zen and the art of furniture maintennance

Ok, so I have no idea where I left off, and I'm not going to go back and read my own blog. I cannot stand to be faced with the rambling. I think the last big thing that was happening over here before my hiatus was that I was trying to learn how to parent MyFavoriteKid through his troubles in school, particularly with math. I'm going to tell you all about that for sure, but not today. Today (because apparently venting is an integral part of my emooooootional process *snivel*), we're going to talk about an odd little outburst of tears I had last night.
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TheMostImportantGuy had come to visit for the weekend (as he most often does) but it was Sunday, and it was time for him to go.

Now, let it be known: I hate "The Going" part. Once he's actually gone, I'm okay. I mean, he's missed, but I'm not behaving ridiculously. But during "The Going" ?? Egads it's bad. It's so bad that we even have a well established ritual that is intended to lessen the drama. Right before he heads out the door, he pops a hard-candy into my pouting whiny mouth (sugar free or I'd be toothless by now---we've been doing this for years). The sweetness of the candy and his kind gesture keeps me distracted long enough to be keep me relatively happy until he has left and has some distance behind him. Odd, aren't we. I know.

Anyhow, he was headed out the door last night, and I somehow managed to get quite weepy and clingy. It was oddly over the top. About an hour after his departure I started feeling all sick to my stomach, and that's when it finally dawned on me that it wasn't his leaving that was causing the upset. Something else was off kilter. That is when I realized that what was realllllly upsettting me was the dining room table.


Let me rewind and give you the backstory about this table. I've had this table for a long time. It was given to me back in 1994 as a thank you for helping a neighbor move. I'm not sure how long my friend had it before then or how he'd come to have it. I have always loved this table. It's a drop leaf and folds down into a narrow 2-seater. If you pull up the wings up and it seats 4-6 people. Pop in the additional leaf and it seats 6-8. Solid wood. Worn from much use even before it came to me, but lovely.

As much as I love this table, there has always been a part of me pining for something different. Even before this table, I have never owned a "grown up" diningroom table. I either didnt have the space in my apartments, or I couldn't afford one. And this table of mine, being a hand me down, came with a few quirks. One of the pop up wings is a little loose and unstable, and it also always requited a matchbook (or two or three) underneath it to make it even.


When I moved here to the new house a year and a half ago, I only brought 3 pieces of furniture with me, and this was one of them (I went on a rampage and refurnished the whole frickin' house). I have been bitching ever since I got here that I even though I love this table, I really wanted a new table, I just couldnt find exactly the right thing. What I really desire (and maybe I've been watching too much Barefoot Contessa), is a round pedestal table that expands to an oval.

Well, leave it to the fates. Or mercury retrograde. Or something. As of last week, one of the legs of my dining room table is officially falling off.



Like, the wood split. Repairable, if someone has the skill. But I don't. Repairable if I just brought it to someone with skill, but I decided this was the universe telling me that my ideal expandable round table is now out there waiting for me, and so I went looking again, and lo and behold, there it was. By yesterday afternoon, I had found my new table. I ordered it, and it will be here next week. Huzzah.

Immediately after ordering the table yesterday, I took the pictures you see here of the old table, and I posted them on CraigsList. I offered the table for free, provided that whoever took it promised to fix it and love it and not turn it into firewood. Of course, I got a pile of replies, and by the evening, I had made plans for someone (who sounded like a nice woodworky sort of guy who said he would keep it and use it) to come pick it up on Monday (today).

Okay. So this brings us back to the point in the story where TheMostImportantGuy is heading home and I am snivveling with candy in my mouth. Sorry for not giving you the reader's digest version. Thanks for sticking with me if you got this far. Reward yourself with chocolate, my compliments.

So there I was last night, clutching my stomach feeling like I was going to be sick, and that's when I realized what was really going on. Clearly, I am attached to this old dining room table. Rewind some more, and I can tell you that earlier in the week, I also finally disposed of a beloved bedroom lamp that had been shattered beyond recognition, and it was a lamp that I had since I was 19 and in my first very first apartment. I broke the lamp 3 months ago. I didn't have the nerve to toss it out until last week. And right after I tossed it, the table leg broke. Rewind some more, and I can also tell you that earlier last week, I realized that I am all of the sudden feeling very middle aged. I am in my early 40's, but I have close friends in their 50's and 60's (and then some), and I also have close friends in their 20's and 30's. I can totally see where I am going, and I can totally see where I have been. It's an interesting vantage point. I like it. but I feel very "middle-ish" and I'm not exactly sure yet how this is relevant, but I am damn certain that it is.

Then I start tossing out furnishings I have bonded with big time, and well...all hell breaks loose, and I get all emotional and am crying and feeling nauseous, and it's all over a table that I couldn't really wait to replace.

Ahhhhh, The Dining Room Table. So many parties, and so many stories, and so much laughter, and family times, and making food for people and and and ....

You get the drift. Break out your tiny violins.

The bedroom lamp? The one that I used to drape with vintage sheer scarf so it would cast a lovely romatic glow across my boudior? It's now toast.

Having done a tremendous amount of purging of clutter in the past couple of years, I know for a fact that what I am attached to is the memories, not the lamp or the table. In fact, the more I think about it, I might not even be attached to memories. I think I might just be attached to the feelings these objects represent. And that feeling is intimacy.

Figuring this out is making it much easier to let the representative objects go (replacing my lamp with a new one that casts an even rosier glow has not hurt any...and once this new diningroom table is here, y'all are officially extended an open invitation to join me for dinner so I can make me some new memories. You just come on down now, ya' hear??!)

But going through the whole process of figuring out why I was so upset?? What an interesting little pile of internal research that was last night. And shifting from feeling sick inside to being ready to let go, and doing so quickly (in just a few hours) was kinda fun to watch. I hope I can do it at this speed more frequently.

The punchline to my little story, though?? The guy from Craigslist flaked on picking up the table today. I did all this internal work and finally got to the emotional place where I could really let it go....and the table is still here.

i'm rambling, grab yer favorite beverage and stay awhile.

Sorry to have been so vague last night, but when I have that much going on, and I am that tired, that's about all I feel like typing. Betcha y'all can't wait until this Blog365 thing is over, because then I'll just shut up instead of posting really bad one liners ;-)

After I posted last night, TheMostImportantGuy said to me, " We need to get you back to feeling just 'whelmed'." Hahahaha. Yah. No kidding.

Here's what is that I think is going on with me. Because honestly, the things that are coming up in my day to day life do not seem all that much different than usual.

I think it's the work I'm doing with TheScarDoc. It's AMAZING. It's bringing me so much relief and release, I honestly do not think I have invested in any other sort of treatment that has been this effective for me. It also has a way of pushing just about every emotional button for me--sometimes while the treatment is actually happening, but often in the days following when I'm not quite paying attention because I'm....whatever....folding laundry and helping MyFavoriteKid with homework.

The technique this guy specializes in is called Myofascial Release. Now, I had a wee bit of this done on me right after the car accident. Like a few minutes of each physical therapy session. The PT's would teach me how to work the scars a bit so that the scar tissue would not become so dense. Helpful, but this guy's version of the work takes it to a whole new level. See, the notion is that the fascia (the layer between your skin and your muscles) is one continuous sheath. He acutally uses the image of it being like a sweater (and not just for me because I am a knitter--lol). When you tug on one part of a sweater, it shifts on the other side. The fibers are connected. So in his work, there is big attention paid to how one part of the body plays into pain in another. This is quite different from regular massage where the treatment is applied to the muslce tissue directly. The actual stuff he does feels like he is sort of tugging on one side of my body part to get release from the other side. Not sure if that makes any sense.

So I went to this guy several months ago because my right arm (the one that has 3 plates and 16 screws in it), was starting to go numb. I would have sworn up and down and sideways that it was coming from the forearm. The screws are irritating some nerves down there, and I was positive it was radiating up the arm. He swore up, down, and sideways, that it was coming from my neck and going down my arm...and probably a bit the other direction as I suspected...but that most of it was my neck. And then he went so far as to say that the problem with the neck was tied into the scar that runs down the center of me, from sternum to pelvis.

(for those who don't know, the car accident left scars on every part of my body except my left arm....which really deserves and honorary tattoo or something!)

Anyhow. A few weeks after working with him? The numbness was gone. I have not experienced numbness once. That being "done" (not that it wont need the occasional tune up), we decided to work on the abdominal scar. See, the part up near the top, at the sternum? The scar tissue has affixed itself to my diaphragm. It makes it very difficult to take a full, deep breath.

Now here is where the "over" in "overwhelm" starts to come in. See, unlike the hospital PT's, TheScarDoc's work also really factors in the reality (imho) that there is a mind/body connection. The logic is that body remembers. In the very same way that one can remember a scent from childhood that can cause them flashbacks, the logic goes that scar tissue probably stores some memories, too.

I know about most of these. Most. And let me tell you, some of them I could never have imagined. Every once in awhile TheScarDoc gets in there and something happens. It can happen while he doing it, and/or it can happen in the days following. I remember stuff. And I don't actually mentally remember it. I'm not even sure if I can describe what happens. It's like a total cellular recall, though. And it can be intense. One time when he was working on the abdominal scar near the sternum, I could swear to you that it didn't feel like his hand was on top of my skin outside of my body. It felt like hand inside. And along with that feeling rose an immediate panic in me that if I could attach words to it, felt like, "NO NO NO NO NO! I didn't say you could do that!!"

Now, I have no idea what the f*&% happened that day in the Emergency Room, and I might be making some of these body memories up. I truly believe that the mind/body is amazing and powerful and can store all kinds of truths....but I also know for a fact that if you lie about something long enough, you'll believe it ;-) Know what I'm saying?? So I have no frickin' idea how much of what comes up during this work is real or imagined....but over the weeks I have come to realize that it really doesn't my matter. My body/mind is holding on to it, and it is due time to let it go.

Ok, so weeks have gone by, and TheScarDoc and I have worked on the arm, and the abdominal scar. I have homework in between weekly appointments, and his goal is always one of helping people get the release, but then setting them up for self-care, not dependency. It's going great. As sure as I sit here I can tell you that my arm is no longer numb. I no longer have constant neck pain. I am breathing (I am breathing!!) again (this is HUGE). I used to notice that I was sitting with poor posture, and when I would go sit up straight and would be stiff and tight---now it hurts to slouch. I actually am now naturally and unconcioulsy sitting up straighter. I am doing my exercises now how to treat myself if I pull something or move the wrong way.

But now? I've decided to have him keep going. We've moved down in to the leg in the past two sessions.

Oh. My. God.

It's hard. It's really hard. It's difficult when it's being worked on, and it's been really difficult afterwards. I have not even processed the hows and whys of it yet. I can tell you that from the physical side of things, I am already noticing greater range of movement in my thigh socket on the stump side (in addition to the amputation during the accident, my pelvis also separated in the front like a book. I have a plate there that holds it together now. Yay me. LOL). But there is a whoooole bunch of stuff going on inside the bowl of my pelvis where that tissue got pulled out of shape, and no massage therapist or PT is going to ever be able to palpate all that. But his work? Well, you pull on one side of the sweater, and it adjusts on the other. I can home Monday afternoon and it felt like the bottom of my pelvis was falling through. Crazy.

And that's what overwhelms me. I need to sit still for a freakin' minute and just BE with it sometimes, and it's almost like I cannot find the time! I am not trying to avoid processing things (been there, dont that)....but it's like my day to day responsibilities plus life's other mini-dramas all seem to get in the way of me "me time" and then all of those feeeeeelings that TheScarDoc and I are working to release? They just sort of "steep".

It's unnerving.


Okay. So I just sat down and typed away for awhile, kind of like stream of conciousness writing, and I'm not going to go back and reread it now, or edit it, because if I do, I will take half of it out and besides, I need to go do laundry and feed the cats and let the dog out and go to the market and stop by the school to meet with the music teacher, and get ready for dance class and and and and....

...and maybe find a minute for myself ;-)

And THAT is all have to say about THAT.
Hahahahah.

break it down

Here is the deal. I typed this up Sunday morning. Early. Like crack o' dawn early. I didn't post it yesterday because I didnt have time to go back and read it and fix it if it was a total mes, so I was going to do that today. Which I did not have time to do, either.
So here it is. Messy. Rambling and full of typos. And probably off by a day (like when I say yesterday, that's really the day before yesterday--ya' dig?).
Actually, my blog is probably always this much of a mess hahaha. I mean, there must be 18 kajillon parentheses in this post. And elipses. Yay me.

My suggestion is that you just move along, to be honest with you.
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Ok, let me see if I can do some catching up here. This will probably be long and rambly. Move along, or grab your beverage of choice.
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Friends. Let me start with an update about friends. At some point this past year (do not make me scroll back through my own blog to find out when or to make links for you...I mean, I don't flip back through the pages of written journals regularly, either), I was kvetching about not having friends. Or having them, but not spending time with them. I was having all of my days filled with solitude, or MyFavoriteKid, or old folks that I would visit at the convalescent hospital when I volunteer there. All good activities and people to spend time with, but totally out of balance with my need to also have time with friends.

Well, I don't know how long ago that was, but let me tell you -- I made one very solid concerted effort to change things -- and it has worked. I now set aside time for friends, I have people over, I go visit people, I speak to people on the phone regularly, I go on outings with friends, I go to group events, I have even tried very hard to make new friends (someone should remind me to post about TheMostImportantGuy placing a personal ad to find friends for me----hahaha. It was hilarious).

Anyhow, it has been good. Very good. My life feels much different and much improved. I have also learned (again) quite a bit about the need to acutally DO something if I really WANT something (novel concept).

So out of all the things I wanted to do to improve my friendship time, the process of finding new friends here in the new neighborhood since moving up here last summer, was proving to be the most difficult. I wasn't really connecting with anyone through school functions or through MyFavoriteKid's buddies (in fact, all of the friends he made at school last year? None of the parents spoke english. Planning playdates was sooo much fun). I couldn't find a knitting group here that met at a time I could go. And I was making acquaintances with neighbors, but not anyone I would totally connect with. But then a couple of weeks ago, I met Bridget.
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Bridget. (excuse me, let me get more coffee. maybe you should, too) (ok, back. yum) So I'm in the supermarket a couple of weeks ago and I round the corner to get cat toys, which are way down the other end of the very long aisle. Just as I round the corner, the lady who is standing at the other end of the aisle, directly in front of the cat toys, looks up, points at me, in that, "hey! I know you!!" style, and starts waving. As I approach, I realize I know her from somewhere, but now sure how or where. She, on the other hand, is talking like she knows me. I just let her talk for a bit until I can try to figure it out.

Now, this gal talks as much (more, actually), and as openly, as I do (and that's no easy feat). She's got streaks dyed into her hair (so do I) and is wearing braided pig tails (I'm in a ponytail). She's wearing a quirky t-shirt (so am I). They just moved into the area last year (so did we). They came from the East Bay (so did we). She hasn't been able to make new friends up here (me neither). She has an 11 year old son in 6th grade (so do I). She had her first son when she was a bit older (me too, so we're very close in age). Their family just rescued 2 kittens a couple of weeks ago (we rescued one, too), hence us both being on the aisle with the kitty toys. She works very part time, and has lots of volunteer jobs (me, too).

And so there we are 30 minutes later, hanging on the cat food aisle, and we're laughing and talking and exchanging phone numbers (and we both still have cell phone numbers in our old area code), and we're wondering if the boys know each other from school, and we're making plans to get them together, but if they don't hit if off....well, screw it...we'll be friends without them...but hey, wouldn't it be cool and easy if they were buddies, too.

I still don't recall meeting her before, exactly...but she's talked long enough for me to figure out that it had something to do with back to school night at the middle school.

So we play phone tag during the week and both of us leave rambling chatty voicemails, and then on Wednesday she brings her kid over after school. The boys know of each other, and have a mutal acquaintances, but never really hung out. They hit it off instantly, and we barely see them for the rest of the afternoon.

Several hours later, and Bridget and I know all about each others family and childhoods, and interests, and I am telling you: this woman and I are cut of the same friggin' cloth. I am not even kidding. Except she doesn't knit. But I can work on that ;-) hahahahaha

I also finally figure out how we met on back to school night (because she reminded me). The parents met in the gym that night, but had to cross the campus to tour the classrooms. The pathway was closed for construction and they had us detouring over wet grass. I was in my wheelchair, but also holding crutches, and I was fine on my own but would have been better if someone could carry the crutches, so I turned around and basically handed them to a total stranger (that would be Bridget) without much discussion (which is unusual for me because usually I am stubborn and wont accept help or ask for it either). She just took them and handed them back after the grass with very little discussion about it. I like that.

Anyhow. We exchange voicemails the next day, Thursday, about how cool it was to hook up. And then comes Friday morning, Halloween, when Bridget becomes the bringer of the chaos (and this is only half of the chaos...there is a whole 'nother half brought by our kids, but that might have to wait for tomorrow, because this damn post is already too long).
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Chaos. So it's Friday morning. I have just gotten MyFK off to school, the phone rings, and it's Bridget.

"Ooooh my god!! I have a kitten in the car! EldestSon was at the bus stop and their was a stray kitten, and the bus was coming and he didn't know what to do and so he called me and MADE me come down and get him and so I did, and oh my god...he is SO cute...and he meowed and he ran to me...and he is in my car...and, oh my god....you have to see him...I am just around the corner and you have to see him."

"You are trying to get me to take the kitten, aren't you."

"Nooooonooooo...but you just have to see him and I only have a minute because I have to help out at the school with the Halloween parade and I need to get my costume on and...ooooh, he is sooooooo cute....."

"Fine fine FINE (laughing). But I am still in my pajamas, though."

"I haven't brushed my teeth and I don't have any underwear on yet."
(I love this woman. Serioulsy. I have only known her for a few days, and we're already talking about underpants hahaha).

SO. She comes over. Kitten is a.dor.a.ble. I know, they all are. And they all grow up to be CATS. Shut up. I mean, just look:





So he's cute, and she has to go to the school, and there is no way her husband will let her take in a 3rd kitty. And maybe the neighbor will, but who knows. Well, silly me can't stand the kitten being left alone while she goes to the school, so I have her leave him with me. I set him up in the den with his own cat box and some food and water, and he is soooo friendly and sweet and filthy, so I clean him up some, too. Bridget comes back in a couple of hours and picks up the kitten and takes home the extra cat box, and whatnot.

Later that evening, I am slated to go to her house. The boys are going to go trick-or-treating with Bridget's hubby, she and I are going hand out candy (we're both in costume), and when the kids come back, I am going to drive them to the Middle School Dance (that's where Phase II of the chaos comes...but honestly, it's not really chaos. It's drama. Or pre-teen angst or something. More on that later, like I said).

While I am at Bridget's house, I go visit the kitten, who is in the garage (we'd both been keeping him separate from our own animals because he probably has worms and lord knows what else). The kitten is totally freaked out. He runs up to me and jumps on my like he is dying, and it really is a little cold and damp in there, and big and lonely, and the trick or treaters outside making a racket are totally freaking him out.

You know where this is going, right?
Yes.
The kitten is back in my den. *sigh*

Ok, so TheMostImportantGuy drives up to spend the night in the den with the kitten because he is crying and lonely, and if I leave my own pets alone in the rest of the house, they are whining and freaking out. Come Saturday morning (yesterday), I am on number 2 on the wait list at the vet for a cancellation, but they probably cannot see me 'til Monday. Meanwhile, I am trying to get this all coordinated to somehow not screw up my trip to the yarn store and spending time with FRIENDS (see, nice little loop, eh?).

I have no idea if I am keeping the kitten. I won't let my pets get physically near him yet, but they have made visual contact, and it has not been good. NewBlackKitten hisses at dog and starts flipping out, and Gaara (the existing cat) growls at NewBlackKitten. It could get ugly.

So we shall see.
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Ok, I am officially sick to death of typing. And I'm also out of coffee.


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If you made it this far: I told you. What a mess. Thanks for sticking it out, though ;-)

dear diary,

I'm sitting here staring at the blank blog entry screen, and I can't even figure out what topic to put my focus towards.

I kinda want to say something about school starting tomorrow, and the fact that summers seem so much shorter than I remember as a kid.

I kinda want to something about how I'm actually looking forward to getting back to the routine again. Big time. I have hunch it might even feel comforting, even though I know that after awhile it will probably feel like a grind.

I kinda want to say something about the last few weeks and how quickly it whizzed past me...with the touring, and the visitors coming to stay. How much I learned about myself, and how much fun I had spending time with friends.

And I kinda want to say something about not being able to understand this danged knitting that I am working on right now....and then maybe something else about food and cooking and eating and maybe something else about the Olympics and and and....

See?! Scattered mess. Oh, well.


Let me at least shout out a huge thanks to my mom, my dad, TheMostImportantGuy, and MyFavoriteKid. All joined in this morning for the GreatWhackingBackOfTheOvergrownGardenGoneJungle. Lordy, what a mess. There is no way I could ever have fixed it on my own. Thanks guys!! *mwah*

far from serene

my new solar powered garden buddha
from qvc (shut up)

I want to be all glowing and calm and serene and breathing and shit.

I am not.

On the surface things are doing pretty okay, I guess. I mean, I have a mountain of laundry and way too many dirty dishes stacked up, but that happens. Not unique. And I'm doing laundry and washing dishes and still finding a little time for myself. So life isn't all that bad.

I dunno.

I think I am getting anxious about getting ready to go on tour...maybe?? I'm not so nervous about being on tour, but it feels like there are a lot of things I need to tend to now in order to be able to be gone for two weeks. The to-do list is big again. Maybe that's it.....??

I think there is something else going on with me though. It has something to do with feeling less supported by people...maybe?? Like, when I need something, I feel like I have less and less people I can go to...?? People are too busy, people are aging, people are away, people are dying.

I don't know. I think in a way I just feel "less supported". Like there is less of a foundation of support underneath me...not that the actual people in my life aren't "in support of me," if that makes any sense at all. The people are they, and they love me and support me, it just feels like I have less places to go when I need help, or advice, or to talk, or to get a hug.

I guess it just feels like it is all shifting, and things (including people, but not just people) I could count on to always be there as a source of comfort....they're just not always there anymore. Or if they are, they aren't functioning in a supportive capacity anymore. And I haven't backfilled with a replacement.

Ooooohhhh, I am babbling!! This is what happens close to midnight over here these days. Hahahahaha.
Sorry.
And thanks for listening.
I'm going to publish this right now, because if I go back to edit it, I will probably erase the whole damned thing.
Please pardon if it is disjointed. Like my brain ;-)

robbing peter to pay paul

The title pretty much sums it up, so don't bother yourself with reading on unless you have been missing my StreamOfConciousnessEmotionalVomit style of posting....because that is what you are about to get.
No censoring, no editing, no retyping, onto the page it goes.

I am learning that 365 day of blogging will sometimes require this. Otherwise I have thoughts and emotions but not enough time to really flush it out and write something that is more of a conclusion of my process. What I'm about to do is more suited for a personal journal, but since I haven't kept one in awhile, this is it.

If I don't start posting this way occasionally, well.....see, it is days like these that I end up posting quizzes and crapola. While that occasionally has it's place, it sure feels like a cheap way out when I am hardly feeling fluffy.


So here we go. Finger to keypad.
One. Two. Three. (deep breath)....
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Robbing Peter To Pay Paul

I'm not sure who in family used that expression, but it was probably my parents. It is completely fitting with where I am at right now. I feel like every. single. thing. i do. is at the expense of something else. If I wash the dishes, I spend less time with my kid. If I do laundry, I dont make it to the market. If I write a blog post, I don't get knitting time (think of that as time to decompress). If I visit folks in the convalescent hospital, I dont get to cook as good a meal (both important to me for the health as well as the craft of it). If I get involved in a new dance project, which feeds me on so many levels, then I don't have time for friends. If I read blogs (some of whom belong to people I actually have become to care about as friends) then I don't have clean laundry.

And the point is not in the pairings. I can mix this all up in a different order. EVERYTHING in my life right now takes time away from EVERYTHING else, and every single stinking one of them are things I don't feel I can let go of. I mean, I could perform less, but that is what keeps me creative and alive. Why would I not allow myself that? I could skip volunteering at the convalescent hospital, but honestly...wtf is 2 hours out of each week to do something charitable, which ALSO feeds me in so many special ways.

It is driving me fucking insane. There have been times in my life where I have had a similar feeling, and I could actually look at the items on my plate, and I could see what needed to go. I could see that something could be removed, and that it was good to let something go because it wasn't actually feeding me in any way. But every single thing on my list right now feels neccessary.

And I dont know what to do about it.

I am frustrated because I can't find the root of the problem here. I mean, I used to do all of those things on that list AND go to a weekly knitting group AND go to school full time AND work part time AND AND AND....I mean SHIT!! I AM NOT EVEN WORKING RIGHT NOW. WHAT THE FUCK. How did I do all that before??? What is different????? Is it that I am getting older? Is it modern technology (everyone I talk to about this says it is modern technology, but I dunno). Is it that I have a disability now? Is it that I have less immediate support with MyFK than I used to???? Is it something about the new house? The new 'hood?? WHAT DID THIS??? BECAUSE I WANT TO FIX IT!!!

So I spend my days, not plodding along, but rushing along, and never ever feeling done, accomplished, or having a feeling of completion. Horrible things for me, because I have a history of being an over achiever....but I mean, we're just talking about taking a shower and not eating something out of a box sometimes. If I do one, I can't do the other. Or if I do a little bit of everything, then everything around me feels totally half-assed.

Let me get back to that feeling bit, that must be the key here. Never feeling done. Always looking around myself and never feeling at peace. Never feeling like I am done. Never feeling a sense of accomplishment. Or pride. Feeling like I am failing. Myself. Failing myself. And that doesn't even get into the feelings of failing other people.

Sigh. I just don't know. I am frustrated. I feel good when I am in the process of DOING the thing. I drive to rehearsal? I curse my life the whole way there because I now don't have time to be doing what else needs to be done. I am AT rehearsal? I am so in my body and so digging being creative with other movers, I am loving the work and my contribution to it. I am driving home?? And I am thinking about all that needs to be done for myself and others and I know for a fact it wont all fit into a day, and so I sit there having to decide who the hell is going to get the short end of the stick today. My son? My boyfriend? My family, my friends, my art, my time for myself?? (that last one is usually it)

I have no answers, only frustrations and questions and doubts and fears and inadequacies. And I need to stop typing now because I have 14 other things to do.

Maybe I should have just posted a quiz after all.
No, dont reread this, girl. Just hit "publish post" because if you reread it, you WILL post a quiz today.

squeechin in at the last minute

Yes. I was doing the Yay!-I'm-going-to-bed dance, going around the house and turning off all the lights. I'm allllll ready for cozy time and making an indent in my memory foam pillow.
But NOoooooooo.....I forgot to post today. So here I am, and it's almost midnight.

Was NaBloPoMo this hard last year?
Is it different this year because the dinner is at my house and guests are coming to stay for the weekend?

I ask myself these questions, and many others....and in fact, here ARE the other questions I found me asking myself today, because I actually wrote them all down on a piece of scrap paper, just for you:

Where did my parenting skills go? Did I leave them packed in a box??

Is there a link between feeling like I don't spend as much time with MyFavoriteKid and the fact that my house is generally cleaner?

When did I become a bag washing hippy?? With a BAG DRYER.



I really do not wear about half the clothes in my closet...isn't it time I either wear them or get rid of them?

Why does my 18 year old cat always lay sleeping on the bed with his eyes open?
So my heart can stop at least once a day because I think he's dead?

Why is it that when a part of someone's mind goes, that they don't lose the part that is impatient and rude to people?

Is 11:45am too early to be drinking Baileys on the rocks? (probably)
Is that a sign that something aint quite right in my life? (probably)

Do I really need to follow this knitting pattern or do I know enough by now to just make shit up?

How long will it take my Thanksgiving guests to realize that my plan to potluck it basically got everyone else but me doing the work?




I might have had answers for some of these questions, except that I answered the Baileys question first (with a no and a yes), and after having a couple of those, well.....

I gotta go make dents in pillows. 'Night

field of dreams v. hill of screams

Local news here in the Bay Area is going on and on about this newsworthy story (actually, I now see it has even hit the AP).

A Danville family (think land of "Richie Rich"), was feeling like the local parks were just too crowded for a decent little league practice. Besides, Daddy couldn't make it to practice on time to coach (musta been that long winding drive from the hilltop mansion down to the flats, eh Pops?).

Anyhow. So their solution? They build a baseball diamond for Junior and his team on their "spare" lot.

You're looking at $300k worth of the new and improved artificial turf, plus batting cages, and 14 high foot fences to prevent stray balls leaving foul ball territory.

Problem is, Mommy+Daddy never got a building permit, and it their Field of Dreams is not up to code. Especially in terms of meeting the "preserving the skyline" clause.


I'm kind of confused about how the house itself preserved the skyline, but whatever.

So the neighbors are bitching about the view being ugly. The city has decided they need to dismantle the whole thing. Or appeal the thing. I think Mommy is pissed because her idea was to just plant a bunch of trees around it and camouflage it.

This whole thing has kinda made me wonder if my own neighbors are up to code.

Behold. My own little piece of skyline view (not Danville)...

...this being the view I see from the kitchen window and/or from the den-office-spare bedroom.

Yes, folks. Indeed, that would be a trampoline perched on a hillside.



And it's a very steep hillside. And the thing is also quite perched.



No, I have never seen anyone on it. I've been casually keeping an eye on it since we moved here. I'm kinda thinking there was only ever one person stupid enough to take a jump on it, and they are probably still in traction up in that room in the upper right corner.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not eeeeven complaining about the view here. I actually find this whole trampoline thing a fun little oddity. Nice little conversaton piece ("Have you seen anyone on it?"..."Why no, I have not."..."Let's sneak up there and do it!")

And besides. Why complain. Anything beats the view my last neighbor gave me.

dear diary, it's me again

I'm so tired I cant stand myself.
I haven't been getting long stretches of sleep for weeks now. Just little pockets.

Yes I know that buying a house is stressful and all that, but it's really the furniture and paint color crap that keep my head spinning.

See, I looked at a bunch of houses before making an offer on the one I just went into escrow on...and for each and every single one of those other contenders, I'd come home to "sleep on it", but in actuality I'd be arranging furniture around in my head while I was dozing in and out. I had to see if I could fit what I want in a room and still be able to get around in a wheelchair. I'd wake up at 4am and doodle on graph paper. It seems silly, but how else would I know if the layout was going to work for me? Oy.

Then when I had figured that out all, I'd start interior decorating with colors and whatnot.
Here's a little known fact about me: My entire life I have lived in a house with all white walls, except for a couple of years worth of wood panelling. Even the house I live in now, that I own, I've been here 8-1/2 years, and the walls are still white.
I've never done color. And I want color in my next house.
So I drift in and out of sleep picking out carpets and paints and window coverings and and and...*sigh*


I'm leaving now to go to an all ages dive punk club tonight to see Babyland.
I am very excited to see these guys, even though I'm dragging so low you wouldn't know it.
For sure they wont be putting me to sleep (click the pic if you don't believe me).

blog? what blog. (part 2)

Still catching up, but closer to getting current...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For The Birds



This daylight savings time crap is for the birds. Actually, now that I really think about it...no. It is not even for the birds!! AT THE TIME I HAVE TO GET UP IN THE MORNING, THE BIRDS ARE STILL SLEEPING.

Who had the hairbrained idea to bump up the changing of the clocks into March???
I am not. A. Happy. Camper. I am having to wake up in the dark. After dinner time isn't all wintery cozy like it still should be this time of year. And MyFavoriteKid and I are totally off track with the bedtime routine. It's like, whoops...all of the sudden it's 8pm. And it's driving me nuts.

Makes me want to move to Arizona or something.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Speaking of Moving

That's a good portion of why I haven't been posting as much lately. I'm on a mission to move. I've started looking at neighborhoods and checking out school districts. I've even spent a day touring homes with a realtor.

I can't stay in the house that I'm currently in for too much longer.

First of all, there is all those lovely problems with my neighbor. It's been all quiet on the western front lately, but still. Who needs it.

The bigger problem about where I live now though, is the schools. MyFK is only in 4th grade. and the elementary school is pretty decent. The local middle school however, is riddled with alllll sorts of problems. The 7th and 8th graders are already peddling drugs and whatnot. The kids from the more crime infested areas are being bussed in, and sadly the teachers are not equipped to teach them a new way of life. If you think that is bad (and I do), then the local high school is completley out of the question. There have been shootings close by in broad daylight, and students have to pass through a metal detector to get into the school each morning.

Ummm...I don't think so.

I'm moving us to a nice, clean, quiet, suburban (ugh), neighborhood. One with top ranking schools an a low crime rate. Yay. And it's only about 25 minutes north of where I live now, so getting back into down here to teach dance classes and see TheMostImportantGuy shouldn't be too big of a deal.

My intention is to move over the summer, hence all of this purging of crap from TheShanty. I'd already started organizing anyhow...but the notion of moving has kicked me into high gear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More About Purging

So, I'm learning some very interesting things about myself as I get rid of stuff. Expect me to be blogging about all these insights ad nauseum,

The current phenomena I am examining is the "Waste Not, Want Not" thing.

Here's a fine example:
I bought some shampoo and conditioner a couple of months ago, washed my hair with it for a couple of weeks, and I really hated the way it made my hair feel. All flat and greasy feeling. Yuck. So I bought new shampoo. But what did I do with the stuff I didn't like? I put it under the bathroom counter. Why? Well, because it was almost a full bottle and I didn't want to waste it, and besides...what if I run out of the good stuff? Let just forget about the fact that the shit was so icky that I probably wouln't even wash the car with it, right?? (I mean, hellooooooooo). Save the shampoo!! I might just need to look and feel that way again, right??

Duh.

So I'm passing it along or throwing it out. Someone with a different hair texture mioght love the stuff.

But this whole not wanting to waste thing needs to change, because if I never ever intend on using the item or passing it along....it is still being wasted.

I've figured this out by reading the blog over at The Seven Things Project. I've learned several things by reading that blog, actually. Check it out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Current Motto For Life

It's PBS membership drive season, and that has meant lots of shows with lectures. Hours upon hours about, travel, spiritual inspiration, and adding fiber to yours diet. You get the idea.

I kept running into Suze Orman's Women & Money show, so I gave it a watch one night. She had lots of things to say of course, but there was one message in there that has stuck with me like white on rice. Well, okay. I prefer brown rice. So, it stuck to me like brown on rice.

Anyhow, this particular portion of her schpeel had to do with fear, and where we get the courage to do things.

She was talking about how when we need to make a change, really the only thing that will make that change real, is an action. Not thinking about it. Not wanting it. Not wishing for it. But taking a decisive action towards it. She was talking about how scary that can be, and how what is needed in that moment is courage. But from where do you summon that?

Well, Suze goes on to say she has a little motto she uses for that. For those times when she knows that she really needs to do something but is "stuck" and would rather bury her head in the sand and wait it out to see if it fixes itself (yah, right)....she tells herself:

I am a warrior, and I will NOT turn my back on the battlefield.

I love that. I mean love it. I can use it on every single situation in my life that I am fearful of and hestitate in the face of.

I guess it helps that I already see myself as a warrior, otherwise it wouldn't work....it's the not turning my back on the battlefield bit that I needed the help with. And the mantra is helping. And I love it. It's my new war cry.

I was telling TheMostImportantGuy about this new amazing thing, and he got a big smile on his (instant messenger) face and said that it was very Xena. I've never seen a single Xena thing in my life, so I have no frame of reference for that.

The image that comes to mind for me is of Eowyn from Lord of The Rings. I could be here all day trying to find a screenshot of the exact moment in the film that I am thinking of, but this is as close as I can get to it, and IMDB wont let me save the photo to upload here, so you'll just have to click it.

Here's a few more of Eowyn to give you the general idea, though:







But the image that keeps coming to me most often is that one moment when she and Merry just charge full speed ahead into battle, and it's working for me.

Must go get me sword ;-)
I got things to do, man.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That's a little bit more of what's been up for me the past few weeks.
But there's still more.
Ciao for now ;-)

blog? what blog.

I'm still here. And I have lots to write about. I'm behind in my blogging, and I'm even further behind on reading the posts of my favorite blogs, too. I'm not kidding. I opened up my bloglines and it has over 800 unread posts in it!!! I'd say at least half of them are of Socks That Rock Club bloggers posting about stalking their mailmen or drooling on their yarn, so that's easy thing to scan and/or delete. It's like 400 posts and we're all saying the same thing. But seriously, I haven't been keeping up with my online bloggybuddys, and I haven't even read the Yarn Harlot in so long that I am 18 post behind!!. That's a good sign that I'm buried.

Why so behind?
I have been cleaning my house.
Not your typical cleaning, though (actually TheShanty is still covered in it's usual thick layer of dust).
I've been purging. Big time purging. Like on the organizing shows on television, purging.
It's going super-duper good, but it is one massive effort, and it has totally taken me away from the computer. Actually, I'm beginning to wonder what role the computer has played in getting me to this state in the first place.

So. I'm going to try to catch up with my own blog posting, and then catch up with reading a blog or two a day until I get caught up. We'll see how it goes.

I suspect the next few posts will entertain only me. It's going to be me trying to catch up on 3-4 weeks of posts for a few days. I have all of these newer blogable things brewing that I'd like to share here...deep thoughts, and some project spectrum photos...but I'm suffering from some kind of bloggers block with the newer stuff because I feel like I have to write about some of the older stuff before I can go forward. I thought about just letting everything go and just picking up and going forward, but of course I feel compelled to fill in the blanks intead. The list of topics is long, and it will take a day or two or three to do it probably.
But do it, I will.
So, here I go…the first installment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Comments on Comments

I don't think that I have replied to one single comment in weeks. Maybe I have. Maybe I haven't. But I dont think so. Hard to say. Let's blame it on the fever.

Here's a global thank you for everyone that sent get will wishes when I was sick, for happy accidentaversary notes, and thanks to folks that gave me things to think about. I always love that.

A very special thanks to Mr or Mrs "Anonymous" and their comment about how blue is the color of health, not just disability. Thank you. It's been very good for me to reflect on that. I love it when people get me thinking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TheBon Tour '07

So TheBon came to visit to California. We've been chatting on line for awhile, and she is absolutely just as much fun in person as she is chatting online. Second online knitter buddy I’ve met, and I have to say: All hail the mighty power of the internets.

We spent one day doing a tour of the East Bay. I hope the hell TheBon blogs about it soon, because she took some really great pics, and of course, I took nothing...but she had the fancier camera. The tour we took that first day together was primarily about checking out the buildings of famous architects. The highlight of the day was going to see the building that was the highest on her list of things to do (a Bernard Maybeck building), and when we got there, ladyluck was with us. A docent was just unlocking the doors to set up for an afternoon tour. But she first let us inside and gave us our own private tour. It was so very cool.

TheBon and I got together again a couple of days later to go to Stitches West (more about that in a minute). We were also supposed to get together for third visit while she was in town, and that was when she was going to teach me to spin (which didn’t happen, because I got the crud), so that was a bummer. But it means that one of these days I'm going to toss my wheel in my car and drive to Oregon LOL.

TheBon brought me one awesome birthday gift when she came:

275 yds of HANDSPUN and HANDYED merino/tencel that she made. Sooo yummy! (thank you!!!) I think it will probably be a scarf, and I really want to use a simple stitch pattern that will showcase the yarn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stitches

Well, I probably don't need to aks any of you fiber folks thing, but how much fun was Stitches??!! I had a blast, and I most definitely used my “get of (knit from my stash) jail free” card for the day….which is a good thing, because I needed some new yarny love to get myself excited about knitting again. I was in a bit of a slump, and the fumes of the new yarn has revived me.

I bought a couple of skeins of Socks That Rock in lightweight (Carbon Dating and Puck’s Mischeif), a niddy noddy, some of Cookie’s sock patterns, a couple skeins of Malabrigo, and a couple of Manos del Uraguay in the most luscious of saucy reds you can imagine (the picture does not do it justice).



My big splurge was to buy a shibori scarf kit from Blue Moon Fiberarts.



I’ve been working on that while I’ve been sick. Oooh. And I found a shawl pin for the Forest Canopy Shoulder Shawl that is being gifted in a couple of weeks.



How perfect is that?!!
What is very cool about this thing is that it is all one unit. You can't lost the stick part, and it makes it very easy to put on.



See? The pin is attached to the clasp. Neat, eh? The artist has a website here.

So all the booty scored at Stitches was great….but the best thing about Stitches for me was the people. For starters, I rode down with a carload of really fun gals, and once we got there, we met up a few more people there to shop along with, including Carliegh.

I got chat with Morgaine from Carolina Homespun for a bit (I just adore her).

I had a really nice chat with Hollis of Full Thread Ahead, whom I’d met at the Yarn Harlot book signing last year.

I got my Knitting Vintage Socks book signed by Nancy Bush, which was my total gaagaa starry-eyed moment.

Oh wait, I had another starry-eyed moment meeting Yarn-A-Go-Go!

And I got to meet no-blog-Rachel!!

I ran into a few ladies from my old knitting group at Skein Lane, and I got to run into Merrily Parker (designer of the infamous Mariposa shawl), whom I don’t see often anymore as she’s found a new SnB and has left us lonely.

I saw a woman carrying a Black Bunny Fibers tote bag and introduced myself, and (damn, I hope I get this right because it was later in the day and I was high on yarn fumes) got to meet Jocelyn.

And probably the best run-in I had all day was running into a buddy of mine I knew from back in my early 20’s: Rueben. He was very contendedly (or so it seemed) playing pack mule for his wife-turned-knitter. He had their new baby strapped to his chest in a carrier and his arms were loaded down with shopping bags LOL. It was very funny timing to run into them after all these years, because I had thinking about them regularly for months. They used to host these weekly dinners, and I've been wondering if one of these days if I could do the same thing. They would have a potluck dinner every Friday night. They would make a main dish. The door was open to a wide list of people who could just pop in unannounced on the way home from work. You were to bring your own plate, your own utensils, a cup, and dish to share. It was an awesome way to begin the weekend, and I have very fond memories of sitting around plates of good food in small clusters of friends, and just having something on the calendar that I could just go to, or not go to...but it was always there. I'm wondering if I can host something like that someday. Maybe once a month rather than weekly? Wanna come?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Bringer of Crud

I'll end by telling you a little bit about how MyFavoriteKid and I got so sick, how I got uber-pissed, and the power of my mojo to bring you evil...hahaha.

MyFK's best buddy and family moved about 5 hours north a couple of years ago, and they come visit every once in awhile. It was presidents week vacation, so I made a plan with the father of this buddy to have the buddy and the little brother come stay with us for two nights.

The exciting day comes. The kids arrive and disappear into MyFK's room to check out any and all new acquisitions since their last visit. TheDad and I sit and catch up on news for about 15 minutes. TheDad goes out to his car and fills my living room with sleeping bags and pillows and overnight bags. TheDad says goodbye to the kids, who quickly shut themselves back in MyFK's bedroom. TheDad is now on my front landing saying his goodbyes to me. TheDad turns and says, "Oh. Keep an eye on the older one. He has a bit of a fever. Bye!"

Asswipe.

*sigh*

So off TheDad goes. I take the OlderKid's temp and he doesn't have a fever, but he just had some tylenol or something. He has a wicked rumbly deep chest cough though and is spewing germs far and wide, and probably over every little game piece and video game controller that is being passed back and forth between all of them.

I call TheDad and basically tell him that he's an twit. He apologizes profusely, but he feels so stuck because this was the kids' vacation trip, right?? Umm yeah. Right. So I deal with it for a night as best I can, The OlderKid's temperature goes up and down, and we're washing our hands a kajillion times and whatnot. The next day the YoungerBrother starts complaining of a headache and now has a fever. I call TheDad and tell him the party's over, and I give the kids the boot.

Two days later, MyFK is sick as a dog. He misses an entire week of school. And a few days after he gets it, I get it...and I miss all sorts of important things, too. It was an asskicker.

I am capable of feeling ill will and am seeking to make TheDad be the recipient of my revenge. I spend several days wanting to call him and say nasty things about what he'd done to us, but I don't call. Finally, a few days after the fever breaks, I do call, to ask him for his email address. I'd taken some pics of the kids together and I wanted to send them along. TheDad answers his phone and it sounds like he's been punched in the face by TheWickedVirusMonster.

Dudes (hi Carol!), I kid you not....I shouted, "You got sick too!!" And then literally burst out into uncontrollable giggle.

I felt a little bit rude for not being able to keep my joy of another's misfortune under wraps. But only just a little.

the week in review

Monday Night: Puking marathon.

Tuesday: Napping on hospital guerney. Frequent pokes, prods, and x-rays.

Tuesday Night: Confusion about what day it is. Recon mission to Jamba Juice. Lord Of The Rings as lullaby.

Wednesday: All day spent discussing legal/lawsuit matters. Should have been resting, got 7 hours on the phone with attorneys instead. No food appealing, not even chocolate (read as = something definitely amiss).

Wednesday Night: Every muscle in body sore from the previous day's hurl-a-thon; Wonton soup with TheMostImprotantGuy. Wonder why settling the lawsuit doesn't feel like a huge relief. Finish the last dvd in the 5th and final season of Six Feet Under.

Thursday: Sour stomach. Would consider doing illegal things to obtain a massage, but too frumpy looking to attract customers. Watch more laundry pile up.

Thursay Night: Teach dance class. Rehearsal until midnight. No rest for the weary.

Friday: Body feels like crap. Mind unusually quiet. Breathing noticeably different. Thinking the last time I breathed this deep was 3 years ago.

Friday Night: Mom's chicken soup (the ElixerOfLife); Visiting with my 92 ("and a 1/2," says she) year-old grandmother visiting from out of state. Begin writing this blogpost from Dad's computer. Think that "the man who has everything" really needs me to get him DSL for his birthday.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Rewind....and take a look at Wednesday night again.
I tried to slip in some big news when ya' weren't lookin'.
Now let's all join hands and sing Kumbaya (or pogo around and sing Blister In The Sun or something).

For those keeping track, I accepted a settlement offer in my lawsuit.

I'm afraid to talk about it too much because I'm afraid I'm going to jinx it. It sort of feels like knowing that you are pregnant, but only by a few weeks, and you're trying to figure out how to walk around with a dumb ass grin on your face, because you're trying to wait a little longer for things to "stick" before you go telling people.

As far as I'm concerned with this lawsuit, it aint over til the PhatLady sings, and she hasn't sung yet. So I'm announcing it, but I still haven't had a glass of champagne yet (which could partially be attributed to the fact that my tummy is still messed up and I'm afraid that the person I toast would be wearing it). This probably wont really hit me until the papers are signed (which is weeks away). Currently I am in some sort of phase of shock, denial, and/or suspicion about the whole thing.

TheMIGuy guesses it won't hit me until I see actual money. If that's the case, then just seeing the money probably wont be enough....I will probably need to go out to celebrate at a restaurant without worrying if some check is bouncing somewhere because I just used my ATM card LOL.

One big shift though. I did, at least, wake up yesterday morning not fretting about next week's court date (now moot). And it was a noticeable difference.
I felt a whole lot lighter.
I had a glimpse.
And all was quiet on the western front.
For the first time in a long time, I saw space inside my head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For those of you who have been hanging out being the best cheerleaders and mojo-providers ever:
THANK YOU.

Mission Accomplished.

here. have a heart.

That's about as Valentinsey as I'm going to get.
(make your own damn candy hearts here)

I've never been into Valentine's Day (well, except as a little kid in school when we'd have those decorated cardboard shoebox/mailboxes on our desks and play mailman...but those days are long gone). It's not that I'm anti-Valentine's Day.
I have a terrible weakness for candy conversation hearts.
Today is a holiday that cranks out some of my most favorite handmade crafts.
And I'd never in a million years turn down a love note from my sweetie.
Or flowers.
Or dressing up for a fancy dinner out.
But those things mean so much more to me when they show up on some random day rather than some pre-designated commercialized day in February.

Oddly enough, even though I don't personally celebrate Valentine's Day, I actually have some bizarre thing going on where I enjoy watching other people celebrate it. I'm not quite sure what that says about me, but feel free to psychoanalyze.

Anyhow. I'm very lucky that my heart belongs to a Boy that feels the same way about holidays that I do, or today would be a bit odd!

So....To TheMostImportantGuy...since my heart belongs to You...here it is:



~~~~~~~~~~~

I have some knitting to show, but it's going to need to wait for the next post.

Today I am still recovering from this:



A day in the emergency room.
And I am now going to ramble on about it.


Monday night MyFavoriteKid and I picked up some fast food. I won't say from where, but I will say it was supposed to be "Finger Lickin' Good." TheMostImportantGuy came by later that night so we could tuck in and watch the last few episodes of Six Feet Under, which we are very close to completing.

About 10pm, I started getting sharp abdominal pains, right below my ribcage. I was thinking it was some sort of gassy thing, so I popped some antacids and then had a few sips of some really fizzy soda water to make myself burp. By midnight, I was out on the sofa performing the hourly tossing-of-the-cookies. I couldn't keep a single thing down. Not even anti-vommitting medication, or even those tiny sips of water they always suggest.

Now, I've had food poisoning before, and I've had stomach flus, but what was really unusual about this was the quality, the location, and the intensity of the abdominal pain. I could not find one solitary position I could be in where it didn't hurt. Match that with the fact that I had no fever, and I didn't have the typical accomanying trots, if ya' know what I mean. I was up the entire night, except for a couple 10 minute catnaps between hurling sessions.

Around 6:30am Tuesday morning, I called the advice nurse to see if there was something I was forgetting to do, and to see if could make an appointment to come down and get an injection of this medication that stops the puking (I remembered this from the last food poisoning episode--which I got from frozen green beans, no less). Anyhow, after many questions and answers, the nurse put me on hold to review things with a doctor on duty, and they decided I needed to come to the emergency room, stat. Lovely. Why? Because it sounded like I needed an IV to replace lost fluids, and they don't do those in the clinic.

So TheMIG helped me pack MyFK off to school, and then drove me down to the ER. After a good long wait to get admitted and settled into a room, the doc comes in and wants to poke around my belly and that's when he asks about the scar. During my big 'ol traumatic event of a few years ago, they opened me up from sternum to pelvis to resuscitate me.
Heh. Don't ask me how I forget about that when I list my now very long list of previous surgeries. It's only like 18" long. I mean, it is definitely a feature LOL. It didn't even occur to me to mention it to the advice nurse over the phone earlier in the morning. But hey, since I'm in the ER throwing up, and nothing is exiting the normal channels if ya' know what I mean, they are now concerned about there being some sort of blockage caused by the previous injuries and surgeries. That didn't even occur to me, although it makes logical sense.

Well, 4 or 5 long naps, 3 IV's given, 2 x-rays taken, 1 injection for barfing (and a partidge in a pear treeeeeeee), and I'm fine. There was no obstruction. And there is no way to know what the actual cause of my illness was.
I hate that.

TheMIG stayed with me at the hospital all day, missing an entire day of work, just watching the drip of the IV and me napping, I suppose. He really didn't have to be there. I was asleep the whole time, but it was verrrry comforting to have a warm smiling face looking at me every time I cruised in and out of sleepyland (see!! Pfffft on Valentines Day...these are the days that warm my heart and show true love). At least TheMIG brought a good book. He was reading something that was making his laugh so hard that a few times he was practically crying, and he said that one time the nurse came in to check on things and he had to straighten himself up for fear he'd look like he was upset about my being in the hospital hahahaha.

After I was discharged, TheMIG brought me home and then left to catch up on his work day. MyFK's dad stepped in and came by to help the kiddo with homework. Somewhere in that timeframe, I crawled into bed and fell alseep again. When I woke up I thought it was sunrise of the next morning, but it was really just sunset of the same day. I always freak out when that happens. So there I was scrambling to get dressed, and yelling out to my child to wake up and get ready for school, and then I really freaked because my child wasn't even in the house! Once I got my wits about me, I realized that his dad had taken him out to dinner and to guitar lessons. I guess they tried to wake me up to say goodbye, I was down for the count.

Once MyFK returned home from dinner, I started getting hungry (a good sign) but didnt have anything in the house that sounded tasty. My body was craving protein, but everything I had in that category was difficult to digest. I wanted to go out and pick up a smoothie. MyFK didn't want to go out again, as he had just returned, so he offered to make me a "Steak Shake" out of found ingredients in the kitchen. Ummmmm...yah. I managed to talk him out of that, and we took a ride to the local Jamba Juice for a gi-normous protein shake. When we got home we watched a little Lord Of The Rings Trilogy and somewhere in there TreeBeard talked me to sleep.

So that brings me to today.

Conversation hearts sound utterly disgusting, as does the thought of gourmet chocolates in a shiny box with a red ribbon (which is a clear indication to me that I am still not back to normal--this girl never refuses chocolate), so it's a good thing nobody's getting either of those things for me anyhow.

My body is stiff from too many hours wretching and trying to curl up on an uncomfortable couch or a hospital bed, I have a bit of a headache, and a sour stomach. But I'm here typing a blogpost, so I must not be all that bad.

If my heart was all warm and fuzzy and lovely today for Valentine's Day, I'd never know it.

So it's a very good thing I can be warm and fuzzy and lovey every other day of the year.

that's one big boat!

Boat.
Hahahaha--just kidding mom! I know it's a SHIP (she hates it when people call a ship a boat...oh, and mom, on the tv news some reporters were calling her a boat, and I found myself gritting my teeth, so you have officially rubbed off on me).

Actually, the Captain said the Queen Mary 2 isn't even a ship.
She's an OCEAN LINER.
And she's huge. In that pic above, see that little white square in the distance just to the left of the ship?? That's a cargo van.

The bridge.

The cabins, and the embarking zone for loaded-with-dough passengers (cheapest ticket was $21k...most expensive $186k).

What a fun outing we had yesterday!
After a hearty after school snack for MyFavoriteKid, we headed on over to SF. It seemed that everyone in town was heading down to the wharf to catch a glimpse of the QM2. This is the largest ship ever to enter the San Francsico Bay, and when she came in under the Golden Gate Bridge on Sunday, she only cleared it by 12 FEET!

Getting to the piers to see her was a little crazy making. There was a second cruise ship docked in SF yesterday. Traffic along the Embarcadero was horrendous, so we pulled off on a side street and walked (well, MyFK walked...I rolled). We scoped it out on a map this morning, and we think we covered about 4 miles round trip.

It was a pretty interesting thing. Not only were tourists everywhere, but all the locals were out in full force playing tourist, too.

(Just to give perspective, this shot was taken on full zoom from across a 4 lane street that has a trollycar station and two platforms in the median)

Come dinner time though, one thing us "local tourists" know that the real visitors don't, is how to avoid the tourist traps and head for the secret hiding spots.

See, us locals know where to find The Mecca O' Crab Season down at Fisherman's Wharf.



We walked right past the schmancy restaurants serving up crab dinners for $28 a head, and made way instead for the waterfront crabshacks.



For 19 bucks we scored enough crab to feed both of us, plus clam chowder, a pile of fries, some sodas, and salt water taffy. Score.


After dinner we took the long trek back to the car, stopping by to catch one last look at Her Majesty.



Just. Gorgeous.

More official word and video about her arrival can be found here.

(ps..MyFK took that night shot, and wants/deserves credit for it. Oops, my bad...he also took that earlier side shot of the ship, too).
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I did have a RudeGimpMoment yesterday. I bit off the head of a well-to-do-er. I thought I'd outgrown that, but I can be such a bitch it's probably silly for me to buy into that belief.

Look at this pic again.



Wayyyyy down in the bottom left-ish corner of the photo, you can see a black gate, and then the heads of many people pressed up against the black gate, trying to take photos between the bars.

People were stacked up behind the fence about 5 people deep. But it wasn't like being at a heavy metal concert where you plant yourself firmly in the front row with a throng of people behind you pushing forward (been there, done that...so I know). Everybody yesterday was playing nice. People would get their turn up at the fence, they'd take a picture, they'd ooh and ahh for a moment, they'd leave, and then the next person behind them would move forward and take their turn.

Well, we did that drill during the daylight hours, and when went back to the ship at night, MyFK and I decided to do it again. We waited in the fence queue to get another photo. There was this lady standing next to me who was determined to help get me in closer. I kindly told her, "I don't mind waiting my turn, but thank you." Then she snapped at two people who didn't see me down low, and unintentionally tried to cut in front of me. She intervened before I even had a chance to handle it on my own. I (still kindly, but more firmly) informed her, "I can take care of it. I'm in no rush. I'm fine waiting. But thank you."

Then she blew it.

When there was finally only one person ahead of me and I was about to be next, she tapped the shoulder of the person in front of me who was just getting their photo op, and says to them, "This lady in the wheelchair wants to ask if she can get in to take a picture." Then she grabs the handles of my wheelchair to push me in closer.

Wait.
*I* want to ask if I can get in closer??????
I still have steam coming out of my ears.
Can't. Keep. Typing.
*long pause*


Ok. So.
I took her wrist, removed her hand from my chair (you might not think you are touching me, but you are in fact, touching a part of me, for the record), and told her, "I am capable of handling myself in a crowd, thank you very much. And I do not need an advocate. If I need help, I will ask for it."

Which in print doesn't sound all that bad.
But of course I can't convey the tone in which it was said. And I wasn't being courteous. courtesy.

But whatever.

I want to ask, "Why don't people get it??" But we've been over this before here already. I just have to remind myself that some people don't. I doubt my pissy-ness is going to be all that educational, though.
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Not wanting to end this post on a bummer note...let me say that the annoying moment mentioned above was the only poopy thing that happened all weekend (and I'm including Monday as part of the weekend...it was such a fun adventure).

This past weekend was just awesome.

Originally, I was supposed to go out of town for my birthday weekend with TheMostImportantGuy. But the more I sat with that I realized that I really didn't want to go anywhere. What I really wanted was a party. So very late in the game, like midweek....I sent out an evite to a bunch of folks inviting them to meet me at a local brew pub that served food and was kid friendly. I figured it was such a late invitation that most everyone already had plans and that maybe 8 people would show. There ended up being close to 30 people. Several of whom brought gifts, many of which were chocolate (I was even gifted a chocolate/sugar body scrub...do people know me or what?!). And my folks are so cool...they showed up wtih a birthday cake and candles (yay!). It was just a really great night, and it was fantastic to have so many great people around me.

On Sunday I had a quiet, loungy, lazy morning with TheMIG watching some of the last season of Six Feet Under. Later I went over to a friend's for a SuperBowl party where I ate ribs and tri-tip, ignored the game but watched the commercials, and knit.

Could not have possibly asked for a more well rounded and fantastic weekend :-)

Thank you all for the birthday wishes! Some of you I have replied to, some of you I am catching up on, and some of you I can't reply to at all because I dont get your email addys with the comments...but thank you very much for all the well wishes!!!

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Speaking of knit.
I had pics of the shawl taken over the weekend...but this post is already too long and has too many photos, so I'll do that tomorrow!