Limping Through Life With Two Left Eyes. And I Ain't Lion.
Tuesday night we took Cakers to see The Lion King on campus at Michigan State. Of course, it was spectacular. At least that's what I hear. No, I was there, but for some reason I couldn't see the characters very clearly, despite my having put in brand clean contact lenses that day, as well as there being not a bad seat in the house of The Wharton Center.

The next day I put those same contacts in my eyes before driving Cakers to her grandparents' house for a sleepover. Three blocks into the excursion I realized that my vision was not so crisp and clean. I certainly could see cars and stop lights, so we weren't in any real danger. I did miss the turnoff to my in-laws' sub division, but that is a routine event. You see, their subdivision is named Hidden Hills, and I fall for it every time.

Once home, I checked the packaging from which I took my lenses the night before. Oops. I am near sighted, so my left eye lens is considerably weaker than my right, which allows for me to read things close up. That night, I put left eye lenses in both eyes.

No wonder I mistook the Momma Lions for polar bears.

It's the Little Stuff. And Stuff.
I realize I've been pretty whiney around here over the past few months. So today I'm going to find some good stuff to talk about.

Following is a list of some little things that have been good to me:

1) What's this here sauce? Worcestershire Sauce. My mom always had a 3/4 full bottle in her fridge, which she would eventually throw out, 3/4 full. Over the years I ended up following that same pattern, buying it for one recipe, and throwing the rest away a year later.

Not anymore. I've gone through at least 2 bottles in the last six months. I lurve it. It's especially wonderful on Crock Pot pot roast. You get browning without browning.

2) Eta Zeta, and I'm really full. In Fact, I couldn't Eat an Iota of Another Bite.. Cavender's Seasoning



The food page editor of our local newspaper recently shared that this seasoning is a key element of her kitchen repetoire. I had never heard of it. I'm on my second container since Christmas.

3) The Simple White Blouse. I've never had good luck with the plain white blouse. Being of smallish frame with biggish boob, it was always hard to find the right fit. If it fit the boobs, it was big in the shoulder or too blousy at the waist. If it fit the shoulders, I was indecently exposed. Last fall I found the perfect white blouse at Kohl's. It has a touch of spandex, so it fits right, in all the wrong places. I've been wearing it to death, since then, and it has opened up a few corners of my closet that have not been available to me for awhile.


That's my Mondo tank that was a bit too bulky to wear sleeveless. Since buying this blouse it has become a favorite in my wardrobe rotation.

3) Dewy, Dewy, Dewy Dew you Love Me? A few weeks back Mariko reviewed some lotion she bought on Ebay from a Korean vender. I ended up following Mariko's link to a blog, where other products from this vender were reviewed. One item caught my eye.


It's a foundation that automatically adjusts to your skin tone color, with fair warning that it works best with fair skin. Which would be me, yes, the same She of Dark Hair and Brow.(I can't tell you how many times I've argued with the overdressed, dummern-a-box-of-clouds Clinique drone wanting to put medium toned foundation on me. I always give in, of course, only because I really enjoy the ensuing moment of silence, just before the apology.)

Anyway. I bought some. And I love it. I think it's the best foundation I've worn since turning old. Or older. It's moist without slime, it minimizes wrinkles, and leaves my skin looking all dewy. In fact, I wasn't really sure what "dewy skin" meant. But now I do. The service was great too.

And not only my skin look better, my entire future is looking mighty fine.

Speaking of a trouble-free future, my husband just got home from work and is now reading this over my shoulder. ::This would have irritated me to no not that long ago, but since my No More Trouble existence, irritation just rolls off my dewy skin.:: I'm pretty sure he is reading for clues as to how ready (i.e. packed) we are to leave for the cottage this afternoon.

So, I better get going. I'm pretty sure that the definition of No More Trouble has its limitations.

Labels: Wild aRandoment

Against the same odds as intelligent life successfully clinging to my brain, or a 5th of Vanilla Rum successfully clinging to my cupboard,I somehow finished all my reports before spring break.

And no thanks to the efforts of my alleged loved ones, some of whom made no short work of getting in the way of mine.



That's a file for a report that she's sitting on. I can't tell you how many times I swatted her off that pile of papers, night after night. I finally thought to put out a decoy file on the opposite side of the keyboard, near the beads.

She initially fell for it, but didn't take long to figure out that I wasn't looking at "her pile" at all. When she noticed that I didn't yell at her for playing with the Super Glue bottles, the jig was up. (Or is it jib?) By that point, she could have gone off and glued herself to the inside of the dryer drum, and I'd have been right behind her, with a sheet of Bounce.

The Bounce is Back in My Spring
I'm having a wonderful, relaxing Spring Break so far. I haven't left the house since Friday, except to fetch my daughter from the neighbor's house. Otherwise I've been making up for time lost these past weeks, on a few of my favorite things:

1) Watching...Three missed episodes of NCIS, in one sitting. On Demand. I also caught an episode from a few seasons back. It was the one where Zeva's character debuted, with the air of a mercenary and the eyebrows of a young Ed Asner.

And then there's Tough Love.
And CSI Miami.
And The Mentalist.

2) Knitting...Ingenue. I'm almost done with the body.



I have to ball up another skank of yarn and knit another inch before starting on the bottom trim. I made some adaptations on the pattern, as I went along. It seems that my gauge was off a bit and it's fitting snugger than I anticipated. That snug is working the breastesses pretty well, but in the pooch area I prefer a bit more to be left to the imagination.

3) Realizing...That a garmet knits up much quicker when one has time and opportunity to actually, well, knit on it.

Case not in point...



4) Appreciating...The little things,like a seven year-old who gets herself breakfast in the morning and lets a tired momma sleep in a little.

Who's Got the Biggest Balls of Them All?
As I've gotten older, I've developed an appreciation for music that I didn't really care for when I was younger, such as AC/DC.

This past Saturday night, while watching my Spartans play basketball, I surprised both myself and my husband by bursting into the following:

T.N.T. They're dynamite
T.N.T. They'll win the fight
T.N.T. They're a power load
T.N.T. Watch them explode!

Which reminds me, it's almost time to...

Lock up your daughter.
Lock up your wife.
Lock up your back door,
And run for your life.
The Spartans are back in town.
Don't you mess them around.

Labels: I Work Too, Knit In Progress, Wild aRandoment

Feh.*

Random Sludge
I’ve been a little under the weather the past week, suffering from some kind of gluey, sinus sludge. And as this substance makes a slow and less-than gracious exit from my body, I can’t help but worry that I'm actually expelling brain glue; essential material for holding together the bits and pieces of my brain. ::With the help of some twigs, yarn and duct tape.::

::But I will say that DayQrunk is my new best friend. MmmMm...How I loves me some warmy orange.::

I’ve also been physically and mentally busy with work and home issues. The worst of the physical work stuff is almost winding down. Almost. I have cranked out three reports in the last two days, with no coming up for air in between.

But the emotional work is yet to come, when our department will have take a hard look at the full impact of losing two full time staff for next year.

The home situation is complicated, and getting moreso by the hour it seems. At the risk of being cryptic, I can only say that we have some changes going on in someone's (not me) professional venue. These are good changes, in light of what was soon to become a dire circumstance. But not so great when considering the wider scope of someone's hopes and dreams and in the interest of optimal family function.

Again, I'm sorry for the vague-y ness,but that's all can say, and really, the whole story is kind of boring. Unless, of course, you’re living it.

Truth be, we are both grateful and relieved for this Timely Save and will not be looking this Blessing Horse in the mouth, any time soon.

It's complicated.
And emotion sucking.
And thought plucking.

Random Dudes on Couches
Meanwhile, College Tumor Boy is home, as of Saturday. Following are stats related his return, to date:

1-Number of jobs applied for.
0-Number of jobs procured.
3-Number of times he has reminded me that his uncle has offered to pay him 200 bucks to powerwash his deck this summer, so no worries if he can’t find a real job.
1-Number of laptops he owns.
0-Number of laptops he owns which have been unpacked and fired up.
1-Number of laptops I own
0-Number of laptops I own, to which I currently enjoy full access.
1.5-Number of boxes of Town House crackers consumed.
1-Number of jars of peanut butter consumed.
13-Number of times I have heard "What's to eat in this house?"
0-Number of unemployed friends currently in town for the summer, with whom he might be able to hang, off my couch. Away from my home.
1-Number of vehicles as yet unpacked of all worldly goods, minus the as-of-yet-unfired-up laptop and a bottle of acne medicine.
1579-Number of times I have said to self “How handy it is that all his belongings are still in his car, in the event of Sudden Homelessness?”
14-Number of hours per day spent listening to screaming sportscasters on my T.V.
5-3/4-Number of total feet taken up on the couch, while sleeping to the sound of screaming sportscasters on my T.V.
5-Approximate hour of the morning he goes to bed.
3-Approximate hour of the afternoon he awakens.
.5-Number of bottles of my hooch he has consumed.
6-Number of times he has used the word “tweak” in describing his observation of my increasingly destabilizing emotional presentation in response to all of the above.
0-Amount of hope in possession, that any of this will be changing soon, except maybe the numbers.

Random Time Passing
I meant to post about this way last week, but I was busy with an unglued brain. So let's just pretend it happened two days ago, and call it good. K?

The weekend with My Circle of Brain was a wonderful treat, but a bit more subdued than our maidenhead voyage back in January.In hindsight, a bit more subdued might be a good thing, in that any attempts to match or surpass on previous crazy, could have resulted in someone getting hurt, or arrested or famous.

And because we were guests in someone else's home, it was probably best to keep Kristi off her high horse, and the sanitary products stuck to the proper side of our underwears, and Kellie from shooting/posting recordings of activities that could get someone hurt, arrested or famous.

But there was plenty of fun to be had.
And good drink.
And, of course, good company.

Kellie did write up a picture-laden, detailed summary of our all too brief time together. Scroll down for a picture of me, popping my freak in a new pair of sunglasses that are just about bigger than my head.

:: The following will make more sense if you read Kellie’s post. ::

In honor of our surviving the weekend together, I have created a new scarf design:

Drama on the High (Neuro) Seas: A Pattern
1) Cast on an odd number of stitches, depending on your width preferences.

2) If you are really confused about how many stitches you should cast on, ask your friends their opinion about how many stitches you should cast on.

3) Argue with each and every solicited opinion about how many stitches you should cast on, then come up with a 4th option, all on your own. Cast on that amount of stitches.

4) Repeat the High (Neuro) Seas pattern (see below) until you reach desired length, but not long enough for someone to use against you in an attempted homicide.

High (Neuro) Seas Stitch Pattern:
1) Row 1: purl

2) Row 2: k3 *k2tog, yo * to last 7 stitches, then knit whatever the fuck you feel like, to the end of the row.

3) Row 3: Purl

4) Row 4: Knit 7, *k2tog, yo* until confused, or something goes wrong, or something goes right when you're sure it should be wrong. Hand project to Sue so she can figure out what is wrong. When Sue tells you what is wrong and how to fix it, *knit any series of stitch pattern combinations that you desire, EXCEPT whatever Sue told you to do to fix it. * Repeat between * * to the end of the row.

5) Row 5: Purl

6) Repeat row 2.

7) Repeat row 3.

8) Rip entire project and swear a lot.

9) Ask three friends for suggestions on another garment that could be made from the yarn.

10) Argue with every piece of solicited input.

11) Decide to give Montego Drama on the High (Neuro) Seas another shot.

12) Cast on an odd number of stitches, depending on your width preferences.

13) If you are really confused about exactly how many stitches you should cast on, ask your friends how many stitches you should cast on.

14) If you are given three different numbers from your three different friends, argue with each opinion, then come up with a 4th option, all on your own. Cast on that amount of stitches. WARNING: The number of stitches for this cast-on SHOULD NOT match any previous number suggested by friends from this, or previous cast-on solicitations. Not following this step could result in...well...never mind. How much worse can it get, really? But still, it helps to write these things down.

15) Repeat steps 1-14 until you run out of yarn, friends, booze or are deprived of oxygen against your will by a trio of known assailants.

16) Cast off and slap self on your very flat ass, 3 times.**

Random Inapprorpriateness

*I never heard of this Feh thing until I started reading blogs.I assume it means the opposite of Squee. Squee is another expression that is new to me. It makes me think of going pee, then thinking you're all done and wrapping it up, then realizing there is still some pee. So you squeeze it out. That is Squee. To me.

**Sorry to be so long in the wind, but just because I’m busy, doesn’t mean I don’t have things to say. Just no time to say them.

Labels: Bitchmom Screampants, From My Loins, I Can Haz Frends?, I Work Too, Unhealth, Wild aRandoment

We're back from the cottage. We stayed until the ice melted.
Well. Almost.



I may share more about the ice watch, later this week. For now I'll just say that watching the ice melt is not as cushy a job as it sounds.

Random is as Random Does
1. ::Spoiler Alert:: While standing in the checkout lane at the grocery store yesterday, I read on the cover of a magazine that there is a huge surprise birthday party in the works, for Baby Suri.

My thinking: Isn't the first birthday a surprise all by itself?

2. The lady in front of me at the check-out placed all her items in the middle of the conveyor, leaving a nearly perfect four-inch margin on either side. And she didn't just set the stuff down. She organized and stacked it into neat little towers. Box on box, yogurt on yogurt. ::But The Cheese Stands Alone.::

I am proud to say that I successfully fought the urge to bowl her groceries, with can of soup. However, in keeping with that instinct to ensure and perpetuate a sense of balance in the universe, I splayed my grocery shit all over the grocery docking area. For good measure, opened and flung about a box of elbow macaroni.

3. I made that last part up.

4. ::Spoiled Spoiler Alert:: My sources just informed me that Baby Suri is actually turning two.

Who put the random back in random? I did. That's who. And don't ever forget it.

But I'm sure that Suri is still feeling the surprise from that first one. And I'm not just saying that. Because I'm an idiot.

5. So now we're calling her Toddler Suri?

6.Ever notice those people who neatly organize their groceries in the shopping cart? I do not understand this. It's not like the bagger boy keeps it all straight and that it doesn't all end up in the same place anyway; overcrowded in a grocery bag, on top of the bread.

7. I am not a neat grocery cart keeper. I am not a neat anything. Remember my messy purse? My car currently looks like the inside of my messy purse. Minus the tampons. As of yesterday. ::Gotta love finding a cache of feminine hygiene under a backseat, in an emergency. Although my husband might not agree, based on comments made after his last ski weekend with the guys. They took his car. That time it was plethora of pads.::

8. I finished a sock. The yarn is Opal something. The color is Rendez-Vous.



9. I have recently decided that I only want to knit socks. This creates a certain amount of cognitive and emotional tension seeing as how I have 2 skeins of sock yarn and a basement full of the other kind.

10. I started a new project. A sweater. It goes by the name Wicked. .

10. a. After casting on the 126 stitches, and knitting four rows in the round, I decided that the yarn and the pattern were not a good match. It looked assy.

10. b. I ripped it out.

10. c. I spent the better part of Wednesday looking through pattern books for a more appropriate pattern for the yarn. ::I MUST knit the yarn up as part of Mission Possible 2008. It's on the list.::

10. d. I kept coming back to Wicked.

10. e. In an IM Wednesday, I shared my despair with good IM listener Kristi, who told me that she loves the Wicked too and plans to knit it someday. Evidently that Kristi has a powerfully therapeutic way about her, cause next thing I know I'm typing "Thems fightin' words, bay-itch. Wicked is mine. You're goin'daaown."

10. f. I did a swatch of the neckline pattern on a smaller needle and with a minor adaptation of the pattern. It looked much less assy.

10 g. I cast on again, the 126 stitches in the round. At the end of the first round I was startled to find that I was two stitches short from being able to complete the last section of pattern.

10. h. I re-read the instructions and found, much to my oyster-fork-to-the-eye-inducing rage gentle chagrin, that I was supposed to cast on 128 stitches, not 126. I did not catch this error the first time around (and around) because it was not as obvious without the slight, self-imposed change in the pattern.

10. i. I ripped and re-cast.

10. j. I knit around and around. It looked good. It felt good. Life was good.

10. k. This morning I picked it up to take a picture for your blogging pleasure.

10. l. I found that my sweater is not only Wicked, but Twisted.



10. m.

11. I have most recently decided that I only want to knit socks.

Labels: When Knitting You is Hurting Me, Wild aRandoment

I finished the Kipling last night, amidst the chaos of hosting Easter Dessert for my family of origin.

Here's a normal view:



Here's the Tool view (observation courtesy of College Boy):



Here's the specs:

Pattern: Kipling

Yarn: Cherry Hill Cotton

Notes: Cute sweater.Quick knit.Confusing directions at times, but we appeared to have all survived, didn't we now? I skipped the turned-up, whip-stitched hems and performed some ribbing instead. I also skipped the short row cap on the sleeve because I couldn't figure out how to divide the cap into five evenly spaced segments and I wanted to finish the sweater before the recipient hit puberty.

It is a very fast knit and cute. Ree. Cute.

Bit-o-Busy
And it goes something like this: Last Wednesday I was up late preparing for my turn to lead the Brownie session on Thursday. Thursday I lead Brownies. Friday was the day before Cabana's birthday and a huge ass blizzard, which provided the worst commute home all season. Saturday was Cabana's birthday and High School Musical on Ice and Sunday we had dinner at In-laws, then my family over for dessert.

I didn't sleep well all weekend in anticipation of a hugely stressful meeting today, which went worse than I obsessively imagined.I am now kicking myself for losing the sleep, because it got me nothing but tired. Tuesday is Cakers' Student-Lead P/T conference, Wednesday is the first night of the school play and the second showing is Friday.

So, this is probably about all you're getting outta me this week. For the record, it's taken me about 7 minutes to write these last two sentences.

But that's not stopping me from writing...

An Open Letter to the Lady With the Bodacious Booty, Who Was in Front of Me at the Grocery Check Out.
Dear Lady as Mentioned in Above Title: Yes, your ass is fine. But I'm pretty sure you already know this, seeing as how you repeatedly shifted your weight from one bodacious cheek to the other, while trying to catch a glimpse of it from the corner of your eye. And yes, that is some amount of Bodaciousness, that can be seen peripherally, with one's own eye.

Anyway. Lady. What I really want to know is what did you think was going to happen at the end of the seven or eight minutes that it took the cashier to ring up and bag your groceries? That the Hand of the Lord was going to swoop down from above and pluck a sweaty wad of 20's from your Living Bra and hand it to the cashier?

Instead of popping your Lady Humps for the duration, do you think that that your time in line would be better spent by you digging in your bra/boot/snatch/purse/cigarette case in search of a method of payment? And what about how you stared at the cashier like she was speaking Cotton-Ease, when she repeated the grand total for the third time?

Dear Lady. Never mind. I don't want to know.

Labels: Knit Done, Three Legged River Dancer, Wild aRandoment