Tuesday, February 27, 2007
She'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountan
Or comin' 'round the corner or something. I don't know. I'm too tired to be amusing right now (you, in the back, shut up, this is too different.) but at least I'm not reduced to posting about my sock photocopying its butt.
The Evil Empire (aka my employer) continues to be evil but I think The Forces of Goodness and Light (that's me and the folks who are on my side -- shut up) are winning the battle. I also spoke to the manager at the Less Evil Empire and they may be able to help me out, so I'm not quite as stressed as I was. I phoned him and said "this is what I can do, this is where I'm willing to work and these are the hours I'm available. I'm ready to jump the minute you have anything at all available with benefits". He said "oh, wow" (seeing I'll work graveyards, which most sane people object to). I have to take a (short) course and gain one more skill and then I think it's only a matter of a (small) amount of time. I may not jump, but it's nice to know I can if I need to.
Other things are lightening the load. For instance:
Emma and made by the talented Michelle
Thanks you guys!
My photography sucks but as always I'm blaming the camera.
Running off to work, as always, stopping to deliver some blankets and hats (there are photos, honest) to a shelter and some wool to Heather on the way. I've been dyeing up a storm. Maybe if I get ten minutes to breathe tomorrow I'll actually post some but even I've stopped believing myself.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Lee Ann Made Me Wet My Drawers
Tonight I was talking online to my buddy Lee Ann. She asked me for my number and asked if I was busy right now, which I thought was a pretty good indication that she'd like to talk.
We've never talked before so it was cool. I behaved well and didn't even say "fuck" until at least three minutes into the conversation.
I'm just going to have to cancel afternoon tea with the Queen, aren't I? This will never do.
All was going well until Missy Moo decided to get into the action and ask me for a glass of juice. I was so busy trying to do three things at once while not seeming like a total dork and I put the milk jug on the bread board and nudged it over ... so it wouldn't spill. Unfortunately I'd forgotten that a) the cutlery drawer was open and b) there was a full cup of coffee also on the bread board.
The upshot? The drawer is clean, the cutlery is clean, and Lee Ann thinks I'm a goof. All in all a successful evening.
Friday, February 23, 2007
If This is Friday, I've Got Gas
Which, startlingly enough, is making the house more bearable.
Wednesday night when I got up to go to work, my hubby informed me that the people from the gas company had come by to let us know that some incredibly talented asstrumpet had pranged his backhoe (or maybe his fronthoe, I know little of heavy machinery) through the gas main down the street and that "400 units" were now without a gas supply. Hey, I'd rather they cut off the gas than let the house blow up and I was heading to work anyhow (where it is warm) so I wasn't all that concerned.
We still had electricity so I told him to let the Muppet sleep in his bed that night, and to put the space heater from my (very chilly) studio in his room and they'd be just fine. There was still enough hot water in the tank for me to have a shower so I went to work unsmelly and content in the knowledge that they were working all night and the gas would be back on by morning.
Morning came and upon my return home I found a door-hanger thingie on my front doorknob, informing me that they had come by to relight the applicances but "nobody was home". I rather suspect that lots of people (if two is "lots") were home, but nobody heard them ringing the doorbell which hasn't ever worked since we've lived here.
So I called (at 6:30am) and got them to set up an appointment to come by and relight the furnace and hot water heater. They said they would be there before noon. I then put a piece of duct tape (I keep typing that "duck tape", dammet) on the doorbell so they'd know to knock, had a brief nap and took the kidlet to work. And then I sat down to wait for their arrival.
edit: I took the kidlet to school, not work, thanks for catching that Tamar!
And I sat and sat and it got colder and colder. Fortunately the electricity still worked so I boiled water for a hot water bottle for my feet, wrapped my kid's bright fuschia "Rock Star" fleece blanket around my legs and knat on her soul-sucking blanket for a while. And sat and sat some more. I heated the hot water bottle again and put on my coat and kept knitting in between breaks to warm my hands up enough that I could knit.
And sat and sat.
Finally, in the late afternoon, I saw someone coming down my driveway and flung myself out of the doorway faster than a swiss cuckoo on crack flings itself out of one of those twee little clocks.
He said "I'm from the gas company." I yelled "I LOVE YOU!!!" (Remember I'd been up for an awfully long time by this point and was wondering if I'd have to work last night's shift without any sleep at all.)
My love proved not to be misplaced and the appliances are all now working (apart from the damned dryer but that's not his fault because it's electric and he's not the one that put a 800-lb comforter in it and burned out the element anyhow).
Oh man. One day in 14-ish degree heat (like 57F, hardly Arctic) and I was a blithering, shivering mess.
I'm gonna go knit me some more stuff for the folks in MongoLEEah. I think they might be a little chillier than that.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
In Which the Whining Gets Even Worse
Honestly, it's a wonder I have any readers at all these days. My posting has been sporadic and my life is almost as exciting as watching a goat eat Aunt Mabel's longjohns off the washing line. (The washing line I have to use because the heater in my dryer burned out so now all I can do is air-dry and thank you so much to my charming employer for not paying me what they owe me so I can get the damned dryer fixed).
All I can say is that you've been very patient. I shall make an honest attempt to be less lame in the very near future. But, alas, not today.
Work has all been very bad. Every day there's one more push. Every day I push back, and say "ok, that's it. I can't take any more." And then I think about it for a while and think that I can take just one more shove.
And the very next day; lather, rinse, repeat.
And I wonder why I'm fighting so hard for something in which I no longer have pride, and which I no longer value. The question for me now seems to be not whether I can take any more or not, but whether I see any reason to. Sure, there's the pay but it's inadequate for our needs, and the cost of earning it seems to be increasing exponentially. I think I need to call the manager at my "other" job in the morning and see if he can't find me something else. I've been thinking about it for a while, but I think today's shove has made it a necessity.
So that's why there hasn't been a lot of posting going on. Really, you don't want to read about shit like that and I want to write about it even less. Part of the problem is that I'm sleep-deprived more than usual right now. I'm usually more resilient than this, but E's been sick and when she's home from school I'm on duty 24/7 whether I'm working or not. She's back at school now but of course I'm now fighting the cold that she had and then the assmonkeys making the I'm-sure-oh-so-fascinating-TV-show outside my house woke me in the middle of the day today, to tell me that they were moving trucks in late tonight and might wake me.
Thanks, guys. Very considerate.
I've got two hours before I have to leave for work and I can't see a single reason to change my clothes or have a shower, so I'm going to go play Lego with my kid and see if it doesn't improve things.
And then I'm going to work with soy sauce on my sweater. Think the look will catch on?
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Comments on Comments
Seems I'm a horrible bitch and don't list my email address anywhere (I thought I had but clearly the senility is more advanced than I suspected) so I've got all of these comments I have to respond to. And of course some of the commenters didn't leave their email addresses ...
So, here we go:
Feb 3 - Kristen, I didn't even mention your contest. I suck. Let me know when you start your next one, k? I won't fuck up a second time. Or at least not on purpose.
Feb 4 - Yes, Ann, I was stifled. That's why I'm such a lunatic now. (my story and I'm sticking to it)
Feb 7 - It's a TV show. I think it's had a couple of seasons. Hopefully the whole town burns down this season or something and they can film it somewhere else.
Feb 11 - Stephanie, please feel free to drop me a line at bunniegirl at shaw dot ca if you'd like, however I'd recommend either a senior's centre, a thrift store such as one of the hospital thrift stores, the SPCA thrift store or the Sally Ann, or put it on Craigslist and someone'll actually come and get it right from your door.
Feb 13 - Carol, although I have your email address I'm clearly too much of a twat to bother emailing. I'm going to Seattle to knit for Dulaan and cavort and buy a lot of bath stuff and give away some wool. If you're anywhere near Seattle, drop me a line and we can cavort together.
Feb 15 - Ann, clearly I invent time out of thin air. Either that or I'm spending all of my housecleaning time on fun stuff. The place is an utter tip and I just don't care. Lee Ann, yes, he's cute. And married. As am I. Dammet. Larissa, I don't know what knitalong that was, I haven't joined one in a long while and don't recall whining of late -- was this an old message? Drop me an email if you would, anyhow.
And now I'm going to go and not have a cold, and maybe skein some wool 'cause I just sold Concord Grape and I think she expects it to be knittable when I drop it off ... feh (some people! *g*)
Saturday, February 17, 2007
And Now I Am a Star
I promise I won't forget all of the little people.
The little people in my head who told me I'm a star, that is.
Had the first guitar lesson today and I must say I was brilliant. Sheer talent at its finest.
I took an hour and a half to learn two chords, which I could repeat perfectly and without hesistation if I looked at the chart where I wrote them down. Well, if "perfectly" means "sort of half-assedly" and "without hesitation" means "stumblingly, sort of like a weasel on crack". And if you didn't ask me their names.
Oh yeah, and I re-strung and tuned the guitar. Apparently I tie good knots. All of those hours of twisting wires for stitch markers and earrings has seemingly paid off. Seeing they're new strings, I'm supposed to stretch the strings and retune it every two hours or so for the next two days. Ben says he'll wake me up in time to do it.
One more chord and I'm ready to start my world tour. I'm going to let Lala's Band open for me.
I'll let you know when tickets go on sale.
truly? it was just about the nicest afternoon i've spent in a long time. i'm seeing him again in three weeks. i should have figured those chords out by then.
Friday, February 16, 2007
A Touching Story
A woman was walking down the street when she was accosted by a particularly dirty and shabby-looking homeless woman who asked her for a couple of dollars for dinner.
The woman took out her bill fold, extracted ten dollars and asked, "If I give you this money, will you buy some wine with it instead of dinner?"
"No," I had to stop drinking years ago, the homeless woman replied.
"Will you use it to go shopping instead of buying food?" the woman asked.
"No, I don't waste time shopping, the homeless woman said. "I need to spend all my time trying to stay alive."
"Will you spend this on a beauty salon instead of food?" the woman asked.
"Are you NUTS!" replied the homeless woman. "I haven't had my hair done in 20 years!"
"Well," said the woman, "I'm not going to give you the money. Instead, I'm going to take you out for dinner with my hubby and myself tonight."
The homeless woman was astounded. "Won't your husband be furious with you for doing that? I know I'm dirty, and I probably smell pretty disgusting."
The woman replied, "That's okay. It's important for him to see what a woman looks like after she has given up shopping, hair appointments and wine."
a post of substance will emerge this weekend, along with many skeins of hand-dyed yarn, but i'm running out of energy today and i love this story
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Be My Valentine
For instance it was interesting that everyone at the meeting was informed that the meeting wasn't about the issues that it was about, and most definitely not about me, despite the meeting having been called specifically about me (and in writing in a saved email thank you very much I'm not stupid). Interesting in that not one of the issues in the email were addressed, owing to the person who sent it having discovered that she would be very, very fucked if she brought any of the non-issues up. And possibly look like a twat.
I must say that my meeting with my union rep after the "meeting", which turned into an information session to share information that I didn't need and hadn't requested and wasn't relevant was far more interesting. And informative.
And that's all I have to say about that.
And here's a special valentine I made, just for the person responsible for robbing me of two hours of sleep and making my husband have to turn down a shift at work at considerable expense to my family.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
There has been little to no knittery committed around this neck of the woods. It would seem that when I'm this stressed, all I can do is compulsively, fiendishly, knit washcloths.
Useful, as all of mine need to be replaced, but hardly creative. I expect to finish another two at work tonight.
Apparently I'm going to be very well-washed.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Half-Assed and Totally Bummed
The continued Abuse of the Assbeagles (tm) has meant that the weekend's prospective trip to visit The Strumpets of the Steppes had to be cancelled. Well, there were some other reasons also, some having to do with my total lack of organizational skills and others having to do with the dearth of available childcare in this neck of the woods (believe me, calls were made, emails were sent -- one response. nice) but it's far more pleasing to blame others, isn't it?
I consoled myself by going on some sort of foodfest, culminating in a big dish of Spanikopita and a casserole full of Tzatziki appearing from La Cuisine du Lapin. Man, do I love cooking. There was some red wine too, so really the day wasn't a total waste but I was still pretty annoyed.
Today ... dyeing, maybe posting photos despite my ongoing battle with my 7-year-old camera (that's pretty much a dinosaur in digital photography terms, no?) and warping my first loom. Or at least the first warping of my loom -- I may warp the second one first. (to the person who asked in the comments a week or two back, yes, I have two looms. no, I do not weave. yet. i see no problem with this)
But now an update on the half-assed Blow Norma's Head Up contest. We have three winners. First up is trek, who wins a bag of forest green Perendale roving to spin. Secondly, Dharma wins um, something. The foolish girl says she trusts me. Now I have to decide if I'm going to send something nice or, like, some dental floss or something. Then we have Kathryn, who doesn't seem to have a blog, but who will soon be receiving some yarn in the mail. Last but not least, the reason that I put up with having my posts picked apart for an entire month. I'll be dyeing up something special for her later today. Unless my head explodes.
Which is entirely possible. Keep watching the news.
Friday, February 09, 2007
I Will Survive
Thanks to all for the good thoughts. I passed the house inspection -- they were really just checking to see if I had a grow op or a brothel here, so I hid the plants and the whores in the attic and fortunately Thursday is ball-gag day so the whores were unusually quiet. Thank the deity for small perversions.
I would like to note here that the disgruntled bashing of the spousal unit has been withdrawn. He stayed up all night and worked like a trooper (trouper? that) to clean two rooms (including my daughter's pigsty) and then stayed up after I got home in the morning to help me with the guest room. We now have a bed for anyone who wants to visit, although they have to be happy in a room full of boxes of yarn and fabric.
The work fuckery continues apace and I'm not taking it any more. I have an inappropriately-called meeting to discuss a matter I'm not required to discuss on Wednesday, and after I'm finished not discussing it with the four or five other people who will be in attendance I'm going for personal harassment charges. Really, there's only so much one small Rabbitch can take and I'm tired of being the target of misdirected fury. They can't "get" the person they want to so they're going for me. We're all wondering who's next.
I can tell you, it won't be me. That's done.
And now, it's that time again. I can't really afford it but it was such a hoot last year I just had to sign up again. And most of what I send is handmade from what I have here anyhow so it's not like I'm robbing starving children or anything.
thus ends our break for Obsession Justification
So, the answers to the questionnaire.
1. What are your top three favorite colors?
Yellow, Orange, Oxblood Red. I'm also partial to purples and greens. Really I'm just a colour slut.
2. What crafts do you really enjoy?
Spinning, knitting, dyeing wool, hopefully soon I shall also be obsessed with weaving. I'm pretty sure my other obsession isn't really a craft but if it is, dude, send batteries. I really like making stitch markers and handmade orifice hooks too.
3. What products do you really covet?
Covet? I'm not much about the coveting. Fine spinning fibre, interesting new dyes, beads -- handmade glass beads. I like those. And any kind of skin product with shea butter in it. Organic chocolate, that's good too.
4. What other activities do you enjoy besides your favorite crafty things?
See above. It requires batteries. *g*
I also love swimming and writing and um, long romantic walks on the beach and dogs and ... is this is myspace ad or something?
I love reading. Love it. Mysteries mostly.
5. Is there anything you collect?
Dust bunnies. I used to collect cow-themed stuff but I don't need any more dust-catchers. I also have a small collection of Italian micromosaic jewelry but I think I've sold most of it apart from one or two important (to me) pieces. I utterly adore vintage patterns, the older and uglier the better. I've gotten tons from eBay and am resurrecting a couple of fantastic patterns that should never have been allowed to disappear. Oh yes, and there's a ton of stuff that's total ass that I like to post about and mock.
6. What is your zodiac sign and/or Chinese zodiac symbol?
7.What are your favorite…
I love the smell of Burts' Bees hand salve. Eucalyptus and something else.
I seldom wear scented stuff except for a smear of Opium body lotion, which is apparently "A bouquet of fruits, flowers, spices and roots such as orange, jasmine, pimento and vanilla compose this classic fragrance. FRAGRANCE NOTES - Cinnamon, Pepper, Orange, Pimento, Carnation, Jasmine, Rose, Ylang-ylang, Vanilla, Benzoin, Patchouli, Opoponax." I like spicy smells, and wear men's deodorant as I can't stand most flowery stuff. That being said I like Rose Musk from the Body Shop also.
I love citrus smells. I hate curry, lavender and the scent of straight patchouli.
…types of music and/or bands?
Anything. Country, metal, celtic, folk, classical. rock. I'm pretty flexible.
Mysteries. And other stuff. One of my favourite novels is How Late It Was, How Late by James Kelman. Not a comfortable book at all. I also love Neverwhere, by Neil Gaiman and No Mean City by Irene Maver. Scottish stuff is good.
I love all animals, even those I eat or kill, but no thanks. Emotionally allergic.
…places to shop?
I don't shop anywhere but the wool store or the grocery. Alas, I am boring. Oh, wait. The Soap Box in Seattle. I could spend a week's pay there in half an hour, and their prices are low.
Fall. Always fall. Or Autumn, depending on where you are from. I love all four seasons but fall will be close to my heart forever.
…yarn/fabric/paper/other craft supplies?
…candies or goodies?
Yes, please. I like organic chocolate, and hard candy. And peanut brittle. Man, I like that peanut brittle stuff.
8. Do you have any wish lists?
World peace. If you can accomplish that you can skip the entire package.
9. Are you allergic to anything?
Stupidity, power exercised for the sake of power alone, penicillin, dishwash soap, peppers.
10. Do you have any pets? What are they?
No, see #7. Emotional allergy.
11. Please include anything else you would like your secret pal to know about you- anything that would be helpful in finding you little gifts that you will really enjoy.
I have a six-year-old daughter who I love to distraction. Apparently I'm also a do-gooding strumpet of some sort.
Have fun *g*
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
I Am Barely Breathing
The Dreaded House Inspection happens tomorrow and I'm trying to clean and organize everything in one day.
It's been a very very bad week -- a week of people letting me down, work being evil (eviler?), my husband being an inert lump, lack of childcare, and of course they're filming some incredibly important TV show outside of my house, so the few hours of sleep (we're talking three or less a day) that I've managed to grab have been punctuated every 20 minutes with the beep-beep-beep of some fucking truck backing up (this starts at 6:40 every morning and continues pretty much until it's time for me to get up to get my kid from school).
I'm sure it's small of me to complain about this; after all, people need their TV more than I need my sleep, right?
I got oh, maybe an hour of sleep this morning and have been cleaning, tossing, washing and sorting for three hours now. Four rooms are pretty much done (if you're willing to count the bathrooms as "rooms" and right about now I'm taking what I can get) but the worst is yet to come.
So anyhow. This is a post to explain why I'm not posting today. I should be back and kicking either tomorrow or Friday. Unless, you know, I'm locked up.
Oh yes, and there seem to be almost no brakes on my car and the heating element on my dryer just quit. If anyone knows exactly what it is I did in a past life to deserve this if they could drop me a line I'd really appreciate it.
Thanks In Advance.
yes, there is cheese available with this whine
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Suffer the Little Children
I got an email today from a close friend who said that on one of her lists someone had posted about taking her child into a yarn store, and her child was treated "like vermin" for picking up cones of yarn and "putting them on his hands" and "touching" the books (his mother was quick to point out that "he wasn't tearing them or anything.")
I'm appalled. Dudes, this is string made from sheephair, it's not the handspun pubes of Jesus. If the kid has clean hands, his hands and mine are the same. All of it's going to be touched; we can't knit or crochet or spin or weave it without touching it.
I'm pleased to say that I don't subscribe to any of these lists; I have enough drama in my life.
I'm also pleased to say that my daughter has been welcomed with open arms in any store I've gone to. Specifically Birkeland Brothers. They welcome me and my child, equally. They let her go and look at the "big carder" (it fills a whole room!). One of the women who works there showed E where she used to stand as a child and feed fibre into the machine, and last time the owner took her by the hand (after checking if it was ok by me) and he took her back to where the carder was working and let her tear up some fleece and feed it through, so she could see how it worked. She was all "It was tangled and hard and it got fed through and went all soft! That's way bigger than your carder, mom!"
She goes, by invitation, to the open bins and bags of fleece in the back and plunges her arms in and picks up handfuls and smells it and runs the fibre through her fingers. She picks up bags of roving and sliver and smells them, she picks up balls of handspun and rubs them on her (clean) face and fondles them with her (clean) hands. They stand there and smile and let her explore as she wishes, while also making sure she doesn't fall into the carder or anything.
This is the way we pass on our skill. This is the heart of the "each one, teach one" philosophy. By loving and nurturing the little ones who already have it in their blood. By encouraging exploration and not stifling.
Dude, I was stifled until I was in my 40s. Let's not pass that on to our little ones, ok? The psychiatrists already make enough money.
I'll never forget the day I was at a spinning lesson and a boy, maybe 8 or 9 years old? Maybe as much as eleven, ran up onto the porch in between playing with the other kids and sat down and spun a bunch of laceweight on a Kiwi wheel. And then after discussing fibre and spinning with us intelligently for a few minutes he ran back out to kill aliens with the other kids. I just sat there, stunned, and thought "um dude, could you come back and teach me how to do that?" His spinning was WAY better than mine.
I've never EVER had anyone in a yarn store tell my daughter to put down a skein either, and it's not just Birkeland; I've taken her to many stores. It might be because they know I make sure her hands are clean first. I sometimes even send her to the loo to wash her hands before she can touch the yarn. But she's never been made to feel like a second-class citizen. It might be because I look like I'll punch them if they don't let my kid feel the wool, too, but really I'm not that scary.
Touching books? I touch them too. Kids learn that books are precious and they value them. E would no more damage or dirty a book than I would, and it's not just because of my teaching, it's from school and also from her own instinct. She prizes books highly.
Now certainly there are the kids who scream and tear things up, the ones who aren't socialized enough to take into such establishments, and the ones who the rest of us shouldn't be required to tolerate. I'm as fast as the next person to send The Look of Doom to a parent who can't or won't control their child.
I don't fault the child or even the parent (well that's not entirely true, inside my head I'm yelling "shut that little fucker up or get out!") it's just that this is an inappropriate place for that particular child, and quite frankly I'd be as happy as the next person to put that screamy grabby kid in a straight jacket and put them on the sidewalk and then ask the parent to take them right the fuck away from under my nose.
But to exclude all children, to automatically assume that they're there to damage or harm the almighty product ... well, that's just ass.
These are the fibre artists of the future. And sometimes of the present. Stand aside, dudes, there's wool that my kid needs to smell.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Kugelschreiber, Haasenpfeffer, Sturm und Drang
I gotta go work for those guys. Anything would be better than the guys I work for now.
Anyhow, I'm alive and kicking, I'm just being kicked, in turn, and it's been hard to work up the energy to post. Well, impossible, clearly.
I'm not going to be enough of a tool to post details, but as soon as I figure out if I'm going to the meeting I've been ordered to attend while being un-invited -- the meeting that I'm actually not involved in and declined to attend weeks ago -- I think things'll be a bit better. Yeah, it's been like that.
And until that works itself out, I'm just going to clean house.