Deeply In Like

I'm a member of a site called Ravelry, which is a community of knitters and crocheters who talk about yarn and needles and techniques and such. I call it MySpace for knitters to the muggles, but it's way cooler than MySpace. I wanted to join a group but couldn't find one to my liking. Then I found an entire group of atheists and agnostics and I read a few posts and joined right up. I'm enjoying it so much...I think I'm becoming an addict. I just love reading from so many people who think much in the same way I do. It's fantastic and wonderful and (some of my agnostic friends may laugh at this) it makes me feel normal and no longer a minority, even though we godless people are a minority. I guess I didn't realize how much I felt like an outsider until I started meeting (both online and in real life) people who have (non)beliefs similar to my own. I don't feel quite so outsider-like now. It's pretty freakin' sweet.

Hell Finally Froze Over...

...because I really got into a football game. I HATE football, and yet the last few minutes of the last quarter of the stupid Super Bowl had me on the edge of my seat wondering what would happen. I still can't believe how I ended up getting into it that much, though. Weird.

Wakeful

Between weird dreams involving my dogs running away, coyotes, wolves and wildebeest-like creatures all over my lawn and generally waking up a few times a night the past few nights, I haven't been getting a lot of sleep. I really don't enjoy interrupted sleep, and I'm sure most people feel the same way. I hate it, actually, because I don't have a really high energy level as it is, and with the sleep issues, what little energy I gain from sleeping is burned up pretty quickly. Yesterday and today, I think I started off the day with my energy in the negative column...luckily I had to work only one of those days. I'm really hoping tomorrow proves to be a better day because I'm fairly sick of feeling tired and drained. Really, it totally sucks and I'm pretty sure my writing is suffering as a result. And to top it all off, the damn spellcheck function hasn't been working the last two times I've posted, but I think I'd find this less annoying if I weren't so damn tired. Ok, I'm going to try and sleep now.

As if I Needed Something Else

Flight of the Hamsters is my new addiction. It's silly, frivolous fun and I learned of it from another knitter.

In other news, there is no other news. I watched movies and ate pizza last night with Erik. I've decided that having male friends is much easier than having female friends. I think it's just less stressful. I value all of my friendships, male and female, but sometimes I just think it's easier to be friends with a guy. It seems less complicated to me and more free in terms of expressing myself. I'd elaborate on this but I'm not going to because I'm tired, I don't want to sound like I'm perpetuating stereotypes when speaking of my own experiences, and I want to make the hamsters fly some more.

In True Stick-Figure Fashion...

...I present to you my brother. He is tall and clearly upside down. My mother saw this and said he looks like an upside-down stick figure. I agree. I'm also envious of his ability to do a headstand, as I haven't been able to do one since my younger and much lighter days. Hahaha...his feet are just sticking out. It makes me laugh.

Lace Everywhere

I've been knitting on this bit of lace for several years now. This was my first...no, second foray into the charming land of lace knitting. It's round and began in the middle with a few little stitches and grew ever larger as I knit on and on. It has grown to 576 stitches around, grouped into 24 sections of 24 stitches for the eyelet diamond pattern and is only about half finished. It is a labor of love and I continue on with it here and there because I'm at the point that even though it isn't nearly as fun as it used to be, I can't abandon it completely...no matter how much I want to rip it apart and start something else with the yarn. And believe me, there are many other shawl projects I'd like to make and the yarn could be very easily reclaimed for one of those patterns. However, I choose to continue on (and on and on) making my way through two rounds in just about an hour when I knit on it. I work on it when I've gotten tired of other things I've been working on, which is another reason it's taken me nearly six years to get this far.

This is a bit of lace I started knitting yesterday. It's soft and blue and heavenly to knit in the simplest of lace patterns, Fishnet Lace. I must say, the picture is lying to you a bit, as the color is much prettier, like a pale sky blue with a bit of shimmer. I'm almost done with the third panel of the lace pattern. Unlike its round counterpart above, this soft little thing has only 46 stitches, and I expect it to take far less time to complete.When it's finished, it will be a lovely, light scarf that looks fragile but will be surprisingly warm.

I didn't really need to start a new project yesterday. I need to be finishing some projects, such as the round shawl or the socks I'm making for the Relay for Life (however in my defense, they're not needed until May). I'm experiencing a bit of boredom with my current projects and feel the urge to start new ones and they all consist of gorgeous lace. I find myself looking at more lace shawls, thinking, "Oh, I have the perfect yarn for that," or "That's what I can use that cone of sportweight for!" Apparently, I'm tucking the knowledge of how time-consuming lace knitting can be into a far corner of my brain because I've noticed a tendency to think I can just whip up a lace poncho or Faroese shawl in no time. Some knitters can knit lace rather quickly. I am not one of those knitters. I ENVY those knitters. I can knit socks in a short amount of time and even made a sweater in the span of two weeks, but lace slows me way down. I wish I could make lace as fast as I make socks. Heck, I'd be happy if it took me twice or even four times as long to make lace as it does to make socks. I guess, as with all things, I just need to keep doing it and practice, practice, practice. But I still wish for fastness.

Mixed

I've been so lazy about writing the past few days. I make no apologies, as I've had little to write about anyway. Last night, however, was quite fun.

My friend, Erik, thought it would be nice to have a small shindig with a few friends. We went to the Olive Garden (the little lasagna rolls with the sausage are very tasty, by the way), where I surprised myself with how much I actually spoke. I'm not really a big talker when I'm with people I don't know, especially people who I find mildly intimidating. Everyone was wonderful, and no one did anything to make me feel that way...I know it was totally in my head because I'm sometimes insecure and easily intimidated by the unknown. Also, it was a little weird being the person with the least amount of education in the group and also being the only person in the group who doesn't have an academic job. I'm used to being the person talking about things for which no one really has a point of reference or understands, not the person without. Despite my lack of knowledge and reference points, though, I had a really nice time, stuffed myself with delicious food and met some really nice people.

After dinner, we moved the party back to Erik's and played an interesting word game called Apples to Apples, which was very fun. The party diminished from seven to three people after the game and we stayed up until 4:00 AM watching South Park and talking about religion, or our general lack thereof. I then drove my ass home and finally went to bed around 5:00 this morning. It was so awesome to have an extended period of fun time like I did last night.

Tired

While I've been feeling better today than I did the last three days, I'm still not 100%. It sucks. Mostly now I'm just tired, hence the lack of writing here. It's OK, though...I'm sure in a few days I'll be just fine and have plenty of things to write about. Until then, I hope I feel back to my usual self by Saturday.

Back to Work...

After taking yesterday off to hopefully make my stomach feel better, I'm off to work today. All I can say is YUCK! I still feel kind of funky in the stomach, but thanks to what I anticipate to be a very busy day for my team, I can't take two sick days in a row. Yeah, it sucks, but I can't leave my team mates to a huge amount of work when I can possibly make it through the day. So, I'll trudge through and be thankful I can take my time if I need to. Still, I'd rather be home.

Not Good

It's time for another Good Idea, Bad Idea.

Good Idea: Taking along a can of Dr. Pepper on your drive to your friend's house.

Bad Idea: Forgetting to take the still-mostly-full can of Dr. Pepper inside overnight during single-digit weather.

Needless to say, the Bad Idea happened to me. I've learned that carbonated beverages expand even more than still beverages, creating a lava-like overflow that filled both cup holders in my car. It was definitely Bounty to the rescue, though I was running late and could only stuff a huge wad of paper towels in the cup holder. Luckily, the sun warmed my car just enough to melt all but a small bit of slush that I easily discarded when I got home. I'll try to never do that again.

Tipsy

Ah...sweet, wonderful beer. Tasty and smooth Irish cream. Other than hanging out with my brother and having a few drinks, nothing else is going on. Today was my typical Saturday, plus one of my Sunday activities. I woke up, ate, showered, went to the yarn shop to knit and chat with the ladies there (I was especially excited to see Angela there...I find her just delightful). Then I went to the pub in Troy with my friend, Bonnie, and had a few drinks and came home. It was nice to do the Sunday pub thing on Saturday. And it freed up my Sunday to hang out with another friend, so it all worked out very well. OK, I'm going to go drink a little more Irish cream now. :)

Apparently, I'm Unhappy

While I was waiting for a manager to unlock a door so I could put my work equipment away, I stood near the door chatting with a co-worker/kinda friend. He commented that as I was rolling my equipment cart to the room, I looked like something was wrong. Really, I was just tired and not enjoying how loud my cart is when in motion. We chitchatted for a few minutes when he said some smart-ass comment that prompted me to jokingly stick my tongue out at him. To that he randomly said, "you need a date." When I asked why, he told me that he thinks I'd be happier if I had someone to date. I told him that I didn't need a man to make me happy and he said "yeah, but having a toy could make you happier." So in a roundabout sort of way, my co-worker/kinda friend told me that I need to get laid. He was mildly shocked when I told him that I didn't want someone just to screw around with, as if I'm supposed to just go out and drop my panties for anyone just so I can get laid and "be happy." Whatever.

Good Day

I'm currently basking in the loveliness of what was a pretty good day. I'd go into great detail about it, but I feel that would only cheapen it for me, so I'm not going to talk about it right now. But the day was good and I can give general details. My morning doctor's appointment went well. Work was slow but didn't suck. I talked to friends when I got home. My shoulder doesn't hurt as much. Good things indeed.

Ick

My shoulder has been very sore lately, rendering me incapable of spending more than short amounts of time at the computer for writing. The level of the desk in conjunction with using the mouse in a relatively chilly part of the house is aggravating the hell out of my right shoulder. Therefore, the blogging will be lighter until the shoulder feels better. I suppose it's for the best, really, since I have little to no useful writing material. I'm fodder-less.

Grumble Grumble

It really drives me nuts when people act superior to me because they have children and I don't. It also drives me nuts when people who have children act like I don't know what hard times are like because I don't have children. I hate it when I make a point about something and someone says "yeah, but you don't have kids" as if my not having kids invalidates my point in any way. I am annoyed to no end when I'm left out of an entire conversation because the other participants feel the need to center the subject around what their kids did the day before. I'm really bothered by the fact that people treat me like I'm completely clueless about life because I didn't get knocked up before I was old enough to drink legally. I went to college instead, not that it counts for anything to all the people my age who have reproduced. And my question to them is: What's so bad about being responsible and waiting until the right time to have children, and why does this deem me inferior to those of you who have different fathers for all of your kids? GRRRR!!!!

Saturday Thing

I'm a creature of habit. Today consisted of knitting while watching Buffy...same as last Saturday. At least I have the sock almost done, and that's a good thing. Then I can start on the second of the pair, finish them and then work on yet another pair of socks. I'm beginning to get all socked out, but the next pair is at least started already and they're a charity obligation. Luckily, I don't need to have them done until May, so if I have to take a break from knitted footwear, I can and not worry too much about not finishing them. They do have a bit of interest, though, what with cables and lace, so it goes by quickly. I just have to remember where I put the pattern...it's in a book somewhere...

Drowsy

After a lovely night of knitting, Seinfeld, The Silence of the Lambs, tasty Chinese food, and TONS of conversation, I'm an exceptionally tired minx. I had much fun tonight, though. Knitting is always a blast, but knitting with a friend is so much better. I'm exceptionally proud of my student!!! He's making so much progress on his scarf, I'm sure he'll be done rather soon. If there's enough of his yarn left, I'm going to help him make mittens to match. It's so exciting!!! My own project of yet another pair of socks is going along quite well. While watching movies and shows, I finished the leg, made the heel and started the foot. I'm in love with short-row heels. They use less yarn and are so effin' fast to knit. Had I chosen to knit a flap heel (which I also love very much), I'd probably not have gotten quite as far, perhaps only to the beginning of the gusset. And now I'm even more tired than I was previously. It's time for sleep--sweet, wonderful sleep.

Dull

The sheer lack of excitement in my life has left me with less-than-interesting occurrences in my daily routine. The highlights of today: I finished a book and knit on a sock. I'm knitting the sock with the new sock yarn that I wrote about on Saturday. It's knitting up rather nicely and the stripes are noticeable, yet subtle at the same time. That's about it. Nothing to see here, folks. Move along. Ha!

Today I Learned...

...that even though shitty things happen, I can still smile and have fun (well, as much as I can at work anyway).

...that I'm not as terrible at making new friends as I thought.

...that I am witty and delightful.

...how much I really hate it when people touch my hair when not invited to do so (well, I already knew this, so today's incident was really just an affirmation of that previous knowledge).

...that I'm pretty good at finding roundabout ways to say things.

...how much more comfortable my fingertips are with short nails than long nails.

...that even though I often talk a lot, I can be frustrated to the point where words fail me (I hate it when that happens).

...that when in doubt, I should just make a list so I'll have blog fodder.

Chit-Chat

Lacking anything significant to say, I give you a snippet of a conversation I recently had with my brother after he'd trimmed his facial hair:

Mike: Does my facial hair look white trash to you?
Minx: No...it looks kind of douche-y, if that helps.
Mike: Damn, I wanted it to look white trash. What about the side-burns?
Minx: I don't know. But it is a little douche-y looking.
Mike: No, douche-y is bad...white trash isn't.

After learning the finer points of what exactly he did to his facial hair in order to appear white trash, I couldn't stop from asking any longer:

Minx: Why do you want to look like white trash anyway?
Mike: Oh, I just kinda wanted to look a little white trash for awhile. Sounded like a good idea...

He trailed off and said something else, but I couldn't understand what he was saying. And yes, some of this is a little paraphrased, but I can remember that we did say the words "white trash" and "douche-y" that much.

Glad It Ended Before the Pain of Prom

Choosing to abandon my previously mentioned preference for blogging at night, I had to write this morning so I wouldn't lose the rather odd dream I had last night. I was dreaming about school. For some reason I was still in high school, yet taking college courses in this dream, making me a student who is nearly 30 and still in high school. I went to my homeroom twice and was late both times, so my teacher (who was, like, 3 years younger than I am) gave me tardy slips and told me I had to go to the office because I was going to get detention for being late two times in a row and all I wanted to do was finish the math homework I hadn't done the night before. I was trying to bargain with her about the detention thing and was getting somewhere when my alarm clock went off, cutting the strange dream off. I'm rather thankful for the alarm because I was starting to feel the awkwardness of being a high school student, with the added awkwardness of being an adult among children who looked at me as if I were stupid for being in high school at my age. And I just noticed that the look and feel of the word "awkward" is rather fitting, as it is an odd word to both look at and type.

Mini

This going to be painfully short tonight, for I am tired and do not feel too hot right now. I started knitting the sock yarn I showed in yesterday's post. The stripes look rather subtle so far, however I've only knitted an inch, so perhaps the striping effect will be a little more dramatic as I knit more of the sock. I will say that it does look very nice and the yarn is just lovely to work with. I'm excited to see how the socks turn out. Aside from a new knitting project, the day was a usual Sunday...I got up, did little, showered around 2:00 and went to Troy to have a drink with my friend Bonnie. Now I'm home in my jammies and contemplating starting a crossword. Mine is such an exciting life.

Beauty

Yesterday was a fantastic day. I went with my friend, Erik, to Ithaca and we had so much fun. Walking outside in natural light with cold, fresh air was both mentally and physically refreshing. We ate delicious subs and looked at books and music and yarn. That's my new sock yarn. It's Ja Woll Aktion sock yarn from Lang Yarns. It's a self-striping yarn and I just love the colors. Brown, two blue-gray shades and a lighter tan...it's very unlike the colorways I usually lean toward. The colors are rather understated, very beautiful and more masculine than I typically look for in a yarn. I'm a girly-girl with my yarn and tend toward pinks, purples, reds, and combinations that evoke more of a feminine feel. Something about this one, though, just caught my eye and said to me "Pick me! Pick me!" and who am I to ignore the call of the yarn? It was speaking to me and I had to listen.

I wasn't the only one who made a yarn purchase. Erik's yarn is Malabrigo Kettle-Dyed Merino. The camera didn't want to capture the colors quite the way they actually look. The yarn has olive green, brown and rust tones. The camera decided it wanted to make the colors a little more pink-ish looking instead. Either way, though, it's a lovely one-ply yarn that's working very well for my new knitting student. I'm pleased to say that every single one of those stitches are Erik's and he made very few mistakes (all of which were common for a novice knitter, very minor and easily fixed). His stitches are so lovely and even, I daresay he's a natural.

As I watched my friend carefully making stitch after stitch, I couldn't help but be moved by how beautiful it is to watch someone's hands performing an act of transformation. I've watched my own hands while knitting, and I've watched my other students' hands, but this was really the first time I've watched someone and found the movements so striking and amazing. I think it's due to the fact that he developed a basic competency level so quickly, so I was able to watch him make stitches, rather than watch in wait for mistake-fixing. Surely another factor was the quiet in which we were working. It was a learning experience for Erik and we had very few noise distractions and minimal conversation. My other knitterly friends have all been knitting for a long time and are at a skill level that allows them to chat and laugh while knitting, thereby distracting each other from watching hands make stitches. The quiet and the yarn and the stitching just put me in a bit of a Zen moment of beauty and I fell in love with knitting all over again.

It Ends Far From Where It Began...

So it's twice now this week that I've been forced to write in the morning because of the fact that I live with people and have to share the computer. I find this mildly annoying...not the living and sharing part, but the part about having to wait until the next morning to blog. It messes up the entire flow of it. I'm an evening blogger, not a morning blogger. If I want to keep up on writing my blog, I'd really like to be able to write when I normally prefer to write. Last night, I had so many good ideas for what I should put on here, but now they're all lost in dream land because I had to wait. I always have better ideas in the evening. I really need a laptop and a wireless connection, but I really can't afford one. Curse my wretched poorness!!! I have to look at something cute now...

To the right are my fine puppy-beasts, Josie and Chloe. Josie is the smaller dog and Chloe is the big one dangling her leg over the edge of the couch (she does that all the time). They are the most wonderful dogs in the whole world. They're loving, cuddly, happy dogs and my life is much better with them in it. They are dogs of the highest quality and they are the best people I know.

I just learned that my friend Shar just lost her sweet dog, Lucky. She'd had her dog for many years, I'd say at least 13, based on the fact that her sister, Jade, was just a baby when they got the dog and she's now a teenager. I met Lucky a couple of times and she was a very sweet and lovely dog. She was nice to me and I was nice to her. I feel badly for Shar because it hurts so much to lose a pet. It's one of the most heartbreaking experiences I've ever known and I wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone. I think it's because pets love you no matter what. Pets will still love you even if you yell at them to leave you alone. They love you even if you forget to feed them until hours after their normal dinner time. They even love abusive human parents (who should be shot in the knees and castrated in my opinion, but that's another blog entirely). The most important thing pets (especially dogs) know how to do is love and it's also the thing they do best. When a pet dies, all you have is the memory of that unconditional love. Just bittersweet memories...

Resolutions are STUPID

One thing I always hate about the turn of the new year is how everyone always asks what my resolutions are for the year. I personally think New Year's resolutions are a total crock of shit. All good intentions aside, putting off change for a certain time of year usually sets one up for failure and, subsequently, self-loathing. I say if you want to change something about yourself, just do it. Don't wait until a specified day where "everybody else is doing it so I should, too" is the general mentality about it. Nine times out of ten, resolutions consist of taking measures to improve one's health, such as dieting, quitting smoking and/or exercising. Since that is the case with most resolutions, don't wait. You'll be more likely to change your habits if you begin when you make the decision AND it will be better for you in the long run to begin early, rather than wait those few extra weeks or months 'til the calendar turns. OK, I'm done now.

I Skipped It

I so cheated and didn't post last night. I was planning on posting last night...instead I went to my aunt's usual New Year's Eve shindig, which was neither shin-y nor dig-y. It was as it always is: cousins, aunts, uncles, kids and food all wrapped up in a very noisy package. It wasn't a super-big party (we're not the big-partying type of folk). I tried to read, and I managed to read a bit. A friend of the family was there watching some of my cousins playing Guitar Hero (on a side note, I was impressed when I saw "Holiday in Cambodia" listed as a song to play on that game). He wondered aloud "Doesn't anybody read anymore?" to which I held up my book. He had an expression of thankfulness that at least someone still reads. I wanted to tell him that there are a lot of us readers in the world, just not a lot of them in my family. So I continued to read on the couch, read for awhile and fell asleep. I woke up a little before 11:00 and went home to go to bed. I slept through the ridiculous midnight ball-dropping nonsense. It was so nice and quiet sleeping in my cozy bed. I should do that EVERY year!!!

And No One Was Injured

Last night was a fun night for me. I managed to not stay in my room all night, as is my usual Saturday night activity. Instead I went to my friend Erik's apartment and we did nice wholesome things like throwing desk parts out of windows, watching South Park, eating marshmallows and coconut cake, and making candles. Does it sound much more interesting than sitting home alone knitting socks all night? I think so.

Candle making is a rather lengthy process. This was the lesson we learned last night at Erik's. He wanted to try his hand at making candles and I wanted to not be bored, so sometime around 10:00 PM, we began. (On a bit of a side note, do not begin your candle making adventure late at night. Trust me, it's better to start early) First, we melted the wax in a makeshift double boiler, using a large thermometer to make sure we had the proper temperature. The instructions were quite clear that we shouldn't let the wax exceed a temperature of more than 225 degrees Fahrenheit, lest we risk flames or explosions. And who would want to cause one's own apartment to explode? No one, that's who.

Next, we performed the first pouring of the wax. The wax is poured into the whatever mold is being used and the wicks are then set in. The random game of pick-up sticks at the right is really just to keep the wicks from falling entirely into the wax. Balancing the wicks and the sticks in a manner that would stay in place was by far the biggest pain in the ass of the whole process. After the candles set, it was smooth sailing for the subsequent pourings as far as the wicks were concerned.

After the wax set for about half an hour, we reheated the wax for the second pouring. This was similar to the first pouring, except less wax was used and those pesky wicks were already in place, making it so much easier than the first time around. As the wax cooled (this time for two hours), a deep well formed in the middle of the candles. This is the best shot of the wells I could get. Somehow, I failed to take a picture of the finished product...just imagine the well filled in and the wick sticking out like it's supposed to and you'll have a good idea of how the finished candle looks.

And here is Sir Erik displaying an object that was once granulated wax and was transformed into a thing of usefulness. He looks kind of mystical there, holding a ball of fire. I got several shots of him looking as if he's conjuring the element, but this one was the first and my favorite of the bunch. His casual demeanor belies the excitement he'd previously expressed about transforming raw materials into something that can be used. He was thrilled at the concept. I told him I felt the same way the first time I made a pair of mittens.

Buffy-fest

I learned today that I can knit approximately 50 rounds on a sock whilst watching a Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathon of my own making (it's good to have every season on DVD). I started with the last few decrease rounds of the heel gusset and ended with the fortieth round on the foot, which is only a few rounds away from the beginning of the toe decreases. The photo shows where I was when I started knitting today. It's the back of the sock, so it's a little tough to see that it's in the mid-stages of heel gusset construction. Soon, very soon, I shall have a new pair of socks to keep my squat little peasant feet warm. I can't wait.

Note: The yarn used is Wildfoote Luxury Sock Yarn by Brown Sheep in the "colorway" Brilliant Bouquet. It's not easy to tell (even on the larger version of the picture), but it's a 4-ply yarn and each ply is a different color: red, green, blue and purple. It's this stranded coloration that makes me somewhat hesitant to call it a colorway, as that word implies some sort of variegation created in the dyeing process, not the spinning process. Whatever it should be called, the picture belies the fact that it gives a fantastic color effect with very subtle color pooling of the strands, similar to, but a bit different than the typical variegated yarn.

Slacker

Yes, I'm a total slacker. I never blogged last night. I was way too tired to even think, let alone write. Oh well...I'm sure the internet did fine without me.

I'm rather annoyed right now. I've been reading a book (which will remain nameless) for nearly a month now. Normally, it does not take me this long to read a book unless it's uninteresting, exceedingly long or I have no time to read other than a minute or two here and there. This book is fairly short, fairly interesting and I've had enough time that I should've finished it by now. The problem I'm having with this book is twofold: First, I really want to start reading the book my friend gave me for Christmas; second, while the book is interesting, it strays far off its proposed topic. It's a non-fiction book concerning Eastern philosophy. I'm intrigued by Eastern philosophical ideas (namely Taoism) and thought it would be a good book to get my feet wet, as it were. However, instead of focusing on Taoism, the author uses the book as a soapbox from which he spews forth his own socio-ecological-political philosophies and beliefs. I don't mind reading that type of material, but for the love of all that is holy the man needed to NOT write it under the ruse of Taoist ideas. In the beginning of the book, the principles mentioned and examples used did mesh rather well. Yet less than a third of the way through, the author started going so far off-topic with whatever aspect of the human race that was pissing him off at the moment that it made little to no sense when he finally did circle back to the subject of the chapter. I mean really, if I'd wanted to hear about how the government sucks or how we're raping the natural world, etc., I'd talk to some of my neo-hippie friends or go to Ithaca or something. I really wanted to read a book that would help introduce me to Taoism, not a 257-page rant about how much the Republican administration of the eighties and early nineties sucked....TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW!!! I guess I'm going to have to find something else to slake my learning thirst.

The Day After...

I'm so glad it's all over for this year. All the Christmas bullshit can wait for 365 more days (yes, it's 365 because 2008 is a leap year) before I'm forced to worry about it again. I'm so excited about the prospect of no more holiday stress. The day went well and I had a good time, but it's nice that it's finally over with. I did get the one thing I asked for, which was digital camera so I can post pictures here and elsewhere online...those pictures will be coming soon once I learn how to use the stupid thing. I'm getting there, it's just difficult for me to use technology. I prefer my cameras to use FILM not MEMORY CARDS. However, it is more efficient to post photos online with a digital rather than a standard camera, so I finally relented and joined the 21st century. Other than that one thing I asked for, all my other gifts were quite lovely. I received a very pretty sweater, a bath set and bag, socks, pajamas, a manicure set and several other things that I know I will enjoy immensely. My main joy of Christmas, though, is when my family likes the gifts I've given them. Everyone liked their gifts this year and I couldn't be more happy with that. My brother LOVED his Johnny Cash T-shirt and my mom thought the giraffe picture I got her was beautiful. My dad is sure to enjoy his Hickory Farms box of tasty goodness and my grandmother was tickled with her hand-knit dishcloths and the berry candle I gave her. All stupid, rampant holiday greed and gluttony aside, I did have a nice Christmas.

Finally

It's 11:40 PM and I've finally finished the knitting I set out to do for Christmas. All that's left is some end-weaving and I'm completely done with the gifts. I've decided that it can wait until tomorrow. As it's late and I must get to bed, I'll cut this extremely short and leave you with one question: If holiday fruitcakes are so reviled, why do manufacturers keep producing them? I mean, does anybody eat really eat them? Ok, it was more than one question, but I'd still like answers. Until (possibly) Wednesday, that's all for now.

And So It Begins...

Noise, noise, noise. All I hear is early Christmas noise. My sister and her family are in town this weekend from Carlisle, PA for their holiday time with us. I don't know who is louder, the adults or the two toddlers. It's ok, though, as I love seeing my little nephews. Anthony (4) and Noah (2) are very cool little dudes. They were very excited to open presents, not caring whose presents they were opening. The MagnaDoodle was a big hit, as were the various "Cars" toys. Now, though, they have forsaken those lovely new toys to watch their father play with the huge remote control Hummer my brother gave him. I won't get into what I got from them, as it's not interesting to anyone but myself. All in all, it's a hectic and kind of nice time right now. And this is yet another wee short blog for my one lonely reader. Sorry, dude.

Tori

"Gas lights glowing in the streets, twilight held us in her palm as we walked along." ~from Gold Dust by Tori Amos.

"A soul-quake happened here in a glass world. Particle by particle she slowly changes." ~from Concertina by Tori Amos

I daresay, these are two of my favorite lyrics by Tori Amos. There are many great ones to choose from, but the two above strike me as particularly special. The woman is a lyrical painter.

Dumb

As our most greedy and gluttonous of holidays creeps ever closer, only one thing seems to be running through my mind: I picked a really dumb time to quit smoking. The stress of Christmas is increasing as the day nears. All I want is a nice, tasty Camel Light. Ah, sweet nicotine, how I've missed you this past month since I left you for pinker lungs. I really should've written down the day I quit, so I can have a monthly anniversary. I think it was November 20. I miss the stress-relief smoking provided. However, I don't miss the stinky breath, the stinky hair, the random burns because I'm clumsy, or the general shitty feeling I had when I was smoking. I don't miss getting smoke up my nostrils or in my eye when lighting up, nor do I miss having the smell stay on my hands long after I put the cigarette out. What I don't miss clearly outweighs what I do miss, so I know it's been a good thing. But sometimes all I really want to do is have a smoke.

Anyhoodle, back to Christmas bullshit. I can't wait til it's all over and I can relax. I daresay, it's driving me completely mad. I must read go read other blogs that are much more amusing than this one. Of course, it won't make this post any longer than the meager few sentence it is, but it will distract me from my Yuletide issues. Goddamn, I hate Christmas.

Saddened (A Wee Short Blog)

I was driving home from work, listening to songs from Tori Amos' Scarlet's Walk. "Strange" came on shortly before I turned onto my road and I was listening and singing along as I always do. The lyrics made me think about one of my exes and how unimportant I was to him. It made me sad...I cried a little. He made such an effort to "catch" me and it still hurts that he made no effort to keep me. I felt like I was just playing the part of his girlfriend instead of actually being his girlfriend. Oh well, that's over now. It'll all be ok...it has to be. :)

More Eventful Than Yesterday

This morning was interesting. I got up at the normal time, did my normal morning activities, went out to my car and there it was--a nearly flat tire. Eep! Luckily, my uncle was over at the garage he and my dad share (and in which an air compressor resides). So, I very slowly drove over the snow- and ice-covered driveway to the garage and asked my dear uncle to save me. He laughingly obliged, slightly over-filling my tire so that I could make it to work. I thanked him profusely and was on my merry way.

Things were going great until after I had turned onto Clemens Center Parkway. For those not familiar with the parkway, it is a four-lane roadway that cuts through Elmira. One can get almost anywhere in the greater Elmira area via the parkway. My destination from the parkway was, as it is every day, the highway. I had turned onto the parkway and was going along in the right hand lane and was nearing the traffic light on Cedar Street. Suddenly, this woman in a silver-ish Nissan starts veering from the left hand lane into my lane. The bitch didn't even bother to look and see if anyone was in the lane before she changed lanes and nearly side-swiped my car. Had my reflexes not been so quick, I'd probably be in the hospital right now because the back end of her car would've hit directly on my driver side door. So I beeped my horn, flipped her off and mouthed the words "learn how to fucking drive, bitch," which she saw because she kept looking in her rear view to see my reaction. Then, after witnessing my reaction to her piss-poor driving, she had the nerve to give me dirty looks. She acted like I was the person driving like an ass and she seemed more annoyed with me than I was with her. I mean really, do you think it's appropriate for a person to get more annoyed with someone else's reaction when you've just nearly totalled their car because you were too busy not paying attention to notice a whole entire vehicle in the other lane than the person who was nearly hurt in the first place? I don't think so. Well, I got past her after the light and again went on my merry way until I realized that the bitch was following me. Oh great, now I had to deal with an idiot road-rager on the way to work. Happily, when I arrived at my destination (the highway), she managed to (safely) get into the left hand lane and went ahead of me. Well, she was keeping pace with one of the more irritatingly slow vehicles in my lane as if to stick it to me by being a lane-clogger. Whatever, she was ahead of me and I didn't have to worry about her rear-ending me or trying to run me off the road. I got to work a few minutes late (due to flat tires and lane-cloggers), but I was happy to be in one piece.

Work was work. It was about the same as yesterday, only time seemed to move more slowly today. I called my very awesome dad shortly after I got there to inform him of the issue with my tire. He told me to drop it off at his workplace and swap vehicles, or call him if my tire was flat again. Finally, 5:00 rolled around and I was able to clock out and go home. Yeah, I wasn't quite as able as I thought because the tire was FLAT AGAIN!!!!! Goddamn! I called Dad again and about 40 minutes later, I was rescued for the second time today. Dad brought a portable air compressor thing and filled my tire enough so he could take the car back with him and fix my tire. I took his big truck and finally got home an hour and a half after I clocked out of work. I'm not complaining about being home so late from work, though. My dad's going to be later than normal because of my stupid tire. And because he's the best, coolest dad in the entire universe. I'm really lucky to have such a handy father who loves me so much.

That was my day.

BO-RING!!!

My life lacks excitement right now. My days consist of work, internet, knitting and sleep. Wow!!!! I'm a barrel of laughs for the entire family!!!

While the general blandness of my life is perfectly fine for me, it makes for very, very little blog fodder. I don't write about work and even if I did write about work, there's nothing fun or interesting going on there. The only interest there comes from me wondering who my secret Santa is and really, that can only take a girl just so far. I can't even write about what I'm knitting as even my knitting is boring. It's all garter stitch washcloths and socks (though I really can't fault the socks...socks are ALWAYS fun). For the sake of cheap Christmas gifts, I'm making my grandmothers both some washcloths out of cotton I already had. Not even the yarn is exciting! I had to put the plain sock aside to make the aforementioned cotton nonsense, so I can't even break the monotony with a heel turn or a toe decrease. GRRR!!! All my exciting knitting is taking a back seat to the knitter's version of a lobotomy.

Still, I'm writing a little something. This is mostly because I really need to write on something that isn't on MySpace. I also decided that I really need to write more here because it's a waste of space otherwise (and no one else should be able to take my MinxyLand name due to me deleting all the shit I've written here). Also, I figure that if The Professor can blog to keep himself on track with his dissertation, I can certainly blog for the hell of it. Using his reasoning for blogging to keep the proverbial fire under his ass (haha, I almost quoted him perfectly on that), knowing that someone is reading this does indeed help with keeping posts going. They may not be much, but I'm thinking that the more I write, the better I'll be at coming up with topics. The topics themselves may not be interesting or at all relevant, but I say fuck it. I have one reader and I don't think he'll mind if my blogs suck.

Snow Day

Tufts of lovely white snow cover the porch, the lawn, the hill across the road. The bare trees now are half-covered in a layer of frozen goodness. This is why I love winter--the utter beauty in leafless trees and dead lawns being concealed by wonderful snow. It's as if nature is telling us to look at something new and brilliant while the plants rest for the season.

I love snow and cold weather. Most people think me insane when I say that I love those two things. Snow they usually understand, because it's pretty. It's the cold that makes people wonder about me. So I tell them that I suppose I'd almost be required to at least like cold weather as there can't be snow without cold. Otherwise it'd just be rain and while I like most forms of precipitation, there's something special about snow. It's fluffy, fun and fantastic. But, alliteration aside, snow is a link to a happy time in my life: Christmas vacation and snow days.

Winter days off from school were always a favorite of mine. My sister and I (and my brother when he was old enough) would suit up in our snow gear and play for hours outside. Lop-sided snowmen, snowball fights and even a doomed-to-failure igloo were among our many chilly exploits. The coldness never bothered me. Truth be told, I enjoyed the crisp feeling of below-freezing air in my nose and lungs. I could've stayed outside forever back then, but Mom wouldn't let us. She seemed to think that food was a good thing for growing children, so she made us come inside for lunch or dinner. (That was my other favorite part of snow days, going into the warm house after playing in the cold snow. Both activities were equally exhilarating to me.) So we'd go inside, hanging up our snow pants and coats, laying our snow-crusted mittens and hats next to the wood stove to dry in the warmth. Mom would have sandwiches or soup waiting for us. These are the things I think of when it's cold and snowy. Winter has always made me happy.

Excitement!

Saturday mornings are for knitting. Every week, I go to my local yarn shop, Malley's in the Yarn, and knit with the owner, Stephanie, and anyone else who happens to stop by. I love the yarn shop. I understand that the concept of loving a place that sells only yarn and yarn-related paraphernalia may be a bit lost on those who do not knit, crochet or take part in some other type of fiber art involving yarn. However, to step into a yarn shop is to step into the most wonderful place in the world. There are so many different types of yarn, from wool to angora, one-ply to boucle, natural fibers to synthetics all in more colors than anyone even dreamed existed. A well-organized yarn shop is a fiber rainbow and feast for the eyes.

Last week, Stephanie told me that she had ordered some new yarns, but she wasn't expecting them until early January. I'd asked because she'd mentioned previously that she was going to order some sock yarn that was all acrylic, which intrigued me because I am a sock knitter who knows people with wool allergies. To my surprise, I stepped into the store and saw the tell-tale bags of yarn that indicated a new shipment had arrived. Stephanie said, "Go check out the new yarn," and of course, I couldn't resist. All of it was wonderful, but I was most excited to see a bag of the acrylic sock yarn (Berroco "Comfort Sock" yarn) over by the sock yarn shelves. It was so soft, it didn't even feel synthetic. And it was my favorite shade of dark gray. I forgot to ask what the price was on the acrylic yarn, but Stephanie also pointed out a wool/nylon sock yarn from the same company (Berroco "Sox" yarn) in fabulous colors and the price was outstanding. It's by far the best bargain for sock yarn in the store. Hence my excitement. I'm such a nerd; I get excited about yarn.

The Death of Christmas

This is not my favorite time of year. I hate Christmas with the fire of a thousand suns. Yeah, I know that seems a bit extreme, but I stand by my statement. I originally was going to vent about how Christmas has been so bastardized by greed and gluttony, but I've changed my mind. Instead, I'm going to write about when Christmas lost its magic for me.

When I was a little girl, I loved Barbie dolls. Every year, all I wanted for my birthday, Christmas and Easter was a new Barbie doll. I received so many over the years of my childhood, I could populate a Barbie commune with them. When I was 7, I remember going to school one day (after being out for a couple of days with a nasty black eye) and opening my exceedingly messy desk to find a birthday/get well present from one of my classmates, Sarah. It was a lovely Barbie in a pretty summer dress with blue shoes to match. I was thrilled. I proudly carried that doll home and showed my mom what Sarah had given me in school. I believe that was the beginning of people regularly giving me Barbie dolls as gifts for birthdays and Christmas. I'd say that most often, they were Christmas gifts, but let's face it, that was twenty years ago and my memory is a little fuzzy.

Flash forward from when I was 7 to when I was 11 or 12. This was the ultimate year of the Barbie. Between all the relatives who gave me gifts, I managed to accumulate four brand-spankin' new dolls for Christmas. I'd never had that many new Barbies at one time, I didn't know which one to play with first. Ah, such excitement from molded plastic and tiny articles of polyester clothing! I was, and still am, so easy to please. I thought for sure the number of dolls I would continue to receive would only increase as I got older. I never once thought the splendid feeling of opening new Barbie dolls would soon come to an end.

The very next Christmas, after thinking for an entire year that the previous holiday's bounty was an indication that more and more Barbies would come, I only received one Barbie. I was heartbroken. Surely I should have gotten at least the same amount as the year before, so why didn't I? I was older, and the older you get, the more you get, right? Wrong. It was the last Barbie I received as a gift, ever. Apparently it was decided (without consulting me, of course) that I was getting too old for little girls' playthings. I didn't think I was getting too old, so why did everybody else? I still played with my Barbies, combing their hair and dressing them in the many outfits I had amassed over the years. I loved every strand on their blonde heads, every bendy leg and stiff arm. So why was I too old to get them?

I never understood why. It was then that Christmas lost all its charms for me. I didn't think it then, but looking back I suppose I thought on some level that if I was too old for my cherished dolls, I must have been too old for a child's holiday. Christmas is for toys and I was too old for toys. Sure, I'd get somewhat excited about some of the other things I'd get, like books or a new toy-like gadget. But no one understood why I didn't get as excited as my sister did about getting clothes for Christmas. It's because I didn't want any stupid clothes; I wanted my Barbies, damn it!!!

So there it is, the reason I hate Christmas so much. Perhaps it's selfish, but put yourself in the mind of a tween-age girl whose only passion at the time was a formed plastic doll. I'd been told that I was no longer allowed to enjoy my passion because I was too old for it and needed to grow up. A harsh message that broke my little heart. I've yet to recover.

Resolution #9 Completed...

I knit myself a sweater. It's blue and lovely and fits me nicely. It's currently drying from being blocked. This is the second sweater I've knit; the first one was a sleeveless shell that I knit for my sister over 4 years ago, when I was a fairly new knitter. I think I waited so long to make another one because the first one took me forever to knit and I didn't want to end up starting something only to find that I didn't really like it by the time it was done. Another thing that deterred me was the attempt I made last summer to make myself a sweater that ended very badly with a gauge accident (however, the aforementioned accident saved me from the tragedy of wearing a sack-y sweater with horizontal stripes...yikes). After the gauge thing, I was timid about making another sweater that could end in me looking at the pieces months from now thinking to myself "Gee, I should really reclaim that wool for something else, but I'm too lazy to take out all that work." But I found a pattern I really liked, knit a whole bunch of swatches to get the right gauge and knit me a sweater. It turned out pretty good, too.

I've learned much from the sweater-knitting process. For one, I can knit much faster than I give myself credit for, but not as fast as I wish I could knit. I started it 3 weeks ago, I think, and finished it today. I was foolish and didn't make note of when I started the sweater, so it's just my best guess. I thought it'd take me much longer than it did. Another thing I learned is I really like wool until I have to block it. This is the first time I've ever blocked wool (I've knit many socks in wool, but have never blocked them before using them...I just knit them and wear them). Wet wool smells kind of unpleasant. It's not a terrible, reeking badness. It just smells like wet animal, which essentially it is, you know, without the animal attached. I've also learned that sweaters aren't as hard as I thought, even though I knit the thing entirely in the round...it was a top-down raglan that I found to be quite simple once I got past the mental block of "Huh?" I experienced when first trying to figure out how the scoop neckline was going to work. After figuring that part out, it was smooth sailing from there. The last thing I learned is that I think I could design myself a sweater all on my own if I wanted to. I know all the basics, and I have information on the more advanced stuff (like shaping and all the math nonsense). That makes me feel kind of good that if I wanted to, I could make my very own woolly creation. And that's about all I have to say about my sweater. Later.

This Makes Me Wonder...

I recently found out that an ex of mine just got dumped by the girl he dated after me. I assume she dumped him because she's a smart girl and probably (after almost two years of him pretending he's a nice guy) figured out that he's a piece of shit who doesn't deserve someone as nifty as she is. I also assume she's nifty based solely on her MySpace profile, as I have never met her in person. Now, early in January, he paid me a visit after not speaking to me for a year and a half. He'd seen my profile in August and that triggered a huge, four month fight between the two of them, where she brought up valid points and he refused to see them, culminating in her telling him that he needed to have a talk with me "to get closure" before they could proceed in the relationship. He came, we talked, he was a dick, I was calm and rational...it wasn't horrible. Before he left, I told him that if he felt like they were going to break up not to let it get to the bitter resentment stage before it happened (because that's not good for anyone involved). He said that he didn't think there would be anymore issues like this one and that they'd be stronger than ever. He gave me his contact information, as if to try to be friends again and left. I emailed him a couple of days later, and he told me he was just being polite by giving me his information and that he didn't really want to have anymore contact with me. Whatever, he always was a dick.

Fast forward to a couple of days ago. I was reading a friend's blog and found the girlfriend posted a comment. Turns out the blog writer is a mutual friend. The blog involved relationships and the comment indicated that she was somewhat in relationship woe and wanted to find someone worthy of her. So I went to her profile and saw that she'd removed almost every trace of my ex from her profile. Seems that my ex is now her ex. I thought to myself "Yes! It's about time she realized she's too good for him." Now, I feel bad that she's going through the pain of ending a relationship, but I can't help but feel a small amount of satisfaction. That smug bastard acted as if our relationship meant absolutely nothing compared to the "perfection" he shared with her, and now it's come back to bite him.

What I'm wondering is: Does this make me an awful person? I'm trying very hard not to be happy about this, but it's been hard. I think I'm more happy about her valuing herself and what she needs more than a relationship in which her needs are not being met. I'm trying to be more happy about that than I am about him finally getting his karmic retribution for the way he treated me for six months after we broke up (I'm trying very hard to keep these feelings in check because karma is a funny creature and will pop up wherever it wants to and screw up whatever it wants...so I'm trying to be happier for her self-respect than I am for my own satisfaction). I don't know. I feel very ambivalent about this and it probably won't be resolved any time soon.

They Never Get Dirty

I've officially decided that I'm insane. I've agreed to knit hunting socks for a 6'2" man with size 12 feet. That's daunting enough as it is, considering I usually knit regular socks for my much smaller feet, though the hunting socks will be knit with worsted weight, so it shouldn't be too bad. No, the bad part is that he wants them black. Black! It's so hard to check your stitches and rows with black yarn...it's just too dark. Black socks may never get dirty (old high school band joke), but they'll be a pain to knit (based on the fact that the navy socks I knit once were very much a pain because of the dark color). But I'll make them because I like him a whole lot and he asked me very nicely to make them. Also, he shows an interest in my knitting, asking me about construction and how different parts of things are made. I don't think he'll be a knitter anytime soon (or ever), but the fact that he wants to know about something that's as important to me as knitting is very telling. It tells me that he cares enough about me to learn some things about my favorite hobby. Maybe someday, he'll tell me in other ways, too...like verbally. Someday, I hope.

New Socks!!!

Yay!! I have new socks. I'm only excited about this because I made them myself. I've made myself socks before, but I still get very excited when I have new ones. I think these fit my feet the best over any pair I made previously.

Yeah, I'm starting to turn into quite the sock knitter. (I blame the Yarn Harlot entirely, for her books re-introduced me to my love of knitting. She's a cool, cool lady with a heck of a lot of knitterly knowledge. If fate has a heart, we will one day be friends.) For some reason, I don't feel quite right if I don't have at least one pair of socks on the needles. I understand the structure of socks, so I don't need a pattern for a plain sock. When I'm worried, sock knitting makes me feel better (which is good because I worry a lot). And I've never felt as good about knitting as I do when I see my hand-knit socks on my nephews' tiny feet, knowing that my stitches will keep their feet cozy and warm. It heals my heart. The only trouble is that I'm running low on sock yarn and must save money for car repair. Bummer.

I Said BRRR It's Cold in Here!!!!

There must be some Toros in the atmosphere. Sorry...channelling Bring it On. I love that movie. The point, though...it's really freaking cold here. We had nice weather all winter, which I cursed at the time because I wanted snow. Well, now it's colder than cold and there's only a little snow because it's too freaking cold to snow. Poop. I should go knit some more on my socks. I love knitting socks...it makes me happy.

Dude, I'm Resolved!

Some resolutions I've come up with for 2007:

1. Organize my room and find a home for my yarn and other knitting stuff.
2. Continue with my mental health stuff.
3. Find me a quality man...QUALITY!!!!
4. Get laid. (I have someone in mind for this...)
5. Try not to be bitter about stuff I don't have.
6. Try not to be bitter about stuff I don't have.
7. Try not to be bitter about stuff I don't have.
8. Work a lot on that lace shawl I've been working on for almost 3 years.
9. Make a sweater.
10. Knit more for myself.
11. Knit more for others (especially for gift-giving occasions).
12. Start my holiday knitting in June (imagine the possibilities!)
13. Acquire more wool...need wool...must have more wool...
14. Get my taxes done early and use the return for good and not evil...and more wool.
15. Really try hard to do all the stuff on this list.
16. Write more on Minxyland.

That's about it. I normally don't make resolutions, so a list this big may be folly, but I don't care. It's tangible evidence of things I want to do and writing them down may help in accomplishing them. Especially the knitting stuff...is it wrong that, in my head at least, I prioritize my knitting before all the other stuff that's supposed to make me a better person?

The Manifesto

Last night, I was writing on my Myspace blog about one of my recent epiphanies (I've had a couple in the last few months). This one was about how I've decided to just be fearless when it comes to romance and love instead of being scared of everything. Yeah, right after I published it, I had a massive surge of anxiety that kept me up until 4:30 this morning. I ended up thinking about something from nearly a year ago...something that I shouldn't be so anxious about, because care was taken and such. But still, I have an empowering moment and my brain decides to fuck with me. It drives me nuts and I wish I could not be like that anymore. Anyhoo, I must be going now.

Feeling Guilty: Part the Third

Well, you know I'm going to say that I'm feeling guilty for neglecting this sweet, innocent blog of mine, so I'll have to divulge something else that's kind of eating away at me. There's a fella I've been flirting with a lot lately and I'm liking him a wee more than I should. Nothing has happened (sadly) and if we're both good, nothing will happen (very sadly), and I'm just getting really frustrated with the whole thing. I'm tired of wanting what I can't have, being able to look but not touch and having to look at his handsome face and not be allowed to kiss his very soft-looking lips. Poop. Let's see...other things I'm feeling guilty about...oh, I'm feeling guilty because I should be knitting my nephew's christmas present (Bobbi Intveld's Bobbi Bear...very cute), and all I really want to knit are socks for myself. Yeah, I'm selfish like that.

All I Want is Quiet

It's so loud here right now. It just seems like everyone is pissed off and screaming at each other and I'm just here typing, being ignored. I really wanted to get out of the house tonight, but it seems that I have no life whatsoever and the two people who I could've spent time with had better things to do. I should work on the socks I'm making for Christmas presents. Yeah, go in my room, shut my door and knit. The hermit's perfect night.

Feeling Guilty: Part the Second

Anxiety rules me right now. It sucks...big time. There's a lot of stuff going on in my head, and since I practically live there (my head, that is), it's consuming a lot of my time. I have a lot of weird feelings and thoughts and issues. Neurotic mess would be an accurate description. I don't know what exactly is going on or what will happen, but right now, I hate it. The guilt over feeling and thinking these weird thoughts is killing me. That's about as far as I'm going to go into it for now.

Forgotten

The other day, I forgot to shut my door to my room and the dogs decided to make it their little playland for a bit. When I got home there were bits of polyester stuffing for the bears I'm knitting for my nephews' christmas presents, some papers scattered about and a few balls of yarn here and there (aside from the ones that are always randomly littering my room with their yarny goodness). On the bed, I found the lace shawl I started knitting 2 years ago (I'm guessing at this because my memory of the time I bought the yarn for it is a little hazy). It's a circular shawl (based on Elizabeth Zimmerman's Pi shawl) and each round takes twenty to thirty minutes, as I've gotten to the point where there are 576 stitches on the needle. Since I've gotten to that number of stitches, my knitting discipline with this project has been very lax. I'd knit a round here, half a round there. It was not getting any bigger. Now, I've been thinking about the yarn (it's a silk/flax/nylon blend in a muted salmon color) and was planning on frogging the whole thing and making something comepletely different. Then I got to looking at it and remembering all the work I put into it, especially the section of solid eyelet done with a modified knit 2 together where the needle is inserted purlwise in the first stitch and knitwise in the second stitch, resulting in a nearly perfectly reversable fabric. I thought about the times I had to knit back, sometimes 2 whole rounds, because I was so afraid to take it off and rip back to the place I messed up (I was a fairly green knitter when I started it...I have a bit more experience under my belt now). It was painstaking work, hours of my life, and I felt pangs of guilt at the thought of ripping her off the needles. I just couldn't do it, so I finished the round that was started and knit another and part of another before I went to bed. The next day, I knit on it some more and I'm planning on finishing the shawl, maybe not soon, but some day. And who knows, maybe I'll have enough yarn left over for a different shawl, because it was a pound of thick and thin (or more acurately, thin and thinner) yarn that varies from fingering to lace weight. But that's another time. Right now I have people to see and stitches to knit, so until next time, toodles.

Honest About Being A Misanthrope

Yeah, I've decided I really don't like people...mostly just in general, but some in particular as well. I'm getting really tired of disrespectful assholes that seem to just materialize out of thin air. I hate a certain individual, who shall remain nameless, because he's really nasty to me half the time and the other half I just can't seem to do anything right in his opinion. As if I don't already have enough of an inferiority complex, this stuff makes it worse. Nitwits, all of them!

A Wee Bit Sad

Yeah, I'm a wee sad. The Crocodile Hunter died. Not that I was his biggest fan, but it's still kinda sad to me. He was a pretty neat guy, what with the love of nature and the animals and such. I'm gonna stop talking about it now.

Not Much To Say

What sucks about right now (besides the obvious things that always suck for most people) is that I haven't had a whole lot to say lately. And when I do find something to say, it's when I'm not in a position to write about it, usually at work or some other place where there isn't a computer for me to get my hands on. Poop!

I'm Still Somewhat Distraught

I had a lovely, lovely dream last night that I went to France. Yep, France. It was pretty normal at first. In my dream, I was on a tour of the countryside towns and ended up at a train station. I stepped into the restroom at said station and this is where it got weird. All the stalls were really narrow, as in maybe two and a half feet wide...just wide enough for the toilet and about an inch or two on either side. My hips are rather bodacious, so I was having issues maneuvering around in that teeny stall. Not to mention I had several bags with me, as I was a world traveler. So I'm going all around trying to get situated when I realized that I needed something and I couldn't get it. I yelled for my friend to come and it ended up being my long-time best friend (who, after being my friend for 22 years, has really elevated from friend to family), Penelope. That was strange in itself because I've never had a dream with Penelope appearing before. Weird. What was weirder was her yelling back at me to look in my damn bag because she knew what I needed was in there. She was kind of mean and while she's often very sarcastic, she's never been mean to me (not since we were 9 anyway). It made me sad and then, after I had managed to get squared away in the stall, I got all discombobulated again and couldn't figure it out. Later in the dream, I was at a snack machine and all I had were American dimes so I couldn't get yummy nibblies. It was a very strange dream.

My Ears Are Bleeding

I really hate that Clorox Bleach Pen commercial...you know, the one with Kelly Ripa and her awful, awful singing. That woman drives me nuts. I mean, I don't really understand the appeal of Ms. Ripa. She's obnoxious, only moderately attractive and can't act her way out of a paper bag. Every time I've seen her, she seems to make it a point to perpetuate the "dumb blonde" stereotype (or maybe she truly is a dumb blonde, in which case she needs to go learn something already). But enough is enough! Someone fire her and get her off the air...PLEASE!!!

Soup is Good Food

Doc will tell me that I need to put a different CD in my car stereo because I've been listening to the Dead Kennedys' Frankenchrist album too much. I can't help it, it's good fun for the whole family; that is if the family has a lot of contempt for the conservative socio-political culture of the mid-1980s. If not, I suppose it's less family fun and more Minxy-driving-to-work fun.

Speaking of work, I'm currently debating whether or not to go for this full-time position at my current place of employment. Sure, it would be more money and responsibility, and I'm very, very qualified for it, but I also fear rejection, especially if it's paired with being told that I'm not good or experienced enough for the position when I know full well that I am. Hence, the debate. Poop.

I just finished reading one of Dooce's recent posts, which linked to one of her posts at another site. They were about the rise and subsequent fall of Britney Spears. Dooce was brave and opened comments and I wrote a somewhat lengthy one right before this. Now, I have no interest in talking about Britney Spears' current life situation (since I did that already ad nauseum), but I do have a couple of things to say about my own comment. Sometimes, I'll re-read something I wrote and I'll think to myself: Did I just write that? Did I really just express that thought so well that I didn't even realize that it was in my head that way? Seriously, sometimes I amaze myself with my own words...in a good way, that is. Of course, there are more times where I amaze myself with the lack of coolness in my writing, kind of like now. I think I used up all my god writing on a site that's not even my own. Again, I say poop.

Feeling Guilty...

I feel so bad...I haven't had a whole lot to talk about on ye olde blog lately, so I've been leaving nothing here. Not that anyone but Bunny and Doc ever reads my words of non-wisdom, but still I feel like I'm letting my blog down. How freakin' bizarre is that? Guilt over not typing on something I'm not really required to type on...why do I feel guilty for this? I have no clue.

A State of Neglect

I've been such a bad little Minx, seeing as how I haven't blogged in weeks. Yikes! So sorry to my few readers. I've been working my regular job and trying to start up my Mary Kay job/business/thingy and I've been ridiculously stressed. It's sad when you end a vacation more tweaked than you started it. I'm doubtful that I'll be successful at anything I attempt to do. I'm a total failure at everything else in my life, I wonder sometimes if I'll ever get anything right. I also wonder why the hell I chose to do something so totally social as Mary Kay, because I'm a total introvert. Poop. Anyhoo, I'm just letting anyone who reads this know that I am, indeed, alive. Hopefully I'll be more frequent with posts in the future.

Crazy Folk

Sometimes, you see the weirdest things when you work in retail. Today at job #1, I saw a customer who was proudly wearing a trucker cap that proclaimed "it ain't gonna lick itself," which I found quite charming as I tried to understand him and he tried to hear me. I'm not entirely sure if he and his woman (or possibly mom, who knows...with the age difference was difficult to tell) were from around here. It was a colorful experience to say the least. Then, I saw the fairly pretty and decently put-together girl who had the mile long toenails. I think she was trying to be like Howard Hughes or something. It looked like she even had them filed to sharp lil points. Creepy. And finally, there was the old fella who said to me (after I asked him how he was doing) "everyone I can get my hands on and you're next." All I can guess is that he thought I asked "who" he was doing and not "how" he was doing. I tell ya, shit like this certainly keeps it interesting.

NOAH!!!!!!!!!

My sweet and wonderful nephew, oh how I love this little guy. He's such a happy little dude, too. He smiles like the picture much of the time (you know, when he's not crying because he's hungry...that boy can eat, let me tell ya). He and his brother and parents (and dog, hehehe) came for a visit over this past weekend and the minute he saw me, he remembered me with a smile and a giggle. We played the last time he was here (about 3 weekends), and I got him smiling and laughing so much and he remembered that. It made me so happy. Don't get me wrong, I love his big brother Anthony just as much, but Anthony doesn't get excited to see me like Noah does. Anthony is excited to see Papa and Omma (my mom and dad), and Noah is excited to see his Aunt Manda. They each have their people they get excited for. And that's ok. Speaking of Anthony, he does such cute things. He found my socks on the living room floor and picked them up and put them in his brother's diaper bag. He grabbed my sister's glass of water from the end table and drank from it like a big boy (the first time he'd ever done it) and took 2 good drinks before he drizzled some down the front of him. Everything he does is amazing and special. Everything that both of them do is amazing and special. I don't think I could've asked for better nephews.

Finally Spring!!

It's spring and I'm so glad it's finally here to stay!! No more winter...YAY!!!!!! Happy May 1st, everyone. Just a few more days, Jo, and you'll be 18!!!!!!!! I'm so happy for you!! I love spring!!

Eep!

Yeah, I'm going to be a Mary Kay lady. Yep, it's true. And it scares the hell out of me because I have to start out with some debt before I start making my money with it and we all know how uptight Minxy is about money. YIKES!!! My debut is going to be the weekend after Mother's Day and it's probably going to be like a Mary Kay open house type of deal. Megan, my unit director and the person whose team I'm on, will run the show and hopefully I'll be able to sell some of the large quantity of wholesale items I need to purchase to be able to start this out right. After reading what I just wrote, I realize it only conveys one part of what I'm feeling about this. I'm scared, yes, but I'm also really excited because I love make-up and skin care and the MK products are really good ones. I'm going to be a self-employed small business owner...how can that NOT be both scary AND exciting?

Deathtrap Dodge: The Van of Death

Driving onto the east ramp roadway that runs parallel to route 17 between Elmira's Church and Water streets, there was a van. To be more precise, an early-mid nineties model Dodge Caravan that had obviously seen better days. Doc and I were driving behind this fine piece of high-quality Mexi-merican-made machinery when I noticed the passenger side of the back end was lower than the other side. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that there was not nearly enough air in the tire to keep the van level. In fact, when given the right angles to view, I saw that the only tire that did, indeed, have enough air in it was the rear tire on the driver's side. Doc and I discussed this (while wondering aloud as to how in the hell they had fit 8 people along with all the extra shit we could see through the window) and came to the conclusion that somewhere along the way, that tire was gonna blow. Doc's plan was to get around said piece of shit van as soon as possible. The van, however, had other plans and thwarted the first attempt to pass once we were on the highway. It got quite a bit ahead of us and eventually, we came across it again. I looked and said "Oh my God, it's the van of death!" Doc concurred and said "You can tell it's hard to control by how it's wavering in the lane. I really want to get around it before it explodes and everyone in it dies" (or something to that effect anyway). So he tried a few more times to get by it, and eventually succeeded. As we passed, I looked out the window toward the van (and was tempted to open my window to tell them their tires needed air). I turned my head back to Doc and said "No wonder they were wavering so much; the driver wasn't using her co-pilot. They have 3 nearly flat tires and when I looked, she was looking down to her side for something instead of at the road. Dude, they're doomed."

Doormat No More

Sounds like some kind of spray to rid oneself of errant doormats, doesn't it? Well, I have no errant doormats that I know of. It's more in reference to the fact that I'm tired of how so many people in my life seem to think that I have to have their opinions. Or that I should bend to their will. Screw that! No, no more!

Every day, I'm bombarded with people trying to force their opinions on me. You read correctly, opinions, not beliefs, OPINIONS (which I just noticed that if you take the "p" and first "I" out of, you're left with ONIONS...stinky). People make it their routine to get others to "side" with what they think to be true. I also have a lot of people presenting false information to me as truth, but that's a whole other blog right there. Is everyone permitted to have an opinion? Of course they are. But is being allowed an opinion automatic permission to attempt to make others have the same exact one? No freakin way. Express it and get over it. Don't stand there telling me the same smack-talk over and over again trying to get me to like this or not like that all while assuming that we have the same thought on something, 'cause I can guarantee you that ninety percent of the time, we won't. Which is a nice segue into the wanna-bend-me-to-their-will part.

Here's a story.

I was recently verbally attacked twice by someone who decided it was their business to chime in on a private conversation I was having with someone else. (For the sake of efficiency, the person in question will be referred to in the masculine form.) I stated some opinions about someone else and also said that this someone else shouldn't advocate going against the rules. I wasn't being judgmental, I was stating facts. Well, he overheard the last couple of words of the conversation (the factual part about not breaking rules) and then tried to chew me out about it. The basic gist of the attacks was that this person wanted to assert his self-righteous conviction that whatever he said was right and I was wrong. The goal was to make me feel guilty and ashamed over what I was saying to the other person and to show to the world that I'm a bad person for my own opinions and assertions (which if he had heard the entire conversation, he would've been aware that they were indeed two different things). I was commanded to not pass judgment on people he knows, even though I hadn't. Now, if he had any concept of the English language, he would've known that passing judgment and stating an opinions and facts are not the same thing. Judgment implies one making a declaration of right/wrong and saying one should be praised/punished for the right/wrongdoing. I handled it quietly and didn't bend, which is actually a good thing for me. The point is, was the conversation any of their business? NO!! Did they think it was? YES. Why is that, I wonder? Why do people think that if they happen to overhear something that has nothing whatsoever to do with them, then they have the right to say and/or do whatever they want in response? Also, why do they think that I have to bow to their attack? Why do so many people think that others don't have (or aren't entitled to) a mind of their own?

I realize that's a lot of questions all in a row, but this shit's been bugging me for some time. In my daily routine, it's so easy to get sucked into other people's drama and/or mindsets and I'm so incredibly tired of it. So this is my declaration of reclamation of the Minx. I will no longer be intimidated by small people who use stupid, low tactics in a ridiculous attempt to empower themselves. I will no longer allow people to believe that I will assume their opinions instead of having my own. I will not bend and I will not break. My back will be as if I have a steel spine. My mind will be MY OWN. If anyone doesn't like that proposal, you can fuck off asshole, because it's non-negotiable.

Zzzzzz.....

Yes, I should probably be sleeping. I don't really feel like it, though. I think I'm feeling lost a little, in a spiritual sense, that is. 'Cause physically, I know precisely where I am (which is the corner of the kitchen where the computer desk is). I don't know. I just feel like I'm missing something and yikes, I'm starting to sound like an ad for the Book of Mormon. Not that I have anything against Mormons or Mormonism, it's just that some of their commercials start out that way. What sucks is that I have so many issues with all the religions I've either been exposed to or read about that I've found it nearly impossible to choose a way to cultivate spirituality in myself. It's frustrating. What's also frustrating is that this makes two serious posts in a row. I've lost the funny, I've lost the wit. Please, oh please let it come back soon.

A Thought

Sometimes, I wish I was famous or in charge of a big company or something. I just want to be important. I want to be known and admired for something more than my sarcasm. I mean, sarcasm's good and all, but not much in the grand scheme of things. And sometimes I feel like I'm not much in the grand scheme of things. Poop.

Nephews (plus 1)

I dare say I have the cutest nephews on the whole damn planet. Anthony, the elder of the two, is making sure that Noah doesn't have a fever (or perhaps it's a headache he's worried about...I don't know as that part's not clear). They're sitting here with their friend MaKenna, who is about midway between the two boys. I'm not sure if it's just the camera angle or something else, but man do her feet look big. And Noah's legs are all froggy and sweet. I love my nephews. They're two of my favorite people in the universe. Sometimes, Anthony likes to make sure that Noah's feet aren't too hot, so he takes his brother's little socks off. This is mostly because Anthony can't take his own off because his parents like to keep his shoes on him almost all the time. When Noah sleeps (or is laying on his back), he puts his hands behind his head like he's lounging. It's the sweetest thing. I don't know much about MaKenna except that she's the daughter of my sister and brother-in-law's friends and she's tiny, but spunky. And she seems to be quite the finicky eater from what I hear. I'm rambling I think. I tend to do that when I talk about my nephews and their friend. So I'm going to stop rambling right...........now! 

An Exchange

Apparently, Britnee was having a bad day with school work and it was all piling up on her. She looked to Bre to vent her frustrations. I walked in toward the end.

Bre: I'm so quoting that on my MySpace.
Britnee: What? Why?
Bre: 'Cause it was so cute.
Manda: What was cute?
Bre: What she just said.
Manda: What did she say?
Britnee: That it was the whipped cream on top of the icing that's on my cake.

I love those girls. They crack me up.