While the Mice are Away…
We went to a movie tonight. Fortunately, Jaws kept herself entertained during our absence.
I’d like to point out that I had put this yarn away. I mean, I didn’t freeze it in carbonite, but out of sight out of mind, right? Well… see for yourself.
We begin our tour at the coffee table. It’s a storage coffee table. Unfortunately, I thought it was secure. It was not secure. In a former life, this was a skein of really nice Cascade Yarn Co. “Indulge” in a pretty green. It was a lovely mix of 70% alpaca, 30% angora. Now, it’s a mess.
Slightly to the left of the coffee table, we find our first satellite of yarn. Over the carpet and through the wheels. We’re not going to Grandmother’s house though. We’re going to a place where, after four hours of impotent untangling, we’ll use the bezoar of yarn to dry our bitter tears.
After decorating the Casa Cianci headquarters of industry (it’s not all porn. Ed actually does write code at that desk) we move on to the Kitty National Monument. You see a tourist in the background, assessing the success of the mission. That’s Indiana - the one still in the will. She doesn’t do stuff like this. Let’s be realistic, most of the time, you throw her a toy and she drags herself towards it without actually getting up and walking. She doesn’t have the ambition for a caper of this scope.
Next it’s off to restaurant row, a place where all of your champagne dreams and caviar wishes go to die. If you want hot dogs or $50-a-bag veterinary-supplied kibble, we’ve got you covered. Notice that the yarn here is not simply strewn about; the yarn is actually wrapped around the legs of not one but TWO chairs. It’s almost as if the artist were trying to convey something. Perhaps a commentary on the dichotomy between the table that unites us spiritually and condemns us physically to awkward conversation and plate-scratching noises. It could also be she just likes hucking herself over the chair leg supports.
From here we remain in the kitchen, but move on to highlighting the inviting space of the open-concept kitchen. Having done this, we continue on…
We end the tour back at the bound chair rails, evocative of the continual return to the communal table, regardless of the strictures and conventional obstacles this setting engenders. Maybe we were just going for the water dish (slightly out of frame at the top). Both cats enjoy a rousing game of “Put Useless Things in Water.” I made them a knitted catnip ball not too long ago. Five minutes, and into the dunk tank it went. First and last knitted cat toy of their extremely overprivileged lives.
It is of interest that, while typing this, we heard a large clack that turned out to be Jaws once again venturing into the coffee table storage.
It never ends.
Skill Sets
My mother-in-law Toni often reminds me to look at the bigger picture. She reminds me that everyone comes to this world equipped with a different set of tools, and can take on different things.
Gender roles seem to be the theme of the day. Earlier I had a conversation with a co-worker about different religious traditions and their view of the woman as submissive to her husband, and the dichotomy between that and the modern cultural norm of women getting all the shit done. (No offense gentlemen. Look to your own lives. You know it to be true.)
Tonight, I was again reminded of our respective roles and those skill sets.
Eddie pitched in on some long overdue housework (OSHA hazard ratings level. Honestly). He bagged up the trash, I grabbed some laundry, and we headed to sorta-scary basement to get shit done.*
Eddie, holding the fabric softener: What do I do? Just put some in?”
Me: Yep. (Points to small receptacle for softener) Just fill that up.
Ed: POUR IT ALL OVER THE FRONT OF THE WASHING MACHINE LIKE CHOCOLATE SAUCE?!?! OKAYYYY!!!!!
(He didn’t actually say this. The result was the same.)
I do mean ALL over the washing machine… like… in the door.. over the front of the door… on the floor…. under the machine……..
…….in the teeny tiny cracks that no towel can ever reach.
Ever.
Avocado one-upmanship: Achievement unlocked. I also had the best laugh of my whole sick-ass worked-anyway Monday from hell.
I love being married 
*In the interest of full disclosure, he was trying to be nice to his girl because A) she is sick as a fucking dog - and it’s his fault, and B) he did the grocery run for tacos (to be nice to aforementioned sick girl) and came home with avocados that could have been used to hammer horseshoes. Sick girl has no patience, and flipped her shit about the avocados. Undaunted by his histrionic wife, he soldiered on. God love him.
Message in a Bottle
This week, Brandon decided to take us all for a trip in the time machine. This is going to be a tricky one. You would think someone like me, who has consumed untold hundreds of hours of sci-fi, would laugh in the face of paradoxes - but you’d be wrong. A paradox is serious fucking trouble. Just ask Captain Janeway. You don’t want to be messing around with that kind of thing, only to end up having to shoot your eight-year-old self in the ass with a tranquilizer dart just so you can get out of there without blowing your own mind. See? Trouble.
Despite the perilous nature of the assignment, I’m going to take a crack at it. Just please, someone come and kick the record player if I get stuck in a temporal scratch whilst fiddling around with things I shouldn’t.
Take a seat for this one. It’s me- which is to say, it’s you.
I wish I could tell you I was writing this from my manse in the hills of France. Actually, no, I don’t. The french are still grumpy assholes, even ten years in the future. That’s not actually giving away plot details, so I’m sure the timeline is still intact. The good news? I’m not writing it from a gutter or a Singaporean prison cell, so there’s that.
I envy you in many ways. You are reading this while dangling your feet over the precipice, at the point where every important change in our life will occur (at least the ones I know about so far. I haven’t gotten one of these missives from 40-year-old me. She’s probably too busy to pick up a pen. That’s family for you). You don’t know how hard it’s going to be at times. Do yourself a favor: Enjoy the not knowing for a while. You’ll get to it soon enough. Also, don’t stress about school. You’ll get there. You’re even going to surprise yourself.
I can’t tell you what’s going to happen outright obviously, for reasons of temporal cohesion and because people who spoil the plot deserve a kick in the nuts. I can tell you some things that (hopefully) won’t mulch the timestream:
First off, don’t worry about that pack of assholes at your temp job. It’s perfectly okay to think they’re assholes, because they are. Fashion is never going to be your thing, so don’t sweat it. I can tell you, you’re going to have next Tuesday off. It’s going to be a shit day, and you’re not going to get much done. Go home and hang out with Dad.
The next year is going to bring a lot of change. I wish I could tell you what you need to know to be ready for it, but in truth, what I know now wouldn’t really help you then anyway. It’s like our 4H days: you gotta learn by doing. In this case, you just have to learn by living. Sorry, I know that’s useless crap, whether it’s the truth or not.
You’re going to run into a lot of people, and some of them are going to upset the hell out of you. Some of them you already know, some you haven’t met yet. Trust your gut. You’d be surprised if you could peek at the landscape now. I’m still surprised by it sometimes, and I’m the one standing on this end of it.
While still on the subject of people, remember, even the people who fundamentally upset you, break your heart, break your trust… they’re in your life to teach you lessons. Sometimes those lessons are miserable and painful, and you’ll end up violently hating those involved for quite a while. You are capable of great extremes of emotion. Be careful with that. We both know, your temper is basically a nuclear reactor in a coffee can. Remember, in a purely existential sense, they weren’t put in your path to hurt you, and it’s not your job to hurt them back. Actually, maybe it’s better to think that they were put in your path to hurt you in the way you needed to be hurt. Whether you realize it or not, they were holding up a mirror for you, and it’s your job to see what it’s showing you. You won’t see it if you don’t know to look. You won’t like everything you see, and that’s okay. That’s part of the point of it.
You’re probably not going to understand that last bit for quite a while. I’m still figuring it out now. It’s a shit process, and you’re just going to have to trust me. Buckle the chinstrap and get on with it.
I’m not giving anything away by telling you, there is heartbreak ahead for you. Some things you’re already aware of, and a few you couldn’t guess if you tried. I can’t tell you the last ten years have been easy. Easy is a word I don’t know much about. I can only tell you they have been worth it. Even in the moments of your most painful uncertainty and unhappiness, you’ll at least know that you are deeply and unconditionally loved. Cling to that, and you’re going to be okay. You will be faced with some of the darkest moments of your life, but you will do so armed with all the light you could ever need. You have a great family, and some amazing friends. Let them take care of you.
Listen to Toni. Honest to God, that woman is going to save your life as I know it.
Come to think of it…fuck temporal cohesion. You marry Eddie, and it’s the best thing that ever happens to us.
Good luck!
P.S. Buy stock in Apple.
(Wrote this Draft Last October) File this under HA!
(I wrote this draft and never posted it. It’s like a time capsule!)
____
I shouldn’t be writing this post.
I should be doing some homework, or (holy hell) cleaning my long-suffering house, doing the laundry, or perhaps even sleeping. I’m not. Instead, I’m piling one more thing on the plate. I’m signing up for Nablopomo and committing to a blog post a day for the month.
I’ve updated my blog three times in the last ten months. One post didn’t even count really - I posted a paper I wrote for school because I wrote it scary-fast and it got an A. I’ve just fallen out of the blogging habit. Full-time work, (more than) full-time school, a renewed attempt to read fifty-two books again this year, and just the regular old schmeg of life have taken up any bits of free time I might have been able to scrape together for writing.
Despite the toll this takes on my social life and my “fun” time, I don’t regret a bit of what I’ve taken on. I’ve learned a lot about myself in the past year, specifically just how much I’m capable of taking on. I’d never have known how little sleep I can actually function on. I’d never have known I could take two years of school and jam it into sixteen months, and still graduate with a GPA I can be proud of. I will never be able to say “I don’t have time” or “I don’t have the energy” for something small. If I want to get done, it can in fact get done. I am capable of as much as I set my mind to.
It hasn’t always been pretty. I’ve had a lot of blessings to help get me where I am. I have a stellar husband who puts up with the less-than-stellar moments of temper; the disastrous house and strange mealtimes; the wife who sometimes runs on caffeine, catnaps, and sheer force of will. I still have friends who love me, even though (as it’s been pointed out) I’ve seen them about a handful of times since the beginning of the year. I’ve been forgiven over and over for skipping basically an entire year of Wednesday night family dinners that were my idea in the first place (I love you Missy! Sorrryyyy!)
Now all of this insanity is coming to an end. December 11th, I send in the last paper of the last class of my Bachelor in English. I will have the piece of paper, and (for a little while) I will have a WHOLE lot of time on my hands. More time than I’ve had since I was twenty years old. I’ll be able to ring in the New Year without the lingering dread of class starting on the 3rd (just after the departure of the last holiday hangover!) I’ll be able to lay on the couch when the snow is piling up and read the latest Ken Follett without an ounce of guilt, knowing I should be reading chapter three of some Gods-forsaken textbook about operant conditioning. It will be a little like breaking free of the Skinner box and the damned little button, actually!
So… what the hell am I going to do with myself?!
PLAY!! PLAY PLAY PLAY!!!
I’m going to finally finish the stained glass fireplace screen I promised my in-laws two years ago. I’m going to read books because they’re awesome, and not because they’re assigned. I’m going to edit the three books in pitiful draft form that have languished in my hard-drive, and work on new projects! I’m going to finally learn how to knit (Really knit. Not BS knitting like I do now, than ends in tears and stubs of scarves.) I’m going to sleep in until noon on weekends, wake up, eat Cheerios, then take a power nap directly after, rousing only to snuggle with Indiana and stick my tongue out at Eddie.
It won’t be all fun and games (although, there will be a lot of fun AND games). I’ll still be “studying”. The GRE and the MTEL (if I don’t take them before graduation) will be right around the corner. I’ll be hunting for a grad program, and jumping right back into the fray. But it won’t be the hell-ride my undergrad has been. Hopefully, anyway.
So here’s to big dreams about “life on the outside.” Dreams filled with stained glass, good books, hand-knitted slippers, writing, editing and long, glorious naps on the couch.
And of course, some blogging.
Hurrah!
Drilling Down into My New Obsession
Since leaving school, I’ve done very little. I had grand illusions of cooking dinner every night, keeping up on all my housework, and having plenty of time to go out to see friends, see movies, and do everything else that I put off while I was finishing my degree. The reality? I haven’t done much at all. About the only thing I spent a significant amount of time doing? Knitting and Minecraft . The fabulous Brandon Schory points out that knitting actually is a productive enterprise - after all, I’ve created scarves, shawls, sweaters for my coffee cups, and I’m now working on a sweater for my actual body! (Stay tuned)
10+ Ways in Which The Bloggening is Totally Unlike “The Happening”
Playing Cops and Robbers
We went to see The Town this weekend with friends, and I have to say, I originally had no desire to see the movie, and therefore no expectations. The movie blew me away! I definitely recommend it.
If you haven’t seen the trailer on this one, it centers on the tumultuous reality of Charlestown’s biggest business - bank robbery. Described by the movie as a business passed down “from father to son,” the plot follows the exploits of one such family business member, a robber played by Ben Affleck.
It’s fair to mention that anything Ben Affleck came out with after Jersey Girl and Gigli pretty much earned my unmitigated contempt. I had refused to see The Town on the principle that it looked like Reindeer Games but done in nun suits for comedic effect. But friends were going, and I love seeing my friends, so off we went. I came out liking Ben just a little bit more than before the lights went down.
The acting turned out to be really good. It was a chance for Affleck to bank (no pun intended) on his pretty-boy rom-com cred, while playing a morally questionable character with a smart mouth and an even smarter accent. That was the best part of the acting for me; they didn’t make all the Bahhstonians sound like they wuhh frum freggin’ Maine, ked! They sounded like honest-to-God, School of Hard Knocks Bostonians who dropped the f-bomb like spitting out a hot coal. Think about it, re-watch Mystic River and tell me anyone ever gets the Boston Accent right in that movie once. The mother, at the end, makes me want to crawl under a Red Sox blanket AND DIE THERE, the accent is so wrong. The closest anyone has come was Leo in The Departed, and even that had moments where you were waiting for it to slip. “Y’gonna cut me up ‘n feed me t’duh POOAH?” Remember that line? Barely held onto it, Leo. You managed it, but only by so much.
The action was well balanced with the dramatic story line, and there were enough bullets and Michael Bay-approved explosions to keep the hubs and boyfriends happy.
All in all, it was a good night out, and I recommend it!
Playing Catch-up
We all knew it was going to happen. I forgot to do my blog post last night, and so today (you lucky people) there will be two!
I’m playing catch-up a lot this week. I haven’t written anything new in a long time, and haven’t really had the time to edit any of my first drafts. This week, however, the fancy caught me to start re-writing the draft from my first Nano novel, written back in 2007, forced into one premature revision, and left in the digital top drawer forever after. A few friends were so kind as to read it and provide critical notes for me, make comments, and very honestly tell me what works, what doesn’t. I am so grateful for this, because it’s given me the juice to work on a draft that has languished in drafty purgatory for far too long.
Unfortunately, writing often moves in unexpectedly and sucks up time, especially time meant to be devoted to finishing up my classes. So here I am, on Saturday afternoon, trying to scream through The Inferno (not optimal, I assure you) and catch up on responses that were due ohhhhh on Wednesday. To be sure, it’s a tall order, and something had to slip. Of course it was the blog challenge! I don’t even remember falling asleep last night. There was a book in my hand, and then there was blackness, and the 1am arrival of Ed, finally tired enough to sleep. I WISH I could stay up that late without serious ramifications!
There’s something to be said for the type of pressure I’m putting myself under with classes, work, and writing. As mentioned in previous posts, I’ve learned I am capable of taking on a lot. I work faster, work smarter, and ultimately shine under pressure, and I’m very grateful for it. It does make me lean towards procrastination, but I think it’s okay, because the thrill of the battle against time brings out something good.
And now back to my descent into hell. Cheerful!
Role(playing) Reversal
Some of you might remember last Thanksgiving or thereabouts, Eddie and I got into World of Warcraft. “Got into” might be a rather weak term for it. People “get into” a television series or a great book. What happened to us can more accurately be described as getting addicted to pixilated drugs.
Meet Emberlina. She’s my caster. (Level 80 Dual-spec shadow priestess, in case you’re interested.)
WoW starts off fairly innocently. Like any business-minded drug dealer, Blizzard gives away free 10-day trials like they had an expiration date approaching. Then it’s ten days of “Oh look! Ha! I just shot a fireball!” and “Ooh. He’s level ??. He must be STRONG. But… I think he’s a Hordie.” Then the Hordie pats your head and it subsequently explodes. But you laugh, because hey what the heck! This is fun! You run through the wilderness as a ghost a few times, hunting for your own dead sack of flesh so you can resurrect and go get thrummed some more.
Fifteen hours later, you smell like crap, you’re eating chips because they’re the only thing you can reach without taking off the headset, and you feel more like this:
Here’s the thing. Much like with the inevitable hangover, do you learn your lesson? Nooo. You get three hours of sleep, in which you see only damage points and spell-casting dancing around on your eyelids. It’s like having the nerdy bedspins. Then you get up, reach for the chips and the headset, and off you go again, a slave to the level treadmill.
I played until about April when I hit level 80. Raiding wasn’t really my bag, and I was getting a miniscule amount of sleep. I sort of dropped out of WoW once the school year started back up again (luckily for my GPA). But just like any old addiction, something small can draw you back, like catching a whiff of smoke from a freshly lit cigarette. Such is the case with WoW.
Someone poked their head into Ed’s office the other day and shared this gem with us
I’ve watched it three times, and I keep humming the damned catchy tune, and I find myself wondering where my headset is, and if I can remember my Blizzard log-in.
To make matters worse, a new expansion comes out in a month or so! What’s a nerdy girl to do!! I’ll tell you what, if you don’t hear from me for a while after Cataclysm hits the shelves, do me a favor and send me a pizza. Otherwise I might starve.
