A boy I once knew...part five

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

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

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

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

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.

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?

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!

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

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...

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.

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.

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

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?

by Sarah Mundy

2 pics for Friday

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

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 this month so shipping is not an issue.



Grae, Camarin…The Secret In The Bird
Grae, Camarin…The Winged Dancer
Grae, Camarin…Wednesday Nights
Griffith, Nicola…The Blue Place
Guess, Carol…Seeing Dell


Haddock, Lisa...Edited Out
Haddock, Lisa...Final Cut
Hartman, Melissa…The Sure Thing
Haslund, Ebba...Nothing Happened
Hayes, Penny…Grassy Flats
Helms, Kristie...Dish It Up, Baby!
Hill, Linda…Class Reunion
Hodgman, Helen...Waiting For Matindi
Hoffman, Lauran…Bar Girls
Horn, Phyllis…The Chesapeake Project
Horn, Phyllis…Lodestar
Hull…Last September


Johnson, Barbara…Strangers In The Night
Johnston…Gullibles Travels
Jones, Frankie J…Captive Heart


Kallmaker, Karin…Paperback Romance
Kallmaker, Karin…Car Pool
Kallmaker, Karin…Touchwood
Kallmaker, Karin… Painted Moon
Kallmaker, Karin...Making Up For Lost Time
Kallmaker, Karin...In Every Port
Knight, Phyllis...Switching The Odds
Knight, Phyllis...Shattered Rhythms
Koertge, Noretta…Valley Of The Amazons


Lambert, Mercedes…Soultown
Lang, Elizabeth…Anna’s Country
Lipman, Elinor…Into Love And Out Again
Logue, Mary…Still Explosion

MacGregor, KG...The House on Sandstone
Maiman, Jaye…Crazy For Loving
Maiman, Jaye…Under My Skin
Maiman, Jaye…Someone To Watch
Maiman, Jaye…Baby, It’s Cold
Maiman, Jaye…Old Black Magic
Maiman, Jaye…Every Time We Say Goodbye
Maiman, Jaye…I Left My Heart
Maney, Mabel…The Case Of The Good-for-nothing Girlfriend
Marcy, Jean…Cemetery Murders
Martin, Valerie...A Recent Martyr
Martinac, Paula…Home Movies
Martinac, Paula…Chicken
McCarthy…Cast A Cold Eye
McConnell, Vicki...Mrs. Porter’s Letters
McConnell, Vicki…Double Daughter
McDaniel, Judith…Yes I Said, Yes I Will
McDermid, Val...The Last Temptation
McKay, Claudia...The Kali Connection

Needles and Herbs

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

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?

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.

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

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

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

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

Go see!

All to our selves!

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.

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?

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

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

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?

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

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

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.

contemplating a new tattoo

I have never been able to add a photo directly to my blog because I was on a Mac and the feature wasn't available. Neither was spell check. Go figure. Recently, EB showed me the feature and it certainly makes it easier not having to first upload to Flickr and then blog it from Flickr, though honestly, that was easy enough.

It is a bit of a light time at work so today, I was learning how to crop an image in photoshop using the pen tool and the convert point tool. Of course the test will come when I try to do it again and can't remember what the hell I did. It was weird because I was mostly getting it, but not really cognitive of what exactly I was doing. The above image is the result.

When we were last in NYC, we went again to Pearl River Market. It is an Asian import market, and if you can't find it there, it might not exist. I think there prices are pretty reasonable, and surely a comparable place exists in Houston, but I just haven't found it yet.

So anyway, I bought a modest ammount of paper goods. A few packs of crane origami paper made it into my basket which I think will be used for wallpaper as I transform more of my dad's old pics. I also got a few small note pads that are a recycled paper with a graphic cover. One of them was the above image. I think it is going on the inside of my left calf at roughly 4 inches. I think baby buddha might sit on a lotus flower or be surrounded with clouds. Or maybe a burst of light like that surrounding Our Lady of Guadalupe.

I thinnk I might need to commission my wife.

Holy Vaginistas, Teresa is 40!

I was looking throught my blog entries for September 2004. That is when I turned the big 40. As I sit here listening to holiday music on my iPod, I can feel the rosy glow as if it were only yesterday. Relatively, it seems as if I am 40 still. I think 40 is that kind of landmark year. I think I might feel 40 until I am 52 (the magical AARP year). Truthfully, I think I feel 37, but that isn't what today is about. Today is all about Teresa turning 40.

Happy Birthday Teresa!!



So while I was browsing my archives, I found a post from the last day of my 39th year. I had gotten a card from my mom for my birthday with the standard $50 check. There was a note inside. My mom always includes a note because she thinks it is ridiculous to send a card for anything and not include some sort of personalized note. My mom and I have never been overly affectionate so imagine the tears in my eyes after reading this:

"Put 9-11 in the back of your mind and never forget.

But in the forefront of all your thinking know that on Sept. 11, 1964

a bundle of joy and delight brightened our door.

In your future always remember to put your many talents to good use for yourself and all womankind.
Love Mom--

P.S. I just was reading this over and it almost sounds like preaching. Or maybe I should get to work and
get that book started."


This is the most intimate sentiment ever expressed to me by my mother. And it is a totally auspicious beginning to my forties. It truly has only gotten better as each day passes.

Deck the halls

Following one of Weese's handy tips couldn't be easier. I think with Thanksgiving being somewhat early this year, we got the timing right even though there are those of you who mocked us.


The trees are up, yes this year there are three of them, and the lights are on. We have a 7 foot tree that eb put lights on last night. I was feeling a bit under the weather this past weekend and helped as I could. The 7 foot tree in in the library which is where we hang out lately, and it is in the front window.

A few weeks ago I got a 5 foot tree that is prelit from JCP. It retails for 120 and I got it for 38 after all the sales and discounts. I still like it, but it isn't quite as stable as we would like. It is on the cabinet formerly known as the TV stand in the great room. We hang out in there a lot as well, and that tree will showcase some of our more special ornaments.

The third tree is a metal stand which crisscrosses in layers and is a matte gold color. There are all sorts of loopdeloos on which to display ornaments. It resides on top of one of our 9 cubbies and will also showcase some of our fragile ornaments.

We still have a lot of ornaments to unpack, I am guessing that while the oven is abaking this evening, tissue paper will be aflying. I thnk there are a few santa figures that are booked for return rngagements this year, too, and I am sure we will come across those this evening.

The outside stuff will need a quick inventory and maybe, just maybe, it will get put up. That is often the challenge of decorating for the holidays when it is still in the 80s. I am thinking blue lights across the front of the house on the horizontal, not up to the eaves, but that is eb's decision because either way, I don't do ladders. A couple of years ago I saw a house that had totally outlined their landscaping on the ground and I thought that would be interesting, but the front yard is on the big side and that would be a lot of lights. I sort of fance the multi colored big bulbe poking out cactus like from the front lamp post or maybe a big red bow. Hmmm.

My first sweater is finished!

Nov 2007 005
Originally uploaded by queenmaxine

I was done with the knitting over the weekend. On Monday night, I met up with Faith to sit and knit at Panera in the early evening. While there I wove in all the ends. Wednesday morning I sewed up one side seam, and Wednesday evening the other. 'Skully' is from Stitch N Bitch and is made with Lamb's pride Bulky in Bronze Patina(6 skeins) and Sunburst Gold(1 skein).
Tres warm! Like warm enough (for eb, it's her sweater, of course) to wear in CT in February or something.

S O L D

Woohoo!! I found out yesterday that "A Good Cigar" (see post below) sold at the silent auction gala. We were unable to go this year and the Dia de los Muertos exhibit is coming down today. We totally should have gone to the Lawndale on Sunday. Hopefully next year we will both get tins done and then we can make a night of it.

Elizabeth's sweater, Skully, is nearly done. I have finished the knitting and weaving in of ends. I sewed onw seam up this morning and the other will be sewn either tonight or tomorrow. Pics to follow.

Post Slacker

It's been a few weeks of "Oh, I should blog about xxx..." and then when it comes to blogging time I got nuttin'. It's weird how it goes in cycles but I certainly see it on others' blogs. I know it isn't anything new.

The biggest news is I have taken on a third part time job two nights a week at my favorite yarn shop. This last week, which was my first there, I worked three nights, which already I know was too many. Not physically too many, but more time than I care to spend there as an employee. I was hired on as part time help while one of the women there is out on maternity leave and as holiday help. I am not sure this will go past January. At that time I might switch to an as needed status.

I think I have JCP whittled down to a manageable 11-13 hours a week (2 days). I would maybe like it better at just Saturday, but I have to work enough hours so that my income there covers the cost of my benefits which I am eligible for through the end of 2008. It's a thing of beauty. I can't wait to see what my PTO forecast is for 2008. It will be maximized to be certain. When my eligibility expires I am not sure what will become of JCP, but that is 14 months from now so no need for a hasty decision.

So at the yarn shop, my 2 nights equal about 8 hours. As eb's assistant I am consistent at 22 hours right now, but I would like to ramp that up a little. I think next week will be 26, and I might hang out there for a bit to see how it goes.

In other news, the cat is out of the bag in regards to our tenth anniversary trip next summer. We are doing an Alaska cruise in May. A little before our actual anni date, but that was when the sock cruise was scheduled, so who am I to argue the dates? I really need to try a funky pattern type of sock before the cruise, maybe monkey or .pomatomus. I am not sure what the knitting classes will cover, but it will definitely be sock related. There is talk of a support group for the knitter's spouses that will meet at the bar when we are in class. Could be eb's thing but I imagine the other spouses are likely men. Maybe not so much her thing. Regardless, I am sure we will have a good time on this, our first cruise. More later, off to Lowes.

So at Lowes, eb got some tiling accoutrements and I toured the xmas aisles. Then as we were getting ready to go, we spy the Stanley FatMax. Weese, you know you want one. It is an early xmas gift and I think we might eventually have more than one. I can see one as an artist catch all, plenty of room for eb to load it with paints. It might be a feasible traveling studio.
still, maybe more later...