Monday, October 29, 2007
Blrph.
Her Surreal Highness is sick, so guess who's not getting a lot of sleep? (There are two names on this list, both female. No there is no prize for guessing).
I have a couple of things I have to try and get done today, including maybe a nap so I don't get The Dread Lurgy myself (it's just a cold, but we're all about the drama Chez Lapin), however in the meantime I am taking the opportunity to hijack my own blog and bring you a couple of those annoying links to opportunities for do-goodery that I've spared you for the last few weeks.
First up, we have Rebecca, whose wife Jane has leapt into a last-minute challenge to raise $2200 for the fight against breast cancer. She's half-way there -- if you have a spare dollar or two, why not drop by and kick it up a notch?
And then we have, our beloved Norma, who has been diligently raising funds for the Red Scarf Project for a scholarship. I think the goal was $10,000 and it's stalled at $5,440. Not a shabby sum by any means but again here's an opportunity to get rid of your hard-earned dollars that are just lying in piles all over your house (much like they are in our home here, nacherly).
On other do-gooding fronts, the washcloths have been tumbling in and if I have half a chance later today I'll take a few more pictures. Nothing promised, though -- I sort of feel like ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag. And cranky, too.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
In Which I Escape Being Eaten By A Bear
So as most of you know, I live in the woods. Not right in the woods, I mean there are a few houses and there's a paved road, but out back of me there's quite a lot of forest and there's some over the street and we're in no way in the middle of the urban sprawl.
And there are animals here. A family of deer eat my side yard on a regular basis, I've seen a coyote, there was a big raccoon rumble at the end of the drive a couple weeks ago, that sort of thing.
On Tuesday night as I was getting ready to go back to work, I packed my two shoulder bags and toddled out the door. I got most of the way to the bus stop and then realized that I'd forgotten my purse. Not a biggie in the grand scheme of things, but all of my money was in there and I like to buy a newspaper and a bottle of Coke to get me through the night, so I turned back around and headed back for the house.
When I got back to my street I was walking along with my head down, thinking about how I'd likely miss my bus but it wasn't a big deal because I'd still be on time if I got the next one, and how stupid I was to leave the purse at home and so forth.
I wasn't paying attention to anything at all when all of a sudden two men started shouting at me. It took me a few steps before I realized they were yelling, "come back this way, there's a bear!" I looked up and about maybe 30 feet or less away from me, sure enough, a black bear was standing in the middle of the road. Right at the end of my driveway.
If they hadn't yelled I likely would have walked right past it, into the house, gotten the purse and headed back for work without even knowing he was ever there.
Anyhow, I looked up and said to myself "oh yes, there he is" and then turned around and walked back up the street to where the men were practically peeing themselves. They had two big dogs with them, lovely big dobermans that looked like
They said "HERE?? On THIS street?"
I said "Yes, of course, we're in the woods and animals live here and he's been here for ages. He was eating the garbage across the street last week and he likely came to see if they left it out again; bears will always check back twice more when they've eaten somewhere once."
I could tell they weren't from around here, both by the fits that they were taking over the bear and the fact that they were smoking American cigarettes.
They looked at me as if I'd grown an extra head and said "aren't you scared?" I said "No, I'm more worried about meeting strange dogs and men on my street than I am about our bear."
They told me the dogs were ok, and that they were here shooting a movie (we get a lot of that around here). They went on to talk excitedly about the bear, with the poor animal getting larger with every telling. By the time they were done with it, they had somehow rescued me from death and dismemberment by a Kodiak or something.
It was just a small black bear.
The bear was still standing in the street and so one of them got in their car and drove it towards the bear to scare it off the street.
He came back and said that he had scared it away and it had gone north. I said that it had gone into my side yard but I thanked him for getting it off the road. They asked if I was still going there and I said of course I was, I had to get my purse for work.
They looked at me again and said "You're really not scared, are you?" And I said no. I could feel their testicles shrinking as I spoke, as they were both completely terrified of it.
Then one of them apologized, because they had thought they were saving me. It was really kind of them, but also sort of funny.
I said I was going to go get my purse now and they said "We'll be right here, if it's there scream really loud and we'll drive down again." As if I wouldn't scream fucking blue murder if it was on my porch. I'm not scared of it but I don't want to meet it any closer than I did that night. It's just looking for food so it can bulk up before it goes to sleep for the winter and black bears aren't usually particularly aggressive. Nor are they carnivores. But yeah, if it was on my porch I'd holler.
Anyhow, I got my purse, got back to the bus stop and sure enough missed my bus. I was on time for work but only by two minutes instead of my usual 30.
But at least, you know, I didn't get eaten by a bear.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
A Little Distracted
I've been a little distracted the last few days. You see, San Diego seems to be burning.
Someone I care for (and who happens to be my former husband) lives there and I can't find him.
We stay in sporadic touch. He's a good friend and we parted on good terms. If a divorce can ever be amicable, ours is the one they feature in the textbooks. He even flew up here when I married Ben.
His phone is out of order (I likely have the old number, I'm not good about stuff like that -- he pays his bills so I likely have the one from like four years ago and deleted the new one), his email is bouncing (that one I've got right) and I happen to know he does some emergency response/communications stuff (ham radio) with the military, so there's a chance he's in the middle of it.
He's a good man. He didn't deserve me (I'm a total train-wreck of a spouse) and he certainly doesn't deserve to get burned up in San Diego.
So yes. Distracted and a little concerned.
Send some good thoughts to our friends and family over there, will you?
I'm just going to go fret for a bit now.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Head In A Whorl: Ass In A Sling
As I mentioned before, some time ago in an over-inflated (or perhaps wine-inflated) sense of competence I agreed to go speak to my brother's knitting group about fibre.
I was mainly concerned as I'm a dyer, not (much of) a spinner, and somehow the emphasis of the talk ended up being on spinning. After stating several times to the facilitator of the group that in fact I really couldn't spin (followed shortly by him saying, brightly, "we're so looking forward to hearing you talk about spinning!"), I thought to myself, "self", I thought, "perhaps you should learn how to spin!". Well, I made plans to spin every day for at least an hour, and I took the drop spindle to work and learned at least the basics; however, the best-laid plans ... or perhaps the best-laid mice. Whatever, you know the saying.
The Big Day arrived, in fact yesterday was the day, and I must say it was a hoot. All of my fears were for naught.
I had stayed up late the night before, mostly because, as we all know, staying up late after drinking too much and then getting three hours of sleep and then working all day is the best way to take care of oneself. Mostly, however, I was packing my basket.
(apparently the phrase "packing my basket" is one that should be used sparingly when around a group of gay men. word to the wise)
I didn't know what I was going to say or how I was going to say it. Nothing ruins public speaking like a little planning. (i may have that backwards, come to think of it) My plan, in general, was to take as much fibre and equipment as possible, talk about it a bit, show folks a few things and then let them play with it.
Apparently this was a good plan and I think most of the people there enjoyed the day, although I likely could have been a little more focused.
There were only five men there (I told you I'm better in small groups) and one wanted to figure out if he could fall in love with a drop spindle as he had a friend who had been offering him one for a couple of years. I got to see a new spinner get born, and although he left early and so couldn't try the wheel he had a grand old time with my Turkish drop spindle, and left happily clutching two small bags of roving (Perendale and Moorit) to his chest.
Welcome to the dark side. It's spinny over here.
The facilitator (who I'm hoping will forward me a few pictures) and one other man were very taken with the whole process. One was a natural on the wheel, although I don't think I've ever seen such overtwist in my life. It takes a certain skill! His yarn was very even and if he learns to let it feed through the orifice more quickly he'll be well on his way. I am very pleased to note that my spinning, despite my fears, was even and quite fine. I am impressed by Romney, and also by how flop sweat doesn't make one's hands freeze up and get all stupid when one has to spin in public.
I was delighted to meet Nigel, who immediately informed me that he wasn't going to leave until I sold him some sock yarn. Fortunately I had some which I had dyed at the same time as I dyed Forest Canopy for Mrs. Quimby (who apparently has very soft armpits). He loved it (the wool, not Mrs. Q's pits) and so an alliance was formed. He didn't love the spinning so much but there's still hope for a conversion. And if not? There's lots of yarn where that sock yarn came from.
There will be further spinnage in the future as I'm planning to join the group for either knitting or spinning as often as I can.
*cackle*
I do believe I'm enjoying being an agent for The Forces of Darkness (and sheep)
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Party on the Patio
And just about everywhere else, apparently.
Oh, what a week I've had! I have a few pictures but of course they're at home and I'm not.
I won't lie and say I'm putting them up tomorrow 'cause I have a very busy day ahead of me, but sooner or later there should be ... well, something.
I love being precise. Yup, that's exactly the thing I love to be. Or maybe not.
I suppose we could start with Monday and Tuesday but they involved work and weren't all that interesting. (There, they're dealt with). Wednesday I renewed my driver's license (having discovered in, oh, June that it had expired in January) and then hied me to a nunnery. Or perhaps to the train station -- it's so hard to tell the two apart.
I then boarded the Amtrak-which-is-not-a-train and headed for Seattle. The only problem with this was that I had misunderstood the website for Amtrak and thought I was getting on a train, with a refreshment cart or a dining car or something. At least somewhere I could stretch my legs a little and buy a bottle of water or a coffee.
No such luck. The Amtrak-which-is-not-a-train (I'm a little bitter, apparently) turned out to be a bus. Fortunately I had packed a bag of nuts in my luggage the night before and had also made a quick trip to the convenience store in the train station (you see that word there? "train"? this was part of the reason i was deceived.) and had purchased a bottle of water, some Cheetos and a large coffee. Truly, without those there would more than likely have been blood all over the pretty upholstery of the very nice not-a-train.
There were only 19 passengers and it was all quiet and comfortable and such. I had a moment of panic when I realized that I had to write out a customs declaration and that they required a destination address. I, of course, had left the house without an address or a phone number as I knew the ladies who were picking me up at the station (Elaine and Leslie) had my cellphone number and would call me if they were delayed. A little fancy footwork was performed and everything was taken care of in good time. There was a huge lineup at the border, there being two not-a-trains in front of us, however it didn't take a lot more than an hour or so and we were well on our way.
By the time I got to the train (see? there's that word again) station in Seattle I was so hungry I could have eaten a vole salad sandwich. Fortunately I wasn't required to prove this and was taken out for some very tasty fried fish accompanied by some very tasty and very garlicky fries. (apparently my favourite type of ethnic food is "fried". i'm so culturally adventurous and stuff.)
Prior to our fairly-early dinner, we had made a brief trip to the bookstore where we nabbed ourselves copies of Crazy Aunt Purl's book and informed the somewhat dubious staff that they were going to need more chairs. Way more chairs.
Upon returning to the store to hear Laurie speak, we discovered that a) the early purchase of the book was a really good plan (they ran out) and b) they needed more chairs.
Way more chairs.
Laurie was entertaining and funny. She also, as promised, talked and talked. It was amusing watching her try to remember if she had answered the question, what the question was and, in some cases, whether there had been a question at all.
I'm never writing a book.
I have no idea why I was arrogant enough to think that I was the only Canadian knitblogger who would make the trip. I know by now what we're all capable of, and yet I was still amazed to run into Ande and Mandy. I've met both of these most excellent ladies before in person and completely embarrassed myself by forgetting Ande. My only excuse is that a) she's thinner and b) she's done something different with her hair and c) she pronounced her name differently than I had been pronouncing it in my head and I didn't even understand what she said at first.
Gaile was there too, and even though I've met her several times (she and her splendid boy helped me move house) it still took me quite some time to clue in that she was there (yes, she had told me in advance that she would be). I then felt it would be best to lean over several people and poke her with a dpn while rubbing my ass on the very nice complete stranger behind me. The same complete stranger I had been poking with my knitting needles for the previous ten minutes.
I'm so damned gracious and socially polished. Hey, at least I didn't barf on anyone. Some days that's all you can ask for.
I then spent two days hanging out with my friends and being covered in animal slobber. No, Elaine and Leslie are neither animals nor slobbery, however they have four very friendly dogs, one large and friendly cat and one large cat who I think eats Jehova's Witnesses for breakfast, but who finally came around to the realization that he was indeed a lap cat, and that my lap was a good place for a cat to spend a little time.
The other cat snuggled up to me both nights and helped me with the big words in my book. He was pretty pissed I didn't want to watch TV but I'm strict about that kind of thing on a school night.
We spent some time visiting two wonderful fibre stores. I don't call them yarn stores because there is so much more than yarn at both of these establishments. Purchases were made at both places but I was very restrained. One skein of Malabrigo something or other at Church Mouse in incredible mermaidy blues and greens (I'm not going to knit with it, I'm just going to put a leash on it and pretend it's my pet) and a good selection of spinning fibres at Weaving Works (Wensleydale, brown BFL and some Coopworth. Corriedale too, I think -- about 3 ounces of each.)
I returned with regret to Canada (not that I don't like the place, I just wanted more holiday) and immediately discovered that if you're planning on going out, actually making arrangements for childcare is a good idea. All three of the people I tried to get hold of couldn't help out, so I callously abandoned my family yet again and headed out for dinner with some old friends. I hadn't seen at least one of the women (possibly two) for over 30 years.
I staggered home at close to 4am. Unfortunately I had to work at 8. I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be an at-least-marginally-responsible adult, but you sure wouldn't know it from my behaviour that day.
It was fun, interesting, and in some ways difficult. This whole "worlds colliding" thing is hard for me and has left me with joy, relief and an indefinable but nonetheless sizeable burden of sadness.
I don't understand it, myself. It's not that we were all old and wrinkly. We seem, in general, to have aged pretty well (even me). It's not even that I discovered that a couple of us didn't make it through in one piece (I have a small amount of grieving to do.)
I'm sure further navel-gazing will occur. I likely won't blog about it. Even I can't stand naked in the middle of the street all the time.
And now I'll end this here, seeing it's about five miles long and it's now well into the day after the time stamp says I wrote this.
Tune in tomorrow for "Head In A Whorl: Ass In A Sling -- the tale of my first fibre workshop/talk/thang"
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Sheepless in Seattle
Oh man, where did the time go? It's Tuesday again and I'm coming up briefly for air here. Fortunately I can hold my breath a long time.
The week has been a bit of a clusterfuck, but anyone who's been reading along at home for the last few years (or even just a week or two) knows that that's pretty much the status quo, Chez Lapin. "All Work, All The Time" is the new motto around here, as I've been booked to work every weekend (except two, I believe) until the end of the year. The main job continues to be a bucket of screaming hell and I'm not going to take it an awful lot longer. Plans are afoot. And ahead. And quite possibly ahand, too.
There is, however, a certain amount of joy in Mudville at the moment. I am on vacation (although "vacation" seems to include working at my second job. Shut up.) This week, formerly known as "The Glorious Week I Have Off Work So That I Can Attend Rhinebeck" was quickly downgraded to "The Glorious Week I Have Off So That I Can Clean The Bathroom And Maybe Shave My Legs" after the demise of my husband's employment. It has now been upgraded again to "The Glorious Week I Have Off So That I Can Clean The Bathroom, Work At My Other Job And Also Go To Seattle".
This has been made possible despite the lack of car through the joy that is Amtrak.(We managed, by dint of judicious non-payment of bills, to find enough money for a rusty bucket of bolts this week. However, apparently we didn't find enough time to buy one. One of us is in trouble for this, and it's not me.) Seemingly I have sufficient identification to cross the border, and it's only $28 to get from here to Seattle.
I shall be on the noon train tomorrow.
Just in case you're planning on stalking me, if you would be so kind as to bring a large coffee -- black, no sugar -- and a toasted bagel I'd be very appreciative.
If I have any regrets at all it's that I won't have time to go get a t-shirt printed with "assbeagle" on it. I had promised Crazy Aunt Purl that I would wear that and sit right front and centre at her book signing in Seattle tomorrow night, however although I'll be there, apparently I will also be square.
(No, wearing a t-shirt with "assbeagle" on it is not square. It's also not at all peculiar.)
I'll be staying with some friends who have generously offered me a place to sleep for two nights (well they sort of had to, after I asked) and who have promised not to put a hedgehog down my pants.
I'll take the camera. Watch for an update on Saturday.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
No, No, A Thousand Times No!
I'd rather die than say yes.
(with apologies to anyone reading this who may be under the age of, oh, i don't know ... ninety? i think this was some old music hall song or something.)
Today our (very young, very large) security guard asked me, for the second time, if I would knit him a sweater. I said no. For the second time.
And then he offered me $50.
OK, I know how much he makes so that's a fair chunk for him but still -- the dude's a bit of a mountain. There's a good chance that that would buy enough acrylic for a sweater for him, but nothing else.
I told him that I didn't knit for money (and at the rate I go, this is a good thing) but if I did, it would cost him at least $700. And that's if I wanted to do it, which I don't.
On the one hand I'm flattered that he's interested in knitting (he asked me to haul my knitting out of my bag so that he could see it) and that he likes what I'm doing enough to ask for a sweater, but on the other hand ...
I told him to go to Zellers instead if he wanted a sweater for $50 and that I only knit for love. I was polite enough not to tell him that I was willing to pretend that sex was love. I wasn't sure if he'd have a heart attack and fall over (I have to be 20 years older than him) or if he'd offer, in which case I'd die of embarrassment on the spot (but not before politely declining).
Sheesh. At least the last one who asked me to knit for her only wanted a scarf. (And got one, too).
(oh, and does anyone know a good -- inexpensive -- sweater-designing template/software package/instruction manual? the man i am sleeping with wants a cabled sweater and i think i'm going to have to design it myself to get exactly what we want.)
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Oy
And now, after a post that sprung fully-formed from the middle of my forehead (or my fingers) now I get something I actually have to think about, thanks to The Knitting Linguist. That'll teach me to hang out with people who get all fancy about words.
1. Hardcover or paperback, and why? Hardcover, all the way. They feel meatier, more serious. Paperbacks are disposable. Even a "trashy novel" deserves the seriousness of a hard cover. Plus, I can hold them open easier at work with the stapler or the tape dispenser and knit while I read them. I don't care about the weight.
2. If I were to own a book shop, I would call it... That's a hard one. The Mine possibly, seeing a mine implies treasure, while "mine" implies I own it. That or The Rabbit Hutch.
3. My favorite quote from a book (mention the title) I don't know if I have a favourite quote. I use a lot of quotes. One of the ones I like most at the moment is from Terry Pratchett's "The Last Hero" "It's what ordin'ry people remember that matters. It's songs and sayin's. It doesn't matter how you live and die, it's how the bards wrote it down." Almost anything of Pratchett's is quotable. I don't have any one quote that I live and die by.
4. The author (alive or deceased) I would love to have lunch with would be... Terry Pratchett. He's a freakin' genius, and I suspect his mind either works rather like mine ... or like nothing I've ever met before.
5. If I was going to a deserted island and could only bring one book, except for the SAS survival guide, it would be… A very large hard-cover book full of blank pages. I live to write as much as to read. If I couldn't write I might go insane.
6. I would love someone to invent a bookish gadget that… I don't think I need any gadgets.
7. The smell of an old book reminds me of... Comfort. Wealth. Luxury. Mystery.
8. If I could be the lead character in a book (mention the title), it would be…Oh, possibly Bilbo Baggins.
9. The most overestimated book of all times is…The Bible.
10. I hate it when a book… Has so many damned typos and inconsistencies that all I can think of is editing it heavily with a red pencil and sending it back to the author with a big card reading "For shame!"
And now I'm to tag others with this. Most folks I know hate memes, but a few will indulge me. So I'm tagging Ann and Mrs. Quimby and Bunni and Mel.
You may all conspire to set me alight at your earliest convenience.
Monday, October 08, 2007
Oh, What Fun!
Oh my dear sweet imaginary Baby Jesus, I had completely forgotten how much fun it could be to ... well, you know. Have fun.
Saturday night a friend took our daughter overnight. We had thought we weren't going to be able to get anyone and were thinking we'd ask the girl next door to watch her for an hour while we went out for one beer, but at the last minute someone came through. The let-down followed by the sudden realization that we actually could go out and have some fun made it doubly ... um ... fun. Have I said "fun" enough yet?
No, I didn't think so.
We discovered that both of us had been hiding away little bits of money for the last month in anticipation of this event (we're so cute, it'd make you puke) so we had enough loot for both dinner and likker. We went to The Maplewood, which had just reopened after a two-week renovation. While the menu was limited, the food that they did have was very good. Ben had a burger and fries, I had a clubhouse sandwich. The fries were hot, the burger was great. The clubhouse sandwich was made entirely with cold ingredients, which sort of sucks ass, but they were fresh and tasty and there was lots of everything. This place has got to have the best fries in the universe.
We watched the hockey game and had a couple of beers while I knat in public (Palindrome, about 25% done now). Unfortunately, after the game was over, the music came on. The person who had installed the sound system was obviously a little too fond of the crack and also too maybe tone deaf. It was horrible.
I'm not going all old-fogey on you here, the music itself was just fine, but the static was insane.
We grabbed our beers and went downstairs where it wasn't quite so bad. We were going to stay and have another couple but some bright spark had decided for some unknown reason to install two flashing lights above the bar on the back wall, one green and one a fairly bright yellow. My eyes are quite photosensitive and after about five minutes of sitting hunched over, cupping my hand over my eyes so I didn't actually have to be in pain, we paid up and left. We were going to go to one of the other two pubs in walking distance but the night was cold and rainy and we just didn't feel like wandering about for the sake of spending money. The house was nearby, there was beer in the fridge and movies for the DVD player so we headed on back to the ranch.
Once settled in somewhere that we didn't have to go deaf and blind in the name of savouring a cold beverage or two, we popped Diabolique into the player and sat back to enjoy it. The movie itself was nothing spectacular -- sort of like Fatal Attraction, but without so much Fatal. Or Attraction. Or Michael Douglas's jiggly bum. The best line of the entire movie came from Ben, who said to me "Please promise me if you ever find Isabelle Adjani having a heart attack on the bathroom floor, that you'll at least call the paramedics before you sit on her face." Apparently the boy has me pegged.
I promised that I would.
We then watched Clerks, which I had bought Ben a couple of years back. We'd seen it before, but it had lost none of its tasteless, low-budget appeal.
A good time was had by all, and even the massive lack of sleep didn't make Sunday's graveyard shift particularly painful. I was off work again tonight (yes, two in one week! *gasp*) so with the money we saved by cutting our evening short at the Maplewood, I went out and bought T-bones (I hardly ever eat steak but it seemed appropriate), giant potatoes, some peas and a bottle (tetra-pak, actually) of French Rabbit. I'm exceptionally fond of the Pinot Noir (that's what I use to baste my ass) but they didn't have any so we made do with a Cabernet Sauvignon, which is almost as tasty.
I'm back to work tomorrow with another hectic month coming up. I work five days, get one off, then work two more and then I think it may be off to Seattle to see Laurie turn red and stutter and sweat and talk and talk and talk (gotta love those Southern girls) while talking about her new book.
Oh yes, and tomorrow I ship out my first (and last, for a while -- I don't have the time or resources for a lot of production dyeing) wholesale order to The Sweet Sheep. She should have it listed in the store in the next week or two (I don't know how long it takes to do these things) unless she hates it all and returns it, demanding a refund. She ordered fibre that I don't sell in my store, 70% merino/30% nylon, so if you like that combo, rush on over with your ill-gotten gains in hand -- there will be 40 skeins available in colours from the sedate "No Mean Feets" and "Black Watch" to some "Fiesta", "Creamsicle" and "Parrot" and some other really bright stuff (magenta to fuschia to yellow/gold) that I'm trying to think of a name for.
And now ... off to dye more stuff for my store. I promise an update as soon as Ben gets off his ass. There will be Christmas cards available for purchase shortly also.
Stay tuned for the commencement of the Holiday Knitting Frenzy. Now with wine!
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Gone Fishin'
Today is my first day off (unless you'd like to count my sick days as "off") in four weeks.
I'm hoping to send the kid out somewhere (right about now I'd just buy her a bus ticket and send her on her way) so that the hubby and I can have some quality drinkin' and eatin' and talkin' and maybe smoochin' time.
No blogging for you, today.
The good news is that I have a lot of time off this month. The bad news is that I won't be able to make rent unless I shill sheep string like mad. And, of course, that means that the good news is that there will be a whole lotta new wool in the store shortly.
Rest assured that I shall return tomorrow, with more washcloths, maybe a picture of the Palindrome scarf and um, stuff.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
I'm Much Better Now
Thank you all for your concern. I got neither pneumonia, pleurisy nor scabies. Not even gangrene. I did, however, cause a lot of people to work a lot of overtime, as I took two days off from work and basically lay in bed doing cough syrup shooters and destroying my gas bill for the month (did you know you can keep an ENTIRE house at 85 degrees for two days if you really try? Yeah, me either.)
One of the things that has brought me joy over the last two days has been the fact that I finally saw our black bear this morning. I heard a great crunching and munching in the neighbours' yard, and as he had been broken into recently and the lame fucks who thought it would be all right to go into someone else's house also thought it would be ok to steal his kid's x-box and a bunch of video games, I've been keeping an eye on the house of late. So I poked my head out to see what was happening and his motion-activated lights came on. I went, "whoa, that's a big dog!" and then I realized that there were NO dogs that big, and in fact it was our bear. He wandered off into the woods, still crunching and munching (bears aren't subtle). I was glad to see him. I was also really glad he wasn't heading for my house.
Another thing that has brought me joy is this audio clip, sent to me by Elaine, in response to my little rant of September 13th. I finally got to hear it tonight and it made me gigglesnort, bigtime. Thank you Elaine!
And now it's 6:30 in the morning and I'm going back to bed for like ten hours. I'll be at work tonight, sudafed willing.
And, you know, if I don't get eaten by a bear.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Sic
It will come as no surprise to most that I am a bit of an overachiever.
Unwilling to be outdone by some stinkin' sheep and her Fall Cold (now with whooping cough!) I have decided to come down with one of my own.
Although right now I am serving merely as The Universal Snot Dispenser, I have all confidence that it will develop into both pneumonia and pleurisy by the end of the week. And creeping gangrene, too, more than likely.
I have had the good fortune to experience this downturn in health during a time at work when we have so little staff that even if I were throwing up bits of lung -- bits of other people's lung, at that -- that I would still have to come to work (and share the bounty of germs that is mine).
Booyah, as all the cool kids say.
Oh and also too, just to add to the current distress, I just heard from an old friend and I can't decide if I have the balls to go or not but there are a bunch of folks getting together in two weeks and I'm invited.
I'd probably see folks I haven't seen in um, 20 years. Maybe close to 30 for some.
I think I'll only go if I manage to lose 30 lbs and get a facelift. And a better career. And maybe an interesting life.
And maybe only if I knit myself some balls, too.
