••• Thursday, January 31, 2008

When It Rains, It Pours Snows 

Tuesday afternoon it was 47 degrees here, and pouring down rain.The forecast for Tuesday night, however, called for a sudden drop in temperature, snow, high winds and below zero wind chills.

The meteorologists were having a field day with this incoming band of dread. With each forecast update, there was chest beating, gong banging and foaming of the orifices.

And what was the cause of this above average weatherpeeps hyperfest?

A heavy coat of freshly fallen vernacular: Flash Freeze Warning.

I had never heard of this Thing Called Flash Freeze, and initially it brought to mind a vague, childhood memory of an instant coffee commercial.

Anyway. Because it was fairly warm, Bella had been in and out of the house all day Tuesday,likely to poop under the porch and look for other signs of spring, such as baby bunnies and bikini waxes. At 10:30 p.m., with a stunned look on her fur and artic winds at her ass, Bella darted into the house after Cheddar's last call.

That night I did not sleep well. The wind rattled the house and wracked windows with branches. When I did sleep, I was haunted by dreams of Flash Frozen Bellas, stuck on the lawn, like tiny Sphinxes on an Egyptian Tundra. Well, if the Egyptians had such a thing.

In one dream she was only semi-frozen, so could still meow a little. A couple of times I woke up with racing heart and the momentary belief that I had left my L'il Fluffinator outside to die. Once awake, I'd remember that she was indeed safe. Eventually I’d fall back to sleep, for another round of Fargo Bella.

Wednesday we had a snow day. Snow Day is Good. Usually. But a second Snow Day in a one week period? Not so good. At least for me. As I've said before, legally mandated timelines and deadlines do not know the Snow Day.

Tonight we're supposed to get up to 10 inches of new snow. And if another Snow Day is called,it will definitely be too much of a good thing.

Sometimes Too Much of a Good Thing is Just Right

Thank you Robbyn and Kat With a K, for the nominations.

Not only am I honored by the honor itself, but also by the mere association with such distinguished company of the other nominees. Thank you, again.

I'm still working on my list of nominations. It should be a simple thing to do, but I kind of like things complicated, ya know?

I just met Kat at the Franklin event, last Saturday. Distracted by the news of our local tragedy, I neglected to mention her in my last post. And Sharon. ::waving.:: And Eweniss ::Nice to meet you! And I'm really sorry I swore in front of your children. Really. ::

When it Rains, it Snows. When it Snows, I Knits.
I finished the back of Cakers Willams Step-Bro sweater. I hope to get sleeves done this weekend. It will be good to knock this one off my Mission Possible list.

This project has been like an annoying wad of toilet paper,in the sewage system of my mind. ::shut up.:: It starts off as a fairly innocuous slowdown. But pretty soon the other innocuous stuff backs up behind it, and, well,let's just say I'm looking forward to this particular dance with the plunger. And I apologize for the scary imagery of the inside of my mind.

Friday Morning Update: No Snow Day. Yay. I just hope Sharon can get off the ground today, for her trip to Cancun. I couldn't post this last night because Blogger was being a Booger.

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••• Sunday, January 27, 2008


Of Course I Went.
And now...

Which is pretty damn cool.

But not nearly as damn cool as this guy, who I'd rank up there as 1 in a million, plus a few hundred thou, give or take.

What's he like? Classy, down-to-Earth, authentic, gentle, handsome and looks completely dignified with a lamp dome stuck to the side of his head. He was also wearing some sick boots, which I can't believe I forgot to photograph.

As for me, I'm not that impressed with that double chin action I got going. ::Why do I never see this when I look in the mirror?::

The afternoon wasn't all about the aggrandizement of self. There was also a little aggrandizement of stash.

This is Lorna's Shepard Pie. Or something.

And Schaefer's Anne.

I also spent a couple of hours knitting and, once again, basking in the collective neuroses glorious company of these fine speciwomen:

She Whose Stink Does Not Stink

Gramma Who Can Burp a Frat Brother to Shame

Kel was also in the house, but working. Really hard. And efficiently. And Assistantly Managerial. /plug.

On a Somber Note
One of our students was killed in a car accident yesterday, right around the time I was leaving Threadbear. The roads were a bit dicey at both the beginning and end of my trip home, so I was already feeling skittish and vulnerable when I received the call that the cri*sis team was convening 6:30 Monday morning.

Cabana was away on a snowboard weekend, so I was in a lonely, scared spot for awhile last night. I worried about the current whereabouts of my own son, then thought about a mother whom I've never met, whose life as she knew it ended just a few hours earlier, while I was still smiling from the afternoon's adventures.

With Cabana out of town, Cakers and I had a lot of one-on-one time today. We went to breakfast and grocery shopping. Then she played outside while I put a meal in the crockpot. As I went through these typical weekend mom-chores, especially picking out Cakers' favorite treats at the grocery store, that other mother remained in my thoughts.

I've already started preparing for tomorrow; running through the drill, bracing myself emotionally, while piecing together my best game brain.

I've been in this job for 13 years, and still do not feel adequate in the role of cri*sis/grief coun*selor. I'm sure this is because I don't often practice in this area.

Truth be, it's a skill in which I prefer to remain inexpert.

Now everybody, go hug somebody.


••• Friday, January 25, 2008

Eye-Cand-Believe-It's-Been-a-Week-Since-Last-Friday Friday 

Cabana brought home a bouquet of flowers last Friday, to help warm up a welcome for my new friends. All this week, those old buds provided a warm (and sometimes giggly)reminder of my new buds, as well as a notable sense of sad that the party had come and gone, already.

They started going bad a couple of days ago ::The flowers, not the friends. I'm pretty sure that ship done sailed long ago.::, but I couldn't bring myself to throw them away.

Today I finally had to do it, but only after I snapped a couple buds to remember.

P.OMG.S. Franklin is in Lansing, MI as I type, a mere 55 minutes away, sans inclement weather and speed limits. He's going to be at The Fabulous T-Bears, taking pictures for his 1,000 knitters book. I can't decide if I should go...

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••• Thursday, January 24, 2008

Plethura Thursday 

The Dull
F.O. F.O.
I bore to tears, I know.
But no dull Sheila
When I drink Tequila.
F.O. F.O.


This is a hat.

This is another hat.

I knit these hats Mission-ary style, out of the Noro Fuji-no-Mojo. They will be donated to a chemo cap drive.

The Girl Grown Fast
Remember this little Nugget?

I posted that picture my first year In-Blog. Would you believe that she is currently wrapping up a very successful, premier season as a Girl Scout Cookie representative? She even made a couple cold calls.

And last night we received the much awaited phone call, with the news that she was selected to be in her school's production of Alice in Wonderland, as Gardner No. 3::Over 100 students tried out for 24 roles.::

The Girl Grown Wise
About once a week, in lieu of reading a bedtime story, I lie down with Cakers on the bed for what we call "girl talk," wherein I ask her to share a snippet from her day, and then share a snippet from mine.

Tonight she told me some goofy thing one of her friends had done at school. When I asked her why her friend did that goofy thing, Cakers paused, sighed with just a hint of drama, and said "She doesn't think her brain."

Gardener No. 3: Clearly a force to be rakened with.

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••• Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Things I Learnt This Weekend: 

1. The Horsemen Knew Her.

While that particular bit of education was a blast in the learning, when I woke up Sunday morning with swollen brain, cotton mouth and a pocket full of cartoon-faced maxi-pad, I determined The Horsemen to be of apocalypse ilk.

2. Sure,She's Cute (and Photogenic!), But Keep an Eye Out.

Saturday night in the Motel room, while some of us embarked upon an evening of interpersonal growth and spiritual renewal, Kel was typing us all up on the internetz!

::Please read her post for a general overview of our weekend, pre-Apocalypse Riders. And for the record, I'm only copping to the Tequila statement.::

2. She is the Best Laugher I Ever Snorted.

And how that woman got me sharing stuff known only to a husband, a couple of lesbians and an aloe plant, is still beyond me. All within the first hour of our meetup. Pre-alcohol.

3. I Can Entertain Guests Without Anyone Dying.

Just so you know, Kristi couldn't see a thing when that picture was taken. She did make a gallant effort to pretend otherwise, by remarking on the traffic going past the house, as observed out the picture window in the living room.

So wasn't she surprised to learn that the window faces the back yard?
Yeah. She was.

4. I Need to Hone My Multi-Tasking Skills in the Social Milieu.

This is going to be a sock for my husband.

I cast on for this sock Saturday evening in the motel room, around 6:30. After casting on, I recount the cast on stitches about 347 times. Except for brief intervals of pee and mandated moments of entertainment, I held on to this sock-to-be for the duration of the evening, with every intention of joining the ends and knitting at least a round.

In retrospect, I think I didn't complete the join because on some meta-conscious level I needed the needles straight, to serve as a psychological handle bar to which I clung for dear life for the rest of the night. In a good way.

5. We Could All Use a Little More Ass Slapping, Cheer Clapping, Pony Hopping, Tea Snarking, Yarn Skanking, Pants Pissing and Love Dishing, in Our Lives.

Thank you, friends.

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••• Friday, January 18, 2008

Send Brain 

Reason no. 347 I should never live alone.

Or be left with the cleaning.



While cleaning out my recipe file last week, I came across this half-folder sheet. This was part of my recipe folder, back in another life, with a different man and a different name.

When the folder disintegrated, I saved this half. On it are two improvised recipes and a few names and addresses. I don't think I ever made that spaghetti recipe again. The other is a recipe for a single serving margarita, which I made up.

More on that later.

And even though I flip past the folder-half every time I rifle through my recipe folder, I haven't looked at it closely, in years.

Also on this folder are a couple of names and addresses of two of my best friends from high school. After graduation, I went to college and they got jobs and an apartment together. On Good Friday of my sophomore year in college, I stopped by for a visit, which I usually did when I was home. On this visit they sat me down and, well, they broke up with me. They asked me not to come around anymore. We were traveling differents paths, blah blah.

I, of course, was crushed. I was never a "large pack-o-friends" person, and only kept company with those whose company meant something.


After the "breakup", I never called them again and over the years they both married and moved. So, when I was putting together addresses for our 10 year class reunion, I had to get their addresses from an outside source. Evidently this source called me while I was working in the kitchen, and that's why the addresses are on the folder.

Fast Forward
So, this weekend I am being visited upon by a fine contingency of friends I met last September in Lansing.

On the weekend agenda are dinners, yarn crawls, and tonight, Margaritas and knitting at Chez Porcine. ::I should SOOO not be blogging right now. I took a Personal Day to prepare. So far, I've had some coffee and checked my work email. Twice.::

After researching Margarita recipes on line, last night I sent Cabana to the store for supplies so we could take a practice run. After trying one recipe that didn't taste so good, I remembered the etchings of my single serving recipe, on my filthy old folder page. And it was, well, yum.

The other cool thing is that I ran into one of those old friends at my class reunion last year and we had a good talk. She was the one I was supposed to call in 2007, but didn't. I had written her number on a tiny tab of paper, then zipped it up nice and safe, in my change purse. Last time I checked on it ::around Christmas::, it was gone. She's lived in the same place all these years, so the number on the folder is curent. No more excuses.

I think I thought I had some kind of cool serendipity going here, but now I'm getting kind of anxious about getting the house clean and had a suddenly intrusive urge to check for boogers on the wall.

p.s. I'm not checking my work here, Cabana is putting in much effort on behalf of my gathering and I'm suddenly feeling guilty and needing to go.

••• Sunday, January 13, 2008

Socks in the Afternoon 

And No, This is Not the New Years Post. Yet. Still.

Last FO of 2007, Please Meet the First of '08:

As soon as I finished this, I experienced a tiny needled emptiness and immediately wanted to cast on for another pair. Except I don't have any sock yarn.

A pairently, I really am a sock knitter.

Pattern: From Ann Budd's book of patterns.
Yarn: Lana Grossa Magico.

As you were.

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••• Friday, January 11, 2008

Getting Rocks Off My Mind 

Today's Eye Candy is courtesy of wetter and better times.

Rocks just wanna have fun.
Me too.

Is It Spring Break Yet?
My reentry into the world of work this week, has earned itself a Four-Prong rating on the Oyster-Fork-in-the-Eye universal rating system.

In addition to all the work stuff I cannot speak of ::none of said stuff appears to have taken any kind of holiday break.::, Tuesday night I broke and swallowed half of a large-ass molar. ::Umm, yeah.That would be from my own mouth.::

At the subsequent emergency dental appointment, the N00bish dental assistant wrote down the vitals as I shared them, including the part about the bigass hole in the back of my mouth, deep enough to be the start of a whole new world of gynecological possibilities.
She: Does it hurt?

Me: Not really, which kind of surprises me, because it’s a really big hole. And deep. And I haven’t been chewing on that side at all, on account of the big, deep hole. In my mouth. Where half a tooth used to be.

She: So, Marcia, what would you like to happen here today?

Me: ::Stunned silence. So many possibilities...Sarcasm? Smartass? Play along real stupid?::

She: What I mean is, what are you hoping for?

Me: World peace and someone to look at the crater in my mouth and tell me I’m not going to die? Today?

She: I think we can help you with that. ::pats my arm.::
It doesn't get any better than that.

2008 Mission-ary Style
Time not spent this week on my job or poking my tongue into the big hole in my mouth, was sucked up by the poking of my face into closets, cabinets and bins, in lining up my venue for this:

It originated as a Ravelry gig, but I'm pretty sure the un-Raveled can play along too. Read all about it here.

Another large chunk of time was spent on a related blow-by-blow blog lament, complete with details on each item. By the time I posted my intentions on the Ravelry group last night, I had lost all taste for talking about it, so consider yourself spared.

You're welcome.

Here's just a little mosiac of my intentions. I'll simply update as I get the missions accomplished.

p.s The mosiac and my Ravelry list do not jibe. I'm too tired to figure it out. I got some knitting to be getting to.

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••• Monday, January 07, 2008

If You Give a Mouse a Bullet... 

...She'll want a place to put it.

If you find a place to put it, you'll have to move two coffee cups.

If you move two coffee cups, you'll have to find a place to put them.

If the place you find to put the two coffee cups is already crammed with coffee cups, including some cups from the set of Christmas dishes that your family used for Every Day, from December 18, 2006 through January 5, 2008*, then you'll want to holler to the Cabana-in-The-Basement to please bring you the box for the Christmas Dishes.

If the Cabana-in-The-Basement goes to storage room #1 and makes a bunch of loud banging noises, followed by some softer cussing noises, followed by one louder crash and related cuss, then he can't find the Christmas dishes boxes.

If he can't find the Christmas dishes boxes, then the Christmas dishes cups can't be put away and the two coffee cups can't go in the coffee cup cupboard and there won't be room in the other cupboard for the Bullet.

If there is no room for the Bullet, then the basement must be cleaned and somebody is going to be sooooo busted for the hoards of yarn that have been obfuscated by storage-induced chaos, clutter and crap for the past six years.


Long story confusing, because I needed a place to put my new kitchen toy, Cabana took to cleaning the basement, and for the want of 2 coffee cups, my garage now looks like this:

And this:

While Cabana Roto-Rooted the storage, I reorganized the kitchen cupboards and ended up not even needing the coffee cup space. Most of the cups went into the donation box.I mean, how often do I entertain 73 coffee drinkers at the same time? About, ummm, yeah. That often.

Nothing like starting out the new year with a good case of craparreah.

I feel better now, don't you?

From the Corner of WTF and Main

::There's a weiner joke in there, somewhere.::

From the WTF-TV Newscenter Stormteam
It's January 7.
In Michigan.
Temps today were in the 60's.
A neighboring county is currently under a tornado warning.
Boy dog nursing puppies messes with the cosmic order.

This is not my New Years post.

*True story. We're just a a lazy cheery bunch.

••• Friday, January 04, 2008

Rotten Apples of My Eye Candy 

I'm still working on my Baby New Year post.
Well, I'm still thinkin' on workin' on it.
It's complicated, all this thinkin'.
And related linkin'.


When we went to the cottage, we left a half-baked Christmas clean-up in our wake, which continues to be a bake in process. The problem is that we need to make room for the new loot. And it's at this point that things are getting back logged.

For example, I got a new Dutch oven for Christmas. In the cupboard where that should go, are several coffee cups that go with my everyday dishes. In my everyday coffee cup cupboard are Christmas dish coffee mugs, plus about a dozen memorabilia mugs collected over the years (including two mugs we had made up from Cakers' friend's artwork last year.)

So, before I can put away the Dutch oven, I have to find a new home for about 15 useless coffee mugs. On that note, Cabana is at this moment, clearing seven years of shit out of two storage rooms. Some of this stuff was never unpacked from when I moved in with my new husband. I had lots of storage at my divorcee home. Cabana's house was smaller and already furnished with most household amenities, so I left most of my crap in boxes.

Two years later, when I had a Cakers in the oven, we moved again. This house had much more room, but with a pending Cakers and all related organizational preps, there was no time to sort through the unnecessary stuff. And then a baby happened and the rest is a bunch of crap in boxes. ::One such box is currently being rifled through before my very eyes, as I type, which is a hint in spades for me to get off the keyboard and start moving coffee cups. And not just the one I'm currently drinking from.::

Here's today's eye candy. Rotten Apples In Snow.

When I previewed this picture after uploading it, Cakers happened to be standing next to me.

"Do you think that picture is interesting?" she asked.

"Yes. Do you?" I said.

She paused, tilted her tangled head just a tad enough to indicate polite condescension, and said in an almost apologetic tone, "Not really." then walked away, shaking her head.

And on that uninteresting note, here's a snow covered outhouse.

::I hate to shithouse and run, but I just now saved two pieces of my son's preschool artwork from going to the trash. Bastid. Fuck the coffee cups. I gotta get to the basement and open a box of whoopass.::

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••• Tuesday, January 01, 2008

2008 and I'm Late for a Date 

I had a more substantial post planned for today, but seeing as how this is our last night at the cottage, and my husband just invited me to the back room to knit by the fire and watch a movie, and I don't much feel like thumb wrestling the rural internet gods so I can type three words in a row without disconnect, I'll just catch you all on the other side.

In the meantime, I'd like to show you this:

I am a sock knitter.
And I did it all by myself.

And it only cost me a couple days out of my life.
And some compromised integrity, of the hygiene variety.

The best thing? I walked around looking like that for most of Sunday, and nobody even noticed. After I finally showered, late in the day, I said to Cabana, "I thought I'd get cleaned up a little."

And he said, in all seriousness, "What do you mean?"
Yes, my peeps, that is love.

Blessings for the New Year, from our grubby little hearts, to yours.

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