••• Sunday, December 30, 2007

Sunday Sundries 

Preface Whine
Regarding this here cottage dial-up, I have figured out that I get about 3 "clicks"
per internet connection before getting booted or screen freeze. When it comes to Meaningful Events of Access, i.e. picture uploads or access to Blogger, I have determined my allotment to be about 3 per 12 hour period. And unused events do not carry over.

::I've also determined that the "up" in this "dial-up", is a bit of an exaggeration. In fact, there's nothing "up" about the internet here. "Dial-Over" maybe. And I'm pretty sure the guy in charge of the one internet modem for the county is also in charge of snow plowing and runs the local pizza shop. Therefore, whenever it snows or people are hungry, I'm screwed.::

On With the Snow. This is It.
1) If you read my last post directly from the Google Reader page, without coming to the blog, it may not have made sense. I don't know if bloglines left out the important slashes too. Just sayin'.

2) Friday Snowflake:
In comments on Friday's post, Carole and Kat asked how I caught the snowflake with my camera. ::Sorry I can't link to you right now. I tried. I can't get into my blog.I'm lucky to be here, right now.::

I wish I could share some magical formula, but I got none. I think it was fluke.

The problem I was having with the snowflakes was that the camera auto focus was getting confucused by all the snowflakes and couldn't focus on any one.

So, I set my camera to the "movement" setting and shot while standing close to the cottage, which buffered the amount of snowflakes that fell in front of me, and I started shooting. I took about 15 and all I got was that one good shot, and only because I happened to snap when there were suddenly few snowflakes to compete with. I then turned it into black and white for ultimate contrast, and cropped it. That's all I got.

3) Saturday Sky.

4) Sunday Cottage. Three Doors Down.

5) Monday Sock.* ::And I rock. I do. More on that when I'm all done.::

*You might remember that knitting a sock was on my list of Intendments for 2007, which makes the deadline Monday, 11:59 p.m. And yes, I think I'm in lurve.

I can't finish this post. The internet gods are pretty much dragging my ass up the stairs and are getting ready to throw me into the abyss known as Real Time. I'm hitting publish, as is. I gotta sock to finish.

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••• Friday, December 28, 2007

On The Threshold of a Scream Dream 

I hate Christmas was wonderful beyond my dreams. Christmas Eve I stayed up until 2:00 a.m., ransacking the house in search of my secret booze stash, after knocking off the last legitmate bottle of wine. to make sure the next morning was nothing less than perfect.

Christmas morning, Cakers was up at the crack of ass dawn to open her gifts. Then, while Cakers played with her new toys, I cleaned up the wrapping paper mess and prepared a plan to get myself legally adopted by the lady down the block for mid-morning brunch with the in-laws. No sooner had I finished with all that, when College Boy came over from his father's house, to open his presents.

When my son was done opening his gifts, I was struck by a sudden sense of sadness at not having run away with that rogue band of eunoch bikini waxers, back in college. had a few more kids, with a few more different men, so the gaiety of this morning could have been extended.

After a third round of gift exchange, this time with my in-laws, punch was spiked brunch was served. After the table was cleared,we had a surpise guest: Child phenom Caker Monshaker.

My inlaws left at 2:00, which gave me just a couple of hours to hunt down my former therapist to ask him to: 1) drop the restraining order and 2) Get me a 48 hour inpatient placement, where I would be expected to do nothing but enjoy a medication-induced euphoria and whoozily receive my guilt-ridden visitors. prepare for a round of toxic relational debauchery reciprocal love and joy with my mother, siblings and nieces and nephews, at a party being held later in the evening.

That party went pretty well except for the part where my niece shot my nephew in the neck with a pellet gun and my former SWAT instructor brother had to take her down, to disarm her and then my mom cried., but the highlight of the evening was the presentation of my Tammy Faye Snuff film snowman cupcakes.

And even though most of the little snowman noses fell like panties off a Spears'ass off in transit to the party, my family members were so thrilled with these little fellas that they fought over who would get to implode theirs next in the microwave get first pick.

In fact, by then end of the night there were only two left and I found them in the back room, toasted and nestled between two graham crackers, with a chunk of a Nestle's bar.!

I spent the next day sniffing cleaning supplies and sucking the scalp of Cakers'new wig. cleaning, and the day after that I cleaned up after the cleaning up.

And today, we're at the cottage.
Halya Fucking Loo Ya.

I'm so excited to be here that I don't give a whit about the anticipated 6-10 inches of snow expected between 4 and 11 p.m. today.

Early in the snow shower, the flakes were huge and I wanted to take a picture of one. I received a photography book for Christmas, but it doesn't have anything in it about photographing snowflakes, so I winged it.

Here's to Getting Hosed on New Years
I bet you thought I forgot.
But I didn't.

I'm finished with the leg part. Next, I have to do that stuff that makes sox more than just messing around with a 7 inch tube of glorious substance.

Soxual Heeling, Baybee.

p.s. I meant to have the this post done two days ago. But hey, Shit happens. Shit Happens.

p.s. I REALLY meant to have this post done two hours ago. But hey, Blogger Happens. Blogger Happens.

p.s. I'm ree ree tired and will not be checking publication for typos, grammos or STDS.

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••• Monday, December 24, 2007

A Tale for the Season 

The Redemption of a Hater

I had a post all planned out for today. In this post there was to be lots of whinging. Specifically, whinging about the bringing of the Happy Joy to loved ones who not only deserve some, but who also return some, tenfold.


I had the post planned out, in all it's clever, but due to circumstances that bring said opportunity for whinge, there was no time to whinge it.

Then along came a mess of these, courtesy of the collective, creative hardship of me, my man and my darling daughter:

They've been giving me smile all day.

And I hereby wish the same upon you.

So, have Some Glee.
On me.

::If you currently struggle with Having the Glee, I suggest you click on that first picture, to embiggen, and look at the collection of little buttons upon their little berets. It might save you bucks in therapy.::

::In fact, I suggest you embiggen both pictures.::

::That being said, in the event of embiggen, don't look the guy who appears to need waterproof mascara, directly in the eye. Otherwise, enjoy.::


••• Friday, December 21, 2007

Sleigh Me. 

I wish I could tell you about all that has beseiged me, this week. But I can't.

Instead, I bring you my all-time favorite, one-balled* wonder, for today's Eye Candy.

May Your Days Be Furry and Bright.

*And the one is borrowed, poor guy.

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••• Monday, December 17, 2007

Wherein the Mighty Sklawg Done Smite Me Hither 

::No, a monkey has not flown out of anybody's behind.I really am posting twice within a 3 day period.::

1) Sinus Sklawg- For two weeks now, I’ve had this sinus thing I can only describe as Sklawg. Sinus Sklawg. Sinus Sklawg is stuff. Stuff that mostly hangs around in my head, without really bothering anybody. Every once in awhile, however, the Sklawg comes downtown for a visit. Usually it’s at a most inopportune moment, like when I’m about to make an earth shatteringly profound statement in a meeting of very important people. Wherein I am forced to stop mid-Earth-shatteringly-profound-thought to make a slightly downward urp gesture with my chin, followed by the not so-earth-shatteringly profound thought: “What the hell was that?” When I can finally speak, I sound like I’m channeling a bowl of cream of wheat.

2) Work Sklawg- For months now, I’ve had this work thing I can only describe as Sklawg. Work Sklawg. Work Sklawg is stuff. Stuff that mostly hangs around in the heads of other people, without really bothering anybody. Every once in awhile, however, the Sklawg comes out for a visit, in the form of some uniquely bizarre event or Drop-Everything-Now-And-Perform-This-Uniquely-Bizarre-Task-Which-We-Just-Today-Discovered-Falls-Distinctly-Under-Your-Job-Description. Of course this will occur at a most inopportune moment, like when I’m up to my brainballs in Very Important Report, complete with a heavily looming and non-negotiable deadline. Wherein I am forced to remove my fingers from the keyboard, swipe the zone-induced drool from my chin, and ask the Current-Sklawg-Bearer-Who-Stands-Before-Me “Yeahsss?”. This person could be of student, administrator or co-worker ilk, but always the bearer of the Sklawg has a story/task/bikini-wax-trauma that will top all those that have shadowed my keyboard before them. To date.

At the conclusion of the presented tale, I will make a slightly downward urping gesture with my chin and think: “What the hell was that?” When I can finally speak, I sound like I’m channeling a tube of anchovy paste.

3)Home Sklawg-Let's just say that there's stuff. And people. And urp-like chin gestures. And when I speak, it sounds like I'm channeling an oyster fork in my eye.

Ima Gonna Be a Sock Star!
Thanks for all the support and encouragement on my Intendamental accomplishments and for the ideas for my first sock pattern. I had meant to email personal responses to contributors, but over the last month or so, I’ve been busier than a three-legged River Dancer.

Last week we had a bogus snow day. :: It started out as a 2 hour delay, information which was not relayed to me until I was 3 minutes from the office. One hour into the two hour delay, a snow day was proclaimed. I ended up staying for a couple of hours longer, after discovering that on a real or imagined snow day, there is never a line at the copy machine. ::

Anyway, after blowing half of my first snow day of the year at work, I indulged myself in a little trip to the yarn store, where I picked up a little bit of this:

:: It's called Magico. I think I'll need it.::

After some very careful research ::I compared your recommendations to pattern books I had on hand.:: I decided to go with Ann Budd’s pattern from that book with the socks and sweaters and hats and stuff. To my grave disappointment, once home from the yarn shop, I realized I didn’t have #1 needles, and haven’t had a chance to get out since. At least now I have a plan. And some yarn.

At the yarn store they were having a sale on Debbie Bliss Cashmerino.

I snagged three skeins of the gray and two of creepy yellow.

Cut to the Chase
About Wednesday of last week, I realized that I had a cut and color appointment on the upcoming Saturday, and needed a gift for my stylist. What with a handful of lovely Cashmerino and full access to the internets, what was a girl to do but whip up a lovely something or other?

Isn't it simply Dashing?

I finished it Saturday night, not long after I gave my beloved stylist a packet of freshly minted photo note cards.

The stylist loved the cards, and I'm not too broken up about being stuck with some Cashmerino wrist warmers.

::And yes, we have no thumb stubs. After a pathetic attempt on the first one, I gave up. Evidently, when it comes to knitting thumb stubs, I’m all pinkies.::

Maybe Cute, But She Snow Bunny.

::Photos taken off the Auto mode. No idea what setting though. I just twirl and shoot. I'm guessing snow shots are a safe bet for this methodology.::

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••• Friday, December 14, 2007

Always, With the Balls... 

My name is Marcia and I’m a Slackaholic. It’s been seven days since I last made meaningful contribution to any purpose here on Earth and three days since I was last yelled at by the lady who lives in the automated check-out machine, at the grocery store.

Today's Eye Candy is sponsored by the local chapter of MAMoStriLiWhUnDerInfluHomiIdWhoFaMeStiNeedaCouMoYeaToGeOvLastin (Mothers Against Mothers Stringing Lights While Under the Influence of Homicidal Ideation Whose Family Members Still Need a Couple More Years To Get Over That Last Incident)

I've been messing with the manual settings on my camera. I have no idea to where I'm spinning dials, or why, but I'm having fun.



::I think that fuzzy graininess is known as "noise". I kind of like it in some cases. And ya gotta love Rudolph's 'Reindeer in Headlights' stunned, yet grainy glaze.::

You wouldn't know it by this picture, but Cheddar actually hates the zoom lens.

When I was a kid, there was one year when we had all homemade ornaments on the tree.

This is the last of the Melted Plastic Drink Cup ilk. God Bless the 70's.

::I may have told that melted cup story last year. What can I say? I'm a whore for stupidity.::


••• Thursday, December 06, 2007

Wollah Back 

We are one week into December, and lots of you are several weeks into the holiday hustle already.

Not me, man.

Just last week I told Cakers that she had to take her homemade Halloween decoration off the front door. ::It was really cute and, technically a Neewollah decoration, on account of her hanging the letters in reverse order.:: Once the door was free of fall holiday debris, I re-hung my favorite Christmas angel on the door. She had been taken down at the insistence of Cakers, in early October, to make room for the Neewollah.

But hey. We're not total slackers. Last weekend, The Husband Formerly Known as Cabana tossed a few Christmas light hairnets on some bushes out back, for our private viewing pleasure.

Inside the house? I got nothin'. And between the daily,increasingly bizarro surprises at work and Not-The-Cabana's work schedule, Christmas is nary a twitch in my inner Bitchmom Screampants' eye.

What I am sweating right now, is the knowledge that I have to knit a sock in the next three weeks, but I don't know how.

Awkward Segue. Please Bear With.
Last January, I did something unusual for me, and threw out some behavioral and personal goals for the year 2007. I called them Intendments.

With just a few bites left of 2007, I think it's the perfect time to assess my progress, and see if I can maybe squeeze out another one, or two.

2007 Knitting Intendments
1) I will continue in my quest to decrease my current stash at a rate that is equal to or greater than the increase.

Sometimes I crack myself up.
Uh, No.

2) I will knit at least one garment using the yarn recommended by the designer.

Ariann and Mondo.
Yes and Yes.

3) I will try my hand at knitting a sock.

Not yet, but that's why I'm writing this today. Because I can still squeeze this one in.

4) I will try to stick to one project at a time, if possible.

This one was kind of vague.
So I give myself a vague nod.

Creative Intendments
1) I will read the manual for my camera.

2) I will find the manual for my camera. And then, I will read it.

I found the manual.
I tried to read it.

This is what it got me: Ghostcakes in the Sand.

At least this one had a little more color.

I give myself half a yes.

3) Until I find and read the manual for my camera, I will stay away from the Flickr sites that showcase incredible photos taken by alleged amateurs who use the very same camera as I do.


4) I will play with my sewing machine.

Not as much as I'd have liked to, but Yes.

5) I will share more stories from my childhood. ::You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll unsubscribe.::

I haven't done much of this. And you unsubscribed anyway.
So that's a No for me.
And a Yes for you.

Intendments for the Body
1) I will continue to learn to accept my aging body, with grace and a plump ass.

It seems to help that my vision is deteriorating at a rate commiserate with the dropping of my Everythings.

So Yes.

2) I will refuse to accept that I can feel my stomach bouncing off the tops of my thighs when I walk up the stairs. Okay, we have a steep staircase, but still.

I lost 7.5 pounds last year.

3) I will weigh myself once a month, post-period.


Intendments for the Soul
1) I will call the high school friends I promised I would call, after seeing them at my recent high school class reunion.

I was going to call one friend over spring break, but then Cabana ended up in the hospital and I was afraid he was going to die. But he didn't. So I ran out of excuses.

2) I will read more books.

I read more books.

3) I will take definite and specific breaks from the internet.

Done and doner.

4) I will get over a fear and travel to meet some bloggers.

I had hoped to make it to SAFF this year, but didn't. I did go to Knitterpalooza, which was an hour's drive, one way. C'est traveling, non?

So Yes.

For a person who doesn't normally make New Year's resolutions as such, I think I did pretty well. And it's not over yet, people. I'm going to knit me a sock.

Anybody know of a good sock pattern for an ingenue?

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••• Sunday, December 02, 2007

Sundry Morning Going Down 

The Artist Formerly Known as Cabana ::TAFKC?::
Over the past several weeks, TAFKC has been working three jobs, mouseballs to the wall. ::He's a private contractor in the automotive industry. He designs tools. Not hammers and wrenches. It's complicated.::

Anyway. A few months age he hit a long stretch of unemployment. In recent weeks, however, he's been blessed with almost more work than he can handle ::Delicate balance, that.::

While this is a very good thing on several levels, it's wreaking havoc on his normally calm, happy demeanor, and my usually calm, happy expectation of having the dishwasher routinely unloaded and the almost magical appearance of clean laundry in my drawers and closet. ::He's much better at things like laundry and dishes than I am. It's my job to cook and look good.::

Later this week my over-employed husband is contracting himself into a shop for a few days. This is a good thing on many levels, the best being that it's a sure indicator of his having walled his balls to the top of the contractor list of a seemingly thriving company, in a seemingly dying industry.

What this means for you and for me is that, between my usual household tasks, extra tasks, the maintenance of the semblence of a regular exercise regime and my own work stressors ::this is the first weekend in weeks I haven't brought work home.::, there will be little time, energy or even cognitive reserves left for things like blogging. Or knitting. Or thinking. Even.

Knits in the Belfry
I have no idea what that means. But I like it.

On my girls' weekend a couple weeks back, I made a several inch dent on Cakers' Williams L'il Step-Bro sweater. Last weekend, after crawling to my favorite knit spot on the couch, I fixin' to switch to the main color when I realized that my cable pattern was two rows shy a full cable. Throughout the whole 7 inches. So I ripped it back to ground zero. ::I've decided that the worst part of ripping a garment back to nothing is the casting it on again. Hate. Ful.::

Last night I finally faced up to my stupidity ::She has a huge black hair jetting out of her chin. Idiot.:: and started anew.

I should be working on it right now, instead of doing this, but I need to get this done too. And then the laundry. And a workout. And that black hair on my chin. I think I can see it when I look down. ::I do have a small nose.::

This L'il Step-Bro pattern is a basic 4-stitch cable, and what I once would have called "mindless knitting." Since making yet another of what seems like a fucktillion and three stupid knitting mistakes in recent months, I've redefined my definition of "mindless knitting," as follows:

The Mother of All Designers
After seeing some previews of Vera Wang's clothing line for Kohl's, I went over there for a look-see. I was gravely disappointed. For one thing, none of the items I saw online that piqued my interest were in stock. Or if they were, I couldn't find them.

The Wang display was ridiculously clusterfucked with deep racks, stacked over deep racks, which made it almost impossible to dig to the back. Of the rack. On these deep racks, were skirts of black, mixed with pants, mixed with jeans, mixed with sweaters, none with any outward indication of size.

As I dug to the back of the rack of black for a pleated skirt I saw on a mannequin, my head somehow dislodged a jacket from the overhead track of the rack, which wracked my last nerve as it tumbled upon my head.

And how wack, that the top track of the rack was too tall for me to put the jacket back?

Way wack.
Candy lak.

I ended up bringing home a nice pair of black pants, and some disturbing images of my boobs-as-plumb, from my having tried on some gathered blouses with unfortunately placed gathers; clearly designed for the A to the B Girls Club.

Parting question: When Vera Wang says to her teenage daughters "You're wearing that?" do you think they pay her heed?

P.S. I had another whole topic for today but unexpectantly blew my wad on the above.
You might actually see two days in a row of posting 'round here, y'all! Or not.