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••• Saturday, November 29, 2008

Let Us Give Skanks...I mean...Thanks. Yeah. 

I am thankful for the following:

1) Having the good sense to pay attention to the little voice that told me to back up all the photos from my laptop.

2) Having the good sense to pay attenton to the little voice that told me to look out the window to see my son's car pulling up in front of the house, just moments before I was to descend the stairs wearing nothing but Spanx and black pleather boots, to surprise Not-The-Cabana, who was working in the basement.(Cakers wasn't home.) ::Did I ever tell you about the time the boy saw me naked and nine months preggers? I didn't think so. I sometimes wonder if there's any relationship between that event and never having a girlfriend.::

3) Having the good sense to not tell anyone that the above mentioned little voice sounds just like the talking flute from H.R. Pufnstuf. Oops.

4) That because hardly anybody reads my blog anymore, I'm safe on number 3.

5) That when my computer crashed, it did not start a fire.

6) That when the circuitry in our bedroom went out last week, it did not start a fire.

7) That I look really good in flashlight.

8) That my husband can't find his glasses in the darkness of our bedroom and can't see that I might be lying a bit, about number 6.

9) That a dead duck did not fall out of the sky and into my car through the open sunroof during our last warm spell. For the record, I was only worried about said dead duck landing in the passenger seat and scaring the shit out of me. I was NOT worried about being struck dead in the head, by said duck who is dead. Because that would be irrational.

10) That I remembered to put a bowl underneath the strainer before draining my Thanksgiving gravy.

11) Big ass bottles of Bare Foot Moscato.

12) Cakers being 7 and old enough to get herself breakfast while mommy sleeps in, the day after Thanksgiving.

13) Medication that makes Cheddar feel and look like a new dog, even though it will probably kill him in the long run. ::Arthritis has damaged 80% of his joints. Without this new med, we were facing a quality of life dilemma.::

14) Medicine that helps me remember to put a bowl underneath the strainer before draining my Thanksgiving gravy.

15) Bob Evans pre-packaged mash potatoes.

16) Good friends.

17) Good employment.

16) Good husbands.

17) Great ankles.

18) Crazy ass family members who make me look and feel pretty damn normal, through mere proximity.

19) A Brand New Bubble Shooter game. ::It takes a couple games to get used to it. It's a question of balance. Bad shooting makes bad bubble balance karma.::

20) Visine.

21) That I have learned to not sweat the details. Like accuracy in counting.

Excuses Are Like Buttholes...
Everybody has one.
They are a necessity of life.
They are no place for small mammals.

I need to apologize, again (still?) for my lack of internettiness over the past months. With Not-The-Cabana working out of the home and between getting Cakers from after-school care, supervising homework, getting a meal on the table and dishes done, I'm pretty much occupied each night until Cakers goes to bed. And them I'm wiped. And weekends are clean up and laundry.

And it's not just my blog, your blog, my Ravelry duties (heh, she said duties) friendships, email contacts and the stalking of my husband's ex-girlfriend's husband which have suffered. Going from 4-5 workouts a week to just 2 on Sunday has given me Fallen Ass and Melded Thighs Syndrome. The good news is that I can still fit into my pants, but only because my ass has fallen out of the measurement zone.

All the worse, our internet filters at work have been wonky, and only allow me full web access about once a week, for about 10 minutes after the announcement is made that it has been fixed. Again.

With the weather turning dark and cold, Cakers is relaxing a bit on her expectations to get picked up as soon as possible after school, so she can get her homework done and play outside before dinner. I'm hoping that will give me an extra hour after work, of free time. To say nothing about the fact that we are now sharing a computer. blech.

Now that I'm done with the seemingly all too regular Litany of Blah and Woe, let us wipe and flush and wash our hands and pray that any tiny, missing family pets show up in the cold air duct.

Pass Me Back Those Wipes. I Wasn't Done After All.
Honest to goodness and really and truly; I was going to post a knitting update today. But now I'm not.

::Gerbil Exits Left::

Even though I backed up all my pictures before my laptop fell, just a few days ago, I didn't have the foresight to label the backup CD's very well. To my credit, I did number them; with numbers that correspond to file categories that are only available on the laptop. I know. At least I have the pictures. Somewhere.

I'm not really sure why I didn't tend to that matter with more thought. Maybe when we operate on intuition alone, we do not hold much respect for the seriousness of the situation that is not yet a situation until it becomes a situation. Yanno?

I dunno what I dunno anymore. What I do know is that it's time to wrap this one up. Prit near.

A New Look Through an Old Brain.
In the meantime, allow me to entertain you with some new shots stolen from a sunny, post-feast kitchen.









Note to Self: When taking pictures by windowlight, check for clean windowliness.

Note to Readers: When you're 50, you too might enjoy the beauty of a cheeselike substance, aglow in the late autumn sun, and feel compelled to share said vision, with the world. Note within a note: The Being 50 thing does not necessarily mean that I'm not you're not off your cracker.

Nuther Note After the Note Within: Please embiggen the last cheeselike substance shot. I promise that you will not only be able to see the parts of the whole that make up the cheeselike substance, but you will actually be able to feel the cheeselike substance, with your eyes.

Warning Within a Nuther Note: A few of you might even BECOME the cheeselike substance and therefore will not be able to leave a comment, because instead of fingers to type with, you will have only cheeselike substance whorls with which you can't do much of anything, including the typing. Or anything. Else. So, if you are prone to merging with photography and wish to comment on this post, please just keep the photo where it is and imagine the splendor of its non-cheeselikeliness.



••• Friday, November 14, 2008

Does This Post Make My Ass Look Old? 

Hello. My name is Marcia, and I am 50 years old. Today.

For my 49th birthday, I hatched an idea to write one little blurby thing about every year of my life. Then I got hung up on few technicalities, like how I was three years old, in my fourth year of life, then worried about how to write that.

Anyway. As I worked on this project, My one little blurb per year grew bigger, some years. So as not to overwhelm (you and me, both), I decided to stretch out posting my life story, across my 49th year (or is it my 50th year? See? Is it any wonder I drink?). Unfortunately, I stretched it so thin, it didn't happen.

So then I was going to post it the month leading up to my birthday.

Oops.

Then the week.

Heh.

Two days ago I hauled it out and went to work. I got to year 7 (or 8?) before I decided I needed some pictures. So I hauled out the pictures. That's when I decided that even though I've had 50 (49?) years to write my story, I still wasn't ready.

That's when I came up with the montage idea. It's kind of primitive, but so am I. And I'm still obsessing about not being able to get the photos to switch on a four count beat instead of five (or six?).

video

For the record, you are not yet out of the woods. For I WILL write my fifty things about my fifty years. Just as soon as I figure out exactly how many years being 50 is supposed to be.



••• Friday, November 07, 2008

How do You Spell Releaf? 

Had a thought.
Then I lost it.
Wrote a post.
Then I tossed it.

Knitting rotting
On the vine.
Liver rotting
On the wine.

Cakers flippin'
Like a Teen.
Soon snatched bald
By Mommy Mean.

Peace was restored,
I'm wont to boast.
Yet still I can't
Tease out a post.

So what have I,
To share this night?
Slow death churning
A lovely sight.













Goodnight.

P.S. I know. Enough with the fucking leaves, already. Will it make you feel any better if I told you that over the past 7 days, I have taken over 1000 pictures of leaves, just in my front yard? So really, from a statistical/ratio/think-of-the-poor-guy-who-lives-here-who-had-to-look-at-and-comment-upon-all-said-pictures-without-benefit-of-mouseclick-exit, you ain't got it so bad.



••• Sunday, November 02, 2008

Creatures from the Bog of Blog 

I think I have finally figured out why I haven't been able to blog, well, aside from the near constant demands of work and home, which seem to cease only when I sleep. But whenever I am able find a patch of spare chair, and put some thoughts to font, I am unable to produce. And it's not like I'm suffering from a dearth of material. In fact, I have started several posts over the past few weeks, on topics I perceive to contain high levels of Content of Interest.

But once the writing is underway, I find that I have more Content than Interest, so I set it aside for later. In the meantime, another Content of Interest would arise, and I'd end up with another half-baked post set aside for later.

It's now later. And here I am, blog bogged.

So what is the mystery?
I lost The Story.

I know I just said I have plenty of stories. Coming up with a story is easy these days. All I have to do is wake up.

The Story is not A Story. The Story is the great spirit of stories. It is the synthesizer. It provides the relevancy, and sticks it all together.

The Story is the context.
The mainframe.
The egg in the meatloaf.

Where did it go and how do I get it back?

In the meantime, I have found an alternate, albeit labor-intensive method of updating you on life events over the past few weeks, with no apparent relevance required. ::But how would I know, really? Without...well, you know.::

video

From Wags to Witches
At least I haven't lost my camera.



I didn't get to apply the final touches of cragginess because at 6:00, my little witch flew out the door to meet up with her friends for trick or treating. It was, of course, still broad daylight.

After she was home for the night, The Cakers did apologize for abruptly running off and leaving me paint brush in hand. She quickly snatched said apology out of the air before it had time to land with: "But Audrey said you should have started getting me ready earlier. So it's really your fault."

Dementia, take me away...

I Haven't Lost my Paypal, Either.


I was finally able to snag some swag from Dizzy Blonde Yarns. It's sock yarn in the Scarlett Tragic Cherry colorway. Between the richness of color and heft of skein, I am compelled to take off all my clothes, toss the skein on the floor, and commence to rolling right in it.

You'll be happy to know that all personal bits remained under wraps, and the yarn was put away in a safe place. Because I am committed to obligatory knitting projects through New Years (Never again!, it's really better this way.

Speaking of oyster fork laden orifices, I'll update on knit knuggets knext post.