Ok, so I have been harassed for updates. See, I was going to, but then I was fucking around on the intarwubs - mostly looking for embarrassing pictures of people I know - and found...a thing. This thing was an adoptee-seeking-birthmama/dad thing. And it was this dude, born when my mom had her first kid, in Oregon, looking FOR my mama. AMAZING. I hyperventilated. I cried and got shaky and felt like my chest was going to swing open. So I did the logical thing and called Ma, flapping and squeeing and crying and freaking. I think I scared her.
So, she and I both shoot off emails to the address the site had provided. I am a horrifically impatient person, so I search myspace, friendster, facebook, your mom's house and tibet for this guy. Nooooo luck. Ok, well, still pretty neat. I stay up late playing Neverwinternights and bashing goblins until I stop shaking enough to go to bed ( I am sure four cups of coffee helped there... ).
Next morning, I am back on line, looking up phone numbers and people searches and gps locations. I get crazy impatient. Example: If Manwife misses calling me on his walk home, I cry into his voice mail about how I think hobos have flayed him and are wearing pretty Manwife suits around downtown. Then he comes home and eyes me oddly while beating me away from him to go hide for a while. I have a wild imagination. With hobos. And buffalo bill.
where was I?
oh, ok. so I get the bright idea to type in the email address i had into myspace's email finder thing. I figure, dude is pretty much in my generation, he MUST have something. I mean, come on.
And he does.
Well, his wifelady does. I feel a little voyeuristic, and peek in her pictures. OMFG. Dude has my mom's eyes, nose, chin, smile, WOW. No question. I see they have three kids, and omg, their daughter has the same pretty hazel almond shaped eyes as Ma and Bro. Amazing and wonderful.
I tap out a tentative and polite email asking if I could please get a hold of the guy. Pretty quickly, my sister-in-law (oh that is so cool to say!) replies and says, oh wow, we were trying to get a hold of you but gmail doesn't like verizon mail and keeps spitting the letters we send out! Agh, technology. Well, ok. Shortly thereafter I get an email from my big brother and I am still beyond the moon. I think he and Ma have talked more, but I have talked a good deal with SIL, who is so lovely and sweet. They both are, and I really am very relieved. I think everyone will get along nicely, which is kind of secondary...or tertiary...or entirely besides the point at the moment..! What an amazing couple of days!
Otherwise, I am still married, still hanging out at home - collaging, cooking, teaching Squidge to draw shapes and letters - still being a pain in the ass. Manwife and I have been playing NWN online with our buddy Joop (I am brynito, hit me up if you play and wanna go kill some shit and quest). It's a lot of fun, better than sitting around arguing with Squidge or having Manwife play one game while I'm on another. We are having intarweb issues, we see each other as offline when we play at the same time, which is hella lame. I say lots of cusses about it. Trying to figure out how to do a network connection or something. This may be easier if I get a laptop and do wireless networking, mayhap. My antiquated piece of shit has issues keeping up with the boys, que bummer.
Let's see...not much else to report, just connecting with old friends who are nice and not mean drunks to me, and others that are misguided but still nice, and doing brunch. I DO BRUNCH, it's a kick in the pants. Of course, we brunch at the crunchiest place around - local eggs and bacon and snausages and tatoes and java, mostly nice organic stuff and tahini and home fries with black beans and tarragon and salsa. Yum! And the local coffee roasters around here can't be beat - go find moka joe's and buy some!!
I am mostly just hanging out being flabbergasted and elated and grateful. I think if anyone deserved the cosmos aligning in their favor and heaping karmic rewards on them, it is my mother. I mean, the nice life with YB and having Squidge/Gooneybird around is great, and having a new son-in-law who is awesome and loved by all is nice too, but I was always worried this would never come to any sort of...resolution...?...I don't know the right word. But whatever it is, it's turned out in the best, most joyful and fabulous way possible. If I could meet my brother's adopted mom and dad, I would kiss them right on the mouth for keeping him safe and happy and letting him know my mom was out there and she loved him still. I really could.
The world is very strange and wonderful, I think you just have to look for it and choose it to be so.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Monday, December 31, 2007
today
today i set chicken stock on fire, a good ending to the year I think.
i am pretty sure that my house now smells a lot like what a lipo clinic that got burnt down smells like and it is hella nasty.
HAPPY NEW YEAR
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Wedding pickshurs
I dun got hitched. Here be the proof.Awww, we look so happy in this one. I love my shoes, he loves my boobs. Win win. Also I am subtly holding his tie straight. Dude has static cling issues.
I would like to say I am wearing white tights, but that would be a dirty, flithy lie. I live in Washington state, okay? It is very cold and wet here. It's like the dank cellar of the United States, only well lit and not creepy. Anyways, I'm a ghosite. Manwife has been asked if he is Mexican, so I don't know. Lithuanians are darker than Swedes, maybe.
Also, Yes...I have blue hair bits and have gargantuan bewbs and am chubby and wear super-glued glasses and have a couple of tattoos that are a wee bit old and need touching up and YES I am self-conscious about it. But here I am, anyhow.
now we's legal! no more illicit...erm...activities. It was weird to sign a contract, kinda felt like giving the deed of SSA over to this nerd-man. Pretty strange. As long as he loves me and my chins and my weird hair, we will be ok.
Bouquet with rosaries (not mine, trust), and detail of space-alien bouquet - very SSA-appropriate, I assure you. I liked the greenish lillies and the spiky purpley-blue flowers the best. Alien flowers, FTW
Hyde Park, VT (above) The Creepy Lady on the Landing Where We Got Married (directly above)
I had/have super, super excellent hair. It's like a punky Farrah thing goin' on here! Also note the bitchin' strands of pearls: kind of an asteroid belt of asymmetrical awesomeness, if you will. Round pearls are for bitches. I am also wearing dignified pearl earrings...right above my carved-bone swirly ones. IN YOUR FACE, CONFORMITY. I AM A UNIQUE SNOWFLAKE. 
No, really though...in all honesty, my extended family would've flipped the fuck out at this. Any of it. Mom, Dad, and Squidge, no prob. But still. Uptight squares whining about me is something I am glad I missed on this nice day. But I got to look how I damn well pleased, and it was fantastic.
Oh, and I am portly, not preggo. Just so you know. Looking a bit engorged with bb here. Maybe I ate a baby and forgot?
No, really though...in all honesty, my extended family would've flipped the fuck out at this. Any of it. Mom, Dad, and Squidge, no prob. But still. Uptight squares whining about me is something I am glad I missed on this nice day. But I got to look how I damn well pleased, and it was fantastic.
Oh, and I am portly, not preggo. Just so you know. Looking a bit engorged with bb here. Maybe I ate a baby and forgot?
Either way, Professor Manwife says it was a pretty good time.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
I have a question
Am I the only foul-mouthed woman who makes stuff? REALLY? I read lots of craft blogs, and everything's usually so fucking pristine and sweet that I'd be mortified to leave a comment that said "hello, this is beautiful, thank you for the free pattern" only to have these sweet little dumplings of twenty-something ladies to come here and cry or something. The marzipan from which they're apparently made from would be all disolve-ed.
I guess I could be called a crafter, I dunno, that's kind of a dumb term in my high and mighty fucking opinion. I prefer "bad-ass of fussy detailed art stuff". Or "rocker of modpodge and tiewire and torn bits of stuff". "Crafter" is stupid, you can craft anything - an essay, a table leg, a dish, etc etc etc!!!
I mean, I sew, I knit, I crochet, I make clothes, I cook, I bake, I collage, I do decoupage (NO, REAL FUCKING DECOUPAGE, NOT GODDAMNED CLIP ART OF POSIES PASTED TO A STUPID CHAIR OR SOME WANK, REAL. FUCKING. ART. now that we're clear...), I do assemblage, I make dismembered doll sculptures with glitter and neato wire globes. I write a lot. I am a master of being overly verbose, which could be a craft, too.
So what do I do here? Keep doing my thing and hope I attract likeminded, dirty-foul-sailor-potty-mouthed ladies who make stuff and write about it?
And no, I don't think cussing is crass when used in a conversational tone. In a scholarly work, absolutely inappropriate. When talking to one's peers, hell yes. Words are just words, and some are inherently more passionate than others when spat or cried out.
I close with a Lenny Bruce quote, really one of my favorites ever:
"Well, I was just trying to make a point, and that is that it's the suppression of the word that gives it the power, the violence, the viciousness..."
I wholeheartedly believe that. Completely and utterly.
Now off to paint my hair in blue chunks.
I guess I could be called a crafter, I dunno, that's kind of a dumb term in my high and mighty fucking opinion. I prefer "bad-ass of fussy detailed art stuff". Or "rocker of modpodge and tiewire and torn bits of stuff". "Crafter" is stupid, you can craft anything - an essay, a table leg, a dish, etc etc etc!!!
I mean, I sew, I knit, I crochet, I make clothes, I cook, I bake, I collage, I do decoupage (NO, REAL FUCKING DECOUPAGE, NOT GODDAMNED CLIP ART OF POSIES PASTED TO A STUPID CHAIR OR SOME WANK, REAL. FUCKING. ART. now that we're clear...), I do assemblage, I make dismembered doll sculptures with glitter and neato wire globes. I write a lot. I am a master of being overly verbose, which could be a craft, too.
So what do I do here? Keep doing my thing and hope I attract likeminded, dirty-foul-sailor-potty-mouthed ladies who make stuff and write about it?
And no, I don't think cussing is crass when used in a conversational tone. In a scholarly work, absolutely inappropriate. When talking to one's peers, hell yes. Words are just words, and some are inherently more passionate than others when spat or cried out.
I close with a Lenny Bruce quote, really one of my favorites ever:
"Well, I was just trying to make a point, and that is that it's the suppression of the word that gives it the power, the violence, the viciousness..."
I wholeheartedly believe that. Completely and utterly.
Now off to paint my hair in blue chunks.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
getting hitched
i hate flying, and on Sunday morning I'll be going clear across the country to Vermont. the place where maple syrup comes from. that, and Ben & Jerry's. I am from Washington state, the place where the pacific beats the shit out of the land, then sends us sideways rain to contend with and we are all ruggedly individualistic coffee addicts (yes, meant to be somewhat oxymoronic.heh).
I am not really looking forward to a lack of decent coffee, and I must say that despite my mocking I do love having a coffee shop or cafe or coffee house (much different, thanks) every block or so. Not just Starbucks. We have great coffee places here. Even the shitty diners serve coffee that's better than ANYWHERE in the US, east of the Cascades. Bellingham, WA is almost as good as it gets, sitting right between Vancouver BC, Seattle, and the San Juan Islands. It's like Amsterdam, only with caffeine replacing the haschish and hookers.
so maybe coffee fear is replacing getting married fear a bit.
to be quite honest, I never expected to get married, let alone to any one person, or even a boy. I mean, willies are lovely, but boys get old quickly, what with the moldy dishes piled by the game controllers and the stiff, sweat encrusted socks, the farting continually during the night, the poor sense of fashion and lack of awareness on most hygiene issues..."what do you mean, 'one has to keep their toenails clipped?' Why?!" *facepalm*
Manwife isn't quite this bad, but I've had a good number of male roommates and live-ins that I have a good background in boy ickness 101. I mean, tampons left floating in the toilet I can handle. Deuces on the other hand....um.
But now I'm marrying one of these foreign humanoids? So weird. I don't have anything against men, I like them as chums much more than women. Women are mean friends, men are great. Very simple emotionally, and fairly straightforward (this is in comparison, of course. you men are still very complicated, rest assured).
Still. Very weird, this marriage thing.
So if you wandered over from my mommy's blog, Ms FN, you know I am getting married in like two or three days. No, I don't know which day. Isn't that great though? I mean, isn't it relieving to see someone who genuinely fears the crass commercialism of this pretty princess bullshit and focuses more on having a marriage rather than a wedding?
No?
Yeah, you and the majority of brides and women out there. I guess dads are into weddings too. Some sort of status thing at work there - look, my daughter's wedding dress cost more than a year's worth of mortgage payments on my house! Isn't that Spectacular?
I say...ummmm. No.
I am eloping to the other end of the country, as weddings are not my thing. No. Not at all.
I don't give a high holy fuck(™) about seating arrangements and cocktail/mingling hour or what band to hire or place settings or registries or what everyone should wear. I really. Fucking. Do. Not. And I guess that revelation was horrifying to many family (and future family) members. My aunt has one of those binder things FULL of wedding ideas. It's super god damned creepy, if you ask me. She's unmarried, her baby's daddy ditched her for some trailer trash (very sad, my aunt is a nice little catholic anglo saxon yuppie).
I went to a family event for my BioDad's side this past July, where all of the women except my Nana and her sisters were absofuckinglutely shocked/appalled to hear I hadn't put one iota of thought into my wedding, and even more horrified to learn that I just didn't give two shits if we handed out cold hot dogs on paper plates and sat on lawn chairs and everyone wore jeans at the wedding. So...you see what kind of fucktardery Manwife and I were up against.
I am not going to get into the future MIL reaction. She's a fucking nutjob, so her issues matter not.
So the plan is, fly into a ginormous fucking storm on Sunday, rest a bit, get married either monday or tuesday (no clue) wearing a simple champagne colored dress - not at all poofy or fancy or ornate or hideous, satin chinese flats with the little maryjane strap, have blue bits in my hair, and wear large, swirly bone earrings with my cosmic pearl array necklace (it's really bizarre and great; there are about ten wires bent into a wavy circlet, with the pearls kind of interspersed randomly. it looks like an asteroid belt. a shiny asteroid belt. shiiiiiiiinnnnneeeeeeeyyyyyyy). No 100 dollar hairdos, no fancy french manicure, no veil, no fake tiara...no. I also refuse to wear uncomfortable underwear for this. Modal all the way, bb. Wish I had my forearm tattoos finished to really look purty (and piss off manwife's uptight whiter than white family at the same time!), but oh well.
I don't really care what Manwife wears as long as it's clean and he's bathed in the past day. Then we'll do our thing at the awesome B&B at the old governor's mansion, have cake and booze, and hump like bunnies and be lazy the next day. Then we go to some fancy spa resort and get drunk and play in the snow. Booyakasha.
Completely off topic!:
I love this shit right here. I like Tori alright, but she annoys the fuck out of me, especially live. I hate the humping and writhing. I fucking loathe Kate Bush, but this vid is rad.
The talking dreadlock is fucking strange. In a good way.
I am not really looking forward to a lack of decent coffee, and I must say that despite my mocking I do love having a coffee shop or cafe or coffee house (much different, thanks) every block or so. Not just Starbucks. We have great coffee places here. Even the shitty diners serve coffee that's better than ANYWHERE in the US, east of the Cascades. Bellingham, WA is almost as good as it gets, sitting right between Vancouver BC, Seattle, and the San Juan Islands. It's like Amsterdam, only with caffeine replacing the haschish and hookers.
so maybe coffee fear is replacing getting married fear a bit.
to be quite honest, I never expected to get married, let alone to any one person, or even a boy. I mean, willies are lovely, but boys get old quickly, what with the moldy dishes piled by the game controllers and the stiff, sweat encrusted socks, the farting continually during the night, the poor sense of fashion and lack of awareness on most hygiene issues..."what do you mean, 'one has to keep their toenails clipped?' Why?!" *facepalm*
Manwife isn't quite this bad, but I've had a good number of male roommates and live-ins that I have a good background in boy ickness 101. I mean, tampons left floating in the toilet I can handle. Deuces on the other hand....um.
But now I'm marrying one of these foreign humanoids? So weird. I don't have anything against men, I like them as chums much more than women. Women are mean friends, men are great. Very simple emotionally, and fairly straightforward (this is in comparison, of course. you men are still very complicated, rest assured).
Still. Very weird, this marriage thing.
So if you wandered over from my mommy's blog, Ms FN, you know I am getting married in like two or three days. No, I don't know which day. Isn't that great though? I mean, isn't it relieving to see someone who genuinely fears the crass commercialism of this pretty princess bullshit and focuses more on having a marriage rather than a wedding?
No?
Yeah, you and the majority of brides and women out there. I guess dads are into weddings too. Some sort of status thing at work there - look, my daughter's wedding dress cost more than a year's worth of mortgage payments on my house! Isn't that Spectacular?
I say...ummmm. No.
I am eloping to the other end of the country, as weddings are not my thing. No. Not at all.
I don't give a high holy fuck(™) about seating arrangements and cocktail/mingling hour or what band to hire or place settings or registries or what everyone should wear. I really. Fucking. Do. Not. And I guess that revelation was horrifying to many family (and future family) members. My aunt has one of those binder things FULL of wedding ideas. It's super god damned creepy, if you ask me. She's unmarried, her baby's daddy ditched her for some trailer trash (very sad, my aunt is a nice little catholic anglo saxon yuppie).
I went to a family event for my BioDad's side this past July, where all of the women except my Nana and her sisters were absofuckinglutely shocked/appalled to hear I hadn't put one iota of thought into my wedding, and even more horrified to learn that I just didn't give two shits if we handed out cold hot dogs on paper plates and sat on lawn chairs and everyone wore jeans at the wedding. So...you see what kind of fucktardery Manwife and I were up against.
I am not going to get into the future MIL reaction. She's a fucking nutjob, so her issues matter not.
So the plan is, fly into a ginormous fucking storm on Sunday, rest a bit, get married either monday or tuesday (no clue) wearing a simple champagne colored dress - not at all poofy or fancy or ornate or hideous, satin chinese flats with the little maryjane strap, have blue bits in my hair, and wear large, swirly bone earrings with my cosmic pearl array necklace (it's really bizarre and great; there are about ten wires bent into a wavy circlet, with the pearls kind of interspersed randomly. it looks like an asteroid belt. a shiny asteroid belt. shiiiiiiiinnnnneeeeeeeyyyyyyy). No 100 dollar hairdos, no fancy french manicure, no veil, no fake tiara...no. I also refuse to wear uncomfortable underwear for this. Modal all the way, bb. Wish I had my forearm tattoos finished to really look purty (and piss off manwife's uptight whiter than white family at the same time!), but oh well.
I don't really care what Manwife wears as long as it's clean and he's bathed in the past day. Then we'll do our thing at the awesome B&B at the old governor's mansion, have cake and booze, and hump like bunnies and be lazy the next day. Then we go to some fancy spa resort and get drunk and play in the snow. Booyakasha.
Completely off topic!:
I love this shit right here. I like Tori alright, but she annoys the fuck out of me, especially live. I hate the humping and writhing. I fucking loathe Kate Bush, but this vid is rad.
The talking dreadlock is fucking strange. In a good way.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Sner! Snerrr! (snow)
Today it snowed! About goddamned time too, the sky's been grumpy and slumping low and pee-grey for about a week now.
This is my patio, hello snowy bbq!
So what have I been doing to stave off cabin fever, wedding dementia, and toddleritis?
(warning, picture-heavy)
errrrrmmmmm....it's another cyclops cookieZOMGOMG!!!
truly, that is a heinous peen cookie. and it was delicious.
bread! I made wholesome, delicious bread!
Still. You'd think someone with an M.E. background could figure a damned sewing machine out.
That's a finished elephant (its legs even move and whatnot! AMAZING!) and a duck I am going to finish as soon as I fix my goddamned sewing machine. I stitched the elephant almost entriely by hand, and the wing for the duck is machine stitched and hand-embroidered. Let's hope my little sisters don't gnaw the buttons off of either and choke or anything. Good god.
That's all for now, I've got pix of my log cabin pillow that I'm quilting and embellishing, but I'll post the whole shebang once it's finished I think.
16 days until I am a Missus and can no longer pinch other mens' bums (mostly waiters, eh eheheh).
15 days til I am the fuck out of this boring bloody town.
This is my patio, hello snowy bbq!So what have I been doing to stave off cabin fever, wedding dementia, and toddleritis?
(warning, picture-heavy)
* Bakin' stuff... *
monster cookies!!! yay!! one is cyclops.
monster cookies!!! yay!! one is cyclops.
errrrrmmmmm....it's another cyclops cookieZOMGOMG!!!
truly, that is a heinous peen cookie. and it was delicious.
bread! I made wholesome, delicious bread!
* Running the command center of toy making awesomeness *
That's an old Swinger touch-n-sew from the mid-seventies. The other day the little pattern disc popped out and made the top right compartment pop open and break my thread. Pretty rad. Also I keep losing my manual and I always fuck up the thread tension after winding bobbins so that when I go to sew things rusch up and tear my sewing. Luckily, I use test scraps of cloth to avoid fucking my work up.Still. You'd think someone with an M.E. background could figure a damned sewing machine out.
That's all for now, I've got pix of my log cabin pillow that I'm quilting and embellishing, but I'll post the whole shebang once it's finished I think.
16 days until I am a Missus and can no longer pinch other mens' bums (mostly waiters, eh eheheh).
15 days til I am the fuck out of this boring bloody town.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Eloping
Eloping is no picnic. It is almost as bad as fussy seating arrangements and picking out bridal party gifts and shit. Seriously.
Why would I bitch? An all expenses paid trip out to the eastern seaboard?! OMG! I iz ungrateful.
I will tell you why I can bitch.....
BioDad (as the credit card person): "I just got promoted to a ridiculously involved lead position at the company, and keep missing the inn's business hours with the 3 hour time difference, can you please help with the reservations in New York? Oh, and Vermont? Are you still going there? Can you look up flights, too?"
Manwife (hubby to be): "I want the ridiculously expensive titanium ring!!!" and "are we still eloping? where are our tickets? have you made any plans yet?" and "I wanna snowboard in Vermont!" and "Flying isnt that bad, stop freaking out!"
Future In Laws (supposed babysitters of the Squidge):"We can't handle watching our future grandson for an entire week. Even though he loves us and begs to stay with us. He'll be sad, we just can't do it. Hope you understand!"
SSA (frazzled lady of the manor and general badass): "AAAAAAAGH FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU RIGHT IN THE FUCKING EAR HOLLLEEEEE SHEEEEEEIT!" and "AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH! I can barely plan a car trip and vacation down the coast 120 miles! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKK" and "They're gonna lose my luggage, I know it. Those fucking bastards at the airport are gonna chuck it on a plane to Aruba. Shit."
But no really, I can barely drag out an atlas and plan a successful road/camping trip out to the Washington penninsula, and then maybe even plan driving down to oregon! I fucked that one up this year though.
And to top it all off, the job I got was so piss-poorly organized I ended up turning it down out of disgust and mistrust. Blarg. I've interviewed for another position, but have heard jack all since. Piss.
'Sokay being a housewife, money's just tight until Manwife's classes are over for the quarter (then he's on to night and online courses, wheeeeee! I get my lithuanian booty back!). And then after that, he still has to turn his paychecks over to me, for the bill paying and budgets and whatnot. I'm much better at finances than he is, by a very very longshot, but I still feel awful and awkward and shrewish taking all of his money and doling out a weekly allowance for it. So. Bloody. WEIRD.
So that is all the blog I have, sorry for the lack of wild Yankee mountain lady ranting, I has been BIZZY BEE:
I am making all kinds of crafty stuff: For my itty bitty sisters (Wibbo, 3.5, & Ms S, 2) I am sewing little softies - an elephant, a monster, a fish, and a bunny. I think they will also get pretty necklaces and dress-up purses.I am also crocheting a throw blanket, knitting a bag to felt, making my future MIL a necklace and pouch, and also embroidered log cabin pillows.
And then, I have two scarves to block, a Squidge to teach/entertain/keep in line, meals to make, laundry to wash/hem/let sit in wrinkly piles, and a hamster to wrangle - fucking rodent keeps escaping her "habitat" to try and live under the stove. Stupid fluffpile.
Oh, and running the universe, I do that too. No big deal. You know how we do.
Why would I bitch? An all expenses paid trip out to the eastern seaboard?! OMG! I iz ungrateful.
I will tell you why I can bitch.....
BioDad (as the credit card person): "I just got promoted to a ridiculously involved lead position at the company, and keep missing the inn's business hours with the 3 hour time difference, can you please help with the reservations in New York? Oh, and Vermont? Are you still going there? Can you look up flights, too?"
Manwife (hubby to be): "I want the ridiculously expensive titanium ring!!!" and "are we still eloping? where are our tickets? have you made any plans yet?" and "I wanna snowboard in Vermont!" and "Flying isnt that bad, stop freaking out!"
Future In Laws (supposed babysitters of the Squidge):"We can't handle watching our future grandson for an entire week. Even though he loves us and begs to stay with us. He'll be sad, we just can't do it. Hope you understand!"
SSA (frazzled lady of the manor and general badass): "AAAAAAAGH FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU RIGHT IN THE FUCKING EAR HOLLLEEEEE SHEEEEEEIT!" and "AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH! I can barely plan a car trip and vacation down the coast 120 miles! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKK" and "They're gonna lose my luggage, I know it. Those fucking bastards at the airport are gonna chuck it on a plane to Aruba. Shit."
But no really, I can barely drag out an atlas and plan a successful road/camping trip out to the Washington penninsula, and then maybe even plan driving down to oregon! I fucked that one up this year though.
And to top it all off, the job I got was so piss-poorly organized I ended up turning it down out of disgust and mistrust. Blarg. I've interviewed for another position, but have heard jack all since. Piss.
'Sokay being a housewife, money's just tight until Manwife's classes are over for the quarter (then he's on to night and online courses, wheeeeee! I get my lithuanian booty back!). And then after that, he still has to turn his paychecks over to me, for the bill paying and budgets and whatnot. I'm much better at finances than he is, by a very very longshot, but I still feel awful and awkward and shrewish taking all of his money and doling out a weekly allowance for it. So. Bloody. WEIRD.
So that is all the blog I have, sorry for the lack of wild Yankee mountain lady ranting, I has been BIZZY BEE:
I am making all kinds of crafty stuff: For my itty bitty sisters (Wibbo, 3.5, & Ms S, 2) I am sewing little softies - an elephant, a monster, a fish, and a bunny. I think they will also get pretty necklaces and dress-up purses.I am also crocheting a throw blanket, knitting a bag to felt, making my future MIL a necklace and pouch, and also embroidered log cabin pillows.
And then, I have two scarves to block, a Squidge to teach/entertain/keep in line, meals to make, laundry to wash/hem/let sit in wrinkly piles, and a hamster to wrangle - fucking rodent keeps escaping her "habitat" to try and live under the stove. Stupid fluffpile.
Oh, and running the universe, I do that too. No big deal. You know how we do.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Unemployment
...but not THAT kind of unemployment. Manwife is busy paying the state back after his last bout of lazy bastardry, so we don't go there. We don't "do" the govt money thing, it'll always bite ya in the ass later.
And no one likes an assbiter. The noise of ass-munching alone is enough to make me hurl shoes at the dog/tatopig/kitty/person. Ugh.
I digress.
Today is my second work-week day of unemployment, and it's fucking grand - not at all the pit of discontent and pus and bile and poorly made coffee that was the Aerospace Job. So I have been chirping all weekend, and all yesterday, I frolicked around the house. Yes, ladies and gents, FROLICKED.
Yesterday, I woke up at 10 am, wore my pyjamas around all morning, cooked, did laundry, drank coffee & paid bills, bought a new curling iron (mine broke in two, wtf is that about?!) then got two-for-one lancome lipsticks and new sable brushes, had lunch and some tea, went on a drive, went to the library, went to the head shrinker, picked up the Squidge (gooneybird for you nationites), cooked kick-ass pasta with homemade vodka sauce, played with the boy and the dude and watched tv, downloaded stuff for my sims, knitted, did more laundry, fed the hamster,
read the new Real Simple and went to sleep with a snoring yet toasty warm Manwife.
(this is the Manwife, at home in his native mountain habitat. See the Slavic scowl and predisposition towards woolen pea coats and authoritarian disapproval of photo taking...oooohh, ahhh. Ok, let's not feed it, or poke it with sticks, as it will get cranky and revoke our coffee privileges.)
And I frolicked and pranced about annoyingly the whole time.
Oh, and I momentarily lost my wallet, but who's counting? But I had good coffee! Those men I worked with in engineering, they may have their Master's in Aeronautical engineering, but they could not understand how a coffee pot worked or a bean grinder or coffee filters! GOOD SWEET LORD, GENTS! So I relished my mad coffee skillz. But no, there was no real relish. Ew, pickles and coffee. Ew ew ew.
Anyhow. Saturday and Sunday were much the same, expect Saturday I was horrifically hungover after more free drinks than I could drink - well almost, I did drink them all. So we went to Taco Del Mar for fish taco and bean and rice breakfasts, coffee, and knitting while reading The Stranger (not Camus, the weekly in Seattle). We drove out to Ma and Pa's, played with the cranky Squidge and watched gearhead TV programs with Pa. Then we left, bought some embroidering floss and a felt knitting needle pouch and pawed the yarn at the craft store. Yes, WE pawed the yarn. Manwife taught me to purl.
Sunday, I honestly don't remember much. All tacoed out, we had crappy burgers at Fiamma Burger (I highly, highly highly disapprove of the grease soaked thin patties), and hung out and did laundry and made out a lot. Well, Squidge was napping while that went on, don't get the wrong idea here. :P
So....yeah! No discontent, no unhappiness...no...I don't know? Things are fine, I've already bought my damned Xmas presents because I am more organized than Martha Stewart like that, I already have my bags packed to elope, and tapped ye olde trust fund to pay bills during my short unemployment. No mess, no fuss. Though it did take me about three months to get up the gumption to actually QUIT my job. I liked what I did and love the people I worked with, so it was a rough choice, but I am extremely happy.
I guess that's how I run things? I plan? Like....compulsively? I do not flail as some would assume? I may be annoyed and stressed by it, but it works pretty damn efficiently.
Oh and here is the Batman costume Squidge helped me make for Halloween. Kid got a bucket and a half of candy for two hours' work! I am helping him eat it, no worries.
Awwwwwww, who's a happy little Batman? Yes! Squidge is. He painted the mask bit all by himself mostly only needed a bit of help with the globs of acrylic paint. He has a cape, but is holding it behind his back - I think it helps the element of surprise? I don't know, he is a bizarre little duck.
And no one likes an assbiter. The noise of ass-munching alone is enough to make me hurl shoes at the dog/tatopig/kitty/person. Ugh.
I digress.
Today is my second work-week day of unemployment, and it's fucking grand - not at all the pit of discontent and pus and bile and poorly made coffee that was the Aerospace Job. So I have been chirping all weekend, and all yesterday, I frolicked around the house. Yes, ladies and gents, FROLICKED.
Yesterday, I woke up at 10 am, wore my pyjamas around all morning, cooked, did laundry, drank coffee & paid bills, bought a new curling iron (mine broke in two, wtf is that about?!) then got two-for-one lancome lipsticks and new sable brushes, had lunch and some tea, went on a drive, went to the library, went to the head shrinker, picked up the Squidge (gooneybird for you nationites), cooked kick-ass pasta with homemade vodka sauce, played with the boy and the dude and watched tv, downloaded stuff for my sims, knitted, did more laundry, fed the hamster,
read the new Real Simple and went to sleep with a snoring yet toasty warm Manwife.
(this is the Manwife, at home in his native mountain habitat. See the Slavic scowl and predisposition towards woolen pea coats and authoritarian disapproval of photo taking...oooohh, ahhh. Ok, let's not feed it, or poke it with sticks, as it will get cranky and revoke our coffee privileges.)
And I frolicked and pranced about annoyingly the whole time.
Oh, and I momentarily lost my wallet, but who's counting? But I had good coffee! Those men I worked with in engineering, they may have their Master's in Aeronautical engineering, but they could not understand how a coffee pot worked or a bean grinder or coffee filters! GOOD SWEET LORD, GENTS! So I relished my mad coffee skillz. But no, there was no real relish. Ew, pickles and coffee. Ew ew ew.
Anyhow. Saturday and Sunday were much the same, expect Saturday I was horrifically hungover after more free drinks than I could drink - well almost, I did drink them all. So we went to Taco Del Mar for fish taco and bean and rice breakfasts, coffee, and knitting while reading The Stranger (not Camus, the weekly in Seattle). We drove out to Ma and Pa's, played with the cranky Squidge and watched gearhead TV programs with Pa. Then we left, bought some embroidering floss and a felt knitting needle pouch and pawed the yarn at the craft store. Yes, WE pawed the yarn. Manwife taught me to purl.
Sunday, I honestly don't remember much. All tacoed out, we had crappy burgers at Fiamma Burger (I highly, highly highly disapprove of the grease soaked thin patties), and hung out and did laundry and made out a lot. Well, Squidge was napping while that went on, don't get the wrong idea here. :P
So....yeah! No discontent, no unhappiness...no...I don't know? Things are fine, I've already bought my damned Xmas presents because I am more organized than Martha Stewart like that, I already have my bags packed to elope, and tapped ye olde trust fund to pay bills during my short unemployment. No mess, no fuss. Though it did take me about three months to get up the gumption to actually QUIT my job. I liked what I did and love the people I worked with, so it was a rough choice, but I am extremely happy.
I guess that's how I run things? I plan? Like....compulsively? I do not flail as some would assume? I may be annoyed and stressed by it, but it works pretty damn efficiently.
Oh and here is the Batman costume Squidge helped me make for Halloween. Kid got a bucket and a half of candy for two hours' work! I am helping him eat it, no worries.
Awwwwwww, who's a happy little Batman? Yes! Squidge is. He painted the mask bit all by himself mostly only needed a bit of help with the globs of acrylic paint. He has a cape, but is holding it behind his back - I think it helps the element of surprise? I don't know, he is a bizarre little duck.
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