of agreed on no presents this year. I suppose no presents is a stretch. More precisely, we agreed on no frenzied shopping just to have a mass of gidts under the tree. Life has been good to us of late, and we pretty much get what we feel we need as we need it. Or as we are inspired by events otherwise.

This really began long before the recent visit North to check up on my mom, but that trip serves as a perfect example to illustrate that xmas comes early.

We, eb and I, really needed to help mom organize and sort through the congestion of crap that is her humble home. It likely goes without saying that this isn't exactly what Barbara needed. I think barbara just needed some company. We had decided before we left home that there wouldn't be a contest of wills. We agreed that we were traveling North with no expectations. The visit was actually much more pleasant than I had anticipated once we got past the notion of really having to organize.

Having to organize and not being able to translated to limiting the amount of time spent at Casa Barb. On one of the many little side trips around the North Country, my mom asked if we could stop at the bank so she could pick up a little cash. No, ma, we can't. Of course we stopped and she went on inside.

When she came back to the car, she passed an envelope back to me and said, "Here's a little something for your trouble." Once I counted the little something, I knew instantly my mom was buying our complicity in her denial about needing to organize. The little white bank envelope held 20 fifties. Good daughter that I am, I asked her if she was certain she had given me the correct envelope. "It isn't enough? The number should start with a one." Apparently I had the correct envelope afterall.

This is when xmas first came early. We blew the whole wad while we were up North. Some in a gallery in Lake Placid. Some at the yarn store. Some at the bead store. I could sit here and take a full inventory and not be able to tell you where all the money went, but it was the beginning of our holiday season or the end of our birthday season...in style...

Yesterday was the holiday JCP associate shopping event. That it is the last associate shopping event we will attend isn't germaine to our having bought the whole store. Of course we didn't buy the whole store, we never even went downstairs for crying out loud. Usually on associat shopping we end up spending two to three hundred dollars and we get a lot of stuff. This year we were much more selective though we did manage a few impulse purchases along the way as well as managed the barest restraint.

We went intending to get jeans, underthings, candles and sheets. We managed all of these as well as various assorted tops. I think we were remiss in not going down to the shoe department, but we do still have a few weeks to decide if we need some new shoes.

Our impulse purchases? I finally got a dutch oven. Original price was $140, on sale for $70, final price $36 and some change. I am going to break it in, possible this weekend with Ina's French cookbook. I need to peruse it again and select just the right thing...

Out other impulse purchase was a new set of dishes. I am not quite sure how the new set, 4 of everything, will replace our current 8 of everything, but the deal was similar to that on the dutch oven. I am half considering seeing if the store manager will honor the price on a second set.

Candles were on our list, but they also fall to the impulse category as well because we, umm...bought about 15 or so big, Chunky, Candles. The house will smell divine.

Our restraint? We were going to get a wall unit for the master bath but we didn't. We had already decided on something from Ikea. That's one reason. Of the choices, eb oreferred one and I preferred the other, but neither of us felt strongly enough about it to make our case, so we decided to wait.

We had $1400 of merchandise, 42 items, and came in under $500. Ho. Ho. Ho.

Life is good.

Naked in the House

2008-11-25T06:52:00.000-08:00

What a wonderful way to start the day!! Naked! In the house!!

I absolutely love it when I get up in the morning and I know, without checking, it is a naked in the house kind of morning. T is off holidaying with his other fam in CO, and W is at work, of this I am certain because I actually heard him leave this morning in the wee hours. This creates, ta-daaaaaaaaaaaa...a Boy Free Zone!

EB and I take every opportunity to commune with our environment in all our joyous nakedness and cherish the BFZ above most everything(excepting, of course, each other). I am so giddy about it that I ordered my chai this morning with whole milk. It is a morning to celebrate and indulge.

The downside of my giddiness came by way of forgetting something for which I will pay the price all morning. The moisturizer eb uses is not moisturizer I can use because, alas, it has a very minute amount of lavendar in it. I say very minute because given the sniff test, I thought it was safe. It isn't. So now I am enjoying the tingly sensation on my minimally moisturized face. If you have ever had a chemical peel or intense facial, you know what I mean.

My eyebrows, the edges of my lips, the edge of my chin, and along my hairline on my forehead are all atingle. I know from previous similar experience that washing my face again, unless I was to fully jump into the shower for a thorough dousing, would only make it worse. I sort of have to just ride out the storm on the rare occasion this happens. Perhaps this time, the action will take hold in my memory in such a way that I don't readily forget such things again. I am just glad I used it so sparingly.

What sounds good for lunch?

$18.61

2008-11-20T07:45:00.000-08:00

Can you believe it? I almost fell over from the shock. Eighteen Dollars and sixty-one cents. I wanted to go inside and pay in cash. I was on E on the way to work and before getting into the loooooong Starbucks line, I stopped for gas. I still can't believe I filled my tank for under twenty bucks. 10,955 gallons at $1.69 per. If I had a gas card it would have been $1.54.

Amazing.

Last week, we spent 5 days visiting my mom in upstate NY. I packed socks. I wore them nearly every day. It was bloody cold. While we saw some remnants of snow on the ground here and there while driving around and the upper elevations were all snow covered, it actually snowed (flurries mostly) our last two days there and they got a few inches once we were safely back in Houston.

The trip itself went better than expected, and mom seems to be doing well. She is still in denial about how much crap she needs vs should be thrown away, but we're working on that. We managed to remove seven boxes of vintage cameras and accessories which we shipped home. There's umm...more...camera...crap...

I got home and it suddenly occurred to me that next Thursday is Thanksgiving. Surely there are a few more weeks? I need to get the grocery list up and running so I am not at the store next Wednesday.

We have been busy bees and it looks as if it isn't about to let up any time soon. Last night we had a girl's night salon, as in some of our peeps came over for hair cuts. That was fun. Coming up is getting some knits ready for an artists' sale this weekend, a day with the nephews, some artisan market days, holiday parties...oh, and we have a tree to put up somewhere along the way.

I better get to knitting.

Lost

2008-11-04T10:53:00.000-08:00

Last year, eb and I had an addiction. It started out small enough with the purchase of Lost season one at Costco. We thought we might finally discover what all the noise was about this series. The fourth season was getting ready to air on tv at the time. We had no designs on catching up, we just thought we would mosy through season one and then move on to subsequent seasons.

I don't say addiction lightly. Before we reached the end of season one, a mere 5 or six days later, I had discovered that abc.com has the entire series available online to view at our own pace. Our pace was fast forward and before the month was out, we were caught up and anxious every Thursday as we waited for the new episode.

I didn't really care for the show as much when I had to wait a week for the next episode. I learned that my true addiction was tv on dvd, not the show itself, which is not to say I wasn't also addicted to the show, but I think the show is the lesser of the addictions.

Yesterday, during a decidedly slow day at work (in the middle of a decidedly slow week), I decided to revisit Lost from the beginning while filling out my time. with our new office set up, my desk has me facing the door, so my monitor isn't visible to anyone walking by. It's a good thing too, because I am hooked again.

Lost is compelling in a way that I am fortunate to not have any equally compelling work to do.

Defining home

2008-10-20T11:12:00.000-07:00

I have been reading solbeam for several years now and her insights to herself and the world usually have some form of resonnance. The following quote is from an entry where she is asked to

define home.

"We human beings, both individually and cumulatively, will constantly be presented with the challenges and opportunities to evolve to our higher selves regardless of the continent upon which we happen to find ourselves born or standing. I need not cross the world on a jet engine to either solve the puzzles of the planet or recognize the mystery of life. But perhaps, like Santiago, we just have to make the physical journey to come to that same, mocking-with-good-humor-at-
our-humbling-expense, conclusion."

Take some time for yourself today and go get lost in her blog.

Barack-o-lanterns

2008-10-15T15:23:00.000-07:00

Go see!

Jack. Ass.

2008-10-07T07:43:00.000-07:00

I slept in a wee bit this morning and made it to work at 9:30, so really, just a wee bit. When I have that sort of slow morning, rather than hit the manic *bux drive thru that is my norm, I head over to the *bux where Chef works. I get salutations of "Mom!" all around no matter who is working, and more often than not, I pick them up a little something for breakfast, though not today. Honestly, I just didn't think about it this morning.

As I was leaving, I threw my haul into the car and went to the trunk in search of a bag because they were out and I had a small purse so I couldn't just throw our lunch in there as it wouldn't fit. There was a tote bag in the trunk, so no worries.

While I was in the trunk, Jack arrived. The same Jack I refer to in the title of this post. He was driving a huge King Ranch dually. Huge. White. Truck. And, he parked it next to my itty bitty Civic. Crooked. So crooked that if the parking space lines were long enough to accomodate his monster truck in the first place, his rear axle would have been in my space, behind my car.

I got into my car at that point because I could tell I could maneuver around Jack. Most likely. As I started my car, Jack, in his nicely tailored suit and tie, jumped down from his mondo truck and saw the error of his ways. He then walked towars *bux, but he waited by the edge of the parking lot, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched.

Logically, I should have swung out away from his truck, behind me toward the left. This would have been in the same direction his crooked parking facilitated. His stopping and crossing his arms over his chest and watching, however, lowered my equanimity and I had a few choice words for Jack, so I artfully maneuvered my itty bitty Civic and backed out toward the right which landed me right between Jack and his monster truck.

Did I mention it had been raining this morning? Jack was standing in his lovely suit and tie, in his nice animal skin boots (I am pretty sure not faux)on the edge of the puddle. My backing out didn't splash him, but it did necessitate him haveing to do a little hop back to avoid the rippling puddle. As he did that, my window went down.

Jack...standing there with a stare of disbelief...
QM: (Delivered dripping with my best southern honey) You'd be better off worrying more about your own driving and learning how to properly park your truck.
Jack...standing there with a stare of disbelief...his jaw slightly askew...

Fucker.

Edited to add...
I forgot the most fun little twist. As I was giving Jack some qm glare, I pushed the button to roll up my window and at just that precise moment, the sky broke open. Jack, is all wet.

Hanging...

2008-10-06T14:22:00.000-07:00

I know everyone is just hanging on the edge of your seats...I had a nice few hours of my brain being free, spinning out of control...

While I appreciate this would be *just* right for me, it isn't quite the right time for the Universe to converge. I have filed the various wisdom(thanks, ladies!) away in the recesses of my brain, so when it is indeed time, they will spin to the front.

I think if our country wasn't facing dire economic straits, and oh, I don't know, there might be some liklihood of an SBA loan coming through, well things might have been different. It was fun while the spinning lasted.

I will try to do some more research and be better prepared should another such opportunity present itself. Frankly, I think I would be better off starting from scratch than inheriting this particular situation, so it's all good.

Time to knit!

How does one actually take the leap?

2008-10-02T11:51:00.000-07:00

Recently, eb and I were talking with a good friend about getting to a point in life when all you want to do is take a leap of faith and follow your bliss. Terri, the friend, has been actively working toward this for quite some time. EB and I work toward it in theory and in actuality too, but at a very slooooow pace.

Today, I learned that a small local yarn shop has to close. It is owned by a single mother and har kids are getting a little older and need more of her attention so she has to close and she would of course, rather sell, so if you are in a position to, make an offer...

I would love to make an offer. The shop is in a good location and breaks even but with the proper devotion and attention would surely do well. It is a fairly (in these trying times) safe investment. I have an overwhelming sense that this is the ideal bliss for me to follow. However, I can't even begin to consider the formulation of an offer. The fantasy would spin out of control in an instant and then the reality that it maybe could happen would cut too close.

If there are any readers needing a nice write off who would like to be my capital investment saviors, you know how to contact me. Time is of the essence.

How To Make Books

2008-09-29T13:43:00.000-07:00

We went to B&N last night for a browse and cup-o-tea after dinner and I came across this gem. How To Make books: Fold, Cut & Stitch Sour Way to One-of-a-kind Books
by Esther K. Smith.

So naturally, this morning when I got to work, I had to make a book. And then another. I used my dad's images. I wish he was still here to see them, because honestly, the simple ingenuity of them is brilliant and right up his alley.

I took the first one, a Basic Instant Book, and signed it and mailed it off to my mother so she would have an author signed first edition.I think I will make copies to send to my dad's remaining siblings as they were around for the picture taking and are in some of the images I used. I think for theirs I might take a PDF in to Kinko's so it is a color copy as the covers are both color images.

Back to work...

Day 2

2008-09-22T07:30:00.000-07:00

EB left yesterday morning for the Folio show in chicago. She was totally dreading it and hopefully by now, she has had a little fun. I hope she got to hook up with her peeps.

Long ago, in the early stages of our togetherness, eb had occasion to go away sans moi for a week or so if I remember correctly. At that time, I decreed that there shall be no seperations exceeding three nights. Three nights was okay, but the fourth night, I was miserable beyond reason. We have pretty well stuck to this tenet of our relationship and any time that it has been necessary to be apart longer, we have consciously reaffirmed that three nights should be the max. this really struck home for me when my dad died earlier this yearm and I went home for nine days.

In planning a trip to check up on my mom, ticket prices were inordinately high. EB was heard to volunteer..."Well, I can stay home..." Ummmm, no. Not happening. I don't care if we need to take out a second mortgage on the house, missy, you're going. I held out and we got cheap tickets, close to half what I was initially finding. The kicker is that we are going in November and I now need to hope against hope that we don't get snowed in.

It's highly likely that I could have gone on the current Chicago trip. The thing is, it would have required a little finagling and some second guessing of the bossman. I think it is better in the long run that we made no presumptions, but I would sure rather be there than here at the moment. At least with the bossman gone to the show, it's quiet in the office.

O.M.G.

2008-09-17T11:03:00.000-07:00

It's been a week. I suppose I should be thanking the Little Baby Jesus(tm) for Taco Bell and Starbucks. As you all might have heard, a hurricane ripped through these parts last week. It's been 5 days and still, nothing is open. Let me ammend that. None of our go-to places are open.

Of course, some of them might be by now and we have yet to check. Tonight we will brave disappointment and pay our second visit to Empire Cafe. On Sunday, our first visit, they simply were being lazy asses and not wanting to work. No, I'm kidding. We drove by hoping for Sunday breakfast featuring Huevos Verdes (I am sure eb can correct me here on the name of her usual eggs Benedict with spinach type dish, it escapes me) and Italian Toast. As we turned the corner, hopeful because the front door was propped open, we saw a rented pump out back so I guess maybe they took on a little water. We haven't been back to check and we could pick up the phone and call, but where is the spirit of adventure in that? Tonight we will hopefully do more than a drive by. Angel hair pasta with sundried tomatoes and garlic in a light lemon butter brew. With shrimp. It's calling my name.

After the Empire drive by on Sunday we tried various second choice places from our go-to list to no avail. No dice. We drove around for 2 hours and went home a little humbled by it, grateful that our damages were next to nil. We exclaimed a "Holy shit! Look!" or two as we drove over Allen Parkway and I -10 at Shepherd which were flooded nearly to the overpass we were driving on. Did we bring the camera? Oopsie.

We got home and by that point we were damn hungry. When weese heard we went looking for breakfast the day after the hurricane, she asked if we had run out of eggs. Did I feel like making eggs? No. We had one last box of Velveeta mac n cheese and some Cheddarwurst, so again, we had that. I think we have had that for a fairly disproportionate number of meals in the last week and it might be off the radar, at least for a month or so. It is a surviving guilty pleasure so there is no way I will say never again, but it has earned a rest off the menu.

On Monday morning, eb and I returned to work. Other than the boss, we were the only two to make it in on Monday. I think we could have credibly milked it, but after 4 days in the house with our two lovely man-sons, we really did have to go to work. I think there is such a thing as too much togetherness with man-sons. Hopefully they won't get too put out reading this because really, they are good boys, but when they are bored and stuck at home...

All in all, we lost power sometime after 2 am Sat and it was back by 2pm. Cable and internet followed by 4pm, though they have been spotty since. A lot of Houston is still without power and/or water, so we aren't really complaining.

Does having a son who works at Starbucks mean anything? No. not when they don't have a milk delivery. The location by work is open today, but the line this morning was insane. I just went at lunchtime, and for the first time in a week, eb and I have our iced chai lattes. Color us content.

PS...Since the storms, the temps have cooled which is nice. However, also since the storms, our office a/c, cold on normal days, is about 5-10 degrees cooler. I might need to bring some socks in to the office so my toes don't get frostbite.

Must. Count. Needlles.

2008-09-10T09:26:00.000-07:00

I think Percetta was making up for the fact that I did not go to accupuncture last week. Either that, or she was thinking in terms of birthday spankings. I mentioned the impending fete and she congratulated be, but honestly, all I did was put 44 on her brain.

When I first started accupuncture in March, 22 was the magic number and for the first month or so, I counted needles every time. I unconsciously stopped that obsession when after a visit or so I lost count, but today, for some reason, I found myself counting in a very soothing and meditative sort of way. I watched the Count from Sesame Street float by in my thoughts like a cloud passing as each needle was driven home.

Six months later and I have yet to eyeball any needles. Not in me. Not in the tray afterward, not in their sanitary trappings beforehand. I did see the box of needles today, but really, that's as visual as I need to get. Don't Want. To see them.

This week of birth celebration has brought gifties from afar in the mail. Ladies, I thank you all.

Follow KL down the alley...

2008-09-09T11:05:00.000-07:00

Kitty Litter tells the tale of why we can't be choosy with our vote in November. If I read/pay attention to nothing else, my vote is decided, even though it was already a foregone conclusion.

You know in 1997-8 it really wasn't much better. Sure there was a real women's clinic to go to, but there were picketers outside to be reckoned with. One of my coworkers was in need of services. She was 35, divorced, had a 7 yr old consciously-decided-upon only child. She was on birth control *and* used condoms religiously with her soon to be second husband.

The ordeal of making an appointment. The ordeal of the picketers. It fostered in me a sense that there is still so much work to be done. That my friend had no one else she could turn to or trust with her choice was beside the point. I think this was truly a lesson for me in not judging others, because there were judgements flying toward her from every other angle, no matter where I looked. It was definitely a few of the worst hours of my life, and I was just there for support and involved in such a periferal way. How do we advocate change? For now, telling these stories as a reminder of the progress we have made might have to do.

I've done it now....

2008-09-04T10:32:00.000-07:00

That's right. when I saw $218 dollars for the round trip flight, I went and did it. I have invited the wrath of winter upon us. I have never returned home in the winter since my escape in April of 1987. We have gone to visit some bloggers in CT in Feb, but never home...in November. I am hoping that since it is before Thanksgiving that some mercy will be involved and we won't end up snowbound. with my mother. Of course there has been snow on my birthday in those parts before (9/11).

I can't believe summer is basically gone and the holidays will soon be upon us. By that I guess I mean the summer months as it will be summer weather well into October, if not November. It feels like it is time to begin cooking again. Real cooking all the time. It is certainly a commitment I want to make to myself and to eb, but then life happens and I so often feel lazy about it. Maybe with summertime leaving us, it will more readily happen.

I think a key to it happening is getting the pantry reorganized and restocked in a more naturally functional way. It's a little skewed at current and we have been terribly lazy about the farmers' market. Maybe getting this trip booked will take one thing away from my addled brain in a way that cooking can come back. Maybe not. The intention will remain present and that's a step toward achievement.

It also seems like there is so much to be doing creatively, but again, the desire far exceeds actuality. I need to be writing more. Knitting more. Creating with Arnold's pics more.

Being lazy about it less. Time will tell. Maybe I need to assign days for certain creative pursuits. An idea, but not so sure it's a good one or one that will work for me.

I picked up my tin to make this year's retablo for the show at

the Lawndale. I have picked out the photo I will use and maybe even this weekend I might get started so I am not doing it days before the deadline like previous years. I like at least having made the picture decision already.

Good Friend Irene was scheduled to visit this weekend after some company meetings in Galveston. The hurricane pile up in the gulf cancelled her meetings and her trip has been postponed until the first weekend in October. I am being extremely conscious of wanting to pout and sulk and throw a tantrum worthy of my inner fouryear old and it is taking my every effort to not let her out. Maybe she needs some cotton candy. Or annother Nutty Bar. Yes, that might be a short term band-aid.

I hate it when maybe is the word most rampant in my brain.

Time rolls around...And a Weese inspired tip-o-day...

2008-08-18T10:12:00.000-07:00

Every two years as required by law, I have to take some continuing education classes to renew my hair artist license. Thankfully, I am able to do it online, and multitasker that I am I can do it while doing other things. I was just doing a few pages of instruction while I was eating my lunch and I came across the following gem discussing a researcher and the germs he found at the salon (or any shared) reception desk.

"He found the office toilet seat had an average of 49 germs per square inch. When he looked at keyboards, he found 3,295 bacteria per square inch, 60 times higher than the toilet seat. Even worse were tops of desks at 21,000 bacteria per square inch and telephones at 25,000 per square inch. People are constantly coughing and sneezing on them. Germs from unwashed hands can remain alive for days. In other words, if you share computer keyboards in your salon, a phone or a desk, you are sharing germs."

The instruction then went on to recommend various ways to adequately disinfect and sanitize the work area, including a recommendation to unscrew the back of the keyboard and wipe free of debris daily.

Everyone always finds it odd that I don't get sick (often) and they wonder why. The first thing I do when I enter the salon is to get the disinfectant wipes and thoroughly wipe down all the work stations and the desk including touch screens, keyboards and phones. I really think sometimes they think I am a clean freak or germ nazi and then I gently remind them that I usually avoid the illnesses that oh, the 28of them, pass around the salon on a regular basis. Don't these people understand the concept of planned sick days and how little fun they are if you are actually sick?

Four Hours to Jimmy

2008-08-14T11:07:00.000-07:00

Dinner tonight with one of my dear brothers-in-law. And father-in-law. And sister-in-law. This begs the question...do any of them consider me an anything-in-law? I wanna know, but I won't ask. Asking would only get the proper answer. I want the oohimbloggingaboutfamilywhodontreadmyblog answer. Really.

As reward for this mini family reunion of she who is Dear *and* Sweet, though the reward was scheduled months before the dinner, we will be seeing Melissa Etheridge. Tonight. at the Brown Theater at the Wortham which I think only seats around 2000. We saw her at the Wortham a few years afo and it was a great show. Wealso saw her at a dive place, Numbers (standing room only, no seats) which was the absolute best. She was Right. There. at Numbers.

I have no idea where are seats are tonight and honestly, I could care less. Just being there is its own reward. In any seat. I am eagerly awaiting the infusion of energy.

EB is not so much a fan though more a fan after having seen her live. Will she be expecting the tears that will inevitably come(from me, not her? Maybe. I already have a tissue in my pocket. Or three. They. Will. Come.

Last Friday at work I was having a moment. More than a moment. All day long. It wasn't necessarily more busy that I can handle, I have really never seen more busy than I can handle at JCP. There was, however, a certain undefined chaos that had me on the verge of a debilitating anxiety attack most of the day. No headache. No racing heart. It was literally all in my head. It was disconcerting to say the least. It was a day of feeling as if the skin in which I reside is not my own. And it was disturbing enough that I mentioned it to EB as soon as I got home.

Twice during the day I had to tell stylists that if they weren't in my area to help, they needed to move behind the wall. I know I was less than diplomatic about it and I have absolutely no idea of whom I made this request. All I was aware of was the fact that any bodies removed from my field of vision would help ease my mental chaos. Most of the day, I couldn't imagine handling one more piece of information.

Then I went in on Saturday morning and all was normal. I just don't know. It was all very surreal and dreamlike but the constant forward movement to the day was at work. And all at grindingly slow speeds.

totally makes me want to call in sick tomorrow, but I won't. And now there is but 3.5 hours to Jimmy.

Tropical Storm Edouard

2008-08-05T08:42:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's raining, and it might be the slightest bit breezy, but we are fortunately on the west side of town and it is rather more like a regularm heyitsaugustinhoustonanditsraining sort of storm. I stayed home late this morning to give Chef a ride in to work so he doesn't have to walk 2.5 miles in it.

Sitting here looking out the back window, it really doesn't seem so bad. I was going to drop Chef at work and head into work myself. Once out driving in it, I soon enough determined the visibility sucks, and hmmm, maybe I had better continue working from home this morning. Maybe I will hit the office this afternoon. Never mind that my working from home means laundry.

The most curious thing about this storm was watching all the local coverage and seeing which newscasters would try to have a little french flair when referring to Edouard, some maybe even a little Cajun about it, and which just call it good old Edward. And then there were those that called it Edward in the beginning of their coverage and suddenly remembered it is Edouard. Amusing.

Will they reply? (surprisingly toned down for me...)

2008-07-24T11:04:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was driving West on Westheimer near Gessner in Houston, TX at 12:30 pm. There was a vehicle totally covered with Outback logos, presumably owned by a local franchise for the owner's personal use, or perhaps for deliveries, not relevant.

I was in the flow of traffic and as I approached the intersection, this Outback vehicle was inching into the roadway, however, not committing to dashing out in front of me. The posted speed was 35 and that is how traffic was proceeding as the light was green.

The man driving the Outback vehicle was creeping and maybe he thought I was brakeing to turn into his driveway. I wasn't. My signal light was on, but the driveway he was exiting was fairly close to the intersection, and I was turning right at the corner onto Gessner not into the parking lot.

The man was leaning out the Outback vehicle window and was putting his hand up to stop me. I however, was proceeding past him through a green light to make my turn.

As I passed him, he flipped me the biggest bird you have ever seen. It was very agressive as well as rude and offensive. I totally infuriated me.

To me, this was the equivalent of your company knocking on my door and giving me a hearty F*** you, something that wouldn't likely ever happen in person, yet this driver, driving an Outback vehicle, did exactly that.

I've never been to Outback, and now I am inclined to never give it a try. That someone who is representing your company behaved in such a reckless manner should offend and infuriate you as much as it does me.

I went and did it...

2008-07-22T09:41:00.000-07:00

I'm in trouble now. My obsession might be on the verge of an avalanche. The opportunities for saturation are many with World Cat at my fingertips. Oh, woe is EB...

That's right. On Thursday last, eb and I had occasion to visit the Montrose branch of the Houston Public Library. I. Got. Me. A library card. I think I might have had one when Witcher was still my last name, and I have been putting it off for fear of outstanding books from when there were children using the HPL. When we were at the library for the Lesbian book group (I have learned that capitalizinig Lesbian is correct as we are a culture!)to discuss the July book, Eat, Pray, Love, I went ahead and took my leap of faith. I now have 5 books on hold and awaiting notification that they are ready for pick up. Let me clarify, five knitting books.

I should pause to point out that when one signs up for such service, one should take the time to check online account preferences such as method of notification to be sure the counter clerk entered one's email address correctly. GUEENMAXINE? I think not. Here I would be sitting, awaiting notification...forever...

World Cat is the search feature for the Inter Library Loan feature. Very handy for the ever popular out of print knitting books going for hundreds of dollars on ebay or through booksellers. I certainly want to peruse something well before spending more than the publisher's suggested retail.

I find it interesting that 4 books I searched by Alice Starmore on World Cat are listed as being available within the HPL system, and yes, I did search there before expanding my options, thank you very much. So when this occurs, which database is more likely correct? If I search online, and then I ask at the library aboutit, will they then be searching the same database I already searched? Oh, the mysteries.

I recently added 37 days as a new link on the side bar. Please, go check her out.

What's a Jew to do?

2008-07-20T10:19:00.000-07:00

I have a new obsession as of about 10 this morning. Must. Find. Manischewitz Egg & Onion Matzoh. In HOuston. I just learned it is available online, but I really wanted it this morning.

Randall's is our local big box grocery of choice, but Kroger, second on our list, is usually more reliably stocked with MEOM, so when I am feeling like making Arnold's matzoh brei, I usually check there first. They have revamped and labeled the Kosher section and there isn't a single box of matzoh in sight, let alone the one in particular I must have. I went and checked the cracker section just in case. Nope.

There was a manager stocking foodstuff and I politely approached.

qm: Excuse me.
Poor Unsuspecting Manager: Yes, ma'am, how can I help you?
qm: I am looking for matzoh and I saw no space for it in the Kosher section, nor did I find it in the cracker aisle. Is it perhaps somewhere else in the store? (I asked this while courteously standing with my full basket of groceries.)
PUM: I'm sorry we only carry that seasonally now.
qm: But...I'm a Jew year round!

Yes, that is the exact conversation and when the PUM couldn't pick his jaw up off the floor and had no reply, I promptly turned around and sashayed right out the door leaving my full cart with him. I decided he wouldn't begin to understand the distinction between the seasonal (Passover, plain unsalted) matzoh, and the flavored matzoh I was seeking.

Off I went to Randall's, where I found the same story, though their Kosher section at least had the plain unsalted dreck (Yiddish slang referring to 1. excrement; dung. 2. worthless trash; junk.)I found the manager and had a near identical conversation.

So I now have to go to a few b list grocery stores to see if my coveted matzoh is to be found. If I need to order it online? Will it arrive in tact? How many boxes do I order to offset any shipping charges? I have eaten this at times weekly, at other times monthly. It has currently been about 4-6 months since my last matzoh brei, and I have made it enough over the past 25 years to know that no other matzoh will do. Woe, is me.

Knitting!

2008-07-17T11:12:00.001-07:00

In my father's pictures! Who knew?

On the morning after our 3rd and 10th anniversary...

2008-07-17T06:36:00.000-07:00

Getting out of the shower, my dear sweet wife proclaimed, "Baby...I think I need some different co caulk..."

Happy Bastille Day!

2008-07-14T08:49:00.000-07:00

Until we can celebrate in France, this or this will have to do.

J'ai Deux Amours

On dit qu'au dela des mers
La-bas sous le ciel clair
Il existe une cite
Au sejour enchante
Et sous les grands arbres noirs
Chaque soir
Vers elle s'en va tout mon espoir

J'ai deux amours
Mon pays et Paris
Par eux toujours
Mon c?ur est ravi
Manhattan est belle
Mais a quoi bon le nier
Ce qui m'ensorcelle
C'est Paris, c'est Paris tout entier

Le voir un jour
C'est mon reve joli
J'ai deux amours
Mon pays et Paris

Manhattan est belle
Mais a quoi bon le nier
Ce qui m'ensorcelle
C'est Paris, c'est Paris tout entier

Le voir un jour
C'est mon reve joli
J'ai deux amours
Mon pays et Paris

Mor babbling for Babylon...

2008-07-10T10:12:00.000-07:00

Series recap...Woo!

And then, the sky broke open...

2008-07-09T12:11:00.000-07:00

Cats and dogs. That's what it's raining right now. Tornado weather, eb surmises. At least I won't have to water tonight.

Last night I was present at a meeting that so badly, I want to blog about and set free my current quota of snarkiness. Eckhart and common sense are prevailing. Just relaying this much has taken the wind from the sails, released enough steam that the stored energy of it has disipated. pffft...it's gone. Suffice it to say that the meeting, for various reasons, was entertaining, not the least of which being that I was reacquainted with the iceberg shawl that I started on the cruise. Delightful knitting time.

I have been talking to my mom every few days and she is on the mend. On the 26th of June, she rolled her car. I still haven't really pressed her for the whole story, because by now, I would certainly be getting the sanitized version. That she is okay and perhaps a little closer to her reality is enough for me.

She was in the hospital for a day or so and then transferred to a nursing home for physical therapy rehab. It was a week before I knew this much and a week since I learned as much. She was bruised and very stiff and the pt she needs goes beyond the accident, like to regular exercise, but at talk of this, denial returns.

In talking to her yesterday, I could sense that she might be ready to go home. I think she can release herself at anytime, and she is looking to this Saturday. There is talk of riding with a neighbor from town down to Jersey to visit with her sister for a week of further convalescing and then catching a ride home again.

The plan remains at this time to go visit again in the fall.

Not much else new going on. When I am work, all I can think about is creating. When I am at home I get lazy and all I can think about is being a slug. I know this means that my work should be creating, but I also know there are bills to pay.

So on it goes.

Gotta heart youtube

2008-07-01T11:17:00.000-07:00

Susan and Talia

Home little more than 24 hours when the telephone rings...

2008-06-26T10:23:00.000-07:00

It was nearly 11pm our time, not that it was late for us as we were still awake, but it was late for my mom to be calling, near midnight her time...

me: Hello
mom: Before you heard it from someone else, I wanted you to hear it from the horse's mouth. Not only am I the proud owner of a car for the first time in 45 years, but also a car that rolls.

badum dum

mom: I'm in the emergency room. Lynn (my sister) is here. I'm okay. They had to cut me out. The car is totalled. But I am okay. They're keeping me overnight for observation. Just in case. My cell is going to run out. Lynn will take me home tomorrow and I will call you once I am home again. Or Lynn will call you if they decide to keep me for anything. I'm okay.

Each of the above sentences was said with about 10 seconds or so of dead air between them. My mom waited for my interruptions but I had none. I can't lecture her from Texas with any different result than if I was there, so I just let her listen to my silence. I am not sure this changes anything. She will likely just get another car.

I wonder what time this all happened. I wonder if her first thought was of me telling her a couple weeks ago that she needed to drive judiciously as to not waste gas and to drive when she is most alert, like early in the day. And to remember that she can't be running around as she did 10 years ago when she last drove on a regular basis.

Hmmm.

Are we there yet?

2008-06-23T19:28:00.000-07:00

I have taken zero notes along the way, and very few pictures, like, none except those my mother specifically asked for. S.l.a.c.k.e.r...

The only thing I can say about the 9 days pried away from Dear Sweet Elizabeth at the moment is in reference to it nearly being over.

It's all good.

Look for a recap sort of post soon. Maybe by the weekend.

Travel day tomorrow

2008-06-14T18:42:00.000-07:00

We shall leave the house at 5 am. Sucky. Our flight is at 630 through Chicago arriving in Albany around 1230. That would be me and chef, not me and eb. Apart for 9 days. Sucky. We meet up with C-man at the airport and pick up the rental car to drive 2 and a half hours up the Northway to Wilmington. We should get there by 4 on the outside, likely closer to 3. And the C-man is not okay with any of this. Losing his poppy has hit him hard and he is in shock I think. This is the first death he has had to deal with and he is totally put out about it. Should make for a week of interesting discoveries.

I plan to hike up to Coperas (sp?) Pond and just take it all in a meditational-communing-with-the-Universe sort of way and C-man is none too happy about that either but it is my highest hope that he will join me.
I would also like to drive over to Highland Lodge in VT for lunch one day with my mom and the boys too, if they care to go.

Other than those two things, I have no agenda. None other than knitting.

This will become a Clapotis. It is Fleece Artist Casbah that was purchased at Churchmouse Yarns and Teas on Bainbridge Island (Seattle leg of the last trip).

This is begging to become a
My So Called Scarf. The wool is Manos del Uruguay and is the yarn featured in the pattern. The short color runs are perfect for this herringbone stitch and this is a scarf I love to knit. The yarn was a gift from Mama D (aka Prunella)and it is totally perfect for my knitting needs this week as it was infused by her touch with the bestest energy ever.

I will also bring a few of the projects I am in need of finishing. Like yesterday. Hopefully they will get finished because they all need to be mailed (well three of them, to two places)the day I get back. There are 2 baby sweaters and the gayest baby blanket/shawl you have ever seen which I will post pics of as soon as it is done. I will also bring the socks I am working on because they are good plane knitting. If there is room, I am also including the chemo caps I am promised to do for charity.

If inspiration strikes and time permits, I will get started on stories of my friend Loretta. She has been brewing in my head since before finishing the boy I once knew.

I will post over the next 9 days if I can. Until my return, please help keep Dear Sweet Elizabeth out of trouble.

Today was the day

2008-06-08T16:58:00.000-07:00

My dad drew his final breath early this morning. Updating en masse here is easier than emailing, but I will be emailing as I can throughout the week. Chef and I will be flying up there next Sunday and the services are Monday. We will stay through the following Tuesday. Arrangements still need to be made for my younger son to get up there, and I am sure that will all work itself out.

Thanks to everyone for your support and emails. They really mean a lot to me. Updates to follow.

They are so...not...gay...

2008-06-03T11:00:00.001-07:00

Of the negatives of my dad's that I have made it through so far, 720 to be precise, this is by far one of my favorites. I have an actual print of it that my dad made some fifty or so years ago framed and on the shelf. It is of my dad and my Uncle Arthur. I can't help but think of Paul Lynde when I say that. My dad has his younger brother in his lap.

Several of the pics in this series have calendars in them and when I zoom in I see they all fall between 1952 and 1956 which puts my dad between 25 and 30 in any of the photographs. It could be that some of the negatives fall outside these years, but it is a fair enough estimate.

I made a few magnets with some of his pics and a postcard through zazzle.com. Great fun.

The elevator was full of competing colognes...

2008-06-02T08:15:00.000-07:00

I got into the elevator at work this morning with four men and one woman. Four men who wore four different colognes and wore them loudly. And then the ascent began. We stopped on three, then four, then five and finally I was alone in the elevator for the trip from five to six. Alone with the eau de cologne. I need to practice holding my breath.

In other news...my dad is dieing. He's eighty and led a full life. Apparently he was in the hospital about two months ago. Don't you just love parents who have poor communication skills? At that time, Arnold weighted in at about 145. When I last saw him, March 2007, I think he was about 180 and that was thin enough to see his bony knees as his jeans draped over his crossed legs.

Last week, he was readmitted to the hospital and he informed the staff that he would not be returning home. Whether he died there or they sent him to a nursing home or hospice was up to them. His weight upon admission was 122. The doctor decided to do an MRI to see if there was anything new going on. I don't know if my dad had had one previously, not that I can recall hearing about, but there is that ongoing communication issue.

My mom went to see what was up with my dad, how he was doing, and when she showed up, he told her she didn't need to see him right then and she had better leave. He was having to drink barium at that moment and feared he would be sick and that is what she didn't have to see. I hope that long before I am eighty, I don't give a shit about such things.

so my mom is out at the nurse's station and one of the nurses comments that she is surprised to see her that day, what with Arnold going home tomorrow and everything. My mom went into full blown panic at hearing that because she had finally accepted that my dad is right about her no longer being able to care for him. And here he was getting an MRI. Who knows what would be found that might require a longer hospital stay.

Well, what was found was a brain tumor. Apparently a big one. Inopperable, not that my dad would consent to surgery anyway. Based on his recent rate of decline (I think), the doc estimates 3-5 weeks. "And you know how they pad those figures to comfort the family," added my mother.

It's such a dilemma, this long distance assisting. There is a lot of crap I can help my mom do, if she will let me. I think I am most worried that I will discover she really shouldn't be living alone. That leaves a few unsavory options. I have to be the bad guy and commit her to a facility of some sort. The likes of that covered be medicaid. Where she lives, that might be the worst option. I think here in Houston, the state facilities likely have a wait list. And the private facilities are too costly. The only other option I see is the bad dream I have had a time or two. Oh my god, what if she had to come live with us?

We would figure it out, I am sure, but let's just hope for now that it isn't the issue at hand when I go north. I could go tomorrow if I had to, but what is the wisdom of going sooner to have to turn around in 3-5 weeks and go again? Yes, I would see my dad again before he dies, but he doesn't want to be seen. I feel that if I go sooner, it is more to be company for my mom and see what I can help her negotiate.

I know when I go for the funeral(such that it will be, likely more a memorial service) I will have to stay for a couple of weeks. Then I think I will have to go back again for a couple of weeks subsequently.

Too many what ifs to even begin to wrap my brain around, yet I am thinking I will be going. Maybe on a buddy pass. Maybe next week. Maybe...

A boy I once knew...part ten...the finale

2008-05-28T15:52:00.000-07:00

The party went on until about midnight, and everybody had a good time. Colleen stayed over and went home in the morning, dropping me off at church along the way. As soon as I entered the church, I could feel s diminished joy. Something was up. As I walked up the stairs, the view of the altar brought the somber mood into balance. There was a large display of white lilies. This particular arrangement was significant in its design alerting the congregation that a member had passed on since the previous Sunday and that arrangements had yet to be made.

Before I could start contemplating who might have died this week, I was suddenly joined by my church-friend Lynn (also not really my friend, but more a friend than Wendy). Lynn was a year older than me and we went to different high schools, but were in the same Sunday school class for the past six years. I had also seen her a bit over the summer at the hippie house. I knew her well enough to be friendly toward her, and she had been at my party the night before.

Lynn and I often sat together making plans for the church youth group or for other church activities. For both of us it was a haven to camouflage our mischievous doings. This is not to say it was false, because it wasn't, but it wasn't necessarily pure. There was an immediacy to the closeness of her body to mine in the pew. Service was not terribly over crowded to warrant this degree of closeness. I was distracted by it enough to not make connections to what Pastor Mark was saying. He was lamenting the sadness we all must be feeling for Sandra having lost James so early in life, and that the phone tree would be in effect later in the week as details for the service became available.. I looked at Lynn and whispered to her asking for clarification of who Sandra and James were. "We'll talk after service," was all she said.

During the benediction, Pastor Mark included those facing challenges and named Sandy. It was at that moment that I remembered I was supposed to see Sandy at church to learn what was going on with Jamie. We stood to sing a final Amen, and the synapses in my brain were suddenly firing on overdrive. Sandra was Sandy. James was Jamie.

I looked to Lynn with hope for her to be able to explain this all away, for her to deny what I knew must be true. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I couldn't stem the flow of tears that had began cascading down my face. Lynn took my hand and led me down the stairs and into the pastor's study. Mark was in there waiting for us as Lynn had already conveyed to him a concern about how I might take the news of Jamie's death. She led me to the chair directly across the desk from Mark and then took the chair to the left. we had our Sunday school class in the pastor's study and I was strangely comforted sitting here as my brain was spinning out of control.

Mark spoke softly in a very clinical and matter of fact manner. James had had an episode of his illness that required medical intervention. After he had seen his doctor, Sandy wasn't able to bring him home and thought he was resting peacefully when she finally left him to go home at around one in the morning. James had experienced this several times over the past year and an adjustment to the medication had always overcome his agitation.

Mark had gotten a phone call at 5:30 this morning from the state police. There was an accident involving a tractor trailer on the way into town. The identification found on the victim listed him as the pastor and would he like the courtesy of contacting the family. Mark told me he was as shocked this morning as I was right then at that moment when the officer gave him Sandy's name and number. He knew James was the only family she had. He went on to tell me a few more details and then he let me know that Sandy asked that I wait to see her at the grave side service which would be small and private and held on the following Saturday.

Jamie's funeral was on my eighteenth birthday.

That week was a blur of activity. I have no clear recollection of anything that happened. Did it fly by? Did it drag on interminably? I have no idea. All I know is that Saturday morning found me at a small local cemetery sitting under a huge oak tree watching Billie Mae work the backhoe that was digging Jamie's grave. I was already dressed for the service in a long black dress that fanned out around me as I sat under the tree and wept. I was struck by the cold reality of how much I would miss the quiet charm of Jamie's company, of how little I really knew of him, of how much his presence had meant to me in the short time during which we were acquainted.

I sat there in silence as the backhoe came and went. I was still sitting there in silence as the hearse arrived with Jamie in his coffin. I had no words to say when Sandy was suddenly sitting beside me in her own companionable silence.

Sandy explained to me in detail everything she knew about the accident, starting with Jamie being so agitated in a different way than any previous episode. Something was different and immediate and Sandy knew right away they would be going to the hospital, that is was beyond her scope to deal with on her own. She called his doctor before they left the house and he met them at the hospital. Jamie was compliant enough but also in a near catatonic trance.

Once the doctor determined Jamie was off his meds altogether, new meds were introduced, one a strong sedative, and within thirty minutes, Jamie was asleep and Sandy was filling out his admission papers. That was Saturday night around 10:30. Sandy said she was home sometime after one and went to bed straight away exhausted by the ordeal. the next thing she knew, Mark was at the door shortly before seven with the state police. Jamie was on a bicycle riding toward home when he was killed instantly by the impact of the collision with the truck. No one had seen him get up. No one had seen him leave the hospital. They didn't even know he was missing until she called them to confirm what Mark and the police were telling her. she called thinking they had mistaken someone for Jamie. Jamie must still be asleep in his hospital room.

The service was brief. There were five bodies present in all, Sandy, myself, Wendy, Pastor Mark, and Jamie. Wendy left soon after Mark was done speaking. She had a few brief private words with Sandy and they hugged. Mark was the second person to leave, again, after a private word with Sandy.

Sandy and I sat under the tree as the coffin was lowered into the ground. Soon after that, Billie Mae returned with the backhoe to fill in the grave and by the time she was done, the sun was low in the sky and there was little evidence that someone had just been buried.

I had gotten a ride to the service with Wendy and Sandy offered me a ride back into town. On the way we took the white roses that had been graveside and dropped them on the side of the road where Jamie's death had occurred, not a permanent marker, but a marker just the same.

Sandy didn’t make the turn into the campground but continued on around the corner to the hippie house. The car pulled into the driveway and Sandy killed the motor. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like very much for you to join me for dinner.” As we walked into the house, Sandy smiled as I instinctively opened the porch fridge and grabbed us each a beer. I could smell the vegetable soup simmering on the stove and I didn’t have to look to know there was a loaf of bread in front of the open kitchen window. The table was set for one and there was a note leaning against a candlestick. “You have to eat,” was boldly written in the most elegant script.

I went to the shelf and got another place setting down as Sandy brought her bowl to the soup pot. I exchanged bowls with her and then got a knife and sliced some bread. The candles were lit and we both sat to eat in silence.

Once dinner was done I got up to clear away and wash the dishes. This house functioned on simple routine and I had been around enough that the routines were automatic to me. Sandy marveled at this and let out a soft laugh. She then told me to leave it all and just come and sit. That was fine with me because I wanted to talk to her about getting to know her better and arranging a time when we could hang out much as we were doing just then.

That’s when Sandy broke the news to me. She was only there because Jamie wouldn’t move away when their grandmother passed a few years back, and he could not be left unsupervised. Nor could she bring herself to involuntarily committing him to a facility where he would get the care he needed. The only choice for her was to put her life on hold and move into her grandmother’s house.

For the past few years, Jamie had been her only concern, but now it was time to move on with her own life.
The house had already been sold. The moving company was arriving on Monday. She would be back in her own house by the following weekend in Montana. She said she would keep in touch. She didn't.

A boy I once knew...part nine

2008-05-27T14:02:00.000-07:00

The rest of the summer wore on in a similar fashion. I saw Jamie pretty regularly on Monday and Thursday, and he popped in at the fire on occasion, though not with any predictability. True to Sandy’s number three rule, we had not entered into a relationship of any sort other than that of friends. Even now when I think of Jamie it is with an innocent fondness, and it seems more than a little odd that I never thought him my boyfriend. In retrospect, It doesn’t seem that Sandy’s rule had anything to do with it.

Labor Day weekend arrived in no time at all. The end of summer brought the end of the regular campground season as well as a return to school and a totally different dynamic to my life. There would be no lawn maintenance on Mondays. There would be no target shooting on Thursdays. There would be no nightly campfires to be stoked and contemplated until the wee hours of the morning.

Cold weather in upstate New York would be descending rapidly, more often than not on the heels of my early September birthday. This year, I would be turning 18, full of new possibility as well as equally challenged by the monotony of small town life and familial obligation. Harsh reality awaited me, right around the corner.

The weather on this end of summer holiday weekend started out much like the summer it was drawing to a close. It was warm and sunny with just the right amount of breeze to keep it from being considered a scorcher. On Saturday afternoon, the tides turned and the weekend was suddenly bleak. The skies went from blue to hazy grey softly enough, only to be revered an hour or so later as gloomy, dark. Almost black. It was early afternoon, but for all intents and purposes it might as well have been midnight. I knew as I drew the chain through the pool fence gate that the pool was closing for the season and no one else would be swimming until the arrival of the following summer.

There was a palpable burden in the air. Before I could walk across the parking lot to the office, the sky broke open. In the few seconds it took me to sprint to the office door, I was drenched. The temperature had dropped about twenty-five degrees in less than an hour and soaked through, I was shivering. My mom suggested I call some friends to come over for an impromptu end of summer party in the game room, and while I made some calls, my dad got a fire going and set up the games to work without the need of depositing any money. He also hauled out the old Motorola turntable.

I talked to Colleen and Tina, both who agreed there was nothing else worth doing. They both also suggested that they would make some calls, and I knew that between the two of them, my mom might regret extending the party invitation. Once I knew there would certainly be a crowd, I took a deep breath and called Jamie to invite him along. I had just seen him a few days before and we had agreed that the phone would be a new way for us to visit, so my call would not be totally unexpected.

Sandy answered the phone after the first ring. I told her about the party and encouraged her to come along as my mom might like the company. Sandy was speaking in very hushed tones. Jamie had just gotten to sleep after being in a bad enough way yesterday that she had to take him to the ER for a shot to calm him. He had seen his regular doctor after that, and had a whole new series of meds to work through and that it might be better if they sorted that out before Jamie and I saw each other again. I was listening as carefully as I could and trying to follow, but this was the first I knew of meds and I didn’t really have a full understanding of what “a bad enough way” was.

Sandy said she would see me in church the next day and we could discuss it further then but wanted to stress that I needed to trust her judgement when Jamie was like this. I realized I was nodding in agreement as Sandy said my name in a questioning manner. I told her I understood and would see her in church tomorrow.

As I hung up the phone, Colleen arrived. She drove a Ford Maverick and seeing kids tumble out of it reminded me of the clowns that exited the small car at the circus. I think there were nine people in her little car. Right behind her was Tina and a few more kids. When I led them to the game room, the fire was roaring and my dad had moved the Stewart’s light bulb oven from the office. Beside it on the counter there were five or six boxes with remnants of various Stewart’s sandwiches and pizzas. I suddenly saw the brilliance of my mom’s party invitation. All of the end of season leavings would basically get consumed and there would be no worry about where they would be stored. There was a pile of chips, a few stacked cases of soda, and a note on the table saying that the ice cream in the chest freezer in the office was also fair game.

About halfway through the early evening, Colleen’s mom showed up with a large birthday cake for me. As it turned out, the party wasn’t as spontaneous as I had been led to believe. When I came back from a trip to the bathroom, I saw that the cake table was also covered with gifts. All for me. I was truly surprised, and to everyone’s astonishment, momentarily speechless.

Before we close out the month...

2008-05-27T11:27:00.000-07:00

right now. Just this very moment. I am sitting here eating cherries, and I finally feel as if life has returned to post-vacation normal. Of course this anniversary vacation took us to the Pacific Nothwest, and normal is now different. It is full of new possibilities while still having plenty of room for old dreams amongst the new.

As we crossed a few more states off the map, our awareness of normal shifted, as did our appreciation of the Life is Good mantra. Life. Is. Good. With each adventure we embark on, this is made clearer,an association is added to our never ending list of things for which to be grateful. Ultimately, we are discovering, that the only thing that needs to be on that list is this very moment. Right here. Right now.

Thank the Universe for cherries at work on a Tuesday afternnon.

Va.Ca.Tion.

2008-05-06T04:10:00.000-07:00

It required more than a capital v. It's a big one and it's a tenth anniversary present to ourselves all rolled into one, though I suspect there might still be anniversary presents aling the way throough the actual date(That's July, we like to start these things early.

I have been mannic as all get out for the last two weeks or so, vacation officially began at 2 pm yesterday.

Part nine...to come.

A boy I once knew...part eight

2008-05-04T06:04:00.000-07:00

The summer went on in its normal fashion of my days being filled with life at the campground, chores, friends, campfires each night. I went and helped with Kay's yardwork each Monday afternoon and would then have some time with Jamie, usually joining him for soup and bread for supper if nothing more. On Thursday's I made every effort to go shooting with my dad and more often than not, Wendy was there to rescue me, but always a woman of few words.

I saw Jamie on average those two times a week and sometimes more. On the odd occasion when I would see him in town, he was extremely shy, or maybe just cautious as I was usually with my father. One weekend night about halfway through the summer, I was sitting at the campfire and I saw a familiar form with its long braid walking up the road from the river.

I was surprised to see Jamie as he sat down opposite me. Nobody else was there yet and the office was across the parking area, far enough away that we could talk safely. Jamie said plainly enough that he wanted to see me. He said he was beginning to learn that seeing me calmed him. Reflecting upon that, it occurred to me that he did seem a little aggitated. I told him to come take the seat next to me. I was glad that we had no guests that I had been flirting with that week, so no one that might join us at the fire would make the situation uncomfortable for either me or
Jamie. We sat together watching the fire for a short while and I told Jamie that if either of my parents came out I would just introduce him as one of my friends from town. When I thought about it, I felt Jamie looked young enough that neither of my parents would question who he was, but if they did I would just say he was Sandy's brother and leave it at that. My mom would likely think it was my friend Sandy, not hers.

I learned that Jamie and his sister had dinner with people who lived two properties away. I knew that on the river end of our property, you could see the side of their house through the trees. He told me Sandy would be there until 11 or so, but he could easily walk home as it would take him the same seven minutes it took me the first night we had soup. Jamie's memory for subtle detaill, and the way he introduced it into normal conversation was always very innocent and charming to me.

There was a comfortable silece between us as we watched the fire. I had to pee and told Jamie that I would be right back and I asked him to please not leave. When I came back outside I brought the fixings for s'mores. I saw right away that we had been joined by a few people. There was a couple I didn't know who must have registered when I was on pool duty. They had shower stuff with them so I knew they wouldn't be long. There was also a boy of about 10 who because he talked a lot, we knew was sent to get a bag of ice.

As the boy began pointing out every constellation he knew, the couple excused themselves to the showers. Jamie looked at me and smiled, obviously amused at the contrast of this boy's chattyness to our previous solitude. I took it as a cue to collect the boy's dollar and get him a bag of ice. Once the ice was on his lap, he said goodnight, but not before a brief litany of all the things in his experience that were as cold as the ice was.

Through the visitors and the conversation, I let the fire die down enough that I could safely leave it. I told Jamie to head back down to the river but to sit on the rocks and wait for me, that I would be just a few minutes behind him. I then went inside and retrieved a journal that was part of a project from my Sunday school class and a blanket, and told my mom that I thought the full moon's light would be good for writing down at the river and that I would be quiet upon my return. She told me to just pop my head in her room to let her know I was in before I turned in to bed.

When I got to the river, Jamie was sitting cross legged on my rock of choice. He was perfectly balanced and at ease. I stood there a few minutes watching him before he spoke. "I can tell that's you without looking. There's a soft vibration."

I walked over to Jamie and took his hand. I told him we weren't quite at our destination. On the property to the right there was an old dock. All the paths to it were totally overgrown, but one was still passable because I used it frequently enough. You just had to know it was there. The dock was where I would often sit and read when I had free time in the afternoon, so even though it had been long neglected, I knew it was structurally sound.

I dropped the journal on the side of the dock and spread the blanket for us to sit on. Jamie sat with his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. He was leaning back with his palms slightly behind him supporting the weight of his upper body. I stood for a moment looking at the full moon and stars and taking in the solitude of the river at night. It was so peaceful. Then, I sat straddling Jamie and facing him, sliding my hands into his hair and drawing his lips to mine. His lips were so soft. It didn't take but a moment of this to once again feel his cock hardening as it nestled between my legs. As any time this had played out previously, we remained fully clothed.

A boy I once knew...part seven

2008-04-28T18:25:00.000-07:00

Sitting there kissing Jamie, hearing little else but the sound of the water rushing over the dam and feeling it merge with the blood coursing through my body. I was definitely warming up. I separated my lips from Jamie's and tried to look him in the eye. Jamie wouldn't meet my gaze so I did what I could to tuck some of his messy mane behind his ears and out of the way. It really was a tangled mass. Jamie grabbed my hands and held them over his heart. I could feel his heart beating and his hands warmed my fingers.

I told him we didn't need to talk, but we did need to clean him up. I told him that I was going to the house and I was going to draw him a bath, and also that if he didn't follow me in a few minutes, I would be going home and that I hoped to see him soon. Reluctantly, Jamie let go of my hands and I extracted myself from his lap.

As I walked into the house through the kitchen, my nose brought my body over to a pot on the stove that was slowly simmering. I grabbed a potholder to remove the lid and saw dinner tonight was vegetable soup. There were a few loaves of freshly baked bread cooling in front of the open window.

I went across to the bathroom and turned on the hot water. I was going to add some shampoo to make a bubble bath, but as I bent down to grab the shampoo, a flash of pink grabbed my eye from under the sink. There within my reach was something I hadn't seen in about 10 years. There was an open box of Mr. Bubble. I wasted no time in sprinkling some into the tub as it was filling with hot water. Once the tub was filled about halfway, I adjusted the temperature so it was the hot side of comfortable. Bountiful bubbles abounded beautifully within the basin of the tub.

I went to te kitchen window and saw that Jamie was not yet mobile so I got down some bowls for soup, found the spoons, and napkins, and set the table for two. By the time I was done with that I could see Jamie making his way down the path. I met him at the door and led him silently through the kitchen to his awaiting bath. At the sight of all the bubbles, Jamie rewarded me with a small shy smile. "Go ahead and get in while I get a pitcher to rinse your hair."

I found a ceramic water pitcher on the shelf over the sink and though I was gone just a few brief seconds, when I returned, Jamie had sunk down into the tub. I found a bath pillow and settled that in behind him so he could lean back slightly. I arranged his hair in the water behind him and made gentle work of wetting it all using the pitcher and letting the water wash down behind him. As I watched the water, my eye was caught by a jar of Noxema.

Before I got to washing Jamie's hair, I set the pitcher down on the floor and picked up the Noxema. Opening it released its pent up mentholated vapors. This illicited a soft moan from Jamie. That was all the urging I needed to plunge my fingers into the jar and scoop out some cool white cream. I put the jar down and made slow work of spreading it on Jamie's face. The coolness of it startled him because the bath was so warm, but his reaction was brief as once again he got a whiff of the pungeant vapors. Calm was settling and I could sense Jamie's silent surrender.

I rinsed my hands off and grabbed the shampoo. I had Jamie's hair lathered in a moment and took my time methodically massaging the entire surface of his scalp, just as I had been taught in beauty school. I got an A+ in shampoo and Jamie was becoming putty in my hands. There was a serenity in caring for Jamie so acutely. It was a new dimension to my craft and one of which I was totally unaware at the time. I could sense a tide turning within Jamie and his relaxation was almost audible.

After a few minutes of manipulating Jamie's scalp, I reached for the pitcher and began rinsing the suds from his hair. The water had cooled a bit so I mixed in some fresh hot water to bring it back up to temperature. The water rushing in renewed the Mr. Bubble and Jamie was once again hidden within the cloudlike dream of a private bath.

Jamie's hair was rinsed and I had squeezed out the excess water. As this was done, I applied some conditioner noticing with a smile it was the same as what he had gotten in the sample pak from Wendy. As each section was saturated with conditioner, I gently finger combed the worst of the tangles before twisting it into a rope and secured it on top of Jamie's head with a clip. I told him he could either rinse it in the shower after his bath, or he could leave it clipped up overnight and rinse it in the morning. I wasn't long into the process before I realized Jamie had been subtly stroking his cock under the bubbles.

Once his hair was all clipped up, I needed a wash cloth. I remembered seeing a pile of folded towels on the sideboard in the kitchen. As I went there to look for one, I saw that it was 6:30 and knew immediately I was late for work. I called expecting to have my mom answer and to get an earful. I still got an earful, but it was my dad which was odd until I realized it was Monday night and my mother had likely gone bowling thinking I would be home soon enough. I quickly told him I was cutting hair for a friend of Wendy's and he was okay with that. I told him I could come home right away and he said as long as I was home for the late firewood run it would be fine. That happened at 8:30, so I had two hours and hung up the phone quickly to get back to work in the bathroom.

As I returned with the washcloth, Jamie was standing to get out of the tub. The water had been drained away and he was reaching to turn the water on in the shower. As was true to form for the little I knew of Jamie so far, there was no concern for modesty, something I was getting quite accustomed to. The water was scalding hot because I had just had it on and Jamie barely seemed to notice. I turned the cold water on and soon had the water comfortable enough for me to reach in and help Jamie unclip and rinse his hair. He turned around and leaned his face into the water, eyes closed, and rinsed away the Noxema. So much for the washcloth, He wanted me in the shower with him, but I told him explaining soaking wet clothes to my father when I had to be home in less than two hours was not something I cared to do. "Right, the Judge." That was the first thing Jamie had said since he told me he didn't want to talk a few hours before. I took it as a good sign. Comprehension. A fog was definitely lifting.

I was holding a big fluffy towel for Jamie to cover up with and he just stepped past me, totally ignoring it. He was at the sink looking in the mirror. His skin was pink and moist and I reached around him from behind to gently blot it. The towel was between us, and Jamie wanted me closer. I then used the towel to remove excess moisture from his hair. There was a big comb on the counter which I used to comb his hair all back and away from his face. Once the tangles were all gone, I loosened the curl with my fingers.

Jamie grabbed the towel from where I dropped it on the floor and wrapped it around his waist. As he left the bathroom he grabbed my hand and led me toward the kitchen. With his other hand, he grabbed a candle we passed along the way. He stopped at the stove and lit the candle and placed it on the table between the places I had set for dinner. He had me sit and gave me a knife to slice the bread. Jamie then dished up some soup for us both and turned off the stove before he made sure the lid was secure on the pot. "That'll keep it warm enough until Sandy gets home. She'll want some soup after bowling even though she would insist oherwise." We had our soup and bread in a companionable silence and I felt as if Jamie's eyes never left me.

We washed and dried the dishes and Jamie put them away. Well, he put one set away and the other he reset at the table for his sister. I reached for his face and was soon kissing his lips. It was as it had been the first time and nothing of the darkness of this afternoon existed to the point of me questioning myself that it ever had. Jamie was steering us toward the living room which was softly lit as twilight arrived.

We stood in the near darkness of the living room kissing for what seemed like a very long time. I again laced a soft braid into Jamie's still damp hair, all the while lingering in kisses. It was nearly eight as we finished cleaning up in the kitchen, and it would take me about 7 minutes to walk home. "I've got just fifteen minutes more, Jamie, why don't you lie down and get some rest until Sandy is back. I'm sorry I can't stay until then, but I do have to be home soon."

"I'm okay now. Just stay with me as long as you can." With that said, Jamie was stretching out on one of the couches on his side. He was so innocent again in this soft filtered light. His breathing was slow and steady and his skin still slightly shriveled from the bath. He was asleep just moments before I was out the door.

I walked into the campground office at 8:27 and my dad handed me the keys for the dune buggy so I could make the 8:30 wood run. I got back to the office about an hour later just as my mom was coming in from bowling. I handed her the cash from wood sales and went to get a Pepsi from the soda machine. Then I popped a Stewart's ham and cheese sandwich into the Stewart's light bulb stove. Five minues later I was enjoying a nice snack and thinking abouth the afternoon as the phone rang.

I am glad I got it because it was Sandy and I wasn't sure how I would have explained her asking for me. "What did you do to him? I expected to find him sullen and non-compliant and instead, he's sleeping like a baby. And he's clean. And the soup hasn't burned or boiled over." All these things seemed surreal to Sandy even when I recounted the afternoon to her. She was appreciaive of everythiing I had done for Jamie. For her. As she was hanging up the phone she told me to tell my mom we were discussing Kay's yard schedule because knowing Barbm, surely she would ask.

A boy I once knew...part six

2008-04-22T10:05:00.000-07:00

When I got home that afternoon, my mom told me that our church pastor had called and wanted me to give him a ring back. This wasn't at all unusual because I was the favored baby sitter of his wife and kids. He had a deaf daughter and I could sign enough to communicate with her with ease. I got into my swimsuit for pool duty, and before going outside, gave Pastor Mark a call.

Mark didn't need me to babysit, but he was wondering if I could fill in a spot they had on Kay's home assistance team as one of her regular's had broken a leg and was out for the summer. Everyone at church knew that the only Kay was the Colonel's widow. I asked Mark what kind of help I would be volunteering for, and he said mostly lawn maintenance, but there was always something with Kay and the church did its best to meet her needs. He told me that I always had the right to refuse, but that the lawn maintenace team was always there on Monday afternoons at 3 and that would be the main commitment required of me. Then, he told me Sandy had thought I would be able to help. I knew that since it was volunteering through church that my mom would have no objection, but I told Mark I would get back to him at Sunday services.

My mom thought it was a good idea as long as it didn't interfere with my work at the campground. I told Mark on Sunday that I could definitely do the yard work, and anything else would depend on my availability at the time.

When Monday rolled around, three o'clock found me at Kay's house on the hill. As I stood there looking out at the yard, I noticed that the property line was a stand of trees that was pretty dense. It was obvious where the yard work stopped. As I was looking, someone was suddenly emerging from the woods. A minute or so later, it became clear that the someone was Sandy. Her property was on the other side of the woods. As she approached she stuck out her hand to shake and told me she was glad I could join them. She then told me to remember where she had come out of the woods as it was a path directly to her backyard. "You use a riding mower at the campground?" Clearly Sandy had the business at hand on her mind.

I told her I did, but could also work any of the other lawn equipment, too. As it happened, they didn't have a riding mower, and the everyone was hesitant to ride the Colonel's tractor. Sandy told me it really wasn't much different if I wanted to give it a try. I thought it was a brilliant idea because I would get less dirty.

The tractor hadn't been used in quite a while, but clearly it had been well cared for. It started right up and I backed it out of the garage. It really made quick work of the main part of the yard and I was done mowing in about half an hour. I parked the tractor back where I had found it and went to look for Sandy. I asked her what was next and she told me that this week was a basic yard week and I should go check with Kay to see if she needed anything before I left. If not, I could leave through the path and she would see me next week.

Kay had lemonade set out for the work crew and I stopped and had a glass. She thanked me for helping and was glad to see someone from the younger end of the congregation for a change. I thanked her for the lemonade and was off.

Before I could make it through the woods, I saw a fork on the path. To the right I could clearly see the back of the hippie house. To the left an equally worn path, was a mystery. I wanted to see Jamie, but I also was curious as to what else was connected. The path went uphill a short way and then leveled off with a railing that overlooked the back side of the falls of the same river the campground rested on. There was a fire pit and a few adirondack chairs, one of which was surrounded by long curly hair. Ah, serendipity.

Jamie could hear me coming and he announced that he would rather not have company. It seemed a bit harsh considering he didn't know who was coming. "You don't want to know who it is?" My question was innocent enough. "If that's you, please join me. If it isn't, please don't."

I wanted nothing more than to be kissing Jamie's lips and feeling his hands on me, so I decided it was in fact me. I approached tentatively and leaned against the railing in front of Jamie but looking away. It only took a minute to feel his hands on my hips pulling me toward him to sit on his lap. I was turned to the side on Jamie's lap and his face was hidden behind his hair. His hair hadn't been combed and was a mess and upon a closer look, I saw that he had been upset. Maybe even crying. "I'd rather not talk about it, please. Can we just sit?"

We sat there watching the river for about an hour and a breeze came up. I told Jamie that I either had to go or go back to the house. "Or I can warm you up."

In a moment, Jamie had me straddling his lap and facing him. I was kneeling and it wasn't the most comfortable position, but he was kissing me, so I really didn't care. Yes, Jamie could warm me.

A boy I once knew...part five

2008-04-22T08:18:00.000-07:00

After Jamie's hair was done, after a lot of kissing, beer and weed to excess, all I knew for sure was that I wanted to see him again. As night was falling, we were sitting on the porch watching the sunset and I told him as much. "Sandy has rules. It's either very complex, or very easy. A lot depends on how you look at it. If someone is going to be here on a regular basis, a contribution to the welfare of the house is expected. Once she has seen you here a third time, you better be prepared to make an offer when she asks you about it because she will ask. Then she will consider your offer and tell whoever is sort of sponsoring you, that would be me, yes, or no. There is no swaying her decision once she has made it. She doesn't like there to be an appearance of a lot of people gathering which is why we all park out back. Her final rule is the toughest. While you are never made to do anything against your will, there are no official relationships allowed under her roof. She hates drama. If you crash, you crash solo. Always."

This was a lot to take in and quite frankly, it was another surreal layer to have Jamie suddenly so serious. It was if he felt it important that I be paying attention.

The following Thursday, I solidified my new habit by going shooting with my father. Bill was there, but not Wendy. Do I just go by myself and see if Jamie is there? What if I am seen walking up to the house. This presented a problem. I went home a bit deflated. I wanted Jamie to be kissing me by now. It wasn't going to be happening. Not that day.

On the following Monday, I went bowling with my mother. About halfway through the evening, I followed Sandy to the bathroom. After I made sure there was nobody else in there, I told her I wanted to see her brother again. I told her he explained her rules and I had no issue with any of them, that I would offer my hair cutting services to anyone in the house requesting them, and that everytime I was there I would do at least one thing from the to-do list in the kitchen. There was something in my plea that caught her heart, because while I was just short of desperation and still managing to conceal it, Sandy suddenly smiled.

Sandy's smile said volumes. I knew I was in there, but I still had concerns. Well, I still had a concern. I didn't have a car and even if I did, it would be just as conspicuous as if I walked up to the front door. i didn't want anyone reporting back to my folks, and I didn't want to bring scrutiny to the house.

Sandy told me she would finad a solution and that I shouldn't worry. She thought I should again go shooting with my father on Thursday and she would ask Wendy to go this week. She was charmed at the thought of surprising her brother as he was apparently also deflated that I had not returned to the house.

On Thursday, two weeks since I had first gone to the house, I made sure all my campground chores were done first thing in the morning. I didn't want there to be any reason I might be denied leaving with Wendy, if she showed at the dump.

I got my dad's stuff ready for him and we were off. As we unloaded the trash, I was rather sullen because when we drove by the shooting area, there was no on e else there. We got back into the truck and as my father made the wide arc swing to be facing outward, I saw Wendy's car pull in. Her dad was already there and setting up targets. Before we began shooting, Wendy told my dad she had a few cuts lined up for me if that was okay. He nodded and told me he needed me home around 4 for the night pool shift, but that otherwise I could go.

"Why don't we skip shooting then so you have plenty of time for cutting?" Wendy, though seemingly aloof and usually a woman of few words, was often rather brilliant in her brevity. I looked to my dad and he nodded, and in a flash, Wendy and I were off.

When we got to the house, Wendy just dropped me off around back without another word. I walked in and the house seemed deserted. There was a slight movement on a couch across the room, and there I saw Jamie, sleeping peacefully as the sun streamed in the window. Would I violate the solo crashing only rule if I went to lie down with him?

While I contemplated this, I went to the kitchen and looked at the to-do list. There were a lot of repair items that were well beyond my ability, but at the bottom of the list, someone had squeezed in that the zucchini from the garden had to be washed and prepped for canning Thursday evening. Next to the note about the zucchini was a name and number for any questions. I picked up the phone and dialed Bev.

Bev picked up right away and I explained who I was and why I was calling. I learned that prepped for canning meant just chopped into slices half an inch thick. Bev went on to tell me where the large bowl was, and she then told me that when I was done I could cover it with a damp dish towel and put it in the beer fridge. She seemed very pleased that her prep work was going to be done. I thanked her and hung up the phone and then quietly set to work. As I carried the bowl across the living room, Jamie stirred a little and rolled over onto his back.

Having heard the beer fridge open, Jamie mumbled "Yes, please." At first I thought he was talking in his sleep, but then I considered perhaps he had heard the fridge door and was thirsty. I grabbed just one beer so that either he or I would drink it and not waste, and went over to the couch he was napping on. I had been there long enough that I knew nobody else was in the house. I set the beer down on the floor to the side of the couch and slipped off my shoes. As Jamie woke from his slumber, he was smiling to see me laying on top of him, my lips just inches from his. With a gentle thrust of his growing cock, he kissed me.

A boy I once knew...part four

2008-04-21T09:44:00.000-07:00

The hair cut began as haircuts generally do, with me combing through Jamie's hair. He had used the conditioner pack that Wendy had given him which made for easier work for me as I procedded to methodically move through his massive mane. I had instructed Jamie to straddle the toilet facing the wall behind it. As he sat there, he again began singing with the Stones. It was all very relaxed as I parted his hair down the center and subsectioned off my first canvas, the hair from the nape of his neck.

I worked through some small tangles and combed out the curls so that Jamie's wet hair was falling straight down his back. It fell well below his waist and I could have sat cross legged on the floor and still not been able to get a smooth line. I could hear my treacher in a recent class telling us to always be firm about putting the client where we need them and never sacrifice perfection for discomfort. I told Jamie he needed to stand on the toilet for me to make my first cut on his length.

When Jamie's hair was dry, I noticed it was hanging around his waist. I thought maybe a foot could be cut off and it would still hang long enough for him to feel his hair was still there. When I combed out the length of his wet hair, it was brushing the bottom of his ass which was nice and firm at eye level. I decided to cut to his hips and Jamie started giggling as my shears slid along the indented curve of his low waist. I followed his hips across the back and no sooner was I done with that cut that Jamie had jumpined down from the throne, spun around, and had again drawn me in for a kiss.

"Having your hands on me is turning me on. I can't really be held responsible and must kiss you when I must. Can you continue under these circumstances?" I tweaked his nipple and told him I could. I made rather quick work of telling him to sit back down and then brought down section after section of his hair to remove the length from the rest of it. Then I put my hands in his hair to loosen it up and set the curl free to see how it was responding at this length.

I heard someone come in through the front door and peeked around the corner. It was the town supervisor, another friend of my father. The house reeked of weed and whether I could deny it later or not, I was going to be guilty by association as soon as the supervisor saw my father again. But what was he doing here?

Jamie excused himself and went to the kitchen and got a pie off the shelf that his sister had made. I thought the pie was Thursday desert, but as I learned a few months later, it wasn't Thursday desert so much as it was camoflage for the supervisor's Thursday purchase. My dad had never learned of the supervisor seeing me at the commune because in addition to him seeing me there, I had seen him there. Silence can be golden.

As Jamie came back into the bathroom, I told him to sit facing me. This brought a smile to his lips as he was confronted either level with my breasts, unconsciously showcased in a loose camisole style shirt with spaghetti straps(oh to be 17 and braless), or a birds eye view of my crotch which was barely contained by a pair of men's Adidas running shorts(think way too short for a way small town girl who happens to be the judge's daughter, but really, nothing was hanging out, I promise).

Next I got out my straight razor. I had never used it before on anything but a mannequin and it felt like it was time. That might have been the beer or the weed fortifying my ambition, but I felt ready regardless. Jamie's hair was still totally saturated, a must for razor cutting, and I combed the right side all toward the front where I procedded to slice off about a foot and a half of hair. In one fell swoop. It fell to the floor and left a perfect angle down connecting the bang (somewhere below Jamie's chin) to the length I had previously established in the back. I repeated this on the other side and then noticed how turned on Jamie actually was.

As the second mass of hair hit the floor, Jamie reached out and grabbed me by the hips and pulled me toward him so I was straddling his lap. He was big and hard, barely covered by his sweats, and I could feel his hardness breathing in the warmth between my legs as I settled in and got comfortable. I wasn't a virgin to be sure, but this was far outside the realm of the experience I had had to date, as well as somewhat in advance of any short-lived promiscuity I might have enjoyed in my early twenties. I was still on the side of innocence though far from naive.

Jamie's hands were resting on the small of my back balancing me as I allowed the full weight of my body to sink in around his cock. It was lovely really, and totally carefree because we were both still clothed. The grinding was enormous and my shorts rode up in a way that separated the lips of my pussy so direct contact, however obscured by clothing, was assured.

Oh. My. I was riding Jamie full on at this point without a care to who might be coming or going on the other side of the still opened door. I had never before done anyhting remotely bump and grind and even though I felt each thrust Jamie made with his hips, there was no penetration. This went on for quite a while and the sensations I was feeling were rising and subsiding and suddenly, totally out of control. I finally knew what it was all about to have an orgasm, as well as to have a partner who was totally into me.

A few moments later, Jamies hands were once again sliding up through my hair from around my ears. He was again so softly and tenderly kissing my lips. I had slipped my hands through his still damp hair and pushed it all loosely back away from his face. While we were kissing, I worked his hair into a loose braid that softly draped down his back. As Jamie stopped kissing me I had a thought run past my eyes. "That was totally awesome."

"I really love kissing you," was Jamie's only reply before he once again was.

A boy I once knew...part three

2008-04-20T10:54:00.000-07:00

I had a serious buzz going and this beautifully prety boy asked me if he could kiss my lips. Inches from my face. And I couldn't speak. No thought was necessary, however, because I could think of nothing more pleasant than having Jamie kiss my lips. I gave a slight nod and closed my eyes as I felt Jamie's hands slide in through my hair, cradling my head gently, drawing my lips closer to his. I stopped breathing when his lips brushed mine and he kissed me. Longingly. Passionately. Gently. Softly.

We stood there kissing for what seemed an eternity. Then suddenly I heard three more beers being cracked open and placed on the table in the kitchen. Wendy was gently nudging us toward lunch. I could breathe again and treasured the feeling of my heart racing in my chest.

Jammie and I joined Wendy in the kitchen and sat down for lunch. I think at this point, it was a very good thing to be geting some substantial food into my system. We ate in relative silence, totally focused on the food in front of us. The salad was cool and crisp and the ribs were moist and tender, falling off the bone just as your teeth sunk into them. The silence was shattered by Wendy's simple declaration to the joy of Thursday. "I love Thursday." I later learned that I was taking part in a weekly ritual. Thursday is for ribs. Every Thursday for the past 3 years, since Sandy got the house. Sandy is the woman who made the ribs. Sandy is Jamie's sister and works as a nurse at the hospital in the next town over. Sandy bowls with my mother. Connections were suddenly made in my mind putting some pieces of the puzzle together.

Lunch was done and Wendy was doing the few remaining dishes. Jamie and I were seated back in front of the fire and he was asking me something about his hair. I was distracted with thoughts of how to be sure he would be kissing me again. "I said, where do you think is the best place to cut my hair?"

Jamie's question registered and I found myself automatically explaining that the bathroom is generally best because there is usually good light, and sitting on the toilet made for easy enough turning to facilitate the cutting process.

When Wendy heard the conversation turn toward cutting, she went out to her car to collect my scissors. I had them with clips, a comb, and a cutting cape in an old styrofoam six pack cooler. It was old and falling apart, but functional. As she came back into the house, naturally stopping at the beer fridge, Jamie stood up and took my hand leading me toward the bathroom.

"How do you want me?" Blush crept up my cheeks and I felt like I was on fire. Jamie saw it and kissed me again leaving me breathless. I told him if he wanted a haircut, he would have to suspend his random kissing of my lips. He reached up and pressed play on the cassette player on the shelf over the toilet. The bathroom was suddenly filled with the sounds of the Rolling Stones singing "Time Is On My Side" and Jamie was singing right along with them, his answer to my request that he suspend his kisses.

Jamie was in some way being totally sincere and serious, but regardless, it brought on a fit of giggles. Once I could control myself enough, I told him I would need his hair Thoroughly wet again before I could begin. With no thought to modesty, Jamie dropped his sweats and jumped into the shower. As that happened I started giggling again and told him I was excusing myself until he was again toweled off and dressed.

A boy I once knew...part two

2008-04-18T19:45:00.000-07:00

The Hippie Commune was at one time a house belonging to what can only be described as old money. Even WaySmallTowns have old money real estate. I think that the owner of the house received it when a grandparent died and the will, bypassed the parent in a spiteful sort of way. That's what I remember about it, though at the time, I didn't know who the owner was.

The outside of the house was totally kept up. There was a garden out back that was maintained by residents as was the landscaping. The house sat on about 3 acres. Once I had been around the place for a while, it became clear that anyone who lived there just pitched in and did what needed to be done. There was a blackboard in the kitchen that had a running to-do list on it. I remember that there was always someone canning something, whether from the commune garden or some other source.

There was no reason, looking at the house from the outside, to think it was anything different than what it ever was, a family homestead. Crossing the threshold to the inside presented quite another picture.

On the porch through which we entered the house, the refrigerator was the only thing even slightly out of sorts. There was charming wicker furniture with the plushest of cushions which was totally inviting and artfully designed. Conversation areas abounded. Crossing into the living room through the front door revealed another design ethic that can only be described as the original shabby chic. The room was bordered by couches, 6 in all strung end to end as if built in. I later learned each couch was basically a bed.

Even though it was late spring, there was a fire going in the firplace and Jamie led me over to sit with him in the chairs arranged facing it. He tucked his still dripping hair behind his ear, and I could suddenly see his unobscured face. He was beautiful. Jamie went on to tell me how Wendy had given him one of the conditioner packets I had given her and that she couldn't stop talking about the excellent hair cut she had just gotten. He told me how he hadn't had a haircut in a few years because he was sick of no-one being able to deal with his curly hair. We talked a bit longer, and Wendy brought around another beer for us all.

Jaime thought that for the moment, he'd like to keep his hair longer, but he totally had faith in me and told me to just have at it. But first, to ensure peak creativity, some weed. I wasn't about to argue, but it did occur to me just how surreal this situation was. I was in this house with strangers, really, but felt totally at ease, the only exception to that being the fact I was about to tackle this boy's hair and it was only my second experience with such a mane. But I was young. And bold. And he was sexy. Nearly naked. And I was beginning to feel creative.

We drank and smoked until about three in the afternoon. By that time, a few more people had come and gone. Wendy still hadn't spoken another word. Ribs were cooking on the barbeque. A fresh salad was on the table in the kitchen.

I remember at one point having the wherewithal to call home. I explained to my mom that I was still cutting hair. "Is Wendy still with you?" She was. Sort of. But I just said yes, and I let my mom know she would make sure I got home safely. "By eleven." That's all my mom had said before hanging up. I couldn't believe the freedom I was suddenly being granted, and all because I was with the daughter of one of my dad's friends.

A woman came in from the back yard and put a platter of ribs on the table. She picked up a purse and keys, and then leaned in to give first Wendy and then Jamie a kiss. As if seeing me for the first time, she asked if I was Barbara's daughter. I nodded having recently caught Wendy's silence as my own. She turned to Jamie saying "I'm off to work. Be. Careful." Her words were very clipped and deliberate. Her hand brushed Jamie's cheek very tenderly, and then she turned and left the way we had come in.

Time seemed to be standing still. I noticed that Jamie's hair was now dry, that he was now wearing some old comfy sweats but nothing else, but I don't remember him ever being out of my sight.

After the woman left, I told Jamie that I thought he was too pretty, and maybe I shouldn't cut his hair. Maybe it was perfect already. Yes, I actually said pretty. He thanked me for the compliment, took my hand and brought me to standing. Our faces were inches apart. He spoke very softly, words for only me to hear. "You will cut my hair as you see fit. But first, lunch awaits us in the kitchen. Would it be okay if I kissed your lips?"

A boy I once knew...part one

2008-04-17T12:38:00.000-07:00

Okay, maybe technically it should be a man I once knew, but I was but 17, and now that I am 43, I sorta feel like he was a boy, even though at the time I think he was about 25.

His name? That's sort of the reason for this post, it totally escapes me. It truly feels like an Oldzheimer's (spelling courtesy Arnold)moment because I can remember every minute detail surrounding this boyman...except his fucking name. Perhaps it will come to me by the end of this post, but, umm, no...not likely.

It all started with my friend Wendy, who wasn't really my friend at all. I knew her from riding the same school bus. I think she graduated high school when I was in 8th grade, so we shared a bus for three years, but really, I never really was friends with her. She had a brother who was a year ahead of me, Doug, and I was somewhat friendly with him, but more in a we had common friends sort of way. When your graduating class is 69 kids (and considered a big class), you sort of know everyone in the school. This is especially true of those who live outside of the town the school is actually in and have to ride the same bus half an hour each way daily.

Add to the mix that my father, is the town justice. This means everyone knows who I am, moreso than I know who they are. Also add to the mix that I am going to beauty school! And, hey, Max can cut your hair for practice! She's good! Look at my hair!

It's true, I was always good at cutting hair from the very first time I picked up my scissors. I have natural talent. My beauty school class took a field trip to a working salon in the city and had a sort of hands on seminar type of day. We got goody bags stuffed full of samples and industry literature, and frankly, we couldn't get enough of it. It was a glorious day.

About a week later, I had occasion to go to the dump with my father on a Thursday. Thursday was always the day he would go target shooting (at the dump) with Bill. Bill is Wendy's father. Wendy went shooting with her dad on this particular day and after we both ceremoniously out shot our fathers, we all went for coffee at the corner restaurant(think local pub sans beer, nowhere else to hang out in WaySmallTown, USA). Conversation came around to my dad needing a hair cut and we all went back to our place and Bill and Wendy both got hair cuts, too. My dad and Bill? Short men's hair cuts. Wendy? Long, curly, unruly hair that I had never before experienced with scissors in my hand. Fake it til you make it. Even back then, that was my motto concerning the unknown.

About a week later, I saw Wendy again at the shooting range. She had asked my dad if I could go with her, she had a friend who wanted a hair cut. More long curly hair. That was all I knew, but I always had my scissors with me back in the day, so away with Wendy I went.

Amazingly enough, we were at her friend's house in about two minutes. We went around the corner and before crossing the bridge, hung a left that nearly had us up on two wheels. Wendy was fast becoming what I can only refer to as one of the cool people you can't believe live in your way small town. Remember I was 17 and Wendy was about 21. The drinking age at the time was 18, and by way small town standards, Wendy, who had already been away to college, was rather worldly and mysterious.

As we approached said friend's house, all I could smell was weed. There was a fridge out on the screened in porch and as we passed it, Wendy opened it and passed me a beer. LaBatt's Blue. Ice cold and sweating the instant it was cracked open. I think it was about 10:30 in the morning. Damn, but that beer was good.

When we walked into the living room, we could hear the shower running because the bathroom door, directly opposite us, was wide open. Wemdy walked over to the bathroom doorway and leaned in for what seemed a kiss. All I heard was the shower and a mumbled "It's just us," from Wendy.

For some reason, it seems to me at this point that her friend's name might have been Jamie. I am not sure why that just popped into my head, but it did, and I think for the sake of ease in continuing, we'll go with it. If it wasn't Jamie, I apologize in advance. But the liklihood of him or Wendy ever reading this to correct me is mighty slim. And if his name wasn't Jamie, it is entirely likely that it is another name that could be presumed belongs to a girl friend and not a boy friend, because until he walked out with a towel barely concealing his ass, I thought Jamie was a girl friend.

His face was totally obscured by dripping wet hair. Long curly hair. Think Slash. Or John Oates. Long. Curly. Hair. Way sexy for a WaySmallTown girl of 17. And let's not forget, he was dripping wet from the shower with a towel barely covering anything.

"Oh. You must be the hair dresser." As he said this, Wendy handed him a beer and he dropped his towel to shake my hand. Ahem. Never one for formalities, Wendy handed him the towel and asked him where the weed was. Jamie gave her the I thought you said she was the judge's daughter look to which Wendy replied, "Hey, she's cool."

I think that was the last thing Wendy said that night.

The house I was in was interesting to me. Many years later, my mother referred to it as "That hippie commune house that Sue and Jon know someone from."

Thank the little baby jesus, it's a miracle.

2008-04-11T12:18:00.000-07:00

Help files. while wordy and not always clear, are a thing of beauty. I learned three new things today regarding Adobe products and it is a nice way to end the week.

Last month, I received a file that had been :cleaned up a bit for you" abd thought that would be a good thing. When I imported the file into my magazine, I also imported about 60 style sheets that were, ummm, excess baggage. Totally unwarranted. Anything but "cleaned up".

They really aren't a total hinderance, but when I am formatting text, they were a huge pain in the ass because my style sheet palette would scroll to the bottom and I was working with the top 6 (of the now 60 or so) style sheets. Some internet weirdness also prevented me from deleting them properly.

So this month, before I import anything new, I was determined to have a clean palette. The Help file! Yes! It took about 5 minutes total. Delight.

This was all in InDesign. My success took a left turn in my brain and distracted me with finding a way to make contact sheets in Photoshop. Surely a program designed for professional use would be able to make contact sheets, but I have been looking for months and not found it(key: think submenu). Today I was determined that if I couldn't find it, I could at the very least figure out a way to make my own contact sheet.

The Help file! Yes!

I immediately came across a way to make set sheets which gives you a choice of 1 8x10, 2 5x7s, 9 wallets, etc. It also lets you take the wallets and switch in different pics. I was delighted.

In an effort to recreate what I had just done, in a flash, it caught my eye. In the same submenu as the set sheets, there it was...contact blahx3

woohoo.................

Get it much?

2008-04-07T10:10:00.000-07:00

In viewing some new scans of my dad's pics, I came across a tie that asks that very question. I found that particularly amusing.

Then I found one that reminds me of Ben Stein.

Finally, RIP Stella Podharsky. I tried googling her but came up empty.

Today we add a new healing therapy. Moxibustion!

2008-04-04T08:33:00.000-07:00

I am just in from my sixth visit to the new doc. On Monday, it was 22 needles and I thought today would be 24, but no, it stayed at 22. The one between my brows, as well as the ones on my hand and stomache all seemed to be pushed in a little further. Tweak!

The herb potion has been slightly modified, but is basically the same, and there is an herbal pill supplement added last week. I have gotten accustomed to the flavor so much that at dinner at Empire earlier this week, my tea tasted 'funny'. I realized it wasn't my potion and that I missed it. Who'dathunkit?

So today, the doc sent me home with Artemisia Vulgaris in a stick form. It looks like a fat crayon but is very hard. The tip is lit until it glows and then eb will swirl it in circles, hovering about an inch above the kidney and spleen meridians, That's five minutes each on four spots on my back. This will fire up my Yang.

I will continue with my potion, pills, and Moxa and see the doc for accupuncture again on the 21st.

In other news, I finished Water For Elephants yesterday. What a brilliant book. I thoroughly enjoyed it and am looking forward to discussing it with some knitting readers tomorrow at Catalina, a fairly new Houston coffee house. Sara Gruen got me with a surprise twist ending about 3 pages form the last. Impressive.

One of my current knitting obsessions is with

this bag. I am half way through the bootom and am using black and bright green. No delusions about it being done for the cruise, but maybe.

Yesterday I had a deep cleansing breath to the last scan of my dad's negatives from the 50s. number 479. Then I remembered a few we had used with Emerald Pillows that I hadn't seen. EB reminded me that when I first took posession, I was putting the negatives in archive safe sleeves that I picked up at the camera co-op and storing them in a binder. Last night I retrieved the forgotten binder from the shelf, only to discover about 500 more negatives to scan. My labor of love. My dad is thoroughly enjoying looking at these as I send them to him and printing and sending them to his living sibs. He remembers some of them better than he remembers me calling him last night.

Off to work.

Accupuncture Week Two and Prize Knitting

2008-03-25T09:34:00.000-07:00

Week two of accupuncture and Herbs began yesterday. My second visit was last Thursday and that was a 16 needle day. Yesterday (my third visit) was an 18 needle day. I am not sure why the obsession of counting the needles, maybe to avert my attention from ever seeing them, but count them I do, maybe just so I can report.

And then there are herbs. I have been drinking my herbs like a good girl. I have seen more improvement in the last week than I ever had with traditional medicine. For three years, it has been trial and error with the docs, mostly error in relation to my new Eastern therapies. It's working. That's all I need to know. I am meeting up with my lady accupuncturist to get some new herbs this afternoon and I will see her again on Thursday.

To spare you the loveliness of accupuncture pics (besides not having any), I have included the current knitting race. These are pics of the Vagina Brackets prize. I started knitting it last night while watching and listening to Eckhart Tolle on the "A New Earth" web class he is doing with Oprah. We have been doing this with some fellow bloggers, and find it is easier to listen while being otherwise creative with the hands.

So the prize scarf has been started. EB has me making some backup CDs at work and each one takes about half an hour. There is noone else in the office today (we should be eeking) and I can't really do anything else while the CDs are collecting and burning, so I brought some knitting in to pass the time. I am about a third done with it, so it should be finished by the weekend at the latest. Any one brazen enough to claim it today?

I scanned the scarf and adjusted the color a bit in Photoshop and I my monitor the colors look pretty close, perhaps just a tad bit brighter than the scarf is, but close. Now that I have seen them on the blog, they look a bit dark, but not something i am going to stress over, when You win it and receive it in the mail, you'll get a closer approximation I suppose.

Time to knit some more.

14 needles later...

2008-03-18T09:46:00.000-07:00

I had my first visit with my accupuncturist yesterday morning. There was a pretty thorough intake interview with her. It was very easy to talk to her because I have known her a few years personally. We met her and her partner through Good Friend Beth and have seen them socially over the years. They were at our wedding. Incidentally, GFB will be in town this weekend and we will all play some sort of meetup tag.

So I am up on the table and remaining relatively calm. I hear the needles being dropped onto their holding dish. This is where my eyes close. I want to know about the process, but I don't, at this point, want to be seeing and ginormous needles.

She began by rolling my pants up to my knees, all the while maintaining a soft and gentle contact and conversation. The first 4 needles went into my legs below the knee. And really, not at all bad, almost an invisible sort of intrusion. I had opened my eyes again as she was working lower legs ad I couldn't see what was going on down there.

There is a gentle swabbing of alcohol on the area preceding the next stick. A couple needles in or near each wrist. Then, the alcohol is swabbed between my eyes. Abruptly, my eyes were closed again because hey, I really don't need to see these needles yet.

There was next swabbing on the crown of my head and I didn't even feel that needle (needles?) I easily could have gotten these out of order, All I know is where they were going, and I was rather focused on counting how many because my curiosity was raised, but also because it let me not focus on needles of any sort sticking me.

The last few needles? 2 in each ear. This immediately took me back about 18 years. I was eoither still pregnant with Connor or I had just had him, a young naive 25 (right...), and wussy as all get out about even the slightest discomfort.

I had a terrible ear infection and in order to place a drainage tube, the doc needed to numb my ear. I don't think novacaine works on ears. I had nine shots in my ear that day and I screamed like a banshee for each one. Blood curdling screams that disturbed the entire hospital at LAFB, and brought my wasband running from the waiting room. He knew it was me.

The first three shots were within my ear like three points of a triangle. They were as far out and apart as they could be and still be within my ear.. 15 minutes later, three more came somewhat closer in and no, the first three did nothing to alleviate the pain of the second three or to lessen my screams. Then 15 minutes, later, three more closer in to the center of my ear. More of the same screaming and my wasband was holding me down on the table. He challenged the doc, his superior in the technical sense, because the doc wanted to restrain me or have a couple orderlies holding me down which Steven flat out declined insiting he could hold me still. He could, but he couldn't do that *and* cover my mouth, so the screaming ensued. He later told me he thought he might have permanent hearing damage from being so close, but that was long enough after, when we could joke about it.

So I had that mini-trauma while I was up on the accupuncture table and it was enough to distract me from the needles entering my ear. Those were a subtle pinch, but nothing more. And I didn't scream. But it was weird having thought about something so long ago that had little been thought about since.

The needles took about 5 minutes to set up, and then I was to stay put and relax for 20 minutes for them to start doing there thing. The table is heated and I was very relaxed.

As is my involuntary habit, at one point I flexed my foot slightly, or rather tried to (involuntarily). I do it unconsciously all the time, because my ankles and feet constantly need to crack. I am always pointing and flexing my feet. As my foot moved, I was brought a little out of my relaxation. I could feel tha path of the needles. I was the rest of the time telling myself "Don't flex your feet...don't flex your feet..."

It was really weird to feel the path connecting the needles that were so far apart on my body.

part two of my treatment is herbs. That dissolve in boiling water. That I then have to drink as "tea". We all know that tea whore that I am, these herbs do not make real tea. Nope. And, I was warned that it might be pretty awful.

This morning I started my herbal tea regimen. Two packets of Bai Shao, and one each of the following; Bai Zhu, Zhi Gan Cao, Dang Gui, Rou Dou Kou, Rou Gui, Dang Shen, He Zi, and Mu Xiang. The 10 little packets are blented together in a bowl and then boiling water, about 1 1/2 quarts, is added to make some yummy herbal tea. One of the packets translates to cinnamon, so I had hope. Elizabeth hollering "What's that smell?" wasn't terribly helpful. (okay, she didn't yell it and she didn't smell it until her nose was right over the bottle, but I did make her smell it first, and she gave a nice ewww.)

I am to make the tea in the morning and then divide it to have a portion after each meal. I did my duty and got it ready thid morning and drank the first dose when I got to work. If I have to find a word to describe it, it's a bit nutty. Sort of like drinking tea I thought I might like but was terribly wrong about it, but drinking it anyway. Not pleasant, but not even close to dreadful either. Of course that I have to drink it a few times a day might change my opinion of it.

So the new journey toward wellness has begin and I have hope. Time to drink some herb tea and google some herbs.

Yes, we'd like a tankful of travel karma. puhlease.

2008-02-26T12:02:00.000-08:00

I really thought we topped off the tank when we did the Atlanta trip a few weeks ago, and really, in retrospect, this wasn't quite as bad. We surely have an overflow at the moment and this is a good thing as the ~~knitting~~ anniversary cruise is right around the corner.

The first leg of travel yesterday required some fellow bloggers to drive us to the airport on their own way home. That was smooth as silk. Nice weather. Pleasant conversation mixed in with closed eyes (not the driver's) and little traffic. Smooth.

We were dropped at LaGuardia ahead of schedule and experienced a very short, just two parties, but also slow line at check in. We found our gate and left on time. It's all good. It should be said that on the way to the Northeast, we flew through O'Hare with zero delay. In the winter. This was an area of concern but all was smooth.)

When we got to the Big D, we arrived at gate C21. We had been told our next flight was at C36. Farther than I want to walk? Yes. Insurmountable? No. We trekked down to C36 only to see that we had been rerouted to C8. Insert a medium and everforth increasing sigh.

To get to C8 you need to take the Inter Terminal Train(ITT) as the section of terminal we were in began with C21. We find the train around the corner. It's still all good at this point.

As we arrive at gate C8, we hear the announcement and the comedy begins. We have now been delayed about half an hour, a good thing because the announcement routes us back to gate C29 via ITT. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee...

We arrive at gate C29, and the monitor at the gate says we are to go to D15. I am not exaggeratin her for a second. Not even a teeny stretch of my imagination. The string of monitors showing departures still says C29. What to do?

There was an airport kiosk stafed by the Airport Ambassadors, retired volunteers. Sandy was most helpful (and I am betting a snarky older wiser lesbian with her Indiana Jones dykish hat on and maybe a qat somewhere on her person) and called the automated airport system which confirmed D15. At this point hear the clearly audible sigh and color eb and I a little resigned that we are getting home l.a.t.e. "Get over it," said Sandy, "it's good for you!"

Off we went to D15. The silver lining was that there was to be a further short delay and eb got to sip a lovely Malbec while we crunched on some bagel chips(not from Trader Joe's) and pine nut hummus. The international terminal (Why D in the Big D, of course) has all the good restaurants.

Once we arrived back in H-town, a mere 42 minutes after take off, it was again smooth sailing.

Blogfest? Awesome.
Good friends? Way awesome.
Tankful of travel karma? Priceless.

Not. Quite. Right.

2008-02-19T13:11:00.000-08:00

I just resized about 35 photos in Photoshop for the March issue of EB's magazine. I was on oh, maybe the 32nd one, and I had a weird sense of time revolving around me. I can't really describe it beyond something not being quite right. It wouldn't surprise me at all if EB goes to use these(hopefully not at the last minute), and she says to me, "Baby? Exactly what the fuck happened to all these lovely construction photos? Do them again. Please"

As I am typing my hands are a little shaky. Like the fingers aren't mine and they don't quite know what to do beyond hovering over a key my brain wants them to land on. It is a slow motion sort of thing where deliberate concentration is required for my brain to think each letter on its own rather than think in words. Disconnect.

Must be time for a vacation. I predict I will be better in exactly two days.

Final selections for the Great Lesbian Book Purge

2008-02-17T07:36:00.000-08:00

Herein lies the final selections of the Lesbian Fiction portion of the book purge. Any not claimed by Wednesday at 4pm are going, going, gone.

Brooke, Gun...Sheridan's Fate

Maddison, Lauren...Deceptions
Mickelbury, Penny…Keeping Secrets
Mildon, Marsha…Fighting For Air
Miller, Carlene...Killing At The Cat
Miller, Carlene...Mayhem At The Marina
Miller, Carlene...Death Off Stage
Miller, Carlene...Reporter on the Run
Miner, Valerie...Range Of Light
Miner, Valerie...Blood Sisters
Minns, Karen Marie Christa…Virago (a lesbian vampire tale)
Moore, Maureen…Fieldwork
Morell, Mary...Final Rest
Murphy, Patricia A…Searching For Spring

Newman, Leslea…Girls Will Be Girls
Nonas, Elizabeth…For Keeps
Nonas, Elizabeth…A Room Full Of Women

O'Brien, Meghan...Infinite Loop
Obejas, Achy…We Came All The Way From Cuba So You Could Dress Like This?
Otto, Whitney…The Passion Dream Book

Pass, Gail…Zoë’s Book
Pass, Gail…Surviving Sisters
Pena, Terri De La…Margins
Perry, Roz…Rose Penski
Pincus, Elizabeth…The Two-bit Tango
Powell, Deborah…Houston Town
Powell, Deborah…Bayou City Secrets

Ravenwolf, Silver…Murder At Witches’ Bluff
Redding, Maggie…The Life and Times of Daffodil Mulligan
Richardson, Tracey...Last Rites
Richardson, Tracey...Over The Line
Richardson, Tracey...Double Take Out
Ross, M.E...The Best Laid Plans
Rule, Jane…The Young In One Another’s Arms
Rule, Jane…This Is Not For You
Rule, Jane…Outlander

Sackville-West, Vita…All Passion Spent
Sanders, Lauren...With or Without You
Sarton, May…The Small Room
Saxton, Carmen Mercedes…Conversations in the Dark
Schulman, Sarah…Shimmer
Schulman, Sarah…After Delores
Schulman, Sarah...Girls, Visions and Everything
Scofield, Sandra…More Than Allies
Scoppettone, Sandra…Gonna Take A Homicidal Journey
Scott, Claudia…Lesbian Writer: Claudia Scott
Scott, Melissa…Dreaming Metal
Scott, Rosie…Glory Days
Shacklady, Helen...The Lacquered Box
Shapiro, Lisa…Sea To Shining Sea
Sien, Bettianne Shoney…Lizards/Los Padres
Sims, Elizabeth...Holy Hell
Sims, Elizabeth...Damn Straight
Sims, Elizabeth...Easy Street
Smith, Shelley…The Pearls
Smith, Shelley...Edge of Passion
Sommers, Robbi…Kiss & Tell
Sommers, Robbi…Behind Closed Doors
Sommers, Robbi...Getting There
Sommers, Robbi...Pleasures
Stewart, Jean…Emerald City Blues
Stone, Lauren...Bait
Stores, Theresa…Getting To The Point
Sumner, Penny…The End Of April
Swallow, Jean...A Woman Determined

Taylor, Sheila Ortiz…Faultline
Taylor, Sheila Ortiz…Southbound
Taylor, Sheila Ortiz…Spring Forward/Fall Back
Taylor, Jena...The Last of Her Lies
Tomaso, Carla…The House of Real Love
Tulchinsky, Karen X…In Her Nature

Vole, Zenobia…Osten’s Bay

Warren, Patricia Nell...The Beauty Queen
Watts, Julia…Phases Of The Moon
Welsh, Lindsay…The Best Of Lindsay Welsh
Wiese, Deborah…Hodag Winter
Wilhelm, Gale…We Too Are Drifting
Wings, Mary…She Came By The Book
Wings, Mary…She Came In A Flash
Wings, Mary…She Came Too Late
Wings, Ocala…Singin’ The Sun Up

Zaremba, Eve…Beyond Hope
Zaremba, Eve…Uneasy Lies
Zaremba, Eve...White Noise

Who has to have one?

2008-02-12T10:34:00.000-08:00

by Sarah Mundy

2 pics for Friday

2008-02-08T10:42:00.000-08:00

I am still sifting through my father's negatives of 50 or so years ago, and today, these two brought a chuckle. What is that woman thinking as she helps her *friend* with her garter? Is it a woman? Drag, anyone? Don't you just covet that sweet suthahn belle hat? (Weese, you know you want the whole ensembele!)I am glad the woman in the chair is wearing a solid color, because any pattern competing with that chair, even though I want it, might make me have to sit down. And put my hand on my hip doing so.

Woo.

book purge...part deux

2008-02-07T15:43:00.000-08:00

Needles and Herbs

2008-02-05T13:22:00.000-08:00

Yay, we just got airfare for the cruise!! Whoopeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...

Long time no blog. It's so sad. Last week I had to rush off to Atlanta to save the day for my company. On the flight home we had to sit on the runway in Atlanta for 3 hours only to be let back into the terminal for an hour, only to sit on the runway for another hour before our measly 2 hour flight home. Can you say germs?

In general, I don't get sick. My disease aside, I am fortunate to have relative good health. There was a terribly insidious bug on that plane. As we sat there breathing the anything but pure germ infested air, I could feel my throat getting dryer by the minute and before the end of it, it was on fire.

Thursday was lost to travel. I tried to work on Friday but was battling a high fever that Tylenol was having a hard tiome maintaining. I couldn't concentrate and after an hour or so I went home and stayed in bed all day with Nikita (EB totally unserstands). On Saturday I worked at JCP for 4 hours and it wore me out. My fever was still hanging around, but Tylenol every 3.75 hours took care of it.

On Sunday, I felt better, but if I did anything more than walk to the couch from the bed, I was unable to catch my breath. I had the good fortune to look at two DSW coupons ($10 each that could be used together!)to see they expired when? Not the 10th, but the 3rd. I took my skankhobralessputabaseballcapon ass to DSW to use my xmas gift card before those coupons expired. I got 3 new pair o shoes and spent less than $15. Gotta love gift cards. And coupons.

I'm here to tell you about it, so yes, I lived, but that trip to the shoe store just about wiped me out. All in all with this bug, I was even too sick to knit. That's just shy of requiring hospitalization, y'know?

Now back to my disease for a minute. I have been dealing with the niceties of Crohn's (or *just* IBD or UC depending on the doc) for about 3 years now and I am beginning to get a bit put out with it all. Various meds that after insurance still come in at about $100 a month just aren't cutting it. For $100 a month I want better results dammit.

So we have a friend who has gone to school for Traditional Chinese Medicine. I asked her some questions, she sent me some links...I am almost ready for the needles and herbs. Do any of you have any direct experience with this? Talk to me people!

The first book purge A-G

2008-01-20T17:04:00.000-08:00

It will be next weekend before these are gone. I decided that rather than deal with ebay, I am taking them to a local used bookstore and I will be happy with whatever I get. I went through and pulled ones I think I might actually read again, or ones I am partial to and not ready to purge yet. Suzanne and Ann get first crack at them because they commented an interest, and because I will see them next month so shipping is not an issue.

If something interess you, make an offer. The bookstore I take them to usually offers 25% of the cover price.

Albarella, Joan…Agenda For Murder
Aldridge, Sarah…Keep To Me Stranger
Allison, Dorothy…Trash
Alther, Lisa…Kin-flicks
Alther, Lisa…Five Minutes In Heaven
Anshaw, Carol…Seven Moves
Arnold, June…The Cook and the Carpenter: a novel by the carpenter
Ascher, Carol…The Flood
Atwood, Margaret…Cat’s Eye

Baker, Nikki...The Ultimate Exit Strategy

Gone to A...Baldwin, Kim...Whitewater Rendezvous
Gone to L...Bannon, Ann…Journey To A Woman
Gone to L...Bannon, Ann…Beebo Brinker
Gone to L...Bannon, Ann…Women in the Shadows
Gone to A...Barr, Nevada…Bittersweet

Beal, M.F…Angel Dance

Gone to qp...Beecham Rose…Introducing Amanda Valentine
Gone to qp...Beecham, Rose…Second Guess
Gone to qp...Beecham, Rose…Fair Play
Gone to qp...Beecham, Rose...Grave Silence

Bennett, Saxon…A Question Of Love
Bepko, Claudia…The Heart’s Progress
Borgstrorm…Short Rides
Boutilier, Nancy...According To Her Contours
Brooke, Gun...Coffee Sonata
Brooke, Gun...Course of Action
Brooke, Gun...Protector of the Realm(Book one Supreme Constellations)

Brown, Rita Mae...Plain Brown Rapper
Brown, Rita Mae...Rubyfruit Jungle
Brown, Rita Mae...Venus Envy

Gone to S...Brown, Rita Mae...Wish You Were Here
Gone to S...Brown, Rita Mae...Rest In Pieces
Gone to S...Brown, Rita Mae...Pay Dirt
Gone to S...Brown, Rita Mae...Murder, She Meowed
Gone to S...Brown, Rita Mae...Cat On The Scent
Gone to S...Brown, Rita Mae...Pawing Through The Past
Gone to S...Brown, Rita Mae...Catch As Cat Can
Gone to S...Brown, Rita Mae…Murder On The Prowl
Gone to S...Brown, Rita Mae...Sour Puss
Gone to S...Brown, Rita Mae...The Tail of the Tip-Off
Gone to S...Brown, Rita Mae...Cat's Eyewitness
Gone to S...Brown, Rita Mae...Claws and Effect
Gone to S...Brown, Rita Mae...Whisker of Evil

Kris Bruyer...Out of the Night

Gone to A...Calhoun, Jackie...Sticks and Stones
Gone to A...Calhoun, Jackie...Birds of a Feather
Gone to A...Calhoun, Jackie...Second Chance

Calhoun, Jackie...Tamarack Creek
Calhoun, Jackie...Seasons of the Heart
Calhoun, Jackie...Lifestyles
Calhoun, Jackie...Outside the Flock
Calloway, Kate...1st Impressions
Calloway, Kate...2nd Fiddle
Calloway, Kate...3rd Degree

Gone to qp...Calloway, Kate...6th Sense
Gone to qp...Calloway, Kate...7th Heaven
Gone to qp...Calloway, Kate...8th Day

Casavant, Jessica...Twist Of Fate
Caschetta, Mary Beth…Lucy On The West Coast
Clausen, Jan…Mother, Sister, Daughter, Lover
Clausen, Jan…The Prosperine Papers
Conn, Nicole…Passion’s Shadow

Darling, Julia...Crocodile Soup
Davis, Kaye…Devil’s Leg Crossing
D’Erasmo, Stacey…Tea

Gone to A...Denison, Lyn…The Wild One

Donnelly, Nisa…The Bar Stories

Gone to A...Dreher, Sarah…Stoner McTavish

Dreher, Sarah…Other World
Drury, Joan...Closed In Silence

Emerson, Pat…Raging Mother Mountain
Ennis, Catherine…To The Lightning
Erhart, Margaret…Unusual Company
Erhart, Margaret…Old Love

Farrell, Maud…Skid
Fleming, Kathleen…Lovers in the Present Afternoon
Fulton, Jennifer…True Love

Gone to A...Fulton, Jennifer...Greener Than Grass
Gone to A...Furtado, Anna...The Heart's Desire

Galloway, Janice…Foreign Parts
Gambill, Sue…Heartscape
Garden, Nancy...Nora And Liz
Gayle, Marilyn…Free Ride

Can you claim knowledge of any of these children?

2008-01-18T08:19:00.001-08:00

I love technology. Really. I do. But sometimes, I am so absolutely taken with one of my dad's photos that it makes me a little crcazy to not know who the people in the photos are. Like this one. I might try to knit it. How's that for crazy?

My mother is not right.

2008-01-11T07:36:00.001-08:00

By not right, I don't necessarily mean that she is wrong, but that she is off. Twisted. She's just. Not. Right.

My dad just sent me a new digital camera to play with. He has a collection of cameras going back about 70 years, and it is a hobby he will never put down. Sometimes I am surprised he has gone digital. I asked him if he had an extra cheapy digital camera because I wanted something I could throw in my bag for yarnporn pics on the fly. I figured if I was lucky and he was willing to part with a camera, any camera, I might get his oldest low rent dicital. The one he sent is 6.3 megapixel. Sweet!

Of course my mom had to customize the box with a blast from the past photo. I am pretty sure I made that skirt and matching vest ensemble. And since my dad is wearing his good sweater that was likely an Easter Sunday shot because back in the day, his non-practicing Jewish ass didn't otherwise go to church. I'm estimating Easter 1978 or 9.

Most recently the pics she has sent have been more of the baby variety. I like those. I like this one, too, because if you can't laugh at yourself you're in serious trouble. Sifting through high school photos is a laugh a minute. I still say she's not right.

Sometimes a good cookie is just that

2008-01-08T11:08:00.000-08:00

I find it very disturbing that I just cracked my fortune cookie only to find it empty. this has never happened in my numerous years consuming Chinese take out. I. Am. Disturbed.

But the cookie itself was superb. I usually don't eat the entire cookie, maybe a quarter of it, but nary a crumb remains on my desk.

What does it mean? My fortune is up to me? I have no fortune? Aaaaauuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhh...

Refining the No Sale plan

2008-01-06T19:14:00.000-08:00

On my previous post, I was going to go on to say how the gift cards I got for xmas might now be savored as a sort of free money, an exception to the re-evaluated notion of shopping.

One of said gift cards was for Borders. Yes, I said was. It's history. I took my gift card to Borders today and shot my wad. I was going to be totally disciplined and only use it with coupons I get in email. I used a 30% off and $5 off coupon today and still shot the wad. If I hadn't bought an art magazine, I wouldn't have gone over the amount, but I only went over by a small amount. Art mags are needs, not wants, because eb and I are both working artists and we *need* inspiration. It feeds the soul, you know.

Other than Cloth, Paper, Scissors, I got 4 books, two of which were on my wish list, so I did shop discriminately after a fashion. Today's haul included "Signed, Mata Hari" by Yannick Murphy, and "The Tenth Muse" by Judith Jones, both previously on my wish list.

Not on my wish list was "The Mortal Groove" by Ellen Hart. Ellen Hart is on my short list of favorite lesbian writers and anything new by her will always be exempt from any shopping embargo. I also picked up "Zen and the Art of Knitting" by Bernadete Murphy. I have been cruising this book for quite a while.

As part of Chris' (linked as No Sale on the right)paring down, not only is nothing being bought this year, major purging is going on at her house. A few years ago, eb and I evvected a one in one out rule toward basic purchases such as clothing and shoes. For the most part, we have stuck to it rather well. I think it is time that I apply this to books. I am a bit of a book whore. Until recently, I have been a book whore particularly for mindless lesbian fiction, in particular lesbian mystery.

As I sit here in the library, I am looking at the shelves of lesbian fiction. I would guess there are somewhere between three and four hundred titles. A major weeding is upon us. I am not sure if I should put them in lots up on ebay, take them to Half Price books, or what. I recently reread my titles from Jaye Maiman, one of my favorites, and I think I might pt the lot of them on ebay and see what happens.

I have even thought of putting them on ebay as one huge lot with a reserve in the amount that the yarn for a sweater I want to knit for myself will cost. One habit funding the other. I rather like that, but I am not sure if it would be better to break them up or not. If anyone has any insightful thoughts on this, please pass them along.

No Sale

2008-01-04T12:57:00.000-08:00

This post might warm the cockles of weese's heart. I did a little blog hopping yesterday and from a link from a link, I came across Chris, who is linked to the right as No Sale. I am a bit inspired by her resolve that her family of nine will not buy this year outside necessities.

EB and I have over the course of the last year, certainly managed to reel it in a little with the spending. But, it needs to be said. We. Like. To. Shop. Okay, so I like to shop way more than eb, but she likes to indulge me and I in turn, like to indulge her.

We won't say we will not shop, because that is just asking for a breakdown of resolve. I think we are mostly committed to this as in 95%. Necessities will be scrutinized in a way that brings us back to really evaluating if something is a want or a need. I am on the yarn bandwagon excepting when we travel but will only get yarn that is not available otherwise.

I might have more to say about this, but work is calling.

Yarn Contest

2008-01-04T08:32:00.000-08:00

Go see!

All to our selves!

2008-01-01T10:00:00.000-08:00

Going to the bathroom by yourself can at times be just a wee bit creepy. I am just back from the bathroom at just one of those times. Aren't you glad I shared?

EB and I are at work today. We got here at about 9:30 and not only do we have the office to ourselves, I think we have the entire building to ourselves. Dedicated, aren't we? That makes going to the bathroom and riding in the elevator just a wee bit creepy.

Actually I am here because otherwise my hours will be too few for us to enjoy the bank balance to which we have become accustomed. I am but a lowly hourly employee and when the office is closed for the holidays, if I don't work, I don't get paid. Of course there is the hope that I might eventually be a salaried employee here, but that isn't coming any time soon and it is really not entirely a bad thing if one plans accordingly.

New Year's resolution number one: Plan better next year for the holiday break so I can actually take the holidays off.

This morning, I actually slept til about 6:15. A bit later than what has been the norm recently. I was going to work on Kushu as it is nearly done. Instead, I decided to cast on a new project for the new year. I have committed myself to making the Celtic Knot Stole.

I studied the pattern a bit yesterday a little more deeply that I had when deciding to knit this. I now have confirmed that I am out of my mind. This shawl just might kill me.

I haven't done more than a scarf in lace, and when I did, it was with a larger needle and some fairly chunky yarn. Not this time. William helped me wind the 1300 or so yards of lace yesterday. It's some fairly fine merino. I am knitting with size 4 needles and currently on row 7. I am trying to decide if I prefer the circular as suggested in the pattern, or a pair of stainless straights. The straights have slightly more point.

I'm trying really hard to not think too far ahead to when I will be working two charts simultaneously. I have my highlighters ready.

I think we will work until about 3 or so and then maybe head to Pappadeaux for some Lobster Seafood Salad to start the year off right.

Happy New Year!

PS to the Contractor...we have a working toilet in the master suite as of about eight this morning. Thanks for getting on the crew's ass!

I'm. So. Sleepy.

2007-12-27T13:11:00.000-08:00

What a challenge it just was to type that title. Am I really *that* sleepy? Maybe. I might be falling asleep in the pedicure chair. Yippee.

I read yesterday of a search site that gives a penny per search to the non-profit of your choosing, As soon as I figure out how, I will add it as a link in the sidebar, but until then, go check out www.goodsearch.com

A penny a search doesn't sound like a lot, but I read of it in Lesbian Connection and they mentioned that is a hundred readers use this exclusively for a few searches a day, that would be more than $700 in a year which, to a non-profit trying to make ende meet needs, is some serious change. I elect Elsie Publishing (that's LC for Lesbian Connection), but I think you can type in the charity of your choice each time you use it. I have them on my toolbar and will remove the google and yahoo search bars to make it easy for myself.

EB just informed me we will leave a bit earlier than planned, so perhaps more on this later.

What? It's only 10:30?

2007-12-25T08:45:00.000-08:00

I was up this morning at about 5:45 and I was the last one up. EB, who has been sleeping in lately? Up bright and early. Chef William who doesn't get up til he has to? His alarm went off while I was on the pot. (TMI, I know...get over it already). Chef was up because he is working this morning. Thomas, well, he came over last night at 11 and we only made it until about 10:20. I think Thomas was still up from xmas eve.

I took the pizza dough out of the fridge and let it warm up a little to make handling it somewhat easier. I made some monkey bread. You pinch off small pieces to roll into one inch balls and then dip them in butter and roll them in cinnamon sugar. Then collect them all on a bundt pan and bake at 375 for about 40 minutes. Hot gooey cinnamon is way hot when it comes out of the oven so be careful when you have at it.

Once the monkey bread was done, I raised the oven temp to 400 and popped in Nigella's Croque Monsieur bake. I made a pan for us and I took a pan to chef and his coworkers. Omigodthatissofuckinggood.

We opened pressies this morning before chef went to work and sadly (ok I'm kidding weese), I got four gift cards from loved ones. Let me emphasize I am kidding about being sorry. Contrary to the opinion of the great and powerful weese, I love me some gift cards. EB might just be addictd enough to Thomas' guitar hero 3 to need her own.

Time for a nappypoo before Papu comes over for dinner which will be cornish hens and roasted winter vegetables because quite frankly, it's time for our asses to be back on track.

Happiest of holidays, y'all!

happy xmas eve eve

2007-12-23T11:21:00.000-08:00

Y'all celebrate this, yes?

I am celebrating today by being a slug. I know, you're *so* surprised. EB is out shopping. William is at work and Thomas just left to do Thomas stuff. My shopping is officially declared done and I, am slugging. After I post this I might give William a call to see if he wants a ride, which gets me a chai, but I don't *need* a chai. I don't want one. It is part of the abundance I am feeling, I think, and I posted about that just now at Cultivating Grace, linked on the right if it interests you.

This morning, we had a bot-o-drama with les chiens. I think Sawyer started it when he jumped off the foot of the chaise and snarled at Lilli, who then snarled at Nola, who snapped and flipped Lilli over in an instant. I have never seen Lilli and Nola so pointedly aggressive toward one another. There was no "I was just playing" forth coming from either of them and we simply had to intervene. I am presuming that Lilli Munster is in heat again, and I think in lieu of this incident it might be time to take care of that once and for all.

Last night was the fourth annual White Trash Xmas Buffet. I made the usual feast for WTXB4. We dined on beanie weanies, macaroni and cheese, chicken wings(both spicsy and patented sweet varieties), Pork tenderloin, mashed potatioes, homemade (not lipton) onion dip with not homemade chips, apple cider pound cake, rolls, and dee-lux(typo intentional due to the white trash nature of the affair)queenmaxine chocolate chip bar cookies. There was plenty of wine and beer to go around to the dozen or so guests we had in attendance.

Then. We played cards. Liverpool to be precise. And the fun continued into the late evening hours. We. Had. Fun.

There are enough leftovers that I needn't cook before Thursday (as Chef takes Wednesday), but Tuesday *is* xmas, so I will cook something. I am considering Croque Monsier from Nigella's latest cookbook. It is a ham and cheese on multigrain bread, soaked over night in an egg and cream concoction and then baked off in the morning, or whenever it seems time. What's not to like?

I guess I should see what time eb's pop is coming over because he might be expecting some real food. Croque Monsieur for brunch followed by cornish hens and roasted veggies? I think that might just be the ticket.

Holiday restless

2007-12-14T09:56:00.000-08:00

I wish there was a way to suspend reality, alter it to suit the day, then save it as the new reality. That's what we do as we go through life, I suppose, but it seems it might be better served if we could do it consciously without having to learn life's little lessons along the way.

What would happen if a person consciously came to a point where they felt no need to learn further lessons? Shouldn't said person be able to happily go on his or her way in that state of constant contentment. Is this enlightenment? Realizing you have learned life's lessons and need not learn any more?

What is she teaching her children?

2007-12-04T08:49:00.000-08:00

On Saturday morning, while doing a less than random act of kindness, I was the victim of a psychotic lunatic's road rage. It was animated in such a way as to have read the story, but have need to experience it first hand to believe it. Surely exaggeration played a part in the grandness of it all. Umm, No. This was so big, no patented queenmaxine exaggeration is needed. Really.

Saturday was the first of the month, and as it often does, it snuck up on me swiftly. Who makes their billing due date the first of the month? Discover. I've asked before for it to be changed and got a swift reply of "I'm sorry ma'am, that's just not possible. It's insane. Fortunately, you can pay your Discover bill at Sears and we happen to have one less than a mile away at the mall I had to go to anyway because I work there on Saturday morning.

It is the holiday season and I had planned to leave plenty of time for traffic and parking, as well as being prepared for lines at the register. On Saturday morning I also like to go by Starbucks to see Chef at work. He works at the second most convenient Starbucks (still within a 2.5 mile radius of home) and his store is particularly busy on Saturday morning. I left a little later than I had anticipated, but I knew the priority was Sears/Discover and if that was all I accomplished, even if it made me late for work, anything else would be gravy.

Apparently, last Saturday morning we were in the eye of the hurricane that is holiday shopping madness. I got to Sears and parked in the very first space by the door and the parking lot was relatively dead. It was 8:45 and I knew JCP opened at 7, so I was relatively sure Sears was open. I walked in and there were 4 men happily greeting me and offering assistance. I always go in through the Craftsman section because it is usually the quietest. I told them I just needed to make a payment. Upon closer scrutiny, I saw that the person assisting me, one of the 4, was actually a dyke. She was cautiously flirty.

I got back in my car and it was just 8:48. Starbucks is on the horizon. Between Starbucks and where I sat, and directly on the way is Shipley's Donuts. I have been extremely disciplined in the low glycemic way lately and truly, it has been pretty easy. I had no onclination toward a donut for myself. Zero. Really. None. Chef, however, likes their kolaches. I decided that if I could park when I got by Shipley's, kolaches were in his immediate future.

There was a space right in front, and still feeling eye of the hurricanish, there was oddly no traffic. This is a very busy place any morning, but on Saturday, there will be no hurrying.

I lie when I say there was no traffic. There was, far enough away that it posed no worry, one lone black SUV. Big, honking, IliveinMemorialandhave$$andyouareaninterloperbegone black SUV. Again, it was safely way far down the street.

I had my signal light on to turn left into the Shipley's parking lot. The parking lot drive area is u-shaped. I turned in and this crazy black SUV with its dark tinted windows came barreling toward me, horn blaring. As I was turning into the parking space, it was trying to cut me off having turned right into the out going end of the driveway. A second mre and it would have hit me. I cut my ignition to see it blocking me in from behind in my rear view mirror. The window rolls down, and there was a rather good looking(other than her disposion making her *so* unattractive) woman leaning across a 6 year old to look out the passenger side window. She was screaming something, and you know, momma didn't raise no fool. I stayed in my car and would have remained there until someone had escorted this psycho away. I had some knitting in my bag and could have settled in for a pleasant morning knit.

After about 2 minutes, She began to pull away and exit the entrance side of the driveway. As soon as I saw that she was not going to Shipley's, I got out of the car. At this time, she was on the front side of my car in the street, not between me and Shipley's any more. Her window was still down and she once again leaned over to shout out, and I quote, "Like you need another fucking donut!!"

There were also 2 small children in the back. The one in the front hadsunken as far as she could away into the seat. There was a man with a double stroller waiting by the door as I went to go in. "Was that a lady driving that car?"

"Ummm, No. I think not." He then offered to buy my donut for me. Wasn't that sweet? He was attractive, too. Very pleasant.

The irony of the entire situation, at least to me, is that I was not there buying anything for my fat ass. I was there getting kolaches to take my son at work. Oddly enough, the whole exchange didn't at all bother me except in that she was really setting a poor example for her children of how to treat people. What else are those children learning from her?

On another note, I saw my new doctor on Thursday and I liked him. It isn't often that I like a male doc right away, so I guess I really like him. We discussed my disease in very frank terms and he asked all the right questions. He called the nurse in so he could feel me up, checking various glands and palpating my intestines,all very benign. Then he said, "Okay Maxine, Drop your pants to mid thigh (they were just unbuttoned and ooched open at this point) and roll on your side, I need to see your bottom." To which I replied, "Dr M! On the first date?" "Don't worry dear (the glove snapped on), I have the lube right here..."

The turkey that was

2007-11-25T10:36:00.000-08:00

A success!! The Turkey. Was. Awesome. Juicy white meat so tender a knitfe was not necessary. Back flavors of apple and basil and garlic. And who needs gravy when the pan juices are fantasic?

As I surmised, the macaroni and cheese was the best I have ever made. I used shells and farfalle mixed and poiled in heavily salted water. Then for the cheese blend, it was an 8 oz bag of sharp cheddar, an 8 oz bag of colby jack mixed, and about 4 oz of shredded fontina left over from when Chef made pizzas with wheat crust from scratch. The mac-n-cheese was excellent.

I became a potato snob about 4 years ago upon discovering yukon gold oe yellow fingerling potatoes. Nothing else will please me the same for mashed potatoes, and in general, russets are so terribly pedestrian. When I make mashed, we add a wee wedge of St Andre cheese. Creamy.

EB went to the stoore and took my phone so she could consult as needed for the list. When she got to the St Andre, she called for there was none. I told her any brie or other soft cheese they have would be fine. She ended up gettng Cambazola(sp?) and I wondered if the bleu in it might be too strong, but the Universe has been so good to us of late that I was not sweating it terribly. When I got the potatoes out of the bag, I knew right away they were russets. Eww. Due to no fault od eb's, the bag says in big shiny yellow letters, Pacific Gold (and then in wee teeny tiny letters) russet potatoes. Branding fuckers. They deliberately used trickery to deceive the gold/yellow potato buying public.

The potatoes, despite their inferior russet status, in conjunction with the Cambazola (and some cream and some butter...just a touch I swear) were not too bad. Of the leftovers, that is about all there is left. That and a turkey leg.

It beinf Thanksgiving and all, we were allowed dessert. I was going to make Grandma Mary's Sour Cream Pound Cake, but alas, there was no sour cream in the fridge and eb had done so well at the store, I was in no way going to send her back out again. So online I went to look for a more generic pound cake recipe. Google to the rescue, nearly top of the list was an apple cider pound cake recipe, and given the apple theme so far it seemed an immediate winner.

o. mi. god. I can't say enough to do it justice other than to let you know a cake that usually hangs out around here for a week or so is G. O. N. E. Apple cider in the batter and a fresh caramel glaze on top were a huge hit. Don't let Grandma Mary know her recipe might be shuffled down the list for a while.

We are now off to Texas Art Supply and then to Costco. Woohoo.

Thanksgiving yarny goodness

2007-11-22T06:27:00.000-08:00

I was going to make this a picture heavy post, but I can't find the camera cord and the camera cord stasher is still sleeping. And it is Thanksgiving, afterall, so I will let her sleep. (It's a reasonable hour and I am adding some pics...)

Me? I was up at 5:20 this morning. I decided the peace and quiet of te early morning was boding well for casting on the Kushu Kushu scarf. The Kushu is a kit by Habu and I either love it or I hate it, I am not quite sure yet, but I am guessing I love it if I am not sure enought to continue on blind faith.

The Kushu is a scarf made with ultra-fine merino and silk stainless steel. That's right, I said stainless steel, but it is stainless steel wrapped in silk. See why a picture would have been nice? Both of these yarns are really fine. Lke sewing thread fine. And I am using, as per the pattern directions, a size 8 needle. At some future point I will change to a size 6. Then a four and finally a three. The latter two sizes will be knitting the Silk stainless steel solo, sans merino. I am intrigued to say the least.

The instructions, it's so bold of Habu to call them instructions, are a schematic. I am really glad that the sales clerk took the time to open the kit and explain the schematic to me, because it is brilliant in its simplicity and I would have otherwise been staring at it saying What. The. Fuck. As I cast on and knit the firt row, I decided I would put blind faith in the Universe that Kushu would turn out as intended. It's all good.

Habu is a Japanese company and apparentlly knitting is not knitting the world over. Well, I guess knitting is knitting, but patterns and schematics vary widely. I totally resist charted knitting, I think, because it is more work than my brain wants to do. I go with the flow and trust that the Universe is just not ready for me to read charts.

This schematic is brief. Way brief. But it truly offers all the information you need to knit Kushu Kushu. However...the schematic page says nothing about what stitch is to be used. Since there is no mention of purling anywhere, I went with garter stitch. Then, I went back to the cover page before emailing the company and asking (for confirmation before I knit too far) because it is Thanksgiving and I know no answer would be forthcoming, at least not today.

No, not garter stitch, but stockinette (which I thought had a g in it?). So my first 6 rows are garter and I can't see that it will matter. I plan to knit 6 rows further before I decide if it matters enough to rip it out and start again. The piece will be lightly felted when complete, so I might leave it as is.

The process of Kushu is totally consuming. It is such a simple basic pattern, but this is far from mindless knitting. It requires the solitude of early morning for concentration to be optimal.

To contrast my thread knitting, I also bought two skeins of Yosemite (might have to scroll down) by Trendsetter Yarns. I got color 78, Watermelon Slice. It is divine, and soft. And uber-chunky. I question my sanity everytime I grab anything this bulky as I live in Houston, but c'mon, it's gorgeous. I know, a pic would be nice, yes? I will add pics in a little while, perhaps after the brining turkey gets in the oven, perhaps before.

Food. Can't have a Thanksgiving day post and not talk about the food. I just mixed up the mac-n-cheese and I dare say it might be the best mac-n-cheese I have ever made. Ever. Best ever. This is a good sign as the turkey is a new venture and might suck. At least I know we will be slamming down some mac-n-cheese that is muy excellente.

The turkey is brining as explained here. I don't think an issue of Saveur comes out that doesn't have at least one thing I want to try. It's always about expanding my domestic horizons. I have a wife to keep satisfied, afterall.

The turkey has been brining overnight in cider, salt, dark brown sugar, apples, and garlic. 35 cloves of garlic, thank you very much. The turkey will cook at 425 for 2 hours. Hot and fast as turkey cooking goes. Again, I am intrigued.

I am also making mashed potatoes, and something green. I was going to make broccolini, but the store was out when eb went yesterday. Or she couldn't find it, but we will go with her story, they didn't have any. So I told her to just get something green. She brought home broccoli. And zucchini. And snap peas. And asparagus. And spinach. So we will be having at least one green vegetable.

And rolls. If they have any when I go to the store at noon.

I also made some jalapeno dip mixing whipped cream cheese with a jar of jalapeno relish we got last weekend at Gruene Market Days. This morning I am making us a veggie scramble and adding some dip at the end of the cooking. Just because.

Pics soon.