Yarn Goddess

And Now For Something Different

2012-01-18T21:58:00.000-08:00

What's that, you say? Something different? No morose postings, no griping about my life, no bitching in general? Is this the right blog?

Yes, it is.

I haven't gone so far as to turn over a new leaf. I'm not stoned. I'm just... I don't know. I guess I'm just tired of the same old shit. So let's try something new, shall we? Well, not really new, but something you haven't seen on this blog in a long time.

Knitting. And the bulldog. What's her name again, you say? Oh, that's right... Emma.

Let's start with the knitting.

This is the sock I'm knitting for Buffalo Gold. It's out of their merino/buffalo blend. If you think you're seeing little copper dots on the stitching, you are. It's beaded, although not heavily. Of course, you can't see the lace pattern in all it's glory because it isn't blocked, but you can sort of get an idea of what it's going to look like once it's stretched out.

It's come a lot farther since these pictures were taken. I'm about halfway down the foot, so that means it's going a lot faster now. I hope to have it done by the end of the weekend. And since we're finally going to get rain for the first time in something like 57 days, it'll be wonderful to snuggle down into the buffalo robe and knit my little fingers to the proverbial bone. The lace pattern couldn't be simpler. What took the majority of my time was rewriting the pattern to accommodate a larger foot size. I hate patterns that only give one size (usually medium, it seems) and forget the rest of us big-footed people. Be that as it may, the repeat is only eight stitches, so it was a fairly simple matter to increase the number of repeats I had to do. The tricky part was figuring out how to get the lace to fall evenly on the foot. It took math. And we all know how good I am at math.

I've also ordered a sock loom just for the hell of it. It'll be a nice change of pace, something to dork around with when I get tired of actual knitting. How long I'll actually play with the thing is anyone's guess, but it'll be fun for an evening or two, anyway. I also bought some yarn from See Jayne Knit (you can find her on Etsy by searching for that name). I just ordered a delicious alpaca/silk/cashmere blend in a really interesting colorway to make Hubster a pair of socks. I guess it has charcoal, eggplant, and some other colors in it, but it looks mostly dark (at least in the picture). Because my sainted husband is such a colorful person, he loved it. I knew he would. Getting him into a tan shirt is like me in my tie-dyes.

So how is the four-legged creature, you ask? See for yourself.

That second picture isn't tilted. She is. That's her sleeping next to me (Hubster is a good photographer; he managed to completely avoid getting my big fat ass in the picture) in the buffalo robe-covered chair. She seems to love this hide even more than I do. Anyway, she likes to lean over against the armrest while she sleeps. I don't know why, but she won't put her head on my leg (I prop my legs up on the seat and curl them in front of her). That's reserved for sleepy-time at night, when she sleeps with Hubster on the couch. No... I get her ass firmly pushed against mine. So he gets the slobbering, snoring end, and I get the gassy, stinky end.

Life just ain't fair. And I know her farting on me isn't the same as my macaw barfing in my hand. The first time he did that, I was horrified. Then I found out that it's a sign of affection. Thank goodness people don't show their affection the same way. People think it's weird that Hubster and I sleep on different pieces of family room furniture, instead of in a bed, as it is. I don't want to get a reputation for barfing on each other in our fun time.

Back to knitting.

As you know, my stash has reached hoarding proportions at times. Then I sold off a shitload of it. Now I seem to have gotten into collecting yarn bowls, darning eggs, and nostepinnes. A lovely man named Phil Powell (Custom Wood Designs on Etsy) makes them, and his workmanship is superb. I love exotic woods, and that's his stock in trade. Check him out. As for the yarn bowls, I've bought them from a few different people, but my favorite by far is Jean Ann of Little Pig Pottery. The link is below.

Little Pig Pottery on Etsy

What follows are a couple of pictures of my latest acquisition. Her work isn't inexpensive, but in my humble opinion, it's well worth the price.

That tortoise is BIG. And he's heavy. I don't have my tape measure handy, but he's tall and long. The bowl part is also huge. I keep all my tools in there with the work. I've asked her to make me a buffalo. She's researching it, so hopefully, it'll be something she can figure out. I guess the front end is a bit problematic due to it's sheer size. I have complete faith in her, though. I'm sure she'll not only figure it out, but will turn out something that will be beyond awesome.

All my other yarn bowls, with the exception of one (it has an octopus hanging over the edge with some tentacles on the inside and the rest on the outside), are plain, so they don't warrant taking up space or your time with pictures. That's not to say that they're ugly or pieces of crap - they're not. In fact, they're all lovely. But you all know what a "regular" yarn bowl looks like. Jean Ann's work is extraordinary, so I had to have the Photomeister take a few shots of it.

In keeping with the upbeat tone of this post, I'll share one more tidbit of what's been going on.

You know that holiday we just had, the big one with all the gifts if you're a kid? Yeah, Christmas... that's the one. Well, Hubster and I haven't exchanged Christmas gifts in... uh... ever. So this year, because I got a checkbook app for the iPad and am actually keeping track of our money to the penny, and because of his new job, and because we're living like paupers (with the exception of the wild hairs I get when I buy my toys), we actually had some money to buy each other a gift. Not going apeshit in Reno (we went there for our anniversary, and if I mentioned it in my last post, I apologize - I'm too fucking lazy to read it to see what I said) also helped, even though we didn't win. I've already forgotten what I bought him, but I get my gift this Saturday. What is it? A horse? A Corvette? A bigger diamond?

Nope... although I'd welcome any/all of those things.

It's what amounts to a day of total and complete pampering at a swanky spa in Brentwood.

This place is cool. It's based on Native American spirituality (and you all know what I am and what I practice). I get a 1.5 hour facial, followed by a 1.5 hour massage, followed by a manicure, followed by a pedicure. Lunch is also being served somewhere in there. They have a hot tub in a garden which I fully intend to take advantage of, too (if I can parade around there in the nude, then I can sure as hell put on a swimsuit and plop down in a hot tub in public). Since it's supposed to be raining on Saturday, that makes it even better. There are few things I like better than either swimming or hot tubbing in the rain. I think I get there at 11:00 a.m. and stay until late in the afternoon. Hubster is going to go see the kids while I'm being kneaded, having sweet-smelling crap put on my wrinkled face, and having a Dremel taken to my feet. I can't wait. When we were pseudo-rich, I used to have a lady come to my house once a week and give me an hour-long massage in my bedroom. I haven't had a massage in years, since those days are long gone. The last one I had was given to me for my birthday by the gals at the yarn shop I used to frequent in Elk Grove. Even though it sounds like a true luxury (and it is, don't get me wrong), a good massage really helps with my joints and the pain. So I like to think of it as therapeutic. At least that's what I'm going to tell Hubster the next time I want one.

So that brings me to the end of my happy crappy post. I can't guarantee that my next one will be as upbeat, but this is a good start. There just comes a time when you've bored the shit out of everyone - including yourself - and you can't stand to type one more shitty thing. I've reached that point.

For this week.

And To All A Good Night

2011-12-24T10:53:00.000-08:00

So here we are - Christmas Eve. Another year is about to end, which means I have to relearn another set of numbers for the new year. I've just gotten used to it being 2011. A lot of people reflect on different things at this time of year; others simply enjoy being with family and friends for dinner and opening gifts. Being pagan and following Native American spirituality means that I don't celebrate or believe the same as the greater majority of the population; however, I set aside my beliefs for the sake of my family and celebrate along with them.

When I was a kid (and still a Catholic), my favorite part of the entire holiday process was being with my family and friends. Don't get me wrong - the gifts were great (I'm a package shaker and have it down to a fine art), but it was always tremendous fun to go from house to house, eating a little at each place, being with everyone (some people you didn't see except at Christmas), and coming home to a big meal of linguisa and macaroni salad at midnight. This always took place on Christmas Eve. On Christmas morning we opened our gifts, and then I helped Grandma prepare Christmas dinner. A shitload of people would descend on our house, and the celebration would go far into the night. Those were great times.

When I was in high school, I added my best friend's family into the mix. They're Italian (I've had the same best friend for 40 years) and began the celebration a day or two before Christmas Eve. It would run until a day or two after Christmas Day with one long party. People would get drunk, pass out under tables, and whoever was the most sober in the morning would make breakfast for everyone. As people came to life, they would begin all over again. I would bounce back and forth between my house and theirs, and I always ate two Christmas dinners. Those were incredible times; I have memories which will last me for the rest of my life and bring a lot of smiles and comfort.

As people in both families began to pass away, the celebrations grew smaller and took less time. When I got married the first time, things had pretty much died down completely. I began having Christmas dinner every year and would do up my house as festively as I could. And so a new tradition was born. I had hoped to pass the torch to my daughter, but you see how that turned out. And all this brings us to this holiday season.

We were going to go to Black Angus this year (which I think I wrote about in my last entry), but at the last minute, my cousin called and asked if we would be willing to come to his house for dinner tonight. I was delighted. It's the first time he's done any such thing, and I know it's because of Grandma. So we're bringing dessert and spending the night, which I think I also wrote about in my last entry. Hubster and I have already opened our gifts to each other - we did that at the stroke of midnight - so we could have our own little celebration. I got him some Rush DVD's he wanted, and he's treating me to a day of pampering at a spa in Brentwood (massage, mani/pedi, facial). We got the kids their first watches, some books, and a few other small things, and I had a beautiful necklace made for Mom. To say that we really feel like celebrating anything toniight would be ludicrous; I would just as soon ignore the entire thing. However, it will be nice to be with Glenn and his family for the evening, and I am looking forward to it.

I'll write about my anniversary trip in my next entry, but for now, I just wanted to say a few things about Christmas. I want to thank all of you for reading what I had to say, for being friends, for sending me all kinds of loving letters, for just being there. You've all been a tremendous source of comfort during my Grandmother's decline and eventual passing. I'm grateful for having all of you.

So I wish you and yours the happiest of Christmases. May you enjoy being with your families; may Santa bring you the gift you wanted most. May your night tonight and your day tomorrow be the best you've ever had.

Until next time - Merry Christmas.

Oh Boy - The Holidays Are Here

2011-12-09T12:00:00.000-08:00

I haven't experienced a holiday season this bad since Grandpa died. It's taken me 20 years to be able to say that he died. I used to say that he was on a business trip; then it was that he had passed. I never used "that" word. I suspect the same will be true of Grandma. She's just gone. Where, I have no idea.

With that having been said, we survived the viewing and funeral (such as it was). The only people who came to the viewing were me, Hubster, the kidlets, Mom, my cousin Glenn, and his wife, Yvonne. I wasn't sure I could handle it, but I decided that I had to say goodbye. Otherwise, I might regret it, and there would be no way to rectify the situation once she was buried. So I clung onto Hubster's arm, crept into the room, saw her in the casket I selected in 1989 (we were looking for a casket for Grandpa, and I happened to spy this particular one and thought it would be perfect for Grandma. It was.), and promptly fell apart. She did look beautiful - very peaceful and like she was going to move at any second. I kissed her forehead, was shocked (as I always am) at how cold and hard her skin was, and fell apart again. Once we left the little room, I fell apart for a third time out in the lobby. My mother, who isn't known for being a touchy-feely sort of person, came over and hugged me tight. It was a truly horrible and traumatic experience.

I need to backtrack here. When we first arrived at the offices, there was nobody at the desk. We waited for almost five minutes and nobody appeared, so we walked down a hall looking for some help. There was a rope halfway across the hall with a sign that said "Employees Only", but since it wasn't completely across the hall, we thought it was okay to enter. Apparently it wasn't, for an employee suddenly materialized and said, "Apparently you didn't see the sign". Hubster took one look at her, stepped in front of me (I was standing there hanging onto my walker", and said, "You're a very rude woman". She protested, he began to argue, and I butted in, saying that we were there for a viewing. Her tone immediately changed, and she showed us to the room.

Then, just before we were to walk over to where the crypt was, another employee came in and said that the stone had been moved and a curtain put up in front of Grandpa's coffin (he had purchased a double crypt for them - my wishes). I immediately lost it and began yelling at the guy, for my mother had specifically instructed them to have the stone in place until we left. There was NO way I could handle seeing his coffin as well. So the guy hustled outside while the family tried to calm me down. The end result was that the stone was put back in place, and we proceeded to the crypt.

We sat there for a short while, and then I walked up to the coffin, laid my head against it, and talked to Grandma for the last time. Glenn, who is more like my brother than my cousin, was at my side the entire time. Hubster knows how close we are and stood aside. I spent most of the time with my arms wrapped around Glenn and my head buried against his shoulder. We cried together, and then we all said goodbye and left to go have lunch. It was as bad - or worse - than I thought it would be.

The thing about the casket - Grandma's favorite color was purple, and when we had gone into the room which contained all the coffins, I saw this casket with a purple tint to it and porcelain caps set around the sides with purple lilacs. She would have loved it, so we bought it that day. I know it sounds kind of weird, but you have to remember that I was crazed that day and didn't know what the fuck I was doing. I was also hopped up on a shitload of Valium and Percdan to dull the pain.

We buried her the day before Thanksgiving, so needless to say, none of us had any sort of Thanksgiving dinner. What the hell did I have to be thankful for? I now had no grandparents, and the holiday season seemed like a joke.

So here it is, with Christmas looming in a couple of weeks, and we have to be somewhat cheerful for the kids. They don't really understand what's happened other than Grandma isn't going to be with us anymore. The whole thing seems so pointless, but we have to go through the motions. We're also having Christmas dinner at Black Angus. I used to see people in restaurants at Christmas and feel sorry for them, that they didn't have any family to spend the day with. Now we're the displaced, the sad and lonely, and will be eating shitty food instead of the usual spread I put on. I did order a ham from Burgers Smokehouse (they have the best hams in the world) and will give half of it to Mom for her and the kids. I'm also baking her an apple pie and making a couple of other things so she has some homemade food for the days to follow. It's a surprise, and I think she'll be pleased.

Now I sit here all day, alone (well, Emma is with me), while Hubster is at work. I hate this part of it. For our entire married life, he's telecommuted. Now I see him for about four hours at night and early in the morning. He does get to stay at home on Fridays, so that's something. In fact, he's on the porch having a ciggie. I don't give a shit - I smoke in the house. I do, that is, until I paint the walls, which I had wanted to get done by now, but I just don't have the motivation to get it done.

So what do I do all day? I knit, mostly. At least I'm being really productive. I'm almost done with a test sock which I'll use to get an exact fit. Then I can compare future socks to it so I don't have to continually remeasure myself. I do have a binder with all those measurements in it, but I don't have a clue as to it's whereabouts. This will be nicer - I can just put a new sock up against it and see it if matches. It didn't start out as test sock, but since I can't find the other skein of yarn to make the second one, that's what I've decided to use it for. I'm also known to wear two completely different socks at the same time, so I might wear it once in a while, too. I'm also working on a hat to wear when I go bike riding. It's been too windy for me to go out, and since it's all I can do to keep my balance on the best of days, it's safer for me to stay indoors and just work on my shit.

There was a bit of excitement last week. I was out in the backyard checking on my orange tree, and the next thing I knew, I was floating in the pool in the deep end. I passed out and fell in, so I think the shock of the cold water brought me to. While I was paddling to the side to get out (not an easy task because of how cold the water was), I was dimly aware of Emma going crazy in the house. She knew I was in trouble. Anyway, she managed to shove the screen door aside and came bolting out. She must have gone airborne at the end of the patio overhang, because the next thing I knew, I was halfway out of the pool and got slammed in the chest by a 70 pound flying bulldog. The impact sent me flying backwards into the pool, and Emma bounced back onto the patio. I got to the side again, managed to get out, and Emma didn't leave my side for the rest of the day. In fact, she hasn't left my side since then. For those of you who aren't familiar with how bulldogs operate, they don't swim - they sink. Their stocky bodies just aren't built for swimming, and she's usually afraid of the water. But her fear left her when she saw me in the water. I guess she knew I wasn't in there for a swim, because she doesn't act that way in the summer. I'm amazed at the size of her heart and am in awe of her love and loyalty. She's been getting a lot of treats, but we have to cut back on that because she's getting a little pudgy. That's not good for her short little legs, so even though she's a hero and we adore her, we can't be sharing our dnner with her anymore. She will not be pleased.

So that's my joyful blog entry. Once I finish the sock and/or hat, I'll post some pictures. The pattern is called "Apollo & Artemis" by Through The Loops (if you want to see it, you can find it at the Loopy Ewe). That's the sock. The hat pattern is under a yarn bowl right now and I don't feel like digging it out, but it's from the Sanguine Gryphon. I'm using their yarns for both projects - Bugga for the sock and Codex (a fabulous silk/BFL singles) for the hat. I'll keep the colors a secret, but they're absolutely gorgeous. I'm sad that the company is breaking into two entities because it's one of my favorite yarn companies, but I'm hopeful that the yarn will stay at the same high quality it's always been.

Hubster has just left to get lunch for us, so I'll bring this really happy post to a close. Sorry about the morose tone, but I'm anything but joyful lately. I'm sure you understand. I'll be back before Christmas to wish you all a happy one (or whatever holiday you happen to observe).

Until then... knit on.

P.S. ... I Love You

2011-11-18T14:11:00.000-08:00

How does one condense a lifetime of memories into a fairly short document, especially when your heart is breaking? You just do the best you can and hope that it's adequate.

You quit your job when I was born so you could stay home and take care of me. You were the first person I saw when I woke up and the last person I saw before I went to sleep.

You chased me around the house when I ripped off my diaper and all my clothes so you could bathe and change me. Your legs were good then; you always managed to catch me.

When I pulled that pot of boiling tapioca onto my face, you grabbed me, wiped it out of my eyes so I wouldn't go blind, and then took care of me for three months while the burns healed and the skin peeled off my face like an orange. Because of you, I didn't scar or have hideous skin. You also kept all the neighborhood kids away from me so nobody would make fun of me.

You read to me every day, even though you hated reading, and taught me how to read for myself when I was three years old.

I slept with you until I was about 10 years old because I loved you so much.

When I got scarlet fever and was running a 105 temperature, you held me close, even though my body was like a space heater. You were also the one who plunged me into ice baths several times a day until the fever broke.

When Grandpa married that psycho who was always trying to kill me, you watched over me like a hawk and beat the shit out of her in our driveway.

You taught me how to steal grapes and other small fruits in the grocery store because "you have to taste before you buy".

We went everywhere together - the grocery store, the dime store, the bank - every day.

When Mike Madding pushed me down onto that broken bottle and it ripped my knee out, it was you who came to the principal's office to get me. You and Grandpa marched over to his house to bitch him out, and he apologized to me when I was able to go back to school.

You sewed all my dresses for school with matching bows for my hair. I hated them and longed for store-bought clothes, but now that I do all that stuff myself, I appreciate all the time and effort you put into them.

You always stayed awake when I was in high school and out with my friends and wouldn't go to sleep until I was safely home.

When I would come home drunk, you snuck me into bed so my mother wouldn't see me.

When I had my '55 Chevy and you were riding around with me one day, you were all jazzed when we saw my uncle at a stop light. When I gunned the engine and peeled out (it was a drag race, after all), you slid off the seat and wound up on the floor under the dashboard. You thought that was the funniest thing in the world - until we couldn't get you out.

When you got into your car accident and we came to the hospital to be with you, my cousin (who was an EMT) had already tended to you and took my daughter through the ambulance so we could talk to the doctor. I had a Camaro then, and you had an enormous cast on your leg. I managed to wedge you into the front seat, but I had to grab you around the middle to drag you out when we got home. You yelled at me the entire way in because I was crushing your ribs. Then, when I went to put you on the bedpan and you fell off, we both collapsed on the bed in peals of laughter.

You used to let me drive your Pinto before I even had a permit (since Grandpa had taught me how to drive his Cadillac when I was 10). We got into a bad accident and the Pinto looked like an accordion. We parked it out in front and hoped that Mom wouldn't see it. She did. We both took the heat.

When I was a freshman in high school and had to sew a dress for my final in Home Ec, you sewed it for me and let me pass it off as my own. You got an A on it.

You saw through all my teenaged lies, but never let on that you knew I was fulll of shit. I suspected you didn't believe me, but I pretended that you did. That arrangement worked out just fine.

When I snuck off to SFO with my boyfriend's mother to pick him up from a rafting trip he took, I told you I was going swimming over at my friend's house. She dropped me off at the corner, and I went to the drinking fountain, got my hair wet, and walked home. You picked me up by the neck with one hand and slammed me against the wall until I told you the truth. Then you got on the phone and yelled at Mike's mom for being a dipshit. I was horrified. You had called Mary Kay's house to see if I was really there while I was gone and found out I wasn't. That was the only lie you called me on because you had forbidden me to see Mike. I was 14.

You were the one I ran to with all my problems and listened, then held me close while I cried.

I picked yoiu up one day and stuffed you in the giant garbage can in the garage just to be funny, knowing that you couldn't get out without your stepstool (you were barely 5'0"). Then when I saw how mad you were, I ran out of the garage, leaving you there, until Mom came home from work and made me take you out. I was grounded for quite a while for that stunt.

You danced at my big formal wedding and cried when I left the reception.

I made you a picture quilt with pictures of all the family members who had passed, as well as wedding photos, baby pictures, and all the others which were so dear to you. I told you that you were being buried with it, and you had a fit. You thought the quilt should be passed down, but I was of the opinion that it was your quilt and nobody else's. I'm still of that opinion. You cried when you opened that gift and often sat in the room where it hung, gently touching all the pictures and crying for those who were gone.

You loved Hubster with a passion.

You loved Daisy and LIly with a passion.

You loved me most of all.

You were my friend, my confidante, my protector, the person I ran to before all others, the one who patched me up when I broke, the one who picked me up when I fell, the one who always stood up for me no matter what.

You gave me a lifetime of memories, some of which are just too painful to write down and too personal to share with anybody.

I wish I could have made the last four months better for you. But the strokes got more frequent and worse each time, and finally, you went blind and didn't recognize anybody except your Papa, who was waiting to take you over.

And take you over he did, yesterday morning at about 11:00. You were 93 years old. I wasn't there, but I wish I had been.

Now you're gone, and the realization that I'll never see you again is slowly setting in. As I type this and the tears begin to flow yet again, I'm dreading the next several days. You're being buried with Grandpa, which means that the crypt will be opened. I'll see his coffin and all the memories will flood back in. I can only hope that I pass out, because I don't think I can bear what's coming in the next day or two.

Rest in peace, Grandma. I loved you then, I love you now, and I'll love you always.

You're not here to fix me, even though I'm broken. I wish you were.

Love always,

Your adoring granddaughter.

Finally... Something to Say

2011-10-20T10:02:00.000-07:00

It been ages since I last posted, I know. I'm sorry to say that I've not had a single thing to say in all this time that wouldn't have been a reiteration of what I had already told you. However, that is no longer the case.

In fact, I'm fairly bursting with news.

Let's see. I left off with the Grandma saga. Nothing has changed there, except that she's miraculously stopped falling out of bed. My mother also doesn't seem to need any more help in putting her on the pot. Amazing how that works when you have to do things yourself and can't shove all the work onto someone else. But wait, you say. Does this mean you're not there anymore?

That's exactly what it means. We've been in our new home for almost a month now.

It's small, there's no getting around it. However, it's darling. The layout is such that it doesn't feel as small as it really is. Hubster is using one of the bedrooms as his office and is actually using it. I've got an oversized chair which I practically live in. Our stuff still isn't here - we're still fighting with the POD people over the price, and we don't have a large chunk of change right now anyway - but I got some stuff off Craig's List to make do for the time being. I even got a plant off there - a truly gorgeous creature I've named Ophelia (she's a 4 ft. tall ponytail palm). I've never seen one that big, and the price was a steal. The other good thing about her is that we picked her up in Lafayette (which is surprisingly close to where we live), and we drove right past Blue Sky Alpacas (the retail shop). You can bet your ass I'll be going over there very soon. Their ranch is in Brentwood, which is the next town over, so I'm hoping to visit there as well. But I digresss. If you don't have the money to get your stuff, how are you going to go shopping at what promises to be a fairly pricey store, you say? Something just happened on Monday which is going to change our lives.

Hubster went to Silicon Valley to interview with a new company. He hadn't even gotten home when they called.

He was offered, and accepted, the job. (insert VERY happy face here)

I think that he'll love it. Anything would be better than his present company. We're going to have a celebration dinner (at a local eatery which has exceptional Italian food), and then have a REAL celebration in December.

Why December? Because December 12th is our 20th anniversary and, now that we'll be able to afford it, he's putting together a surprise. Hubster has always put together the best surprises. I don't know if we're going somewhere, having dinner at a nice restaurant in San Francisco, or what, but I'm sure it'll be killer. We've never really celebrated our anniversaries, never really taken a vacation other than a couple of days in Reno at a time, and never gone on a honeymoon. We've never had the money, and when he worked for Cisco and we did have disposable income, we tended to go to Reno (although that pretty much stopped when we bought the house). This time, we're going to continue living frugally, complete the purchase of this house, and do a lot of remodeling on it rather than move yet again and buy a larger place. There is a lot of potential right here to expand the living space (and put in my dream kitchen), update the pool, put in new flooring, paint, blah blah blah, that I'd rather live through the hell of remodeling and get exactly what I want rather than have our money eaten up by a huge mortgage payment, higher property taxes, and settle for something which is nice but still not what I really want. We're happy here, and we plan to remain that way. I kind of feel like we've made it - there's just something about being married 20 years that says we're not going anywhere - and besides, who else would put up with our nasty asses?

So that was the huge - or one of the huge - bits of life-changing news. Something else has happened, although this doesn't really affect us one way or the other.

We're grandparents again.

Yes, the kid went and got herself knocked up and had another baby. We don't know who the father is, what the kid is, when she had it, what it's name is, where they're living - to put it briefly, we don't know shit. The only thing we know for sure is that there's another rug rat out there somewhere who is our grandchild.

Part of me yearns to hold this baby. Part of me doesn't want anything to do with it. I don't think it's fully hit the kids - they're only seven, after all, and don't fully understand what's happened. I think it's a shame that they have a brother or sister whom they probably will never know, but maybe this will keep her away from them once and for all. She has another focus now. I'm about as maternal as a stone, so I don't reallly give it a lot of thought, but every now and then, I weep for this child. Amber has fucked up again, and it's obvious that she hasn't learned dick from any of the life lessons she's had. I'm keeping our location a secret so she doesn't turn up on our doorstep. I really don't want her here, and I certainly don't want another baby around, especially when I know it would kill our flower children (since they're not living with us yet). The whole situation is totally FUBAR, but I'm sure she doesn't see it that way. Oh well.

My health is, well, my health. It hasn't gotten worse or better. It simply is what it is, so I won't bore you with that. The only thing I'll say about it is that I've decided against the wire in my spine. The PA I'm seeing instead of the doctor himself told me that it only helps for pain below the waist. Since mine is migratory, it wouldn't do a whole lot of good for me.

Emma is doing well and loves her new home. I think she's finally reached her full size, which puts her at about 60 pounds. I found some pictures of her when she was a puppy, and I fell in love all over again. She was so damned cute and fit quite nicely in my lap. Now she hogs the entire chair and knocks all the wind out of me if she decides to sit on my lap. I'm always amazed at just how strong she is, especially when she bangs into my legs and almost knocks me over. Then I remember she's solid muscle. She's also gotten very protective of me and is constantly by my side. She's incredibly comforting.

As for knitting, I've got the usual six pairs of socks on the needles and am knitting on my bloomers. I finally figured out the pattern (you know how you read something a hundred times and it just doesn't click?), so while I'm far behind where I'd like to be, at least the lightbulb finally went off in my pea brain. It was a wording thing that didn't make sense, but now that it does, I can't imagine how I didn't understand it. When this new yarn arrives, I have plans for a pair of socks which are essentially a Gansey sampler. The yarn is called Blue Scorpion or something like that and is a gorgeous bright, medium-toned blue which will show all the stitches off to their best advantage. I have the needles, so I must need to cast on more projects, right?

I don't remember if I told you (and am too lazy to read old posts to see if I did) that I've begun riding a bicycle. I found a beach cruiser on CL for a steal and have added a few things to it (a really comfy seat which is filled with gel and is large enough to fit my ass, a sheepskin seat cover, a wicker basket, streamers for the handlbars - yes, I'm really five - and one of those flags on a long pole so people can see me), and am blessed to have a beautiful bike trail just down the street which runs alongside the water (we're practically on the Delta here), so I'm taking it slow before I tackle that. Every day, I try to go a little farther. It's amazing how insecure I am about riding, especially with any traffic close by, but I'm sure that will pass the more I ride. It's fun, and it's also good exercise, especially since it's now too cold to go swimming. At least it's something I can still do.

It would seem that, once again, I've blathered on and on and bored the lving shit out of all of you. For that, I apologize. I'd rather do that, however, than try to come up with news. I didn't have to do that this tine. I'm also sorry that I don't have any pictures to show you. Once we get our cameras, I'll take a bunch, but until then...

You'll just have to filter out most of the bullshit I spew and focus on anything which seems interesting.

I hope there's at least one or two items you'll enjoy.

I've missed you all.

Football...

2011-08-21T19:27:00.000-07:00

... really, really sucks.

I realize that many of you love watching football and wait for the season to start as avidly as any man. I am not one of those people. In fact, I dread the start of the season (which seems to be getting longer every year). If it's just me and Hubster at home, then it's okay because he doesn't watch it (unless it's the Super Bowl). However, I had forgotten just how obsessed my mother is with the game. It doesn't matter who is playing, where they're playing, or what night/day of the week it is. If it's a football game, she watches it. If it's the San Francisco 49'ers playing, though, all movement in the house comes to a grinding halt. She's been a Niner's fan my entire life and probably many, many years before I came along. This weekend was the Battle of the Bay - the Niner's played the Oakland Raiders. I especially dread those games - she yells at the TV, stomps around the house if the Niner's do something stupid (which is about 99% of the time - this is no longer the team Montana and Rice played together on), and insists on telling me about the players as if I know who the hell they are. I sit here, roll my eyes, try to knit, and generally ignore her. Then when a play is really fucked up, she takes it out on the nearest person. That's usually me, since my chair is conveniently placed right next to her couch. It's such a joyous thing to share the game with her.

Today was especially horrible. She's been watching tennis and football since 9:00 a.m. It's now 7:45 p.m., and she's watching Sunday Night Football. I'm sorry to say that this is the only working TV in the house. I'm even sorrier to say that she has complete and total control of the remote control. Sigh. I haven't been able to watch one stinking show all day and won't be able to until 11:00 p.m. when she goes to bed. I'm so overfuckingwhelmed with happiness that I can't even begin to express my complete and utter joy. (gag barf)

But all this is about to change.

You see, yesterday was something of a milestone. It actually began on Friday.

Friday, Hubster and I went to look at a house.

Saturday, we bought it. (g)

Yes, you read that right. Saturday, we bought it. (even bigger grin)

About a week ago, I was browsing through Craig's List looking for a rental when I came across this cute little house in a Delta town called Oakley. Those of you who live out here will know whereof I speak. It's about an hour from Mom's house (even though it's actually only 35 miles away). The house was owned by a company which buys distressed properties, rehabs them, and then either does a straight lease or a lease to own program with you. I talked it over with Hubster, and we decided to give it a whirl and see if we could qualify. Since the company bases their decisions mostly on income (although credit does play a role in the process), I had some hope. So we filled out the forms, submitted all our paperwork, and sat back to wait. This was on Wednesday.

We were approved on Thursday and made an appointment to see thiis house on Friday.

It's a small house - three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a very small kitchen. However, it's in a good neighborhood, has enough room for all our shit (I hope I didn't underestimate just how much shit we actually have), and came with some surprises which were unexpected but most welcome. One, in particular, sealed the deal.

It has a pool. A large, deep pool. (HUGE shit-eating grin)

So I told the realtor that we wanted to begin the program with the purchase of that particular house. We paid the money required (courtesy of my football-crazed mother - thank you), signed a bunch of papers, and got the keys.

It's now ours, and we've begun moving the stuff out of our trucks into it.

Hubster is going to call tomorrow to see how much it will cost to get that pod moved up here so we can really move in. For the time being, we're sort of in limbo, with some of our stuff there and us being physically here. I can't wait for the day (and may it be SOON) that we spend our first night there. It's right next to one of the sloughs of the Delta, so we get these lovely breezes. It will be pure heaven to be in a quiet, peaceful house. And for the first time since we lost our home, we'll have - I'll have - security. I won't feel like our home will be snatched out from under us. This is our home, and I still haven't wrapped my head around it yet. If I die by the end of the year, it won't matter - I'll die in OUR home. I haven't felt this kind of deep, inner peace in a very long time.

This company is a wonderful thing. They specialize in helping people with problems like ours to get back into a nice home in a safe area. They also have programs which teach you fiscal responsibility, help you clean up your credit, and work with you to come up with a viable budget. They also won't sell you a house if it doesn't meet affordable ratio standards. Fortunately, we could have spent another grand a month in house payments and still qualified, but we really don't need anything bigger or fancier. We both love this place and look forward to making it our own. I'm going to Lowe's or Home Depot tomorrow to look at paint cards so I can paint one of the walls in the family room (and one in the dining area). In fact, tomorrow will be very busy, since I'm taking the family out to see it, going to HD, hitting the DMV for a replacement DL and a new handicapped placard, and then have to call all the utilities to switch them into our name. I'll probably collapse at the end of the day, but it'll be a good collapse.

So that's the really huge news which I've been dying to share with all of you.

The other bit of news is neither good nor happy. It concerns Grandma.

In just a few short weeks, she's gone from being mostly lucid to mostly a stranger. She doesn't recognize me for several minutes; when she finally does, she bursts into tears, wants a hug, and proceeds to tell me that she's being abused. She also is seeing things running around her room - cats, mice, little black creatures, litte girls, a woman - doesn't comprehend anything you tell her - you can tell her something and think she gets it, but as soon as you leave the room, she asks you the same question - keeps us up all night with her screaming and calling for each of us, shits the bed (even though she has to wear a diaper, as I told you in my last post, she removes all her clothes), falls out of bed, blah blah blah. This is going to sound terrible, but I wish she'd have another massive stroke and just be at peace. My grandma is gone, and even though I'm already grieving, this nasty person is inhabiting her body. She's already beginning her nightly screamfest; this will go on until about 5:00 a.m. We get a two- to three-hour reprieve from around midnight to about 3:00 a.m., but then her sleeping pills wear off and she's at it again. It's truly horrible, and if I'm unfortunate enough to find myself in her position, I only hope that I have enough pills to do the job.

Speaking of medical shit, my pain doc wants to insert a very large needle in my spine, feed two wires next to my spinal cord, make a pocket in my hip for the battery pack, and wean me off the narcotics. I'm really leery of this whole thing and have a lot of thinking to do. It's supposed to send electric pulses up and down my back and block out the pain. I have two questions (Paula, please forgive me for repeating this, and if I mentioned it in my last post, just skip over it):

1. Do I turn it on by squeezing my ass cheeks together, or does Hubster spank me?

and

2. Do I have a really huge orgasm when it turns on?

All goofing around aside, I would be wide awake during the procedure, it would hurt like hell, and recovery takes about a week. There's also no guarantee that it would work (they do a trial run before they actually insert the battery pack). If he inserts the needle just a tad off center, though... well, let's just say that I'll get around town strapped to a skateboard or something.

Decisions.

The only decision I'm making tonight is to stop typing, drink my coffee, and watch a show I want to see from 9:00 to 10:00, at which time the football fanatic takes back over.

Home sweet home. Soon.

Did I Say That Life is a Celebration?

2011-08-06T15:32:00.000-07:00

I must have been higher than a kite when I typed that.

We're living at Mom's now - have been since shortly after my birthday - and I can't wait to get the hell out of here. I had forgotten just how loudly and often my mother screams (and I mean SCREAMS) at everything she doesn't like - my grandmother, the kids, my TV programs, the very air we all breathe. Grandma seems to have become a nudist in her old age and takes off her diaper (and whatever clothing she happens to have on) several times during the night. She cries, she sees things, she thinks she has to get up and clean/cook/whatever, she yells, she falls out of bed (and looks like she's been beaten because of all the bruises on her face from smacking into the dresser), and exposes herself to Hubster every chance she gets. He, of course, is totally grossed out by that old wrinkled thing. I'm not sure how to feel. I know she's not my grandma anymore and can't really help herself, but it still bothers me that she's essentially hitting on my old man. Mostly though, I've got to get away from the screaming and the stupid Hallmark channel movies (and Lifetime movies, and tennis, and soon to be football, and tennis, and any movie older than the hills which Mom watches nonstop). It's gotten to the point where I don't care if we live in a studio apartment - just somewhere I can call our own. I'm going to start looking in a couple of weeks and hope that Hubster gives me the green light to go see some. Right now, Mom is sleeping on the couch with some stupid dance show blaring on the TV (but don't dare tell her that she sleeps during her TV time - she yells that she isn't and then won't talk to you). I'm telling you, she's an old woman with the attitude of a very nasty child. How did I ever manage to live here for the first 25 years of my life?

On the brighter side of things, we're going to some huge outdoor festival in Fremont tomorrow. Even though we're saving as much money as possible so we can get a nice apartment, Hubster senses that I need to get out of here and buy something totally useless. I'm thinking I'll get a nice piece of sculputure or wood carving (or anything to do with knitting) for our new place. There are about 650 juried vendors at this thing and tons of food (bless the Bay Area - I can get a linguisa sandwich from the Knights of Columbus). He's sticking me in the wheelchair since I'll never make it walking, and I'd like to see as much as possible. We were going to go today, but he was so exhausted that I thought it was better for him to sleep I was right. Now he's in a wonderful mood, is well-rested, and ready to go. I know he doesn't particularly like festivals like this, but he's doing it for me. Between his job and my grandmother, he's up pretty much all night. I'm sure glad he still has plenty of stamina, but he's going to wind down pretty soon.

I also bought this online sock knitting course from Crafty (advertised by Vogue Knitting). It looks really interesting. The teacher shows you how to do all kinds of heels, toes, cast-ons and -offs, etc. I like having things like that handy, especially with my shitty memory. There are also a lot of things to be learned from the course, and once you buy it, you can watch it as many times as you want. I've also gotten some new books - "Sock Knitting Master Class" and "Knitting Socks From Around The World". There are several others which haven't been released yet - that huge book on knitting (I have the original, which is in a white dust jacket) has been updated and filled with new information, Clara Parkes' book on socks, and about four others which are coming out at various times during the rest of the year. Oh... I also got Cookie A's newest book, "eat. knit. sock" (or something like that). All of them are really good. I just finished reading a book on the history of knitting (No Idle Hands?) and am reading "The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook". Between that, working on socks, and smoking as much dope as is humanly possible, I'm managing to stay sane. And (happy day!) the old head shop in Livermore is still there, so I can buy any supplies which I might need. Oh fuck... I just lit a cancer stick and now have my mother on my ass about how many ciggies I'm smoking. SAVE ME.

One of my old swap partners dropped me a note last week saying that she's knit me a few things and also picked up some goodies which she thought I might enjoy. She's thinking she'll mail the package sometime this week. I can't wait! She couldn't have timed it any better had she tried. It gives me something to look forward to. I had knit her a sheep and worked with Tom Golding to design her a custom drop spindle (among other things) for the swap we were in, and she's become a good friend. I certainly didn't expect this, though.

Well, now that I've bitched, moaned, and complained, I'll bring this entry to a close. I think I'm going to have to start blogging more regularly instead of waiting months between entries. At least with all the shit going on, I actually have something to say.

I have to look for the silver lining, or I'll be eating the barrel of a gun.

Rumplestilskin is Alive... But Not Well

2011-06-24T01:52:00.000-07:00

Today - well, Thursday - was my birthday. I'd like to say that it was a horrible day, but that would be acknowledging it was even a day. It started out okay, meaning that I woke up. It was downhill from there.

I tried to knit, but I kept fucking that up. At least I got to watch my daytime shows - you know, People's Court, Judge Mathis, others of the same genre. I told Hubster that I was going to take a short nap before we went to dinner. Then I woke up... and it was after midnight. He woke up around the same time. So now he's fixing us dinner. The only exciting things that went on while I was asleep are that Emma peed on my pillow while I slept, and I put my ciggie out on the sheets. Oh... I also dumped a cup of coffee on the bed. So now I'm sitting on a pee- and coffee-stained set of sheets with holes and ashes on them. No gift, no balloons, no anything. I have to wait until the first before we can celebrate because we don't have any money. And even then, all we're going to do is go to the fair. I shouldn't complain, but nobody's listening anyway. Now that I've finished dinner, it's on to a hopefully somewhat productive night of knitting. Oh... and I just hit the keyboard with my ciggie, so the shift key has a burn mark on it. Just shoot me now.

As for the good news, we're finally in the Bay Area for good. Of course, the residence hotel we're staying at is making us leave on Saturday morning because the way Hubster's paycheck falls doesn't allow us to afford the bill. It's on to Mom's and more fun and games. Things over there aren't any better than they are here. I haven't lived at home since 1984, so this should be a hoot. Argh.

To put the icing on the cake, my grandma had a stroke last week. She's not doing too well - she's seeing things like ghost children climbing in the window, monsters under the bed, things like that. I guess she's also wanting constant attention. So while Hubster is working, I'll be entertaining her. Apparently, she's getting on Mom's nerves. Mom has about as much sympathy as a wilted head of lettuce and also the same amount of compassion because she's never been around sickness, but I can't do what I'd like to anymore - you know, simple things like sit and stand. It's going to be interesting. At least living there will allow us to save a lot of money fairly quickly so we can afford to get our own place again. I live for the moment.

As long-time readers know, I usually get maudlin around my birthday, but this one is different. It may well be my last one, and I had really wanted it to be special. I wanted to spend time with Hubster, maybe go out to dinner, perhaps even go to the fair - just be together and have some fun. None of those things happened. While we're celebrating on the first, it's not the same. I still miss having a gift to open, being fussed over, having people over for a party - the things that I used to love so much about birthdays. This one, though... I wanted to celebrate being alive. I guess when you get down to it, every day I'm given is a gift in itself, and I don't need anything to open to celebrate that. I really need to get over myself and just be thankful, period.

It would still be nice to go to Reno or something, though.

Seriously, after reading through this entry, I see that I do have a lot to celebrate. I'm still here. Grandma is still with us, even though I think the end is in sight. Hubster is still with me. We have a roof over our heads and food on the table. And I have you, my readers, some of whom have become good friends. Sometimes we lose sight of what's truly important in life until we're faced with the consequences. I'm going to try to do better and be a better person. Why?

Because life is a celebration.

Happy birthday to me. :)

The Hunt is On...

2011-05-16T20:02:00.000-07:00

... to find ourselves a permanent residence.

Yes, good women, we are back in the Bay Area! After what seemed like an eternity because of Hubster having to pack the entire house by himself (I tried to help but was as worthless as tits on a goose), and a three-day pilgrimage to get here (we wound up staying two nights in a hotel at the far side of the Grapevine), we are checked in at our extended stay hotel for the duration. I have an appointment with a pain doctor tomorrow (since I'm almost out of meds) and a fresh stash of herb, so I'm good for now, but we can't stay here forever. I could, though, get used to having a weekly maid and no bills other than our "mortgage" payment. I've found a program where you put down some money and they take a small amount out of each monthly payment; at the end of four years, you have the option to get a loan to buy the house. I even found a house which suits our needs. Now I just have to wait and see if the guy from the company is willing to work with us because... well... we don't have the upfront payment. If he is, then home sweet home! Keep your fingers crossed. I would hate to rent and see our money just fly out the window when we could do this program. They qualify you based on what you can afford to pay, not your credit. Good thing, too, since we could wipe our asses with our credit reports.

Forgive me in advance for jumping around. I see it's been a while since I last posted, so this post will most likely be a stream of consciousness type of thing.

I received this email from an absolutely lovely lady (you know who you are) who asked that I copy it here for your reading enjoyment. I'm more than happy to do so, although I'm not disclosing her name out of respect for her.

"Hi, Pam,

I tried to put this in your comments but I don't have any of the required accounts (open id, google, whatever) so shall write to you directly. Would you mind posting this to your blog, including my request that you do so? My first comment is that regardless of what went on between you and "other", I really think it's very shoddy for "other" to invade your blog. I also read your comments about your SnB women being afraid of catching TB just because you tested positive for exposure. I find it odd that in this information age, anyone could be so ignorant of such basic medical information. Having said that, on to nicer topics. You include something about your hubby in just about every post, which is so sweet. I read in one post that you met him on the Internet. How long have you been together? When you write anything lengthy about him, I get the feeling that you two "fit". You said in one post that you never seem to fit in (I think it was to do with the SnB group), but you sure fit into his heart by the sound of it. However long you have been together, you sound very much in love. And, by the way, I do not think you are weird. I think you are unique, but that's not the same as weird. Living outside of the box is something is something that many of us would like to do but we don't have what it takes. As the younger generation says, "You go girl.""

I think that says it all. And in response to your question as to how long we've been together, we will be celebrating our 20th wedding anniversary in December but have been living together for 21 years. Egads... I used to have all my body parts in the right spot. Oh well... the old man still loves me, and I him, so everything is right with the world.

Having gone into my mail program to copy the above missive (blowing kisses at you), I found a letter from the housing company. No, he can't work within our parameters, and the house which I liked so much is in a town I don't want to live in, so the hunt continues. Sigh. Even though it's exciting to think of living in a new house, I hate the credit explanation. I can only hope that the right house falls into our laps during our foray into the rental world. While this room is adequate for the time being, sitting with one of those back rests in bed to sleep, knit, etc., is not optimal. If there's something to bitch about, I'll find it.

Now that we're back home (so to speak), I don't have to worry about my health suddenly taking a nosedive and not being able to get to a hospital quickly enough. There are even stores, McDonald's, other restaurants, movie theaters... imagine! And my mother, having gotten us back, is already bitching and trying to be "helpful". Goddess save us.

Speaking of my health, I'm not doing well. I have to use the walker to get around just about everyplace and, if not the walker, my cane. I did manage to find a dude who carves the coolest canes, putting a wood spirit on the front of each one. I wasn't keen on using a store-bought cane, so I was really happy to find this guy. If anybody needs a cane or walking stick for hiking, check him out. He's on Etsy and ArtFire - "Walker Canes", or something like that. At the very least, take a look at his stuff just for the visual enjoyment.

So what's the first thing I bought for our room? Yarn, of course! I actually had to, since Jenny Boully (Woolly Boully) is once again dyeing. She's on Etsy and has put her leftover skeins on there, so if she's a fave of yours, head on over. She also does those Imagumball or whatever the fuck those things are called, and you'll find those in her shop.

As for what I'm working on, I'm still plugging away on the swatches and also working on socks (including two pairs of baby socks) and two baby blankets. Why is it taking me so long to do the swatches? Well, there are a lot of them, and one of them is a lace weight which gets something like 2000 sts/in (not really, but it feels like it), and has to be knitted into a Feather and Fan pattern (it just screamed out that no other pattern would do). It's really cobweb and totally gorgeous, having been dyed into a tonal teal. Stupid me - I looked at the amount they sent and wondered what the hell I would do with so little. Heh.

And so I come to the end of my first post in ages. I'm alive (and will be alive and stoned off my ass as soon as I proofread this), we're here safe and sound, and I'm having a salami sandwich for dinner.

On real sourdough.

Yum.

Deleted Comments

2011-03-11T14:36:00.000-08:00

You will notice that I have deleted some comments. They were between two people (one of whom was Ugly Stepsister Designs, the other by someone who doesn't even have a blog, shop, or any other identifying material). They were in reference to the fiasco which happened after Sock Summit.

If you'll remember, Sock Summit was in 2009. These people still feel the need to bitch and moan about shit which happened back then. If I owe them merchandise, then tell me. Otherwise, address your comments either to me personally or use your real names instead of hiding behind aliases. I noticed that Ugly has a plethora of items in their shop (meaning that they don't have a single fucking thing), as well as a blog with NO entries at all. Maybe you should concentrate on filling up your own spaces with content instead of shitting on my blog.

As for the "poor me" aspects of your comments, I don't know where you got that from. It's not the first time I've seen it, but I don't recall asking for sympathy from anybody. Don't you have anything better to do with your time than follow what I'm doing?

Maybe you should consider why nobody wanted your shit to begin with. I think Ugly's alias is appropriate. As I recall, the crap you sent me was ugly indeed.

I removed the comments because this is not the place to air your grievances. That has been done plenty on Ravelry, which is partly why I no longer go on that site. My readers don't need to be subjected to your little hate campaign. If you have something to say to me, then write me a letter at my email address. Otherwise, either keep your opinions to yourself or go continue to bitch on Ravelry. If you do that, though, be aware that I've reported everyone who has seen fit to participate in this tirade.

I apologize to the people who read this blog because they enjoy it. As for those of you who come here to leave nasty comments, try to stir up shit, or say things to either piss me off or try to make me feel bad, it isn't going to work. If you're still grousing about something which happened almost two years ago, your lives must be empty indeed. Maybe you should use the time to learn how to make something that people want to buy, take a course in English so you can rake me over the coals in your own blogs without making spelling or grammatical errors, or find something to do which will benefit your lives. I've been silent on this topic for too long.

In other words, go fuck yourselves.

Stitches, Friends, and Other Assorted Shit

2011-03-01T05:21:00.000-08:00

You gotta love wireless keyboards and iPads. Especially when Hubster is sprawled on the couch in front of your computer and you finally feel like blogging, And to reach the height of laziness and being spoiled, the case I have the iPad in has a built- in easel on the back so it stands at the proper angle for things like typing, playing games, reading mail, etc. You just gotta love shit like that. So with this smaller than normal keyboard perched on my knee and my ciggies in front of me, let's see what kind of garbage I can spew to bore you to tears with.

First of all, Hubster's mother died. She went peacefully with his sister at her side. He went through some mind-fucks trying to decide whether or not to go to the memorial service but, in the end, he decided to stay at home. His father has been less than communicative throughout this entire thing, and I don't think he felt welcome there (even though he didn't come out and say that). And here I even promised that I wouldn't start any fights! In my family, it isn't a wedding or funeral without some sort of altercation, but his family is a bit more sedate. How boring. Anyway, he did call, but we didn't send flowers. Apparently, donations to the Lung Association were asked for in lieu of flowers. His sister has called a few times (once just because she was freaked out about something and didn't have her mother to talk to anymore), but his father has resumed his customary silence. What a dick.

Hubster talked to our landlord yesterday and gave notice that we were going to be moving at the end of the month. Kevin (landlord) asked that we stay until April 15th, which is how our lease is written, and we have no problem with that (especially since we procrastinate so much and will most likely need the time for packing, cleaning, etc.). We both will be so glad to move back home, especially after what happened yesterday.

For you West Coasters, you know the big storm we just had? You guys in the Bay Area and the LA Basin got rain (with a bit of snow); up here above the smog line, we got snow. A LOT of snow. Suffice it to say that when Hubster went in the front yard to dig out the truck, the snow came up to his chest. But that wasn't the bad part. Nor was coming home from our little trip to a 45 degree house. Nope.

The bad news was the telephone pole laying across our driveway/bridge which had JUST missed hitting our truck and which took out the railings on either side of the drive.

Not only is it impossible for Hubster to dig out the pole (it weighs a ton and is covered with snow and ice), but it would have to be cut up with a chainsaw and removed chunk by chunk. Besides, it belongs to Verizon. So he sat on hold for about 45 minutes this morning trying to get some help. Finally, he was connected with the people who handle things like this, and they have assured us that the pole will be removed by 5 p.m. today. That did us no good yesterday (ciggies and food were running low). Poor Hubster had to strap on the backpack and hike to town to do some shopping. With our luck, the damn pole will be removed right at 5 p.m. At least we don't have to remove it ourselves. We didn't even shovel the snow ourselves - some guy happened along with a Bobcat and offered to remove it for a price. Any price was worth it to Hubster. Our driveway slopes down quite a bit, so the snow tends to pool at the entrance. When the plows come through, they create a huge berm which completely blocks us in. If you don't shovel it right away, it turns into a giant ice ball. I don't blame him for letting the guy shovel with the Bobcat. Other than that incident, the snow is absolutely gorgeous. The trees were dripping with the stuff, and for the past few days, it's been pouring water off the roof as the snow begins to melt. That doesn't mean it's all gone. The decks are completely covered up past the bottom rungs of the railings, and the ground has about four feet of what was powder. It's too bad that both of us have such big lard asses; we would love to go sledding in our yard (instead of sitting on the disks and sinking). I wanted to build a snowman and have a snowball fight, but I know my body couldn't handle the stress.

Speaking of my body going crazy, we went up to the Bay Area for Stitches. Hubster's company paid for the trip because he was in the office meeting with people while I was out having fun and catching up with old friends. I had studied the vendor locations and mapped out which vendors I wanted to visit first, so upon arriving and buying my ticket (I would have bought it at home online, but we need a new printer cartridge), I headed for the Sanguine Gryphon's booth. I wanted to get some Bugga, and I knew the booth would probably be crowded. Heh. Crowded was putting it lightly.

While the Skinny Bugga wall was full (as well as all the other yarn types), they had already sold out of many colors of Bugga. I did manage to find two colors I couldn't live without (and which were sold out while I stood there clutching my skeins), and also bought a couple of sock patterns (and a pattern for bloomers; they'll be ideal for sleeping and lounging around the house in). There are only two types of non-indie yarn I use (meaning yarns made by more than a couple of people) - Bugga and Dream in Color (preferably the Smooshy with Cashmere). I heard that the exhibitors went apeshit on the booth the night before, so who knows what colors were no longer there. In any event, I was happy with my purchases.

The other booth I wanted to hit before I began to look around was Anna's Yarn Shoppe. She's my friend from Elk Grove and my Sacramento days whom I got into a fight with (I can't even remember what the fight was about). Anyway, I was warmly received, and our fight is at an end. I'm hoping to get up there some day soon so we can sit and talk. She's doing very well, and I couldn't be more proud. In fact, she's looking for a larger retail space, which in this economy is no small feat. The other yarn shop in Elk Grove has some rather unfriendly people working there (apologies to those of you who like the place), so I'm really not all that surprised she's doing so well. Her shop has always been warm and friendly. If you're ever in the Sacramento area and want to go to a wonderful shop, she's currently on Laguna Blvd. in a small strip mall. Look her up in that shop guide which comes out every year.

After visiting with Anna, I found the booth Rabbitch was in (Tactile Studio out of Richmond and one row over from where I was standing). I talked for a few minutes and then began to make my way around the show. It was crowded, but I was able to get around with my walker. I looked at a LOT of gorgeous yarn, patterns, notions, gadgets, etc., and went past my allotted spending limit. No matter - I had a ball. I had a two-day ticket, planning on splitting the show in half so I didn't get too tired, but I failed miserably at that. By the time I hit the final booth of the day (where I bought this ultra-cool light that hangs around your neck and has a telescoping lens with three settings which directs the beam of light right on your work), I could barely move. I shuffled over to Rabbitch's booth, where I plopped down and was fawned over by the absolutely lovely ladies of Tactile. (If you're reading this, Maia, I'll be back in a month and will get in touch.) Rabbitch was also her usual lovely self, and I spent the rest of the day visiting with them.

As I said, I had planned on going back the next day to finish seeing the show (and probably blowing more money I don't have), but I hurt so badly that all I could do was sit in the recliner in the room all day. In fact, I had tried to lay down in bed (bad idea; it's been a very long time since I've been able to lay down), and it just hurt me worse, so Hubster dragged the sheets and blankets off the bed and put them on the recliner. I was quite comfortable and knitted/dozed all day and night. I was also able to have lunch with Rabbitch on Monday before we both departed for our respective home bases. It was so nice to see her and the other people I only get to see once a year. At least next year, the show will be in my backyard and easy to get to.

I saw my doctor for the final time and got my meeds filled so I have enough until I find another pain doctor. I asked him for a prognosis, and it isn't good. He told me if I don't go back into remission, I have six months to a year max. I told Hubster that I have one to two years, but he's in denial about the whole thing. Why am I writing this if I don't want him to know? Mainly because he doesn't read my blog (I think he's afraid of what he'll find), and because it won't make any difference even if he does. I can feel the disease in my abdomen now, as well as my back. It's slowly encircling me, and there isn't a damned thing I can do about it. So why am I still buying yarn when I can't even get rid of what I have? It's a compulsion - you guys know that - and I find it comforting. Speaking of selling yarn, I know I owe some of you packages. Never fear - they will get there (I promise before you get arthritis in your fingers and can't knit any more).

On the knitting front, I've got a few pairs of socks on the needles, a baby blanket for the gal who makes my lime ices every day, and a bunch of swatches I'm knitting for the Unique Sheep. I'm about done with those (I'm sure they'll be delighted to get them). What's taken me so long is that I've tried to find a different pattern for each yarn (they sent one of each type of yarn they make, and, some of the patterns are a bit on the complex side), and some are crocheted. I wanted them to have a good variety of styles for their customers to see. As soon as I finish the lace samples I'm working on, they'll be washed, blocked, and on their way.

I know there's a lot more crap I could babble about, but my shoulders are hurting from hunching over the keyboard and it's time to watch my TiVo'ed People's Court while I knit. Best to work on the laces when Hubster is asleep; otherwise, I tend to lose count.

Let's hope I blog before another month goes by, although with us moving ...

Ah, it doesn't matter; the iPad and keyboard will be taken with us, not stuck in the giant pod for storage until we find a place to live. Keep your fingers crossed that something yummy comes along for us to rent (preferably a rent option; this will, after all, be my last home).

Death Watch

2011-02-01T11:01:00.000-08:00

Well, here it is another month later, and things have gone from bad to worse in the Hubster/Goddess household. We are officially on death watch. And no... it's not mine.

No... Hubster's mother is dying, and I don't think she'll last the week. She's in hospice right now, and while she's stable, she has cancer which has spread throughout her entire body. Her heart keeps going into spasms, she's had fluid fill her lungs and the pericardial sac, and breathing has become something of an effort. She's heavily medicated, so she's not really with us anymore - at least, not in the form Hubster remembers. I guess the cancer has ravaged her body, because his sister said she looks like hell. And even with all that, do you think his father would communicate via phone? Nope. Hubster gets occasional text messages from him (I think he's gotten three). We were't given an invitation to come and stay with him so Hubster could go see his mother. Nope. The Hyatt at the Mayo Clinic was the suggested place. We're flat broke, neither of our trucks are working well, and we can't afford to be stranded in the middle of the desert. Even though it's only four hours away and a straight shot from us, we just can't afford to go. There's also the small matter of them hating my guts...

Hubster left a message on his mother's phone (I still can't believe it) because she's not conscious for long enough to actually chat on the phone. That part I get, but the only family member staying with his dad is his aunt. They have a house bigger than the one we had in Sacramento, and you mean to tell me that there's no room for their SON? I'm really pissed off - just in case you couldn't tell.

The upshot of all this is that Hubster has decided not to go. He said his goodbyes in the voicemail message, and that's going to have to suffice. My family and his are SO different - my family would drop everything and be there until the bitter end. Not his. It really drives home to me just how different we are. Anyway, his sister didn't even know if there was going to be a funeral. We know she'll be cremated, but that's it. We can't even afford to send flowers, which makes us feel like shit. But Hubster says he's cried and done what he could. I believe that. He's one of those people who grieves and then moves on. Not me. I'm still grieving for Grandpa, and he's been gone for 22 years.

I'm sorry to rant and rave about this, but I can't do it with Hubster. Some of the thoughts I've had aren't exactly the kinds you want to share with anybody, and even though I truly don't wish this on anybody, there's the small matter of them ignoring us for a decade. I have a hard time forgiving things and carry grudges for a long time. I'm not proud of it, but there it is. Hubster has always been treated like shit, and I resent it.

On the happier side of life, thank you so much to the ladies who have purchased yarn and other goodies from me. It's much appreciated and literally put food on our table. We just can't afford to live here anymore. I've made hotel reservations in the Bay Area beginning April 1st for a month and a half, which should give us plenty of time to find a new residence. It's one of those long-stay residence hotels - the same one, in fact, we had to stay in when we lost the house. At least this time, we'll be there on a happier note.

Other than that, life moves on. I sit and knit, Hubster sits and works, and I play my silly iPad games when my fingers cramp up. It snowed the other night, which was beautiful, but we're back to sunshine and warm temps. Ugh. It's winter. I want rain and/or snow!

Back to the needles. I have swatches to knit for a company and a baby blanket to make for the girl who makes my lime ices every day. I'm using Dream in Color Baby in a gorgeous blue/purple color (I think it's called Dusky Aurora). It's great yarn, and I especially like their yarn with cashmere. It's one of the few non-indies I use.

I hope you're all well and enjoying the winter weather, although I understand those of you in the Midwest are about to be blasted. Be safe, and I'll try to write sooner.

No... I Haven't Kicked The Bucket

2010-12-14T17:18:00.001-08:00

Geez. I had no idea that it's been so long since I've bored you all with my ramblings. Quite frankly, there has been nothing going on to report, so rather than moan and groan about how shitty I feel every day, I just sort of drifted away from writing. I finally have some things to say, though, so here we go.

First of all, I've missed you. It's funny how the people I've met through this blog have become so dear to me. Having married someone I met online, it shouldn't surprise me. I hope you're all well and looking forward to the holiday season.

Next, I'm selling off my stash - finally. We've sold and/or pawned everything of value we own, and it's still not enough. We've come to the conclusion that we just can't afford to live here. Between the propane bill and the electric bill alone, that comes to about $600 a month - in the summer. Now that winter is almost here, I'm not looking forward to bathing with cold water when we run out of propane (they demand payment on delivery, and it's a minimum of 100 gallons each time). When you don't have the money, you don't have the money. So we're giving notice next month and moving back up to the Bay Area into that same shitty residence hotel we were forced into before. I don't care if we wind up in an apartment that's only large enough for a couch and a chair - anything has to be better than constantly borrowing money from my mother. Hubster has closed down the shop, so I can't sell the yarn through there, leaving me with only the blog to use as my way of getting the word out. I could use Etsy or eBay, but to photograph all that yarn would be impossible. So ...

All my indie yarn (all of it top-quality - you know I don't buy shit), is $10 per skein. For a grab bag of five (5) skeins, it's $45. If you have a color preference (or actually, a combination or main color preference, since they're all hand-painted or -dyed and have several colors per skein), I'll try to accommodate you. Since the stash is so large, I should be able to provide you with what you want. There's still plenty of time to get it to you before Christmas if you wish to give it as a gift. I also have blends (some with silk, cashmere, etc.), which I'm offering at the same price. I'll send it Priority by whatever method is least expensive (either bags, the pre-paid boxes, etc.).

For Lorna's Laces, it's $12 for a pair (or however many there are of that particular color). Since you need two of them to make a pair of socks, it doesn't seem right to sell them individually.

I also have about four skeins of Wollmeise, and several skeins of Koigu. The Wollmeise is $20, and the Koigu is $8.

I'm also selling my knitting bags. Every single one of them are Green Mountain Knitting Bags - you can go look at their website to see what kinds of bags are for sale there. I'm selling these bags for $75 - quite the bargain, considering they sell for around $150 or so. Many of them have never been used, and they're absolutely beautiful. Those will have to go in a box, but the postage is inexpensive. I have about 40 of those in all shapes and sizes, as well as a variety of fabrics. I'm only keeping a couple of them, so have at it.

I'm also selling my spinning wheel. It's a Majacraft Rose, never used (but assembled and ready to roll). Along with the wheel comes a Woolee Winder, extra bobbins, and several bumps of roving in all kinds of fibers and colors. I'm asking $500 for it and will have it professionally packaged to ensure it's safe arrival.

The knitting bags and wheel are negotiable, since I know many of you are in the same position we are. I'm just trying to raise money we desperately need at prices which are fair, but I know even those may not be affordable. Don't hesitate to ask if the need is there.

I have a shitload of Addi Turbo needles in a variety of sizes, although most of mine are for sock knitting (sizes 1, 2, 3, etc.). I have a limited number of larger sizes. All of them are circulars in the 24" length. I also have some of the Addi Lace needles. I'm selling all of them. I'm asking $5 each. I also have some straights with cute little polymer clay doodads on the tops. There aren't a lot of them, but I do have them in the larger sizes. I'm asking $5 for those as well.

I'm also selling my Debra's Garden needle sizers. They normally sell for about $15 each, but I'm asking $7. I don't have a lot of them, but I do have a pretty good selection of colors.

Also for sale are packages of Scout's Swag magnetic chart markers. I have a lot of these, most of them three sizes to a pack, but also some mediums packaged singly. The packages of three are $8 each; the singles are $3. Scout was kind enough to give them to me when I closed the shop, but I have so many that I can never use them all.

If there is anything else you need or want, I may very well have it. There are a lot of things left over from the shop - hand cream, sachets, roving, needle cases, etc. Drop me a note at pamtheknitter@gmail.com, and we'll discuss what I have and how much I'm asking for them. As I'm beginning to pack for the move, I'm finding more things which belong to former vendors. I'll send them as I can.

Now that the business portion of this missive is completed, on to the news.

Hubster got a call/text from his sister (the first one in about 10 years). She told him that their mother has Stage 4 cancer which started in her lungs (so much for giving up smoking). She's taking some pill which is designed specifically for the type of cancer she has, and it seems to be working very well. I even talked to her. What amazes me is that she's a trauma nurse and works in the ICU (she's been a nurse for something like 40 years), and she wanted to ask me if taking a narcotic would make her crazy. It seems to me that she should know what different pills do. Oh well. I told her that she wouldn't run screaming down the street naked, but that she would probably sleep a lot. That's probably going to be the last time I talk to her. She hates me, I'm not fond of her, and none of this really affects me other than what it does to Hubster. I'll stand by his side and support him no matter what, but I'm having a hard time garnering up any emotion for her and the rest of the family. I know that sounds horrible, and it probably is, but given our history ... oh well. I just thought I'd let you all know.

My mother has been cleared of her cancer and no longer has to see her oncologist. That was a bit of badly needed good news. My grandmother is doing well, too.

As for me, nothing has changed. I was put on an anti-depressant, but after one day of taking it, I had to stop. I've never been able to take them, and this one was no exception. It would have been nice to feel happy for a change.

We're going up to Mom's for Christmas, although it will be a short trip. We're planning on bringing the kids home with us so they can see the snow. If the weather continues to be warm, though, we may not bring them. We haven't even had any rain, and it's raining fairly steadily in the Bay Area. They always get the good weather. Ah well - in a month ...

Hubster's job is going well, and we're hoping for a raise after the first of the year. He's a project/team leader now; I've never heard the word "fuck" yelled into the phone this much in my life. My sleeping schedule has adjusted so I sleep for the mornings and usually wake up for the afternoons. That way, I don't bother him as much as I would were I up all day.

The kids are doing pretty well, considering their mother hasn't even bothered to call them in well over a month. It'll be interesting to see what happens over Christmas. The last time she called, they refused to get on the phone with her. We haven't heard from her since the court hearing. I don't know where she lives, what she does regarding work, or anything to do with her personal life. As far as she's concerned, we're apparently dead to her. When I do do pass, Hubster doesn't even have any way to let her know (not that she gives a rat's ass). It's not like she's getting anything of mine - what little I have left goes to the kids.

Emma now weighs 55 pounds and is happy as the proverbial clam. She sleeps with Hubster every night under the quilt with her head on the pillow next to him. The other morning, I looked over and caught her bathing his face and head. Try and stop a bulldog from doing what she wants, especially one as strong as her. Here's a couple of pictures of the fat fart for your enjoyment:

Well, my hands are cramping, so I'm going to close here. Please get in touch with me about the yarn, etc., that I have for sale. Should you wonder, it's all been kept away from the evil cancer sticks, so nothing smells like smoke. I promise that I'll get it to you in time for Christmas should that be your intention.

In case I don't write before the holiday, a very Merry Christmas to all of you, and may all the love I have in my heart wash over you and yours.

:)

Back in the Bay Area

2010-08-01T14:10:00.000-07:00

I'll be gone for a week beginning today and returning next Monday. Hubster has to go to Chicago for a business meeting, and I'm going to stay close to my family in case anything happens. I'll be away from my mail, so I won't be able to answer anything until Tuesday. For those of you waiting on packages, I'll send out tracking info on Tuesday/Wednesday after we return.

Have a great week, and see you soon!

The Vacation - The Conclusion

2010-07-16T18:43:00.000-07:00

Okay, Syd... I won't keep you waiting any longer for the outcome of the story. :)

Let's see... where did I leave off... oh yes. We were at the hotel for our last few nights, and then we were heading home. The big thing, though, was the court hearing.

First of all, it was in Berkeley. Don't get me wrong. I love Berkeley. The only problem is, I don't really know all the streets that well. I certainly didn't know where the courthouse was. So Hubster Googled a map, and off we went... late as usual.

Fortunately for us, traffic was light. We got there with mere minutes to spare and faced having to find a parking place. Since we were so late, Hubster dropped me off in front of the building while he went to find a parking space. I didn't have my walker with me, so I hobbled to the building as fast as I could. Uh oh... there was a dreaded metal detector which I had to go through. I was in a hurry - who wanted to bother?

The cop standing behind the metal detector was a young guy, clearly doing his time at the court before they released him onto the public. He told me, very authoritatively, that I had to go through it. I lost it at that point and began yelling at him. I stuck out my arm and showed him my tattoo of my grandfather's badge and told him that Grandpa would never make me walk through such a thing (good thing, too, because I used to carry a gun and a blackjack), that he was a lieutenant at the station before he retired, that I didn't have on any underwear (so how on earth could I hide a weapon other than up my snatch?), and I was late for a court hearing. The poor guy didn't know what to do, especially since I was wild-eyed, handicapped, and clearly insane. He waved me through, praying, I'm sure, that I really wasn't packing anything up my cooze. I hobbled up the stairs as best I could and found the correct court. Thank goodness the judge was late; Mom was in there with her attorney, saw me, and waved me in.

About 15 minutes later, the judge appeared. By this time, Hubster had found a parking place right outside the courthouse and made it into the courtroom. Mom and her attorney went up to the podium and began talking to the judge. He was so soft-spoken that I could barely hear him. He asked a few questions, seemed to approve of the answers, and said, "Okay. So ordered.". The entire thing took less than 10 minutes. Mom looked at her attorney with a puzzled expression on her face, was told that she had won, and she grabbed her attorney with tears running down her face. Then she ran over and hugged all of us (Amber's soon to be ex-MIL and ex-SIL also showed up). That was it.

Mom has permanent guardianship of the kids. :)

And the most disgusting thing of all? Amber didn't even bother to show up.

After the hearing, we all went into the hall while the attorney went downstairs to file papers and get copies made. As we were talking, Melissa's cell went off. It was Amber, saying thanks so much for letting her know that the hearing was in Berkeley. She claimed to have gone to the courthouse in Pleasanton. What a load of horseshit. She had called Mom's attorney to ask where the hearing was and what time it got underway. Lying, as usual. We all just ignored it and sat there grinning like idiots. Even the judge had been grinning at all of us in the courtroom. I think he was happy he could make that decision.

So now, if Amber wants to see the kids, she has to give Mom two days' notice and is only allowed a one-hour supervised visit at Mom's house. She can't take them anywhere, either. So early this week, she called for a visit and set up the day. Then when the day of her visit arrived, she called in the morning to cancel it. She rescheduled it for today.

Mom called me this evening to tell me that she showed up, but that she didn't say a word to Mom or Grandma. Instead, she walked outside where the kids were splashing in their pool. Both kids totally ignored her until the end of the visit, when Daisy said a few words to her. Amber said she'd see them next week and got pissed off when Mom reminded her to call first. It hasn't sunk in that Amber has to follow the court orders. The one thing Amber did say to Mom was that she was canceling their health insurance and now had an attorney. Big deal. There's nothing she can do at this point, and we've heard the "I've got a lawyer" line before. She left in a beater of a car (nobody knows whom it belongs to - Amber's car was repossessed a couple of weeks ago). Amber also lost her job and will be kicked out of her condo at the end of the month. She has no money, no car, no job, no place to live - at 31 years old. She's filed bankruptcy twice and just had her second abortion. I'm not the world's best money manager, but this kid takes the cake. How on earth she ever thought she could care for those kids is beyond me. She's now really hostile because she's lost the only playing chips she had - the one thing she could use against us. You gotta love karma. The mother part of me is trying to feel sorry for her, but the rational part of me says that she's done nothing but caused the family grief and pain for more than 10 years. I'm trying to not worry about her because she's always used guilt against us, too, but it's difficult at times. Until I look at a picture of the kids, that is.

Hubster has to go on a business trip to Chicago the first week of August, so we're driving to the Bay Area once again (with Emma in tow). I was originally going to go with him (I used to go to Chicago every month and love the city) - he's staying in the new Trump Towers, and I really wanted to go to yarn shops in the area. We can't afford it, though, especially since the company doesn't pay for my ticket or hotel stay or even meals (I was so looking forward to a burger at Blackie's). He also doesn't want me at home alone. At least this way, if I run into trouble, I can call Mom and she'll be at my hotel room in five minutes flat. I've also got Emma to protect me (she's a very territorial little fart, although she's very friendly if one of us is with her and she senses there's no danger). I'm looking forward to it. The pool there is very small, but there are lounge chairs where I can sit in the sun and knit while I'm working on my tan, and there is also a hot tub where I can sit at night and enjoy the warm water with the cool air blowing against my face. It will also be fun to have the kids come over and swim with me. This is when I really miss my Sacramento house and the pool. I'd give anything to have them back. Stupid me, I did a Bing bird's-eye view of the property and saw what the new owners have done. It really made me sad. I have to stop doing shit like that.

Mom is scheduling a visit for Amber and the kids so I'll get the chance to confront her. Nothing would make me happier. Maybe she'll slap me and I can have her arrested for assault.

I've already got my knitting bag packed with traveling projects and the one test knit I'm working on, so I'll have plenty to do while I'm there. Mom and I are going to a fabric shop and getting a pattern for jammies for the kids which I'll make when I get home. We're also hitting up my fave knitting shop in Oakland (Article Pract) and having lunch. We haven't done that in years; it'll be a lot of fun. I'm also trying to get ahold of my cousin so I can go over and visit. His wife wants me to teach her how to knit.

So that's all the news. It's been so damned hot here that I'm sprawled in front of a big fan with my knitting and not doing much of anything else. It's even too hot to go sit in that little pool. It would cool me off, but I'll fry. That's unusual, because I usually burn once and then just keep getting darker and darker.

It must have something to do with being so much closer to the sun. Barf.

Still on Vacation - and Loving It

2010-07-10T00:25:00.000-07:00

Here I sit in bed, watching the fog beginning to roll in and feeling the cool night air brush against my skin. Even this far inland from the bay, I can smell the sea air as it makes it's way over the Dublin ridge. It feels so good to be home, even if it is just a hotel room. At least I'm not in the mountains watching the latest horrible bug crawl down the wall or fighting off moths which have snuck into the house through a door which has been briefly opened. I have one more day of paradise, and then we head out Sunday morning. I plan on making the most of tomorrow.

It has been an exciting two weeks, though. It began a week ago Sunday when we first drove up here to pick up the kids. Of course, nothing is ever as simple as it seems...

We arrived late that Saturday night and checked into the same hotel I'm sitting in now. We then gathered up all our shit and headed over to Mom's on Sunday afternoon to get the little ones. They had been anxiously staring at the clock and pacing because they didn't quite believe we were coming. They were also afraid that they would have to go home with their mother on Monday, and that was something they did not want to do. We had many long talks about that, which I'll recount later. Anyway, we arrived, talked with the parental units for a few minutes, packed up all the kids' shit, stuffed them in the truck, and headed for home.

It's been a long time since I've traveled with small children, so I had forgotten just how many rest stops they require. They also require a lot of feedings. I am now intimately acquainted with every rest stop on I-5 between here and where they end down near Pasadena. Not only are rest stops unpleasant, it was about 112 degrees outside. I barely made it into the little building and back to the truck before I collapsed. They were so happy to be away from all the bullshit, though, that I would have walked into a thousand rest stops for them.

We got home that night around 2 a.m. I thought the kids would drop from exhaustion, but they were far too wound up for that. It took us another hour or so to get them into bed after we walked in the house. Once they were in bed, though, they were out like lights.

The next day was a day of rest and just goofing around the house. I didn't want to stick them back in the truck and take off again right after they had arrived home, so we blew up the pool we had bought for them, let them explore the backyard, stood outside while they jumped on the trampoline, and just had a lovely day. It also marked the first day we had some talks about the situation at home. Some of the things they told me broke my heart.

Both of the little ones sat on the couch, looked at me, and told me in no uncertain terms that they hated their mommy, didn't want to go home with her anymore, didn't like her boyfriend, were neglected when they were with her (not fed, bathed, or paid attention to), and a bunch of other things. She had even gone as far as leaving them alone in the apartment while she and Methboy went out doing whatever they do. God forbid that her own children should interfere with her plans for the weekend. I explained to them about the court hearing which was coming up after we took them back to Mom's and what it was for; they were afraid Mom would lose and they would be stuck with their mother on a permanent basis. The court hearing is for Part 2 of this post, though. I will say that Mom told me both kids had been acting out sexually - not with each other, but lying on their backs with some sort of object in their hand (you get the picture). To say that I was horrified is putting it mildly. Apparently, they had witnessed Amber having sex with Methboy and were imitating what they saw. Sigh. I did the best I could to assure them that they were safe, that she wouldn't try to come get them while they were with us. After a while, they believed us. The other thing they asked (well, Lily did) is why we gave them away all those years ago when Amber took them from us and dumped them at my mother's house and then wouldn't give them back. I explained what had happened. Nobody had ever taken the time to tell them that we didn't want them to go, that our hearts were broken for years, that we cried ourselves to sleep every night for a very long time. Lily came over and hugged me around the neck after I was through because, once again, I was crying.

On Tuesday, we headed for the hotel and the big event of the trip, our day in Disneyland. Again, we got there late, and not entirely because of us, either. We had gotten halfway down the hill when we almost plowed into the person ahead of us. There was a dead deer lying on the road and a motorcycle halfway into the bushes. The CHP had blocked the road and were waiting for the Life Flight helicopter. Sitting there took about 20 minutes, but we were finally on our way. We had no sooner hit the bottom on the hill than I said to Hubster, "Did you remember to grab the Disneyland tickets?". The answer was no, and the tickets were non-refundable, so we had to go back home to get them. Back up the hill we went.

Hubster ran into the house, got the tickets, and we headed back down the hill for the third time. It was then that we discovered a secret about Lily. Halfway down the hill, I heard a horrible sound. She threw up all over the back of my seat, the floor, the seat belt, herself - anything within reach. We reassured her that she hadn't done anything wrong, that she wasn't in trouble... and then Hubster commenced to clean everything up. The stench was almost unbearable, but I didn't want to let on that we were dying. We bought her some Dramamine and she fell asleep. Whew.

We got to the hotel and checked in, then went up to our room. We had gotten them what the hotel called a "Kid's Suite". It was composed of two rooms - one for the kids with bunk beds and floor to ceiling windows, and one for us. A connecting door stood between the rooms which we could shut, but it didn't matter - the kids were out like lights once they explored everything. I put in a wake-up call for 8:30 a.m., and we tried to get some sleep.

The next morning, I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. Then I started blinking faster and rubbing them. What the fuck? The clock said it was 10:30 a.m.! It was also obvious that no call had come in. I was beyond pissed because I had wanted the kids to experience breakfast in the park. It sounds like a small thing, but one of my fondest memories is of having Mickey Mouse pancakes first thing in the morning. I called down to the front desk, got ahold of the hotel manager, and chewed him a new bunghole. By the end of my tirade, I had a free night at the hotel and a free breakfast in our room the next morning. I figured we could live with that. Anyway, we all got ready and headed over to the park. I had an electric scooter waiting for me at the hotel when we checked in, so I didn't have to worry about getting one at the park. The shuttle was also ADA equipped, so I rode it downstairs, the shuttle loaded me in, and off we went.

Seeing the kids' faces when they first saw Main Street was priceless. I got to experience the park again through the eyes of a child, and it was sweet indeed. While we didn't get to go on all the rides, we did ride quite a few. We told the kids that all the animals on the Jungle Cruise were real, and they were in awe. They were afraid of the Haunted House but enjoyed it all the same. They even went on Splash Mountain, which surprised me because I thought they would be terrified, but my grands are daredevils. We also all got ears - mine have old-style tattoos on them with piercings on the ear parts. I had "Grandma" embroidered on the back. :) We left the park at midnight when it closed and got back to the room happy and tired. Of course, they were also hungry, so we ordered room service dessert for them, then made them go to bed. They immediately turned their TV on (they don't have one in their room at home, so this was a huge treat), and it was probably two hours later by the time we got them to settle down and go to sleep. The next morning, we all had breakfast, packed our suitcases, checked out, and headed for home.

We also took them to San Diego so they could romp on the beach. They couldn't go into the water because of a huge storm in New Zealand which was affecting the waves on our coast, but they did get to see the ocean and build sand castles. The rest of the week was taken up with goofing around, going into town, and doing small things. I had wanted to take them to the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach, but we didn't have time because of Hubster's work schedule. It was just nice to have them with us, to talk to them, to hold them, to know that they were in the house again.

We brought them back to Mom's last Tuesday but kept them in our hotel room overnight because of the late hour. On Wednesday, we brought them back, even though I don't think they were too thrilled about it. So far this week, I've been sleeping a lot, Hubster has been working, and it's been relaxing - all except for Thursday. But that's for the next post. I visited my friend and his family (the jeweler who makes all my jewelry - I've known him and his family for 30 years), and drove around the valley. It feels so damned good to be home. I wish I had the money - I'd buy a house in town tomorrow and leave all my shit in Idyllwild just so I wouldn't have to do that drive again. We were supposed to go home tomorrow, but I made a deal with Hubster. If I gave up dinner in San Francisco, we could stay one more night. I've had dinner in the City a thousand times, so I opted for one more night before we have to leave. So tomorrow, he's putting a new lockset on Mom's door, we're picking up the pictures we left for developing and sharing those with the family, and then we'll come back to our room for a relaxing night. I'll probably knit - I've been making really good progress on my projects. Then home we go on Sunday.

If possible, I'll post some pictures of Disneyland with my next post. I don't know if I can or not, but we'll see. Otherwise, it will be all text. I'll give you a little hint about it:

It's got to do with a court hearing.

It's My Birthday... and I'm Bored

2010-06-23T13:39:00.000-07:00

Yep. I made another one. Today is my 52nd birthday.

I think I've mentioned this before, but I so miss the birthdays of my youth. Since it falls almost exactly six months to the day from Christmas, I have two major holidays evenly spaced out. I miss the parties, all the family and friends coming over, pool parties, presents... all the shit that kids and younger people get. Then something happens when you hit your twenties. Birthdays begin to lose the significance they once had. I actually threw myself a 30th birthday party with about 50 people - Grandpa had just come home from the hospital, and I wanted to celebrate. Anyway, this downhill slide continues until, when you hit my age, nobody gives a rat's ass anymore. It makes it worse that my family is up north and Hubster and I (and Emma) are down here in the boonies. So what does that mean?

It means that I'll take a nap this afternoon, knit on some socks, and go gambling at an Indian casino tonight. I'd much rather go to Vegas (it's only four hours away), but we just can't afford it. That's the other shitty thing about birthdays now. We can't afford to do anything other than grab a Fatburger and drop about $50 in a slot machine. Sigh. I'm really trying to not get depressed like I do every year.

The good news is that we're leaving Saturday for the Bay Area and bringing the kids home with us. They'll be with us for a week, and we can't wait to have them. I'm sure I'll be totally wiped out, but I don't care. I miss them so much, and we're really looking forward to doing some fun things with them. We also have all this land that they can run around on, a trampoline to bounce on, and a cute downtown where they can get an ice cream at an old-fashioned parlor. I think they'll have a ball. Then it's back up to the Bay Area and testifying in court against the child.

Speaking of the child, she's on a campaign to get back in our good graces. She sent me a birthday card and Hubster a Father's Day card. She speaks of wanting to make up with us, to forget the past and get on with the future, to be a family again. I wish that were true, that it wasn't a scam on her part to get us on her side right before we go to court. But I know she has an agenda, and we can't buy into it. It really hurts me that it's come to this. I had such dreams when she was little, such hopes for having a friend when she grew up, dreaming of talking with her about boys and the other kinds of things young women talk to their mothers about. I had fantasies of us being close and talking every day. Instead, we got a child who hates us and only wants us to talk to her so we might not testify against her. I can't do it. I have the kids to think about. Amber is 32 years old and capable of taking care of herself. Our kids are six and deserve a happy childhood. They were interviewed by a social worker last week and told the lady that they don't want to stay over at their mother's house, that she doesn't take care of them, that she spends all her time with her crackhead boyfriend. I pray that my mother gets permanent custody of them, because if she doesn't, Amber will take the kids and won't let any of us see them. It's really stressful, and I can't wait until it's over. We have to go to court in Berkeley, so we'll be up there for a few days. Then it's back home to the heat. Argh.

I've been flip-flopping between sock projects lately... when I'm awake, that is. It seems that all I do is sleep. When I am awake, I've been working on a really cool pair called... uh... "Fishbone Gansey". It's by Knitspot and has highly detailed designs until you hit mid-calf where the design changes over to a K3 P1 rib. You do that until you get down to the heel flap, and the rest of the sock stays in that pattern. I'm going to do an Eye of Partridge heel because I think the design will compliment the rest of the sock. This is the pair I'm using The Sanguine Gryphon's Bugga for. That yarn is really lovely to knit with and shows off stitch definition beautifully. I've got two other skeins of it in a different colorway, but I'm not sure which pattern to use it for. It's got greens, browns, golds, reds, etc., in it and is on the dark side. Gorgeous.

We're not taking Emma with us on this trip because of the kids. She'll also be boarded when we take them back because we can't leave her in her carrier all day while we're in court. Grandma can't handle her (Emma is now over 50 pounds), so we think it's better to leave her with her groomer for a few days. Besides, she loves it over there. It gives her a chance to see all her doggie friends.

I'm getting sleepy again, so it's off to nap before I have to shower and get ready for tonight. It doesn't feel like my birthday, but maybe going out with Hubster instead of just snoozing in my chair will help. Please don't think i'm not grateful, because I am.

I'm still alive.

I Think I Finally Might Have Something to Say

2010-06-02T22:24:00.000-07:00

Wow. Over a month since I last posted. It's really difficult to think of things to say when your life is centered around your chair.

I actually have some knitting photos this time. Don't fall off your chairs. Keep breathing. Don't pass out from shock. I keep saying that I've been knitting, so I thought I'd show you the beginnings of some new sock projects.

I can't remember the name of most of these, but here's the first one anyway. It's being done in Dream in Color Smooshy. The entire sock is textural; those little swirls are sort of fake cables.

This one has offset ribs throughout the entire body. You can sort of see them. The yarn is by Alaskan Nancy (Etsy) and was custom-dyed for me. It's a pastel rainbow. I also noticed that I took the picture upside-down.

This pattern is called "Apollo and Artemis". The yarn is Fannie's Fingering and is actually what the pattern calls for. An unusual occurrence, since I rarely use what the pattern calls for.

I can't, for the life of me, remember what the hell this one is called (the yarn or the pattern). The top will be folded over (I don't know if you can see the yarn overs) to form a picot edge. I could have knitted it folded over and attached to the body of the sock, but it was a huge pain in the ass. I'll sew it down once the sock is completed.

I've got two more on the needles, both cashmere blends, but I forgot to take a picture of one of them (the yarn is by Spirit Trail), and the other is just a 2x2 rib at this point (how boring can you get?). The yarn on that one is The Sanguine Gryphon's Bugga.

I apologize for the poor quality of the pictures, but I shake like crazy when I'm trying to take a picture, I used my phone, and trying to get a closeup is damn near impossible.

While I was doing all that (and while I'm doing this, too), this is what the fire hydrant was doing.

She just got groomed today. She's also gained quite a bit of weight, so she's got to go on a diet. Bullies shouldn't get fat; it's really hard on their joints (I mean, their legs are only a few inches long) and causes them to snort and snore even more than they normally do. She's not going to like this, especially since this means she won't get any more dinner treats. I feel her pain. Anyway, she loves going to the groomer's and getting to play with all the dogs there (he has a room where the dogs are allowed to run free and play while they're waiting to be groomed, picked up, or if they're being boarded). Her coat is silky smooth and smells really good; she also had her nails done. He got most of her winter coat off. it's always amazing to me that dogs with hair as short as hers still get a really heavy, fuzzy winter coat.

I'm doing another test knit and will be working on that for a while. Once the yarn arrives, that will be the focus of all my knitting. I absolutely love doing that kind of thing; it sort of validates what I do. It also makes me feel like I'm not wasting my time sitting in my chair doing nothing but knitting.

So there are my pictures, lousy as they are. That's what I've been doing with myself.

Things are progressing pretty well on the store front. I've sent back a lot more work to vendors and paid out quite a bit of money to people who had things sell (that took up the vast majority of our tax refund). I'm just about done - there are about six more to do, I think. I do what I can as I can. Hubster is working so much (usually until he goes to bed, and he begins around 9:00 a.m.), that he's not able to help all that much. I still have to finish photographing the yarn for the shop, but I haven't been feeling up to sitting there and taking a lot of pictures. It'll get done when it gets done - I'm not worried about it. It isn't going anywhere.

Next month, we're driving up to the Bay Area for a few reasons. Hubster and I have to testify in the final court hearing to see if my mother gets permanent custody of the kids. Judging by how our dear daughter is doing, I don't think there's going to be any problem. Then we're celebrating our birthdays - mine and my mother's. Mom's is June 13th, and mine is June 23rd (yes, I'm happy to accept hand-dyed yarn dyed just for the occasion, gifts of any kind, etc.). And yes... I'm kidding about that. Then we're bringing the grands home for a visit. Let me amend that - the kids are coming home with us before we go to court (Mom wants them away before we all go to court because otherwise, Amber would have them - and who knows what she would do to avoid going to court), and we go to court when we bring them back. We're really looking forward to the visit. They have over an acre of land to romp around on, the trampoline is in the backyard for them to bounce on, and Mom is paying for us all to go to Disneyland. Hubster and I have saved enough of our tax refund so we can take them to the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach and maybe to Legoland or Knott's Berry Farm. We're also all going to the beach in San Diego (that means Emma is coming, too), so the kids can play in the surf. They've seen San Francisco Bay, but never the ocean. I'm trying to rest up as much as possible so I don't absolutely collapse.

I got my birthday present from Mom early - a 64G iPad. I told her I was writing a book, and I guess she figured that it would be easier for me to work on that, as well as play on the computer, if I could stay in my chair instead of trekking over to where the big computer is. I love the thing. There wasn't one available anywhere in SoCal (it seems you can only get them at Best Buy or the Apple store), and I didn't want to wait a month for it to arrive if I ordered it online, so she found one up there and mailed it down to me. I didn't need the big one, but it was the only one she could find. I can't say that I'm sorry to have it; I can put crap on that thing for the rest of my life and still not fill it up. Grandma gave me the wireless keyboard to use with it, and the kids gave me this cool case for the iPad. It's made by a company called Sena:

Sena Cases

They have the most beautiful cases - all leather - much nicer than the ones Apple and some other companies make. I got the one which zips all the way around, since I seem to have a problem with spilling things, most notably my coffee. It allows me to plug the charger into the device without removing it from the case and also has a stand built in to the back (it snaps shut), so you can stand the iPad up in landscape mode at an angle. It's really nice for travel, too, since it's lightly padded and won't allow anything to damage the iPad.

So I think that's about it. I'm watching "Billy the Exterminator" right now (there's a marathon going on) - talk about being grossed out! Hubster is just shaking his head at it. We're about to eat some hot dogs (with BTE turned off - even I can't eat while watching wasps and roaches), so I think we'll put "Gia" in the player and watch that instead. Thank goodness for Netflix. Then it's back to knitting and sleeping much later - most likely tomorrow. Emma has already conked out for the night - going to the groomer's always wears her out.

I can understand that. Walking across the room has the same effect on me.

Well... It WAS a Lovely Day

2010-04-22T03:45:00.000-07:00

WARNING - THIS IS A RANT. I APOLOGIZE TO THOSE OF YOU WHO WOULD RATHER NOT SEE THIS.

As I stated in the title, it was a lovely day. A perfect day. It started out with black skies which opened up and released, at various times throughout the entire day, snow, sleet, and hail. Fog rolled in and covered the surrounding mountains. The wind kicked up, but not to any damaging speeds. My kind of day, and a perfect day to sit and knit... which is exactly what I did, interspersed with periods of dozing. As I sit here and write this at 4:00 a.m., it's still snowing hard. There is well over a foot of snow covering the decks and everything on them.

It was a perfect day... but the night abruptly screeched to a halt when I decided to try and find my blog on my iPhone. I decided to use the Google app and looked up "Yarn Goddess". I found my blog just fine - and a lot of other things. The thing which floored me was an entry on a site called "RipOff Report". There, in living color, was my name, Hubster's name, my Ravelry name, my town and state, Yarny Goodness, Liar, Thief, and I can't remember what else. I had Hubster bring up the site on my computer. This is what he found:

"I am one of many who've been ripped off by this woman and her husband. Pamela contacted us all soliciting entry into her shop. She took thousands of dollars in merchandise with signed contracts, sold some of it, kept the rest and is not returning money, merchandise or email. She is not following the terms of her own contract. She and her husband respond to increasingly annoyed and frustrated emails with childish insults, empty threats and little, if any, action. Some of us have been trying to get our things back/money we're owed for a year now. They simply don't care.

Pam likes to play up her illness and her 'quirks' but several people who've had real life dealings with her have told stories of con games and lies that end with temper tantrums and petty revenge when discovered. Currently she seems to be engaged in smoking a lot of dope and giving tarot readings over the phone.

Steer clear of this woman if you value your business or finances! She and her husband both are shysters and have no remorse whatsoever about putting very small, women owned businesses out of business and ripping off fellow fiber enthusiasts."

It was written and submitted by "Disgruntled Artist (Nationwide).

If you wish to see the site and what the entry looks like, you can find it at:

RipOff Report

I have never held anything back on this blog, and I won't do so now. Trying to hide and hoping that nobody will see this is ridiculous. I've never been one to cower in corners and not put myself in the middle of things. Those of you who know me also know these things to be true. So, in the true spirit of who I am and what I believe in, I have copied and pasted this "anonymous" author's work on my blog for all of you to see.

I'm always amazed when people attack me but won't sign their names to the post. I have a really good idea of who this person is by the way she wrote the post and the language she used, but I'm not going to name names. Since you obviously read this blog, why don't you tell us all who you are? Or don't you want the spotlight falling on you? Fucking coward.

We're filing a rebuttal (just so you know, lady), but I'm also going to address her accusations here. Again, if those of my regular readers dislike rants, I thank you for reading this far and suggest that you might want to stop reading here. For the rest of you, here we go.

This bitch doesn't have the slightest idea of whom I've paid and what merchandise I've returned. Has she asked every single one of my artists who has been happy with the shop and/or me? No. She doesn't even have any idea of what merchandise I had, especially at Sock Summit. No... she seems to have talked to only one or a few people, disregarding what the others have to say. Do I still have merchandise? Yes. Do I still owe money? Yes. I send back what I can when I can and pay people as I can afford it. So far, we've spent about $500 in postage alone, not to mention the items I've had to purchase because I can't find them, as well as paying people for their sales. Those people who wrote to me and said they had shows to go to got their merchandise back first. Those people who sent rude and nasty letters are getting their work back as well, although not by Priority Mail. It will all get done.

I do not issue childish insults or threats, and nobody knows what kind of action I've taken. I'm assuming she means sending items back. She has no idea of what other action I've taken, and I don't care to enlighten her. If you read some of the letters I received, it would curl your hair. If she wants to see what a childish insult looks like or hear what a threat sounds like (such as contacting the DA, police department, BBB, etc.), I've got plenty of those letters, too. She also has no idea if I care or not. It seems to me that if I didn't care about indie artists, I would never have opened the store in the first place. A lot of people whined about wanting such a thing but not doing anything to make it a reality. That's what I get for actually doing something to help people. Do I still care? Yes, I do. I don't give a rat's ass if she believes me or not. My life won't be impacted one bit by what she thinks.

I like to play up my illness and "quirks"? What quirks? Just so you know, you stinking bitch, I don't have an illness. I have a disease. Get it right if you're going to write about it. As for smoking a lot of dope and giving tarot readings over the phone, I still have the dope I originally purchased. I smoke it when I absolutely have to. I haven't given a tarot reading over the phone (or in person) for months. And I don't play up anything. I simply tell people what's going on with my life so they don't have to write me letters. Believe it or not, people do write me for the fun of communicating with me, not just to harangue me.

Con games? Lies? Petty revenge? Temper tantrums? What a load of horseshit. Just for your information, Hubster writes most of those letters because I'm too angry to write anything civilized. He's extremely professional and spells it out as it is - but without the swearing I would most likely put in letters. If I wait a while and cool off, then I write them. Even after I've told people to stop writing, they continue to bombard me with letters up the ass. That is precisely why I shut off my Ravelry mail. I got tired of receiving letters at every single email address I own.

The other thing which really pissed me off is that this useless piece of humanity put my home address on whatever form she filled out. I realize my address is easy to get ahold of, but that was just plain mean. Do you want any other information to put on there? My SSN? My measurements? My birthday? (Oh wait... that's on another blog entry.) The size of Hubster's dick? (I think I've mentioned that, too, and for those of you who do want that information, you have my email addy.) Just let me know, and after I have a temper tantrum and smoke a bowl, I'll lie to you about it.

I think that about covers it. Be sure you all steer clear of me, especially if you have a business. Make sure that you hide your checkbooks before you write - I might see them with my special glasses which I bought from the back of a comic book. God forbid that I con you into joining forces with me in some new business venture. I'd say that I'm sorry I ever opened the shop to begin with (and I have said it when I'm really upset), but at the end of the day, I did some good things for a lot of people and gave them exposure they might not have gotten otherwise. For that, I'm proud. I'm not proud of how things ended up, and I know I could have done things better and faster. But for whatever reasons, I didn't, so I'm trying to make it right now. As I said, it's a slow process, but it'll get done.

How I wish the Pony Express was still in operation...

(I just realized something. If you go to that site and look at the bottom of the post, there's a link you can click to see any other reports which have been filed on me. There is one additional one which was posted about two hours after the first one (if I have the times/days right). I won't copy it and waste your time here - go on over and read it if you're interested.)

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like ... Winter?

2010-04-13T11:16:00.000-07:00

Don't get me wrong. I love winter. In fact, it's my favorite season by far, followed by autumn, spring, and summer. So imagine my delight yesterday when I was sitting in the old chair knitting and looked out the window to see ...

SNOW.

Lots of snow. Big, fat, fluffy flakes of it. Then it hailed - lots and lots of little round ice balls (I've known some dudes who have ice balls, too, but that's for another post). Then it snowed again, this time with the wind blowing and making the flakes dance and twirl like they were in a ballet. Then it warmed up from around 34 degrees to 38, and the snow turned to sleet. This went on for most of the day, finally ending with another huge dose of hail. Today is sunny and cool, but the sunshine is rapidly melting the hail which coated the ground. Ah well. It was a lovely treat, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Hubster, on the other hand, is hoping that spring will hurry up and stay so he doesn't have to shovel the driveway again. I can see his point of view, especially since I'm not the one who has to do the shoveling, but I'm a selfish bitch. I can't stand the heat, so the thought of it returning makes me want to barf. I am definitely NOT a SoCal broad. They seem to worship the sun down here.

Hubster has been working on a huge project for work, so I haven't been seeing him a lot these days. Hopefully, he'll wrap it up today and things will return to a semblance of normalcy. The upshot of this is that I'm getting a LOT of knitting done, with a test knitting project about ready to hit the needles. I was fortunate enough to be asked to do a sample for Unique Sheep's Ram Club (I don't know if I can tell you about it or not, so I'll err on the side of safety and keep my big mouth shut), but suffice it to say that it's not socks. I've also decided to do something else that's crazy and may never get done, but I'm going to give it a shot.

I'm writing a book.

Yep, I'm going to try and get this thing finished before I'm finished. If nothing else, it will give my grands something to tell them all about their grandma. Racy? Yes. Full of foul language? Yes. But it's an autobiography, and that's who I am. Even if I have to self-publish two copies for them, it will be worth it. I don't know that I want my mother reading it - some of the things I've done are still unknown to her - but even at her age, she can take it. I just feel this need and urgency to do it, and Hubster has been telling me for years that I should do it. I told him it will have to be classified as fiction, since nobody will believe half the shit in there. Now I'm on a mission to get an iPad so I can sit on the ratty old chair and write with it in my lap. Hmm ... maybe he'll get a bonus for doing this project at work. I love spending money that I don't have.

I got two phone calls about the bike, and one of them looks promising. The dude is supposed to call today, so I'm really hoping that he'll follow through with it. He even has a trailer, so he can pick the beast up and trailer it home instead of riding something with outdated tags. We didn't bother to register it because it isn't being ridden (I'm supposed to let the DMV know about that situation and pay a non-registration fee, which strikes me as stupid for something that's just sitting in the garage), but if this dude buys it, we'll take care of all that. It would be lovely to have the extra money every month. I just wish we could keep the money from the sale - that's a down payment for a house, if we ever get our credit fixed - but, alas, we have to pay it off. Shitty loan.

The sausage has been acting more and more like a human lately. She sits on her ass with her front legs draped over the back of the couch and her back legs sticking straight out; she lays under the quilt with Hubster and snores almost as loudly as him; I have to share a bite from dinner (with her eating off a fork); and any other number of hilarious things. She guards me like I'm going to be attacked at any moment and uses Hubster as her personal toy. I'm so glad we got her; she's a tremendous source of love and amusement. I wish they lived longer, but they don't. That just means we'll have to enjoy her lifetime to the fullest.

I have a bunch of pictures on my phone, but I haven't downloaded them onto the computer yet. I'll have them for next time. Aren't you proud of me, though? Its been a week instead of a month since I blogged. Maybe I'll get back into my old habits and blog even more frequently than that. The problem is that I don't have a lot to tell you. I'm in the house most of the time, so I don't have any funny stories about my adventures outside. However, we have to hit a quilting shop later this week, so maybe I can stir up some shit. We also have to find a knitting shop. There are some good ones in San Diego, so I'm going to try and talk the old man into going there. Then we can grab sandwiches and eat on the beach. I just have to remember to not smoke there. God forbid that my smoke competes with the smog.

Tomorrow is Hubster's day for doing our taxes, so keep your fingers crossed that we don't owe any money. Nothing puts him in a worse mood than doing taxes, except for doing taxes and finding out that we owe. We have to get a house; that way, we're assured of getting money back. Besides, I want to go swimming in my own backyard again.

Speaking of swimming, my swim with the dolphins is coming up. I'm hoping to do it next month instead of June when all the screaming monsters ... uh ... lovely little children are out of school and running around like Attila the Hun's hordes. I have to wear a wet suit, which has the benefit of smoothing out all your bumps and bulges due to their snugness. I can groove on that. Hubster will be taking a lot of pictures, so you can all giggle like fiends at seeing me in the water with a bunch of dolphins sailing over my head.

And with that, I'm bringing this entry to a close. Forgive me for the boring content. I feel like a mother with small children who never goes anywhere and has nothing interesting to say. I'm going to finish up the cuff on the new socks I cast on this morning (I'm using a yarn by Selah, which I can't even remember buying, in a rainbow colorway), and then I'm taking a nap. I'm half asleep now, but I really want to get this thing going before the yarn for my test knit arrives. Once the club members have received it, I'll post a picture of it. Until then, I'll have to keep it a secret.

Bet you think I can't keep my big mouth shut, huh?

We'll see.

Just Want That Old Time Rock and Roll

2010-04-05T09:46:00.000-07:00

So the Hubster and I were sitting there yesterday afternoon around 3:30 p.m. when I noticed that my ass was beginning to quiver. Mind you, it doesn't take a whole lot to get any part of my body quivering, but this was weird - like I was sitting on a whoopie cushion gone wild. Then I heard it - that familiar low rumbling which I haven't heard in quite a while. I looked at Hubster and said, "earthquake". He looked at me like I was nuts... and then the entire house let out a huge creaking noise and began to shake.

It was slow at first, but then it picked up speed and intensity. He sat there with big eyes while I continued knitting. Emma didn't much care for it - it was something new and she couldn't control it. The house snapped, creaked, and shook HARD for about 30 seconds or so, and then it was over... but not until we heard a loud crashing sound from upstairs. "Oh shit", said the ever-diligent Hubster, who immediately ran upstairs to see what had fallen. I continued to sit in my chair knitting. It turned out that a porcelain pig chef holding a covered platter which was meant to hold votive candles (don't ask) had fallen off the baker's rack and smashed to a million pieces on the floor. Shit. I can't get those anymore (there's an entire kingdom, as it were, of this particular artist's work, and she doesn't make them anymore). My huge Shiva Lingham (it's a torpedo-shaped stone - mine is mahogany-colored with lighter brown splotches on the top - which is harvested once a year on the banks of the Ganges River by families specially trained to do it) had also toppled over and rolled across the front room floor. Fortunately, it weighs about 25 lbs. and didn't get damaged. They're meant to bring harmony and happiness to whichever area they're placed, and they come in all sizes from very small to the size of a torpedo (literally). I bought it when I owned the metaphysical store and got it wholesale; otherwise, I couldn't have afforded one that size. Anyway, that's all the damage we noticed, but aftershocks continued on and off during the rest of the day. The epicenter of the quake was around Calexico, and the magnitude was 7.2. We felt it at about 5.2, and we're pretty far away. We're on the fault, though, and it travels straight up.

This morning, I woke up around 6 a.m. to the sound of dripping. It had been raining all night, which I didn't notice because I fell asleep fairly early (for me), and the TV tends to mask the sound of rain unless it's coming down hard. Right now, at 10 a.m., it's raining/snowing pretty hard, the wind is blowing, and we're in the middle of a cloud (we're so high up that we don't really get fog, we get clouds). It promises to be like this all day. Happy Pam. :)

What else? That chick who wanted my bike so badly pulled out of the deal. Her boyfriend bought her one (yeah, right). Hubster sent her a letter thanking her for leading us on for three weeks. Oh well.

We're also making good progress on yarn/stitch makers/other assorted items which we still have left from that long-ago show we attended. Yes, it's been forever. Yes, I owe people a lot of stuff. I'm working on it, and we're also working on making payments to those folks to whom we owe money. Sigh. I really did try with that fucking store, and I still don't understand why it didn't take off. I noticed that a couple of stores which have the same concept I did are popping up. I guess I was ahead of my time, which is nothing new.

I finished the cuff on a new sock and have begun the leg portion. It's fairly simple, just an offset ribbing, but it's all knit into the backs of the stitches. That means I have to loosen up a little so I can actually knit it. I'm using a gorgeous yarn by... uh... somebody; the color is called "Mums". It's got purple, green, yellow, and a couple of others in it, and the way it's knitting up bodes well for a non-pooling sock. I've also got five others on the needles, and I switch off when I get bored. The other day, a needle case I ordered for the 9" Hiya Hiya circs arrived, so now I have them all organized instead of having a hundred packages laying around getting lost. I also found 50 sterling silver stitch markers I had purchased a year ago to sell in the shop, but nobody bought them (I think it was the price, although I thought it was reasonable), so I'm keeping those and have them all in a little silk pouch. I love those things - they don't leave ladders in your work.

While rummaging through my studio last night, I found a shitload of stuff I forgot I had, so I'm well-equipped to knit pretty much whatever I want. Between the stuff that was in the shop and paid for ahead of time, and the lovely things that many of the artists gave me, I don't need to buy another thing. I'm still selling the "old" stash (if we ever finish taking those damn pictures) and some odds and ends (including most of my Green Mountain knitting bags, since I now have the rolling Zuca cart), but all the new stuff (and the found stuff), I'm keeping. It was like Christmas, until my back went out from stooping over and looking in boxes.

I had a doctor's appointment the other day, and the news wasn't great. Apparently, the cartilage in my left knee is gone, so when I move that joint, I feel bone on bone and hear it snap and creak. The other new and fun thing is that bits and pieces of my spine are breaking loose and floating up into my neck on their way to my brain. The doctor told me that if too many pieces break off, or if the cartilage deteriorates up to my neck, it's time. The next stop is my brain and, as I've said, once it hits that, I better start saying good-bye to everybody. Fast. Do you remember that bitch who wrote me that horrible letter a few weeks ago about being hated because I was a lying, stealing bitch? Well, she had also told me I was a "poor me" sort of attention-getter, and that I had a cult of followers who believed everything I told them. I hate to say this, but I think she meant anybody who even remotely likes me, which would mean those of you who actually read this silly thing. I know who got her started on this rant (it's somebody whose stuff I had/have), and I'm going to have a polite word (or series of not so polite words) with her when the time is right, but if she knew me, she'd know I was honest to a fault. I think the broad needs a high hard one, although I suspect her bearded taco has moths flying out of it, which is a turnoff for any electric eels seeking shelter from the cold.

That's about it. It's been an exciting weekend, what with the earthquake and all, but now I'm getting sleepy from my morning pills and think I'll probably sleep for a while. I don't want to miss the rain - the rainy season seems to be pretty much finished down here as opposed to NoCal, where it lasts for another month - and I would be surprised if there were any more days filled with rain and darkness. Since I'm a witch, it's natural that I would love this weather.

Or is that a bitch?

The Sausage Turns Two

2010-04-01T16:47:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it, but today is the sausage's birthday. And that's not an April Fool's joke - we've really had her almost that long. We're buying her some sort of gift tomorrow night. I did have a doctor's appointment today, but it's snowing off and on, and I don't want to get stuck on the mountain roads if it decides to snow hard. So I'm lounging around in my ratty old jammies, knitting away on whichever pair of socks strikes my fancy.

The big news this past week has been Amber. As you all know, she left her husband and was living with some meth head. Well, she kicked him out and tried to come back to her hubby. Fortunately, he was aware of her proclivities towards lying and only doing what benefitted her, so he turned her away and wrote her a rather nasty letter, going so far as to call her a lying whore. He had a long conversation with Hubster, and I think that helped him realize that his decision was the right one. So what did the kid do? She moved the meth head back into her apartment and told her soon to be ex that since Hubster and I had chosen his family over her, she didn't want anything more to do with us, that she was doing just fine without us, blah blah blah. It's nothing she hasn't said before, so my feelings aren't really hurt. In fact, I'm not really hurt by anything she says or does anymore. I think it's a protection mechanism on my part. I had to do that in order to save my sanity. Otherwise, I tended to dwell on it and cry a lot. I've got enough going on in my life that's hurtful or painful, let alone having her add to my problems. I think she figured we'd come crawling to her. Since it hasn't happened, maybe she's finally realizing that nobody really gives a shit about what she's doing. It seems that she can't live alone, so she moves in whoever shows any interest in her. Of course, the kids are well aware that different guys are coming and going, and it's beginning to traumatize them. I'm really worried about them, and if Mom gets permanent custody, she's informed us that we'll be getting them soon because she's getting too old to raise them. That's great, except we've got that little health issue of mine. If we're able to qualify for a new house (more on that below), it's got to be a large house to accommodate them. Oh well - things will work out the way they're meant to.

As far as the kids go, Mom goes to court in July for the final hearing on custody. With Amber living with that creep, I don't think it's going to be a problem to take the kids away from her. We also found out that she was definitely pregnant and had an abortion - the ex took her to get the pills for it. That's going to hurt her standing with the court. It makes me really upset to think about the kids around that guy, so I'm hoping the court sees things our way. Mom has spent about $23K so far fighting this battle, and we can't help her monetarily. All we can do is stand by and wait to see what happens.

We did have a bit of bad news. As I said in my last post, we were trying to qualify for a house loan. Well ... we didn't get it. I wasn't surprised, since our credit report isn't up to date, and there's a lot of shit on there that's long been paid off. Now we get to go through the agony of trying to update the fucking thing. Our mortgage guy is really difficult to get ahold of, so I don't know when we're going to start the process. Fortunately, we love the house we're in right now, and I don't think our landlord is going to kick us out. There are worse places to be stuck, so we feel fortunate that we're here. It's just so difficult to save money, especially with Hubster's salary cut, but I suppose I should be grateful that he's even got a job. What pisses me off is that there are programs for people who are about to lose their houses and people who are first-time buyers, but nothing for people in our position. Once again, the middle class gets shit on. We make too much money to get help from any agencies and not enough to be rich. Oh well. At least we're not on skid row living in a refrigerator box on the sidewalk.

The hate mail continues to flow in, so I've taken to making Hubster read my email. Some of it I can deal with; some of it I just can't. The piles of shit I've got in my studio are slowly but surely disappearing, but it's the stitch markers I just can't figure out. Most people didn't mark them in any way, so I have no idea what belongs to whom. I just don't want to send the wrong things to the wrong people. That would be a nightmare. Then I'd have to have things going back and forth until I found their owners. Sigh.

That's really about it. Nothing exciting has come in the mail, my socks are making progress (but not enough to take any pictures), the sausage has stopped limping and has taken to barking all day because Hubster isn't paying her constant attention, and I'm exhausted. I think I'll go knit, take a nap, and then go rummage around in my studio. Maybe I'll have good luck and find things.

Now that's an April Fool's joke.

Spring Has Sprung ... and it's Going to be a Hot One

2010-03-23T14:07:00.000-07:00

Geez. I just don't know where the time goes. The older I get, the faster it goes by.

Here it is, spring already. It was 80 degrees in the City of Angels the other day, and even though we're about 20 degrees cooler up here than in the flatlands, it looks to be a rather warm spring. I know what that means. It means a beastly summer is on tap. Fuck.

Those of you who have been faithful readers of my rather sporadic blogging know that I don't deal well with the heat. So what are we doing? We're looking for a house in the Delta region, where temps well in the 100's during the summer are common. We can't afford to move close to the Bay, so it's out in the mud flats for us. We're only looking at houses with pools, which is how I survive in those regions. We're also going through the pre-approval process for a loan right now. Damn... I knew we should have fixed our credit report before now. We haven't heard yet if we'll be approved or not (and if so, for how much), so keep your fingers crossed. We have to look at larger houses because if my mother gets full custody of the kids, that means we'll eventually get custody of them when she gets too old to take care of them (which also means that should be next year). I don't mind, though - as long as I'm still here and can take care of the little monkeys. They're already excited that we may be coming home. It's not me they're excited about - it's Grandpa and the pool that floats their boats. Oh well. The prices are amazing. We looked at a 3700 sq. ft. house (pool included) that's listed for $275K. You read that right. Of course, people are putting in offers like crazy on these things - the banks now have no vested interest in getting rid of properties quickly because of that stupid bill our president pushed through - so houses are selling for quite a bit above their asking prices. The deals are still good, though, so if we qualify for a decent loan, we should be able to get a good house.

Speaking of children, Daisy (our blabbermouth grand) told my mother that "Mommy is going to have a baby". Mom had her suspicions - I guess Amber's ass is as wide as two axe handles. I haven't seen her since she's cut off all ties with us, but I have a feeling that it's true. If it is, that bodes well for the court hearing in July. She'll be about eight months by then, and the judge isn't going to feel charitable towards her. This is the final hearing for permanent custody of the twins, and for someone who can't take care of the two she already has, it's not likely that a judge is going to grant custody of them to a pregnant mother. I just don't know where she went wrong. I regret the day I popped that monster out, and a monster she is. I may have been a wild child, but I never hurt people and always put my family first. Not Amber. She only considers us family when it suits her. Hubster and I have disowned her. We refuse to be hurt anymore. The one I feel sorry for is Amber's ex. He's a sweet young man with a lovely family, and I would have loved to be related to them. She seems, however, to like men who mistreat her. Sigh.

Not a lot has gone on in the past month, but we did manage to make it up to Stitches. I spent that Friday going through the marketplace with my dear friend from KaratStix, and then spent Saturday in Rabbitch's booth. I met some more people I've known for years online, and a good time was had by all. Saturday night, we took Rabbitch to San Francisco for dinner - we didn't have time for sightseeing - and had a wonderful meal full of great food, lovely conversation, and just plain enjoying each other's company. Hubster dozed off in the truck while we had dinner so we could spend time together without him. I'm glad I went - not only did I get to spend time with dear friends, I also picked up a few odds and ends, the most exciting of which is a rolling yarn cart with wheels that light up when they turn (I'm such a bag and bling whore). I can stuff more crap in this thing than I can in any of my other knitting bags. So, in addition to my stash, I'll be selling most of my knitting bags. We're still working on photography, but as soon as I'm done listing enough things to open the shop, I'll post it here. It should be soon because I don't want to haul a lot of extra yarn with us if we're lucky enough to move.

We have a good prospect for the bike, but I haven't heard from her for a few weeks. I dropped her an email last night asking if she's still interested in it, and I'm just waiting to hear back from her. I sure hope she still wants it. That would go a long way towards helping us qualify for a good loan, and it's one less (expensive) thing to have to truck up north. Again, keep your fingers crossed. Something good has to happen this year.

I've closed (or am trying to close) my account on Ravelry because I've had it with them. I posted an innocuous comment on one of the forums and saw the next day that it had been removed. When I wrote to the moderator to ask why, she wrote me back a horrible letter telling me, among other things, that I was a "lying, thieving, cheating bitch" (or words to that effect). She then proceeded to tell me that a friend of hers had been ripped off by me, that if I answered her letter, she was going to call the police department in my town, blah blah blah. I keep telling these snatch whores that we don't have a local police department, but they don't seem to believe me. It was a terrible, uncalled-for letter. Not only did she remove my comment, she deleted the entire thread the next day. Ravelry may have a lot of good things going for it, but it's changing from a knitting thing to a group of nasty women who form cliques and attack people whom they don't like for whatever reason. I thought I had left all that behind in high school. In any event, I'm tired of dealing with women like that and refuse to patronize a place where they congregate. So far, the powers that be over there haven't closed my account, so I'm just not logging in. I'm not impressed with the speed and/or quality of help you get when you log a complaint. I personally think that Ravelry has grown too large too fast, and whatever it was originally meant to be has long since disappeared. I think they've lost control of it, and when that happens with something that large, it tends to grow into something other than what it was meant to be. I don't see any way they could turn it back into a knitting/fiber forum-type place at this late date; it's already morphed into a living, breathing beast. I know a lot of people spend hours every day on it, and I also know that it has a lot of good qualities. I don't wish to partake of any of them, however. Please don't send me any more hate mail because of my opinion; I've also had it with that.

Emma is doing well; she's not limping any more. I got a really good referral from a good friend to a vet near us, so we'll be using him if anything happens. He doesn't take appointments, but we don't mind waiting. Anything for our Emma. She loves it here, but I think she'll love it no matter where we live as long as we're with her. She's gotten huge - big head, enormous chest, huge paws - and she's strong as the proverbial ox. She's also gotten in the habit of barking when she hears a noise and protecting me by inserting herself between me and the perceived danger. Whoever said that bullies aren't good guard dogs hasn't met the M.

I don't have any pictures for you this time, but I'm hoping to have some pictures of completed socks the next time I blog. I've got four pairs on the needles (I did have six, but got rid of two of them), and even if I only have one of each pair completed, at least it's something to show you. One of them is a plain pair, but the others are lace or have fancy features. I've got socks to make for friends (you know who you are), and a couple of those fall into that category. I'm actually using some yarn from my "new" stash (thank you, ladies), and have done really well with my buying habits. It helps that we don't have any expendable income and are also trying to save for the new house. Besides, I still have enough yarn to open another yarn shop. However, I have an army of people who are sworn to kick me in the ass if I even consider such a thing. While I loved my shop, I'm just not cut out to be a shop owner - not anymore. I met a lot of wonderful people, but it's just too much.

Nothing has changed in the health department. It's getting time to stock up on the magic herb again, which means I have to find a dispensary close by. Palm Springs has 27 of them, so I don't think it's going to be a problem. We don't want to drive all the way to Van Nuys, which is over a two-hour drive with traffic (and when isn't there traffic around here?). Oddly enough, there aren't that many of them in the Bay Area, so I need to make sure I have enough to last a while before we leave. I carry that letter from the doctor whenever I'm holding (I had the damn thing laminated), so we don't get pulled over and thrown in jail. That's all I need. I have a problem using the bathroom in other people's homes, let alone using an open toilet in front of a group of women and guards. I'd be plugged up for the duration.

One thing that's coming up is my "swimming with the dolphins" outing. I've always wanted to do it, and Sea World has a deal where you go to a class for a few hours to learn how to behave around them, and then you don a wetsuit and jump in the tank with them. I told Hubster to give me that for my birthday, so we're probably going to do it around late April/early May (before it gets really hot). I can't wait - it's a lifelong dream come true. Sea World is doing the "buy one day, get the rest of the year free" ticket deal again, so we'll take advantage of that. I love going there and seeing the whales. Now if only Disneyland would do that ...

I think that's all that's going on around here. I'll try and blog more frequently, more like I used to. I've been working with the voice program Laura told me about, but it takes time for it to learn your voice and mannerisms. You should see some of the sentences which pop out. It's easier than typing, though, and I might even get caught up on my email. Hang in there - if you have a letter coming, you'll get it.

It may be unintelligible, but you'll get something.

Sleet, Snow, and Sickness

2010-02-21T20:52:00.000-08:00

WARNING: THIS POST IS LOADED WITH VERY BORING PICTURES.

If you choose to continue reading, I'm really happy to hear that. If you choose to shut this down, however, you will still show up as one of the cities who took the time to look at this piece of shit.

Thank you.

Hey! It's me! I bet you all thought I had finally kicked the bucket.

Nah... not this past month, anyway.

So what's new and exciting? Not much, really. The weather up here continues to confound the weathermen. They just can't seem to understand that we actually do exist and that our weather isn't the same as Los Angeles. I woke up to this the other day:

That's my front yard.

That's part of my backyard.

That's another part of my backyard.

As you can see from the date on the photos, this happened a few weeks ago. It happened the day before yesterday, too. And when it snows, someone goes apeshit.

Yep. It's the Flying Sausage. But she's just standing there, you say. She was taking a break from the racetrack:

She loves to run at full speed around the table. (You can tell it's really an action shot because her ears are flapping backwards.) She'll then run like mad into the house, make a turn around the coffee table, shoot back outside, and then race back inside, jump on the couch, and fall asleep for the rest of the day.

And then, at the end of the day when it stopped snowing this last time, this is what sunset looked like from my kitchen window:

That bright pink in the middle of the picture is the Pacific Ocean. People never believe me when I tell them we have an ocean view. You have to catch it when the air is clear, though.

Since only a few of you have seen my house, I figured I'd bore you with some pictures of it. This is the view of the stairs going down to the front room when you first walk in. If you go up the stairs to the left, the master and another bedroom are up there.

This is the front room looking out through the French doors onto the racetrack... uh... main deck:

Same room, different glass:

My fireplace, also in the front room:

That's where the wood is stacked. It even has a light in the top... why, I don't have a fucking clue.

What looks like a set of closet doors under the quilt (that's an antique - it's about 100 years old) is actually concealing a wet bar complete with a glass/booze cabinet and refrigerator. To the left of that quilt is the master; the other bedroom is to the right. The quilt hanging on the wall at the bottom of the picture was purchased at an auction to raise money for cancer research.

This is looking down the stairs leading to the lower level; i.e., the TV/knitting/sleeping/shithole room:

Some boring artwork:

And after chasing Emma, knitting, and watching court shows all day:

Whew. Enough of that.

Speaking of Emma, she's still limping. I think it's from all the activity. Bullies aren't known for their athletic prowess. We also just found out that our vet is a roaring drunk and mean to boot. I think we need to find another one. However, I do have some news which may impact our choice of vet.

We may be moving.

Come Thursday, we're driving up to the Bay Area for four days. On Friday, Hubster is going into the office and dropping me off at Stitches West (I'm going to partake of the festivities with a dear friend), so if you're there and I'm not on your shit list, come on up and say hey. Then we have to go to Mom's for Hubster's birthday dinner (his birthday is on Tuesday, the 23rd). On Saturday, I'm going back to Stitches and working in Rabbitch's booth; then Hubster is picking us up and dropping us off at some restaurant. I think getting plowed is also part of the evening's festivities. Then he'll pick us back up, take Rabbitch back to her hotel, and I'll most likely sleep on the drive to our motel. I'm thinking that going into San Francisco might be a grand idea. On Sunday, we're going to look at houses all day. I think we're looking in the Brentwood area - big houses with pools for reasonable prices and also home to Alpaca Direct. Finally, on Monday, we're going to see the kids and then head for home. The sausage will be with us, of course, although I don't know what we're going to do with her on Friday and Sunday. We might drop her off at Mom's while we're gone. Normally, we put her in her carrier, but we're going to be gone for hours. I don't like leaving her cooped up for that long.

I've got six pairs of socks on the needles for the trip, so I'll have a lot to work on. Only having one project going drives me apeshit. Hubster just looks at me in amazement and wonders how I keep everything straight (truth be told, I don't have a fucking clue which pattern goes with which sock - they all have the same number of stitches for the cuff).

The other big thing is that I dragged myself into the kitchen last week and fried chicken for dinner. We had two of our favorite people in the world over for dinner, and I wanted to make some comfort food. I wound up having to have one of them help me whisk the eggs, and I had to sit on my guitar stool in order to do the actual frying. Sigh. Things aren't going well with me personally, although our evening was incredible.

I'm slowing down. That's the sad truth, and I can feel it in every part of my body. My knees have arthritis in them and have been acting up (due to the cold, I'm sure). Headaches are an everyday occurrence now. I sleep in two to three hour bursts and rarely leave my chair. I'll be hobbling around Stitches with my walker, and I can honestly say that it will be the first time in almost two months that I've left the house. I'm depressed a lot of the time, but I try to not let on to Hubster. He's freaked out enough.

I'm so sorry for such a boring post (hence, the boring pictures to pad it). Otherwise, all I'd have to say is that I have a bad cold, feel like shit, am smoking more dope, and sleep/knit all day and night. If someone had told me that I'd be falling apart at this age, I would have laughed at them.

Better living through chemistry. And herbs.

She's Alive... Sorta

2010-01-18T22:37:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's me. I bet a lot of you thought I had kicked the bucket. Nope, not yet. I'm too fucking mean to die before Stitches West.

This won't be a really long post because it's so difficult for me to type, but I was feeling guilty for not saying anything for so long. I'll try to do better in the future because I know how amusing I am and how much you all love reading my posts (snort).

I'll be opening the shop next week to sell the rest of the stash and my knitting bags, so if anybody wants a good deal on top-quality indie yarn and Green Mountain knitting bags, make sure to stop in. I've got too much stash left to take pictures of it all at once, but I'll put up as much as I can. Each skein will be $10, no matter what the yardage is, the fiber, or the artist who created it. As for the bags, I might set a price or take offers. We need the money, and I can't do any more shows, so...

Hubster was out of work for four months, but I'm happy to report that he started a new job a week ago. It was a large cut in pay, but at least we won't be homeless. I don't know if we'll be able to afford this house anymore, but I'm sure something will come up. One interesting thing which has happened is that my faith has increased dramatically. I'm sure that we'll wind up wherever we're meant to be.

Emma has something wrong with her legs - she's been limping quite a bit. We took her to the vet; he took X-rays and said that her bones look like shit (but so do most bulldogs), and is having us give her Advil or something like it. It seems to be helping; she's walking much better and is still my pudgy little helper. Right now, she's snuggled up against me and snoring like a thunderstorm. It's supposed to snow tonight - we're having a series of really intense storms all week - so I'm sure she'll be romping in it tomorrow.

My health is for shit, but what else is new? The dope I'm smoking (and the hash) help more than anything else I'm taking, but I don't use it unless I really need it. It does make watching TV a lot more fun. Gaining weight from all the cake, ice cream, Doritos, and other munchies I'm porking down is the bummer part of it.

My new tattoo is finished and looks great. I've decided that I'm going out with as much color as possible. It fits in with my flamboyant nature. Since this one is on my thigh, nobody can see it. If I'm still here next summer, it'll be visible at the bottom of the leg on my shorts - like I give a shit what anybody thinks.

Hubster did tell me that in August, we're going to Chicago for a week. I guess his new job has an annual meeting which he has to attend, so he's dragging me along. I haven't been there for 20 years, so it'll be a blast. I used to love partying there (and they've got the best cheeseburgers I've ever had, hands down), and I'm really looking forward to it. I have to find some good yarn shops, and if any of you live there and would like to have lunch, let me know. I think we'll be there the first week of that month. More details will follow.

I'll also be at Stitches West on the Friday of the show. I'm going with someone, but if anybody wants to meet up to say hey and maybe grab some grub, let me know that, too. I now have a stash thanks to some very kind and loving people, and I don't have money to shop with, but I want to see the show. It never hurts to drool. :)

So what else is new? Not a lot. We went to Disneyland for the day (it was great), had a nice Christmas (went to the Bay Area for a week), and I've been trying to knit. It hurts my hands a lot, but it's also good therapy. I owe some of you socks, so when you finally get them, they'll have a whole lot of love knit in them. My mom and grandmother are both cancer-free, so that's really great news. Oh! I do have news which I don't think I told you about. If I did, please forgive me for repeating myself.

It turns out that our daughter got married to The Lump and lost custody of the kids to my mother. Mom has temporary guardianship and has to go to court in February for permanent custody, and it looks really promising that she'll get it. Amber already has cancelled picking up the kids for one of her visits with them (Mom lets her have them every other weekend or something like that), so I think the novelty of having them has already worn off. She doesn't talk to us (Amber, not Mom), so I don't know what's going on in her life. Surprisingly, we don't miss her one little bit. Enough is enough.

My hands are about to fall off, so I'm going to close. I'll write more soon, I promise. I'll also confirm that the shop will be open next Monday, so save your pennies and help out an old, decrepit broad.

I love all of you. :)

Good Lord ...

2009-11-16T20:13:00.000-08:00

... where has the time gone?

I took a look at the last time I posted and damn near fell off the couch. Lots of things have happened, so I'll try to cover as much as possible.

Hubster still isn't working, but he has a really good bite. Some company has a job opening which is a perfect fit for him; they're also really excited about having him come onboard. He has to work a "test day" with them (hopefully tomorrow), and then we'll see. I hope it comes through; we're running out of money, and the thought of living in a refrigerator box on Skid Row isn't exactly appealing to me, especially with the rainy season starting.

Health-wise, things aren't great. My hands and wrists look like balloons, and it hurts a lot to type or knit. I have a LOT of emails to answer - most of them thank you notes for gifts of yarn, notions, and even entire stock from the shop - and I'll answer all of the letters, but right now, I can barely get a letter written. I felt that I had to write a post, though - I've had people trying to be tactful in asking if I was still with you all! I'm here, although a little worse for wear. The good news is that I went to a doctor who prescribes medicinal marijuana and now have my certification letter. Our first stop after seeing her was to a dispensary. It was really strange how it came about. We were in a head shop in Hollywood and met this guy who runs a dispensary. He gave us the card for a doctor who works with him and got us in the next day. Not only that, even though his dispensary isn't accepting any new members, he told me that he would give us a membership. I was blown away by the place; neon lighting everywhere, clean as a whistle, and arranged like a deli. The difference was, of course, that instead of roast beef and pastrami, there were different grades of pot and hash. I left about a bill lighter but with enough supplies to last a while. Once you know what you're looking for, you see dispensaries and doctors who give the certifications everywhere. It sure helps with the pain, so I've been smoking about a bowl a night and a little during the day (I have daytime and nighttime grades of the stuff). I feel like I'm 14 again. Yeah, I know... I was an early bloomer. That's not the only thing I began doing at 14, but I'm sure you can guess what that was. The problem was, I didn't know shit about how a dick worked. I thought it moved by itself - like a piston. The first one I ever saw, I thought was broke. That's a story for another day, though ...

The bike hasn't sold, so we're keeping it. Hubster is going to learn to ride, and I'll ride behind him. That wasn't the original plan, but it's better than nothing. We might put a sidecar on it, too. That way, I can ride alone. I told him that if we go the sidecar route, we'll get Emma a leather helmet and goggles, and I'll hold her while we ride. Talk about causing accidents on the freeway ...

What else, what else .... If we're fortunate enough to be able to stay here and buy this house, we're going to turn the downstairs into an apartment for me. There's already a full bath which just needs to be finished, another room which can be my bedroom, and the large room for watching TV. There's also a fire pit where I'd like to put a fireplace since it gets so cold down here in the winter. It would be ideal, especially since I can't make it up stairs very well. We'll see what happens. This house has so much potential that even though I'd love to move back home, we couldn't afford anything even remotely like it. I've got too much shit for a small house - and thanks to many of you, a fantastic stash again - that I need a larger house. I've also got the kids. Oh... that's what has happened. I am NOT pleased with this development ...

Our daughter showed up at Mom's house with her boyfriend, his parents, and the police and took the kids away. They were crying and clinging to Mom, terrified to leave. Amber didn't give a shit. I was right all along; she doesn't want them other than to use as pawns. So Mom has filed a court case against Amber to gain custody. They go to court next Monday. I want to be there, but if Hubster starts a new job, we can't. It's probably best, because I'd strangle her. Mom has only seen them once, and she said they were dirty, had lost weight, and were afraid to come to her. Then today, Social Services shows up at Mom's to check on Grandma. Another ruse; Amber is obviously trying to show that Mom is too old to take care of them. It backfired, though. Nasty little bitch will get hers.

I think that's enough for now. My hands are barely working, so it's time to go rest. I'll be in touch soon, I promise. Thank you again to those of you who have sent letters, shown your love, and been there for me. I won't forget it.

I think it's time to fire up a bowl, put "Up" in the DVD player, and try to knit. Of course, I don't know what the sock will look like.

Maybe like a penis that works like a piston ...

New Post to Come by Tomorrow

2009-10-20T13:43:00.000-07:00

I'm so sorry for this enormous delay in posting, but I wanted to let you all know that I'll have one for you by the time you get up tomorrow morning. See you then!

The Summit - Continued

2009-08-30T20:21:00.000-07:00

I think I left out a bunch of stuff in my last post, so I decided to bore you further with some more details about my fun and games before, during, and after the show.

Most of you know that I'm barely able to walk most days, so first, I want to give big thanks and hugs to my beloved Hubster and my booth mate, Kate of Spindle Cat Studio, for not only setting up my booth, but also for all the help they provided during the show. I couldn't have done it without you guys (especially when we got really busy). I sat on my little folding chair while you guys wrote up orders, helped customers, and did the myriad chores that come along with doing a show. Don't get me wrong - I didn't just sit on my ass looking gorgeous uh... fat and dumpy... but there's no way in hell it was a one-woman operation.

That done... on to the dish.

It was absolutely amazing to me the number of people who knew who I was. To be sure, I kind of stand out in a crowd, but I was still floored by how many people came up to me and greeted me by name or told me that they were looking forward to meeting me in person. Talk about an ego booster! Then there were all the lovely people who read my blog and wanted to meet me, foul mouth and all. I was able to get up and walk around two or three times, and it was then that I met even more wonderful people. I would stand in front of a booth, wait until they looked up, and then watch the recognition dawn in their eyes. Lots of hugs, some crying, and people whom I've considered family for years. Too good.

I may have said it before, but a lot of vendors were complaining about the number of customers who came through the marketplace. We had heard numbers ranging from 6,000 to over 10,000, so I think many of us packed accordingly. I know that I brought way too many goods for the estimated numbers, but I would rather have too much than not enough. There were vendors whose booths were almost empty and others whose booths were bursting at the seams with items for sale. I also saw a lot of shoppers with no bags or goodies (other than the freebies) just walking around. I know that none of the people who put this thing together even know who I am, but I want to put in a good word for all of them. They accomplished an incredible feat - from getting all the teachers togethers (all that talent in one room!), to giving the vendors a place to shine, to offering goods not usually seen. This being my first show, I wasn't sure what to expect, but I was delighted with it. I even had the Yarn Harlot open the door and hold it open for me as I lurched forward into the room. I didn't know what to say, so I blurted out, "You're the Yarn Harlot", to which she replied, "So I've been told!". I loved it so much, in fact, that...

In a minute.

The couple of times I did get up, I managed to do a fair amount of damage (so it's a good thing that I couldn't get out more). I got a set (sizes 1 to 5) of Signature Needle Arts DPN's (even though I now use Hiya Hiya 9" circs as much as possible) because I've been drooling over them since they came out, and some incredible yarn from a couple of vendors (as usual, I can't remember who the hell I bought it all from). Then there was the mysterious skein of yarn waiting for me from Berocco when I returned. They specifically asked the lovely lady helping out in my booth to make sure that I got it. I'm not sure what they want me to do with it - whether they want me to try it out or just to see it - but it was a honor for me to receive it. It's absolutely lovely - beautiful colors, easy to knit, plenty of yardage - and I've got a pair of socks slated for it. I've got some other socks I have to do first, but they're in the queue.

So that was my experience at the show, and I hope that when/if we make it to Stitches West, it will be as much fun.

Back to home matters...

I intimated last post that I was getting another tattoo. I had no idea of where to look for an artist out here (it's amazing how many artists there are in LA), so I wound up on Yelp looking for recommendations. I found a place called Studio City Tattoo and, as usual, we were late, but off we headed. It's about a two-hour drive there (they're in West Hollywood) and we were terribly late, so I spoke to my artist about what I wanted, gave him the draft, and made an appointment for him to actually do the work. That appointment was yesterday (Saturday night), but we couldn't go because there's a huge fire at the base of the mountain we live on; in case we had to evacuate, we wanted to be home for that. Anyway, my new appointment is next Saturday afternoon. And what am I getting?

The Sock Summit logo. Right on my thigh. I was going to get it on my ass, but that's so saggy and wrinkly and bumpy that it would look like a cheap decal which had come off and been stuck back on. Why that logo? Because it was my first show, it was so wonderful for me, I made so many new friends and finally met old ones, that it carries enormous significance for me. It may sound silly to everybody else, but I don't give a shit. It's my body, and since I don't know how much longer I have to inhabit it, I'm going to decorate it any way I see fit. So there.

Hollywood is a kick in the ass, especially at night. People think that San Francisco is weird? Heh. Not compared to this place. Hit Hollywood Blvd. on a weekend night, and you see things that are just incredible. There are people who dress up like superheroes willing to take their picture with you (for a hefty price, of course), the Kodak Theater, Graumann's (now the Mann), El Capitan, and the Kodak Theater (where the Oscars are). Angelenos LOVE their donuts, it would seem - there's a shop on every corner - so I just have to find the best one and have Hubster bring a box to the parlor while I'm being worked on. And then there's Pink's, the famous hot dog stand which has been there since the 40's, I think, and who makes one of the best hot dogs I've ever had. I would love to walk up and down the street on a Saturday night, but there's that walking issue. Maybe if Hubster holds me up...

We're still sorting everything out, getting the shop put back together, getting payments ready for everybody, trying to get things ready to send out - holy shit, it's a lot of work. I have a meeting for the Haunted Town here this coming Friday night (leave it to me to open my big fucking mouth and volunteer for something), so I have to have some semblance of order in the house by then. That's okay, though - it will light a fire under my big saggy ass to get all this finished. So I think I'll knit tonight (I'm really, really tired) and get to working on it again tomorrow.

Hubster is still looking for work, and I'm beginning to get a little nervous. I've come to really love our home and this town, and I think we're going to have to leave it. Of course, if he tells me that we have to live near the ocean in San Diego, I think I can manage the transition, but I really don't want to leave the state. I'm worried about finances, about finding a house, about finding a new doctor... the list goes on and on. He's looking, but with this shitty economy, I just don't know. I don't want to have to live with my mother again (Hubster has horrible allergies to cats, and her house is full of them), but we'll do what we need to. Fuck.

I'm waiting on whether or not for word if I need to drive back up to the Bay Area for my aunt. I know that she's going to be cremated and laid to rest in the Pacific Ocean, but my cousin Glenn is having a get-together at his house. I would love to go and see family and friends whom I haven't seen in years, but I also do NOT want to see my ex-boyfriend (who remained a family friend), especially since I'm fat, bald, and look like a biker chick. Oh, to ride up on my bike and scare the shit out of the weasely little fuck...

So I think that's about all that's going on around here, other than the fires. There are three huge ones, including one at the base of the mountain I live on top of and one that now encompasses about 65 square miles (the Station Fire). We don't have the biggest one, nor do we have mandatory evacuations, but it's large enough to stay put and not go away from the house. At one point, one of the ingress/egress highways (there are only two of them) was shut down; even though it's open now, if we can't get to Emma to save her, well... I can't even go there.

Off to knit. I have a lot to do, and never enough time to do it all. Life is a whirlwind of activity right now, and I don't know which direction to turn. Add to that the heat (close to 100 degrees), and I'm not a happy camper most days.

But then again, I have a reputation to uphold. Happy?

Not if I'm going to retain Queen Bitch status.

The Summit - and Other Stuff

2009-08-25T13:21:00.000-07:00

Well, we're finally home from Sock Summit. What a trip, both figuratively and literally! Let's talk about it, shall we?

But first, more bad news. I just got a call from Mom telling me that my aunt has died. I called my cousin and talked to him for an hour. She had COPD and died peacefully in her sleep at 4:45 a.m. He's looking for her papers to see what her last wishes were. So far, he's found one from 2002 saying that she didn't want any services, just to be cremated and floated out on the Pacific Ocean. I don't know yet if I need to drive up there again or not. I didn't know she was so sick; otherwise, we would have gone to see her while we were visiting my mom. Glenn lives in the town next-door. We had left about two days too early. Glenn had moved her into his house and was using hospice. He was shocked when he found out I lived near Los Angeles. Anyway, I'll post if I need to leave again;

On to the show news.

Rather than rent one of those huge, uncomfortable trucks, we had a ball installed on our truck (it turns out that we had a towing package already installed on it - who knew?) and got a trailer instead. It was a lot less expensive, and Hubster was able to pack everything into it just fine. We bought those Space Bags - the ones you suck all the air out of with a vacuum cleaner - to put all the yarn in (worked like a charm and saved a lot of space), labeled the boxes we put everything else into, and just filled it up. Then we hooked it up to the truck and actually got out of here at a decent time.

We made it up to the Bay Area the first day and visited with my family. It was so nice to see them, and we got to spend a lot of time with the kids. Then it was off to Portland the next day. We made it up there by early evening, checked into our motel, and fell asleep pretty early. The next day, we slept in and then went over to the Convention Center to unload. I had a really difficult time with it. Hubster went over first to get started, and I tried to walk over (he got ready before me and wanted to started). I'm barely able to walk now, so I had to stop every few hundred feet to stop and rest. I finally made it over, and found that he had unloaded everything by that time. We went over so I could see the booth; I realized that we should have gotten twice to amount of space, so I freaked out about that. We were just leaving when I saw a petite, beautiful woman heading towards me. Who was it?

Rabbitch.

The first of my gang of miscreants had arrived! We slobbered all over each other, gave each other lots of hugs, and checked out each other's goodies. It was SO nice to finally meet her! We made plans to meet up the next day and headed back to our hotels.

The next day, we were at the Center bright and early to set up. This being our first show, we had no idea of what we were doing, but my boothmate, Kate of Spindle Cat Studio (also a show virgin) was there too; between me, her, and Hubster, we were able to get everything set up. I truly saw the need for more space then. Remember how I was so afraid that I wouldn't have enough stuff to fill the booth? Heh. I'll be renting two 10 ft. booths for Stitches West (yes, I'm doing that show). I think the booth looked great. Did I remember my camera? Nope. Did I remember my phone has a camera on it? Nope. Too much to think about. Then the classes let out, and it was show time for the students.

We had a good crowd, but nothing horrible. I figured the next day, we'd have a lot more people. Back to the motel for rest and then to the center the next day to meet the public.

I was shocked to find a huge line stretching down the aisle for my booth. They were there to buy the winning Ravelry yarn. I sold out of them in three minutes flat. Talk about bedlam! Then we got all the people who wanted it and whom we had to turn away (at least for those items). The booth was busy all day, though, and we sold a lot of things. Oh... you remember my using the iPhone as my credit card machine? It worked like a charm.

I heard a lot of vendors complaining about how slow it was, the lack of traffic and sales, and how the projected numbers were way off. What I noticed is that some booths had no business while others were constantly busy. I'm not sure why - there didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason for it, but it was true. We were truly blessed. In fact, I hardly got out to see any of the other booths. I did get to meet many of the other miscreants in my posse - Mrs. Q, Jen of Woolgirl, and a bunch of other broads (ladies? I think not), so I was a happy broad myself.

On one of the breaks I took, I ran into Ron from Buffalo Gold. After a smoking break conversation, he asked me if I would design socks for them. So now I'm the exclusive sock designer for BG and was sent home with a buffalo/bamboo blend to play with and come up with a design for them. I'll also be going to their ranch in Ft. Worth and to some other huge convention in Denver in February. Too exciting! I'm really looking forward to all this. Now I just have to actually come up with the pattern... I'll be doing lace socks in a very fine gauge for my first pair. I also met Cecil, his dad. They're a wonderful family, and I'm looking forward to getting to know them better.

Lots of other things happened, but I'll save those for my next post. I do want to say that we took Emma with us, and when Hubster took her out to go potty or just for a walk, he had women running up to him asking if that was Emma. He told them yes, and they went nuts meeting her! I was an afterthought - they asked if I was at the show since Emma was there - and she got more love and attention than she's ever received. I'm glad she was such a hit; she needs the socialization. Being such a loving dog, she was very happy to meet everyone. I kept telling Hubster that we should have said she was a service dog and put a back cover on her with our name and booth number on it. I really would have had good sales then!

I don't know what's considered a good take, but we took in about $6K. For our first show, I was thrilled! I can see why the other vendors were complaining, though - some of our lines sold very well, while others just sat there. All in all, it was a fantastic experience. I'll write more about it in the next installment, along with news of my new tattoo.

Off to work on Mt. Yarnsuvius. It's kind of like Chinese food - the more I take out of the pile to put away, the more it seems to grow.

It just doesn't taste as good.

Off to Sock Summit!

2009-08-02T06:31:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to tell you that we're leaving tomorrow for Sock Summit. Wow, that snuck up on me! I'm not even ready or done with inventory. NOOOO!!!!!!! And here I thought I would be able to relax this weekend. Fat chance. I'll be tagging and bagging right up until I hit the show floor; then I'll be able to rest when we leave to go home. I think that a lot of the other show participants are in the same boat as I am. Now Hubster is sick from the stress. Great. I have to keep working, though. Oh well... I should be thankful that he's even helping at all.

As of now, the shop is closed down and will reopen some tine after August 12th. Please do not try to place orders during our absence; I won't be looking at email and will have the shop "with me".

Well, that was surreal. I was going to knit for an hour, sleep for an hour, and then get up. That was at 8:00 a.m. It's now 10:30 a.m., and I just woke up. So much for knitting.

Time for coffee and to get Hubster up. Hopefully, he'll be in a good mood. Today is inventory day, shrink-wrap the yarn, get a trailer hitch on the truck, pray that the trailer we rented is big enough, make sure we have everything, blah blah blah. Then it's to bed early tonight and hit the road by 9 a.m. Oh boy - road trip!

See you either at the show or back here on August 12th!

Projects Galore... and Some Other Things

2009-07-27T01:33:00.000-07:00

I came to a decision the other day. Rather than work for hours at a time on Sock Summit, I'm going to work on it for a while, then knit, then work, then knit, etc. That way, I won't burn out on anything. Smart idea, huh?

No.

It's been so long since I've actually had more than one project on the needles (and one of them a shawl, no less), that I'm having way too much fun for it to be legal. And that translates into wanting to do nothing but knit - no work on Sock Summit, no reading, no sleeping, no eating, nothing... other than knitting.

So what the hell am I doing that I'm finding so much fun?

Well, you all know that I have a dear knitting sister (the darling lady who started out as a customer) for whom I knit socks. She started the whole thing off because I was late with her order and put some additional skeins of yarn in her package. Well, she was so blown away that she wanted to knit me some socks. Then I wanted to knit her some socks (the pair that I posted a picture of earlier). Now I have two pairs on the needles for her - the ones you saw a picture of (I had spilled a cup of coffee on them, but luckily found another skein in my stash). The other pair is a surprise, but I will say that they're killer good-looking - a pair of a simple Fair Isle-type made with a solid and a variegated. They're just too cool. Then I have another friend I'm making a very special pair of socks for. She had helped me through a bad time a while ago, so I wanted to thank her. This pair is intricate and will take me a while. They're beaded diagonally on the cuff with about 700 size 8/0 glass seed beads. I've done a pattern with the colors of the beads (there are five colors to match the colors in the yarn) and have to be careful that both socks are identical. That means a lot of Post-It Notes on my pattern. But it's fun stringing them, and I think they'll be gorgeous. Since I know she doesn't read my blog, I can tell you that the yarn is Anne by Schaefer; the color is an ivory with splotches of gold, green, purple, and wine. The beads are the same color except that I also have clear thrown in there. When I'm done with them, I'll post a picture.

As for the shawl, it's for my grandmother. It's a deep wine color with gold running through the yarn. The pattern isn't difficult - it's leaves done in lace - and I think even I can memorize it The yarn is Dream in Color Classy (I think that's what it's called - it's basically Smooshy with the gold metallic). She'll like to have it to throw over her shoulders since she gets cold in the evenings. I'm brining all these projects with me to Sock Summit to work on during my spare time. Ha! I have a feeling that I won't have any spare time, even after the day is over. Let's hope I don't, anyway. Spare time during the day means no sales; spare time at night means that I'm not tired because I wasn't busy during the day. I think it's going to go well, though. Even Hubster is looking forward to it. I know Emma is, too. She has to have a good grooming this week - maybe on Friday - so she's pretty for when she meets all of you who are going. :) Speaking of the M, here's a picture of the human dog.

Hubster is sick as a dog (not Emma... just in general). I think the stress from the loss of his job finally hit. He went to bed at 9:30 p.m., and I doubt I'll see him any time soon. We have nothing to do tomorrow other than work on the inventory for the Summit, so he'll get a good night's sleep. We're also going to go look at houses for sale around here. I'm a firm believer in some people being able to manifest things (and I know I'm one of them), so I'm going to behave as if we have all the money in the world. I picked out about 10 houses to go see. Hell, I don't even know where we'll end up, but it won't hut a thing to go take a look. I think once he gets some leads, he'll feel much better. He has people working on his behalf at Cisco to bring him back, but we'll see. I think he should start his own company, but it's his career, and I don't want to push him into doing anything.

I had a bit of excitement this morning. It was about 5:00 a.m., and I was sitting in my chair merrily knitting away. It was then that I noticed a rather large bug crawl up the side of the fire pit (we have a big carpeted hole in the TV room in front of a gas wall fireplace where you can sit and knit, read, etc.). Anyway, this thing stopped when it reached the top, raised it's head, and arched it's tail over it's back. Then it hit me like a brick what it was.

A SCORPION.

I damn near shit my jammies. It was a baby, but they can sting just as badly as an adult. I couldn't believe it. We're way above the desert floor, so how on earth did it get up here?

I went running up the stairs as fast as I could and woke Hubster up. I don't think he believed me at first, but down he came armed with ant spray. He rolled the TV out of the way (I had thrown a book at the thing and missed, so it ran under the TV), and there it was. He sprayed the living shit out of it, then slammed a book down on it repeatedly until he was sure it was dead. Then he wrapped it up in paper towels and shoved it down to the bottom of the garbage can. Since Emma is now eating creatures and has always eaten bugs, he didn't want her to get it. I'm now creeping around the house because I'm terrified of them. In all the years he lived in Phoenix/Mesa/Tempe/Scottsdale, he's never seen one in a house or in the wild. I think he was ready to shit, too. They're evil-looking fuckers. Now I'm curled up in my chair keeping vigilant watch over the room lest another one comes creeping in.

In other yarn news, Laura of Drooling Over Yarn is knitting a pair of sockies for me. She's so sweet!! She's also a fast and excellent knitter, so I know they'll come soon. I plan on showing them off and letting everyone know who made them and what the yarn is. I have the privilege of showing off many of the contest entries for Ravelry in my booth, and hers is one of them. I've already made it clear that I'm purchasing it for myself. She dyes the most exquisite yarn. If you haven't seen her work, don't hesitate to go to my store or over to Etsy. I've felt like such a failure with the shop this past year - bad sales, no interest, spending every spare cent I have on advertising, etc., and not having anybody come look - that Sock Summit is my last chance to do right by all the artists who put their trust in me. I've still got boxes of work which some artists want back, and I want to get them mailed out, but there's money problems, the usual health problems, blah blah blah. Most of the artists have been very kind and understanding, although a few of them have been downright nasty. I guess I can't blame them, but when I'm accused of being a thief, that's crossing the line. I'm really hiding. Blow me.

One last thing - we may have a nibble on the bike! A man called last week and is very interested in coming to see it. He was coming Friday, but after he was about five hours late, I'm afraid I left a rather nasty voice mail message. Come to find out, someone in his family died. I felt about five inches tall. I'm writing him a letter apologizing for being such an ass. Since we're leaving a week from today (!?!!?!?!?!), I'm going to try and get him to come by later this week. That would be so wonderful to sell it before we leave. Then I can go shopping at the Summit!! Uh... I mean... we can save the money. Yeah... that's the ticket.

Off to go wind some yarn so I can cast on for another project. All I have to do is find the yarn I want. Unfortunately, it's right where the scorpion crawled out from.

It may have to wait until Hubster gets up

I'm Ready to Explode

2009-07-16T16:19:00.000-07:00

You know, there are days when things are so fantastic that you can't believe your good luck. Then there are days when things are so shitty, you can't figure out what you did for the karma gods to take a big dump on your face.

A few days ago, things were fantastic.

I got a call from the doctor - the long-awaited call with the results of my spinal tap. There is no indication of cancer (bone or otherwise), the things floating in the fluid are little pieces of the damaged discs (expected), and it appears that the auto-immune crap has stopped for the time being. What does all that mean? It means that I don't have cancer and am in remission. We were both so happy that it seemed as if we had finally made it over some hump. Then it all came to a screeching halt today.

Hubster told me last night that Cisco was giving a lot of people the axe today because they're trying to save money by getting rid of groups and highly-paid employees. He thought he was safe because he didn't get an email telling him to report to HR for a meeting. I guess whenever you see someone from HR in a meeting, it's not a good thing. He did, however, have his weekly one-on-one with his bitch boss. So at 11:30 a.m., he went into his meeting. At 11:35 a.m., he came back downstairs, looked at me, and said, "Well." Huh? Then he finished the statement:

"I lost my job."

WHAT? WHAT?????????? After giving 15 years to that fucking company, all the vacations we couldn't take because he had to finish a project, all the times he stayed up working all night, all the trips we had to take the computer on because he had to work... well, you get the picture. He developed a tool way back when which was meant just for him. It turned out to be something which the entire company used. Hubster tried to copyright it (that would have meant Easy Street for us), but we were told that since a year had passed and the company was using it, it was no longer available for copyright. That little tool is still being used today and has saved the company BILLIONS (yes, that is millions with a "b") of dollars. Did we see a cent of it? Nope. In fact, I think that year he got a less than stellar review. This year, he didn't even get a bonus because they were trying to save money so they wouldn't have to lay anybody off. I'm telling him to tell them that since he's been canned, they obviously didn't save any money, so he wants his bonus. Shit. We did NOT need this right now.

The only decent thing about it is that he gets six months of severance: two months of work and four months of job searching. As far as he's concerned, his job ended at 11:35 this morning. For the first time in years, he's not working. In fact, he's not doing shit tonight. Neither am I. We're both in shock. I think it will sink in tomorrow.

So I called my mother to tell her, and the first thing she said was, "What are we going to do?". We? I pointed that out, and she said that she didn't mean to sound cold, but we owed her money. I came unglued and told her not to mention certain things to Hubster, to leave him alone, and that he wasn't going to be talking to her for at least a few days. After that fiasco of a phone call, I told Hubster that now we know why we moved down here. Silicon Valley is going to be a sea of empty houses because there will be thousands of people with the same skill sets looking for work, and there are no jobs available. Most of the companies are outsourcing to India or bringing in unskilled young people. They're getting rid of women over 40 and highly-paid engineers like Hubster - the people who built the company. They raped us and are now disposing of us like a used tampon. The people coming in won't know what the fuck they're doing, and they'll get paid dick (but to them, it will seem like a fortune). Down here, there are a lot of job opportunities, and Hubster is also toying with the idea of starting his own company. We also have the option of moving out of state, which I would hate to do, but I go where he goes. This is just so fucked up that I'm immobilized.

Enough of that shit. Let's talk about something a little more enjoyable.

I just got approved for a credit card machine for Sock Summit today. I didn't go through a bank, which means I didn't get one of those portable hand-held machines. I've seen those things fail miserably, especially inside concrete buildings. No, I went with my iPhone. They have a contract with a company who handles the transactions. I just type in the numbers of the card, and it gives me instant approval/declined. In fact, it works just like every other credit card machine except that it does more. I can sync it up with my computer, and it automatically records the sales, removes the items from inventory, transfers money directly into my checking account, etc. I applied for it last night and was approved today, so I bought the applications this afternoon and downloaded them onto my phone. At least that went right.

I also got my bike listed. Sigh. At least I rode it onto the driveway, gunned the engine (wow!), and almost dumped the damn thing because our driveway slopes down, and I was sideways. But we got the pictures taken, I filled out all the forms, and now I just keep my fingers crossed that someone will want her. She's such a gorgeous piece of machinery. But especially now, with Hubster having lost his job, we need to simplify. So much for saving money and looking at other houses.

There's my hot bitch.

Another picture of the sexy beast.

I had to start that sock over - the picture in the post before the questionnaire - because I dumped an entire cup of coffee on it, and it was totally destroyed. It was okay , though. I'm using this killer yarn from an artist I found who is coming onboard in the shop - the colors are incredible, and the way everything blends and flows makes it look as if it's moving and breathing. With the design of the sock, it's going to be incredible. This is for a customer who has become a sister, and we seem to be making each other socks all the time LOL. I just got the final element for a really special pair for her. I might cast on for those tonight, as well as another pair (I can't say too much because she reads the blog). I'm in the mood to cast on a bunch of projects. I'm sure there are many of you who feel the same way.

Things are beginning to pour in for Sock Summit. I got about 10 packages yesterday (well, so three of them were for me), and I'm expecting about 30 more. I don't think I'm going to add anything new to the shop before we leave; it's a waste of time and effort, since I have to put everything in a spreadsheet for SS. If I weren't taking the shop, then I would; however, since the shop is going with me, it's double the effort. Besides, this will give me a lot more stock and will also sell my artists' work a lot more efficiently.

So that's what's going on. I've been sitting at this damn computer all day, so now I'm going to go knit for the rest of the evening. We have a new ant invasion upstairs and I can't find the spray, so Hubster will have to deal with it when he gets home. Poor guy. If he's not cleaning up a mess at work, he's cleaning up one here.

Oh wait. He doesn't work anymore.

That one is going to take some time getting used to. Shit.

SP 14 Questionnaire

2009-07-04T21:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, fun lovers... here is the information you've been waiting for so you can send me lots of lovely hand-crafted gifts and spoil me rotten.

(I didn't type that. Hubster did.)

1. What is/are your favorite yarn/s to knit with? What fibers do you absolutely *not* like? Indie yarns, usually off Etsy. My favorite is merino or merino blended with Tencel, bamboo, alpaca, or some other luxury fiber which still keeps it at fingering weight. No acrylic, please (not even in a blend). I don't care if it's superwash or not - I wash everything by hand anyway.

2. What do you use to store your needles/hooks in? I have cases for my DPN's and circulars which I stick in whatever knitting bag I'm using.

3. How long have you been knitting & how did you learn? Would you consider your skill level to be beginner, intermediate or advanced? I've been knitting for 49 years. I learned from my grandmother, my next-door neighbor, and other relatives. If I'm not advanced in both years and experience by now, I never will be.

4. Do you have an Amazon or other online wish list? No.

5. What's your favorite scent? Lavender or patchouli.

6. Do you have a sweet tooth? Favorite candy? Never touch the stuff.

7. What other crafts or Do-It-Yourself things do you like to do? Do you spin? I do, but I don't have time to do it. Besides, I have more than enough fiber. The only thing I do anymore is knit.

8. What kind of music do you like? Can your computer/stereo play MP3s? (if your buddy wants to make you a CD) Classic rock, although I knit to TV, not to music, so no CD's, please.

9. What's your favorite color(s)? Any colors you just can't stand? I love all colors, especially those gorgeous indie blends. I like the glitz yarns, too - the ones with silver in them.

10. What is your family situation? Do you have any pets? An English bulldog named Emma. She likes to eat my DPN's, especially the black walnut ones which I can't get anymore.

11. Do you wear scarves, hats, mittens or ponchos? No.

12. What is/are your favorite item/s to knit? Socks.

13. What are you knitting right now? Socks.

14. Do you like to receive handmade gifts? Yes! They're the best!

15. Do you prefer straight or circular needles? Bamboo, aluminum, plastic? I use black walnut DPN's (or the ones by Grafton Fibers - Pretty Petals or some such thing); I also use circs (Addi Lace Turbo or the 11" Hiya Hiya)... I've got tons of each, though, so I really don't need any.

16. Do you own a yarn winder and/or swift? I have them both.

17. How old is your oldest UFO? About six months old.

18. What is your favorite holiday? What winter holiday do you observe? My birthday. We observe Christmas for the family, but both Hubster and I are Pagan. I follow Native American spirituality.

19. Is there anything that you collect? Yarn, of course! Fingering weight only, please. Oh... and any cool notion (although I think I have them all), hand-thrown pottery, and Green Mountain Knitting Bags.

20. Any books, yarns, needles or patterns out there you are dying to get your hands on? What knitting magazine subscriptions do you have? I think I subscribe to every magazine on the horizon (just check out my renewal bills). As for patterns, the last time I checked, I had about 300. I don't think I need any more. :)

21. Are there any new techniques you'd like to learn? No.

22. Are you a sock knitter? What are your foot measurements? Yes. My foot is 10.5" long and 10.25" in circumference (at the ball of my foot); however, I usually make socks smaller in circumference (down to 9" or 9.25", especially if it's a lace pattern) so they're not baggy. I wear a size 10 shoe.

23. When is your birthday? June 23. Yes, I just had a birthday, so let the good times roll.

24. Are you on Ravelry? If so, what's your ID? Yes. pjyarngoddess

I also own Yarny Goodness, so I tend to buy a lot of things for myself from the shop. Maybe if I stopped buying myself so many things, I'd sell more.

If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me. I'm a smart-ass, but I did try to answer everything as accurately as possible.

Thank you!

I Just Can't Catch a Break

2009-07-02T18:55:00.000-07:00

So Tuesday was the third and last series of shots. We headed down to Rancho Mirage in 112 degree heat (god, I HATE the desert), got all signed in, and then waited a short time until it was time for the nurse to do my write-up. I answered all her questions, and then she asked me if anything was different or had changed in the past two weeks. I told her that I had lost 20 pounds in a week and was barfing every night - all night. She looked at me funny and went to talk to the doctor. Then she came back, told me to go have a ciggie while I waited for the procedure, and that was that.

I had barely finished my ciggie when the PA came out and told me they were ready for me. I was led into one of the operating suites and went to lay down on the table. That's when things changed.

I can't remember the PA's name, but I've had him before and he's really nice. He told me that they were doing another procedure and that I'd have to sit up with my forearms on my thighs. I asked him what was going on, and he said that the doc was going to do a spinal tap. I had to sit like that so my spine was curved, thereby allowing access to my spine.

A what? A SPINAL TAP???? Oh no. Oh no no no. I've heard those things hurt. I asked him if it was absolutely necessary and why the doctor was doing one. He didn't know, but he told me that the doctor was good at them and not to worry. Sigh. Why couldn't it be the band that was coming to play or something?

The doc came in the room all cheery and happy, and I asked him why he was about to torture me. You have to realize that this man is always happy and usually banters with you while he's sticking you full of needles. He got serious and told me that he needed to check something. Shit. Then he told me to breathe slowly and deeply, and to just relax and not move. Then I felt it.

I am here to tell you that spinal taps make those steroid shots feel like a massage. I thought I was going to pass out, but it was over in about five minutes. Then he held up the vial for me to see. The fluid was clear and viscous with little things floating in it. He went, "Hmmm" as he looked at it. I asked him what the floating things were, and he said that's what the lab was going to find out. Then he said that something was a definite possibility, and even if it turned out to not be so, he wanted me to be prepared. I looked at him and said, "Prepared for what? What do you think is wrong?". Then he told me.

Bone cancer.

On top of the other shit.

OH FUCK.

I sort of went blank after that. I didn't even feel the steroid shots. He wants me to see another doctor pronto and gave me a list to see if my insurance covers any of them. We'll find out in a couple of weeks if I do have bone cancer. If I do, then I have some hard decisions to make. In the meantime, I'm trying to ignore it. I'm actually the calmest one in the family. My poor mother is falling apart, and Hubster is having a difficult time, too. But I've sort of come to the realization that I'm terminal anyway, so what's one more thing? Besides, I may not even have it.

So that was the fun and games I got to experience at the doctor's office.

On Monday, we went to Sea World in the evening for my belated birthday outing. They have a new thing this year where they're open until 11 p.m. Because we got there late, we only got to see one show - the Shamu Rocks! show - but it was way cool. We went on some rides, got soaked, took the sky tram over Mission Bay (stunning - I'd sell my soul to live in San Diego), and looked at a bunch of stuff. The neat thing is that our tickets are good for the rest of the year. All I have to do is order an ECV and a parking pass online at least three days before we go (to ensure that I get a scooter), and we can go every day if we want and not pay admission. A lot of the parks down here are doing similar things. The economy has hit them all hard (with what they charge to get in, I'm surprised that they get any business at all), so they're trying all kinds of gimmicks. Southern California residents also get special consideration and special deals. I want the Disneyland pass - that's my happy place - but I won't go until the fall. It's too hot and there are too many kids right now for my comfort zone.

Emma is glued to me like flies on shit. I can't go to the bathroom without her suddenly bolting up from a dead sleep and walking ahead of me. What's so endearing is that if I fall on the stairs, she's right there licking my face as if I were a puppy, trying her best to save me. Then she walks ahead of me on the stairs in case I fall again. I guess she figures she can break my fall and protect me, and she probably can. Speaking of the M, here's a new picture of her:

I was sitting in my knitting chair right next to her. I had made a sound or something, and she went on full alert. She looks a little different than she did as a puppy, doesn't she?

My current knitting project is a pair of socks for a lady who was a customer (and still is), but has now become more like a sister. She knitted me two pairs of socks (I have to get pictures of them on here) and included two gifts with them. This is the third time I've started these damned things because I fucked up on frogging them (lace is such a bitch to rip back), and then got mad and cut the sock free from the ball - twice. This is why I always buy two skeins, unless the yardage is WAY above 400 yards. Here's a picture of the first one. Enjoy!

The yarn is by Neighborhood Fiber Co. I can't remember the name of the color, but it's her colors. I normally don't knit with a tight twist yarn, but it knits like a dream. Once you stretch it out, it looks totally different. I sent her this picture to see if she liked the colors and pattern, but I purposely didn't stretch it out so she has something to look forward to. I think she likes it. :)

One of the new artists who is coming onboard is called "lightbrownhare". Wait until you see her yarn. You're all going to shit a major brick. I've already bought something like eight skeins, I think. All but one of them is tight twist. Hmm... maybe I've turned some corner and am becoming something other than what I thought. Anyway, check her out on Etsy. She does two skeins in the dyepot of the type of yarn I've been buying - one with 400 yards and the other with 600 yards (you all know which one I bought), and each is different not only in design, but in saturation. I have to stop talking about her - I'm getting the urge to go shopping.

I'm also doing something new in the shop. I'm instituting an "Artist of the Month". My first artist is Laura Neal of "Drooling Over Yarn". There will be an interview (and hopefully a picture) of her on the shop site by the end of the weekend. Oh... and I extended the sale through Sunday night in honor of the holiday.

I can't believe that in a month, we'll be on the road to Portland. I've been getting stock for the show, and I think we're going to have more than enough. I'm also working on the shop this weekend. I should be out of pain from those damned shots by then. Tonight, I have to pull three orders and then knit on the sock.

I think I've blathered on long enough. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday weekend. This will be my first one without those damned fireworks blasting for four days and all night long, with the fear that a bottle rocket is going to land on my roof. Things tend to burn up here. In fact, there's a fire somewhere around here right now.

And no, it's not me getting pissed off and yelling at someone.

Yarny Goodness is OPEN!

2009-06-26T03:32:00.001-07:00

It's about damned time. I've opened Yarny Goodness for business again!

The vast majority of changes are internal; however, there will be three new fields added at the bottom of the home page: Coming Soon, New Artists/Merchandise, and Updates (for new work added to existing vendors). I'm also having a 15% off sale running through July 1st. Oh... those new fields will appear as I add new artists, which I'll be doing ever day or two and over this weekend.

I'll write a decent post tomorrow, but I just wanted to let you all know that you may now spend all your money with me. (snort)

Welcome back!

It Looks Like I May Survive Another One (and general musings)

2009-06-23T04:21:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's that day again. Today, June 23th, is my 51st birthday. (And Happy Bday to you too, Bezzie.) :)

There was a time when 30 seemed old. Then 40. Then 60. Now, 52 seems like a really wonderful age to attain. This birthday is meaningful for many reasons, not the least of which is that I'm still here. Things are on a downhill slide right now, but I'm here. So what's going on?

Well, I lost 15 pounds last week, I spend all night barfing (and not words on the screen), and I'm losing my appetite.

Don't get me wrong - I'd love to lose weight. Just not this way. But this is the way that it's happening, and I can only hope this is a phase I'm going through, not the next step of the disease. Hubster is terribly worried, but he tries not to show it. The same with my mother and grandmother. I see my doctor next week, so I'll talk to him about it then.

Emma has become my personal protector. I can't even fart without her barking, running right to my side, and gluing herself to my leg. If I sit on the couch, she either sits on the couch next to me or on the floor against my leg. It really doesn't matter as long as some part of her is touching me. When I fall and cry, she abandons whatever she's doing and runs to me, checking me out as if I were a puppy. And the ultimate sacrifice for a bulldog?

Hubster took her out to do her business while I was sitting in my chair eating a piece of cake covered with powdered sugar. All of a sudden, a moth the size of a B-52 began attacking my face and head. Logic and reason tells me that the moth was there because of the insanely bright light which shines down on my work. Hysteria and fear tells me that the moth was there to torture me with it's wings and nibble me to death. So I did what any sane woman would do.

I screamed. At the top of my lungs.

As soon as I began to scream, Emma, who was about to take a dump, stopped herself up like a cork, began barking as if an intruder (the human variety) was breaking in the house, and dragged Hubster inside (we have to take her outside at night on a leash because of the coyotes). She literally dragged him up the stairs of the deck and into the house, where she immediately stationed herself next to me. I was still screaming and waving my hands around wildly. Never mind the piece of cake which had fallen over, spilling powdered sugar all over the chair, floor, knitting, etc. Never mind that all the doors and windows were open. Never mind that it sounded like I was being beaten or murdered all the way to Palm Springs. I was terrified, and Emma saw it as her duty to save me. Hubster was NOT amused and began to yell, whereupon I began to cry. It was not a pleasant scene.

The upshot? The fucking moth disappeared and Emma is now constipated. Great.

I can't quite believe that I'm over a half-century in age. It seems like yesterday that there were gas lines, Levi's were $27, an 8-track was the epitome in car stereos, Senior Cut Day to Santa Cruz had just passed, and I graduated from high school. Then came college and work, and my daughter. Then I got married. Six years later, I got divorced and spent a year alone in my house because you couldn't give away a house anywhere in California. Relationships. Fights with the family. Illness and deaths. So many things, so many events, so many memories. And now I'm sitting here at 4:45 a.m. in a big cabin in the mountains of Southern California wondering how in the hell I got here. Life is funny.

I saw a picture of San Francisco yesterday. It was shrouded in fog and made me intensely homesick. I love it here and will die here (and now, that's not just me saying it). But it's been six months since I've been home, and I really miss it - and my family. I know my mother will call later today, and my daughter will probably call, too. But it's not the same. I crave the birthdays of my youth, when everybody fawned all over you, you got lots of presents, and the entire day was magical. Now, it's a day like any other day. I don't get presents from Hubster; we've never exchanged birthday gifts because I buy whatever I want. It's not a special day anymore. And yet... some part of me longs for it to be. Every year, I'm disappointed and wait until the following year to see if it will be different. And every year, it sucks worse than the one before.

Last year at this time, I was heading up to Folsom Prison for my visit. My boys bestowed gifts on me, and we had as much of a party as they could manage. Hubster picked me up, gave me a card with a baby English Bulldog on it, and had written inside that that was part of my gift. Then we headed to Reno and stayed in a tiny closet of a room. He gave me $25 and told me that we were broke, but that he had managed to scrape that amount of money up so I could gamble a little. At the time, I was a beast - depressed, angry, demanding to know why we drove to Reno with that tiny amount of money. I've been known to bet a helluva lot more than that on one hand of blackjack. But I soon calmed down and realized what a huge sacrifice he had made. Sometimes, I'm an ass, and I certainly was that day. As it turned out, I was able to gamble for hours on that money - I just didn't play my usual high-limit slots. And we had a wonderful time. I selected Emma the next day, and the rest is history. What I wouldn't give now to have a trip to Reno again.

And yet, not all is lost. I guess next weekend, I'll be whisked away to one of the local Indian casinos for a spa day. I think there's an overnight trip involved, too, where I'll be alone. That's fine by me - I can sit, knit, watch TV, and sprawl in a bed. A bed. Luxury. I'm so tired of sleeping in the chair, but yet, that happens every night. So far, I've not had to run upstairs to hit the bathroom, so I might have a decent night. We'll see. Anyway, I'm looking forward to next weekend, and we'll see what today brings.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've been reflecting on my life, and it's been a damned good one. Sure, I've had terrible times - we all do. But I wouldn't trade any of it for anything. I've met fascinating people, traveled, eaten well, loved hard, had my dream car, my dream house, and always come out of adversity smelling like a rose. I've been with Hubster for 20 years. I have a snoring bulldog laying next to me, making sure that her Mommy is doing okay. And should I not make it to my next birthday, it's okay. I'd rather stay here with Hubster and my family, of course, but should that not be in the cards, I still wouldn't change a thing.

Well... I would like to finish this damn pair of socks first.

Secret Pal 14 Signups to Close Monday, June 22nd

2009-06-19T16:43:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'm finally up and alive. I'll post later tonight or this weekend; I have a lot of people to thank and a lot of things to get done, but for the time being (today), I'm still under rest orders. My back is killing me; it seems that the shots aren't doing anything other than being a pain right above my ass.

This post is really meant for one thing: I have to let everyone know that if they want to join Secret Pal 14, they have just a couple more days to do so. Signups are closing this Monday, June 22nd. We've extended the signup time to see if we could get more participants, but we can't extend it any longer. So please... if you want to join what I truly think is the best swap going, sign up before we shut down and can't accept your application. We have to divide everybody up into groups, get a hostess assigned to them, and open the swap on July 1st.

Thank you, everyone, and I'll blab a lot more in the next day or two. Have a terrific weekend!

Letting her rest...

2009-06-17T22:33:00.000-07:00

Howdy all -

Mark here again...

Pam is definitely trying to over-do again because she wants to do well by all of you... her artists and her customers. However, I've put my foot down again (and it is a very big foot), and I am having her rest. The shop will be up in the next few days -- in a week no one will even remember if it opened on a Thursday or a Saturday.

Thank you all for all of your kind letters, they've really made her feel better.

Take care, everyone.

The Sick Bitch is Home

2009-06-17T18:13:00.001-07:00

I'm finally back home and safely ensconced in my chair with my knitting in hand (I'm working on a very special pair of socks for a very special friend). Well, that's not entirely true - I moved to the couch so I could write this post. First of all, thank you to everyone who sent me letters with such lovely sentiments. I was truly blown away, and my spirits were lifted high. You're all such wonderful friends; I wish I could meet all of you in person, but it really doesn't matter. I carry you all with me in my heart.

Things have gotten a little worse. Even though the discs are leaking, they're also swollen so badly that the doctor could barely fit the needle in. This time, I felt it slide along the vertebrae and heard the pop and crunch as it finally went in - four times. Sigh. At least he didn't do my knee again. I have to repeat this again in two weeks. Happy happy joy joy. Right now, I'm exhausted and in a considerable amount of pain. Emma is curled around my hips as I'm sitting here typing; she's trying her best to make me feel better. I was in bed sleeping, and she curled up against my back (right above the injection site). How in the hell she knows where I hurt the worst is beyond me.

I'll be working on the shop later tonight - I just don't have the energy right now - so we can reopen tomorrow (Thursday). I've probably already told you, but I'm having a 15% off sale. We have a lot of new artists and merchandise, so come and check it out! I even have that most coveted of yarns - Woolly Boully. There isn't much - only about four or six skeins - but if you're a fan, grab it while you can. Jenny dyed it just for me, so of course I had to snatch a skein for myself. :)

Signups are still open for SP14, so if you're at all interested, please go to the blog and sign up! Of all the swaps I've been in, this is my favorite. It's a lot of fun, and you make really good friends through it. A lot of people who signed up for the last round haven't signed up this time around, so I hope you come back and join in the fun. There are only a couple of returning hostesses - the rest of us are new - so look for lots of contests, games, and other fun things with great prizes to win!

My birthday is next Tuesday (June 23rd), so I'm already telling Hubster what day it is just in case he forgot. I love birthdays, and this will be my first one away from my family. He hasn't given me any clues as to what we're doing, but whatever it is, I'm sure it will be lovely.

My back is killing me, so I'm off to knit for a while before I work on the shop. It's good to be home, and I'll get a letter off to everybody who wrote in the next few days. Again, thank you - what a homecoming!

Hm... maybe I'll dose up on Dilaudid before I begin to knit. Then I can see how many stitches I can drop when I nod off and drop my sock on the floor.

Simple things amuse me.

Pam in Hospital

2009-06-16T22:07:00.000-07:00

Hi, this is Mark (Hubster). I sent out an iContact newsletter, but then I realized that not all of you get the shop newsletter.

Pam had to go to the doctor's today for what she thought was just pain management. He gave her four shots in her spine again. She's in the hospital resting and will be home tomorrow, so we've had to postpone the opening of the shop since she's the one who does all the actual listing. It will open Thursday instead of Wednesday.

I'm sorry for the delay, but her health is my primary concern. I want to thank everybody for all the letters she's received. They have really lifted her spirits to know she has so many people who love her.

Mark (Hubster)

Time to Post!

2009-06-15T22:10:00.000-07:00

I've really got to get my shit together.

Days pass and nothing gets done. No posts, no knitting progress, nothing. I've decided that I'm tired of being in a funk and have kicked myself in the ass. I don't know how much good it will do, but at least I'm giving it the old college try.

Oh wait... all I did in college was get knocked up. Scratch that.

I'm giving it the old uh... uh... hm. I'm trying.

I've got a bit of news for you all. The shop is finally opening! Come this Wednesday, June 17th, we'll be back in operation. It's been a long time, I know, but what with everything going on, it's been very difficult to get any work done on it. However, I'm going to be putting the finishing touches on it Tuesday, so look for it to be open Wednesday afternoon (in case I don't get all the little things done on Tuesday night). I'm having a 15% off sale on everything through Sunday, so come and see the new artists, the new merchandise, and go shopping! Please... I need the money. :)

I want to thank everyone for the comments they left about my condition. You don't know what those meant to me. I'm always amazed at the number of people who read this blog, and even more amazed at the number of friends I have and all the people who care. That's why I continue to barf out my life here - I'm talking to my friends. I see the doc tomorrow, but it's for pain management. At this stage of the game, there's nothing that can be done other than to manage the pain. I don't know if he'll put me on anything different, up my current meds, or what. As long as he doesn't stick that fucking needle in my back again, we're square. (shudder)

On a more humorous note, it's happened again.

RIINNNGGGGG RIINNNGGGG RIINNNGGGG

"Hello?"

"Hi! This is Adele! How do I pick up a stitch that I dropped six rows down? You know, it's the pattern with all the YO's and K2tog's and SSK's. I think it's on the section where the pattern begins to change and you start doing a lot of increases and decreases and picking up stitches and it looks like basketweave and..."

"Uh... I'm sorry, but this is WHO?"

"Adele! I'm the one with the long blond hair, kind of pudgy, I drive an SUV..."

"Uh... OK... uh... I'm sorry, but I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you teach a lot of classes, so maybe you don't remember where I was on that particular project. I'm on Row 37 and ready to change to color 10."

"What class did you say this was?"

"Lace entrelac. So I tried pulling the needle out, and a bunch of the little basketweave parts fell out and the lace unraveled and I can't get them back on the needle and I cut all the yarn on each piece so I only have little pieces of yarn to work with and should I use a smaller needle?"

(my head is spinning and my eyes are beginning to blink rapidly)

"Uh.... how did you get my phone number? It's unlisted."

"Oh, I got it from another lady in the class, you know, the fat one with black hair. She's a lot farther along than me. So when I ..."

"I don't mean to cut you off, but I haven't taught that class for two years, I don't know who you are, I have no idea what pattern I taught, and I'm afraid I can't help you."

"What sort of lousy teacher are you? I paid a lot of money for that class and you said I could call you at any time and you'd help me and I need help and you have to help me because you said you would. So like I said, I think I'm on Row 37... no, maybe it's Row 47..."

"I'm sorry, but I have another call coming in. I can't help you. My advice is to throw it away, start it over, and pay attention to what you're doing."

"You're a rude bitch and I'm never taking another class from you again." CLICK.

Geez. Anybody who can't count shouldn't undertake a project like that. Whatever it was.

Then another call did come in.

RIINNNGGGG RIINNNGGGG RIINNNGGGG

"Hello?"

"Hey pretty lady, this is Fantastic Frank. How you been, doll face?"

"Uh... who are you trying to reach?"

"The Java Lounge! You're just playing games with old Frank again. Hey, I need to reserve five tables for tonight. We're in a bowling tournament down in Hemet, and we want to come for coffee and fattening shit afterwards. Can you fix me up, hot stuff?"

(we have the number that used to belong to Java Lounge, a coffee place here in town which closed right before we moved here)

"Ohhhhh... Frank! I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. I'm busy with customers right now, but sure! I'd be happy to reserve five tables for you. What time?"

"How about 8:00 p.m.? We finish up at about 6:30, but you know it takes time to get out of the bowling alley and drive up the hill."

"Not a problem, Frank. We'll see you then!"

"Fantastic, honey pie! See you later!" CLICK

Heh. I'm going to hell for sure.

Then I decided to try out one of the knitting applications I bought for my iPhone. I think this one is called "Knitting Buddy". You can keep track of yarn, needles, projects, etc., on it. So I figured I'd put in one of the sock patterns I'm working on for a friend. I touched the screen under "Needles" and was presented with every size needle ever made. After figuring out how to use it, I got the needle size put in. Then it asked me for the type and length. OK... no problem. Yarn? Got it. Color? Uh... this is an indie multi (as are all my yarns). So I selected the most prevalent color (they give you a list). Picture - download or take one? Uh... well.... I do have a camera on the phone, so I touched "Take One" and the camera came on. I put the ball of yarn on my leg, centered it in the screen, held my breath, and touched the button. FLASH! Picture taken. Then I saw it.

A perfectly centered picture of my foot.

I took another one. This one came out better. Then it gave me a "Notes" section, into which I put the fact that the yarn is a multi and listed all the colors. There. One project down, four more to enter. At least I'm not inventorying my stash. That would take the new 32g iPhone with a memory card added. I've decided to keep track of my projects in this thing and take pictures of the finished items.

IF I finish any items.

I think I have about eight knitting applications for the iPhone, only one of which I've used. There's even a row counter, a gauge counter, a shopping list thing, blah blah blah. If it's a knitting gadget, I buy it.

I don't remember if I told you, but my Emma has been sick. She came in the house a week or so ago after going outside to go potty with poop and blood all over her butt. Since she's shaped like a solid fireplug, she can't turn around to clean herself. She stood there with sad eyes looking at Daddy (she knows that Mommy can't deal with doggie doo). Hubster cleaned her up and then took her upstairs to feed her dinner. Right after dinner, she had to go out again. Same thing. Fifteen minutes later, she had to go again. And so it went for two days until we could get in to see the vet whom our groomer recommended.

We finally found the vet's office in the middle of a grapefruit orchard (it smelled really good). He took all her vitals, examined her, looked at the poop sample we brought in, and told us that she either had a viral infection or an allergy to something. In any event, he prescribed sulfa drugs and told us to put her on a rice and cottage cheese diet until her poops were firm again. He also gave us a cream which Hubster had to rub under her tail a couple times a day for about a week (she had a skin infection under her tail that we didn't know about). Sure enough, she cleared up almost immediately. This guy is good - every bit as good as our vet in Livermore. He reminds me of the old-fashioned country vets you see on TV. We're keeping him.

And on another Emma note, she presented us with a totally mauled dead animal this evening. We think it was a squirrel, but we're not sure. Hubster took it away from her and threw it over the fence. Gack. That dog is more like a cat than a dog, from bringing things home to us to how she holds things in her paws to how she stalks potential prey (like the cardboard tubes inside toilet paper rolls).

Figures I'd get an identity-confused animal. There's nothing normal in this house.

Except me, of course.

(cough)

PLEASE Sign Up for SP14!

2009-06-14T07:43:00.000-07:00

This is a plea, pure and simple. I hope you consider it.

Secret Pal 14 is nearing the end of it's signups, and we're way down in numbers this round. We're also low on United States participants. Please... consider signing up for it. There are three tiers of signup amounts: $30, $60 and $90. It's a three-month swap, so you have plenty of time to get to know your pal. Of all the swaps I've been in, this is by far the best. The hostesses are exceptional (we have a lot of new hostesses this year), there are contests, and it's just a whole lot of fun. I've made some incredible friends in the rounds I've participated in.

There's also a Ravelry group which is dedicated to discussion, and a blog for general and specific information. It's well-organized, and I think you would have a ball participating.

If you would like to sign up, the blog is at:

http://secretpalxiv.blogspot.com/

All the information for joining (as well as the swap rules) are there.

I'll be writing a regular post in the next day or so. I've just been too busy and tired to sit down and write something which you would enjoy reading, but I'll correct that. Until then...

SIGN UP!!!!

The Curtain Has Begun to Fall

2009-06-01T06:27:00.000-07:00

Lest you think that I'm a happy buffoon all the time, I have to throw in a serious post every once in a while. Actually, I gave this post a lot of thought before I sat down to write it. Is it the right sort of thing to blog about? Is it something you want to hear? I don't know the answer to either of those questions, but since I barf my guts out here anyway, I decided that you might as well know this, too.

It all began a few weeks ago when my pain doctor ordered two MRI's - one for my lower back, and one for my left knee. I had been having a lot of problems with both areas - lots of pain, falling down, etc. So I went and had the one on my back done, but had to reschedule the one on my knee. I had it done about a week ago. Then came the follow-up appointment with the doctor. He asked me to come in a little early. Huh? He normally only sees new patients early in the morning. So why was I being called in?

Hubster and I went on Thursday. He wanted to come back into the exam room with me to talk to the doctor, but I didn't want him to. So while he snoozed in the waiting room (this is in Rancho Mirage, right next-door to Palm Springs - think next-door to Death Valley and summer temperatures) enjoying the air conditioning, I went back to see what the scans said.

It was a little worse than I thought.

It seems that the disease has attacked my spine and popped three of the discs - the bottom three. There's fluid leaking out of them and, pretty soon, my spine may not be able to support my body weight without some kind of horrendous back surgery to get bone off bone. The same thing has happened in my knee (the other knee just has a lot of arthritis in it... oh goodie). So after staring at the doctor with a really stupid look on my face, paying attention to his explanation using anatomical models, and reading the radiologist's report for myself, he sent me next door to his surgical suite. I just had time to go out and have a ciggie. Why, may you ask, did I have to go next door? It's a lot more fun than you might imagine.

I had to have three injections of steroids put into my spinal cord/discs and one into the cartilage in my knee.

It looked like it was going to be a long wait, judging by the number of old people waiting in the office (am I REALLY that OLD?), so I asked the nurse if I could go have another ciggie and explain to Hubster what was going on. She squeezed my hand and sent me outside into 101 degree heat. I carefully explained it all to Hubster, who looked like he was about to collapse (and not from the heat). Then it was back inside to experience something which I was scared shitless of.

I had reason to be scared shitless. It hurt like a mofo, and I had to remain absolutely still during the entire thing. Those fucking steroids make you feel heavy and full, and the needle is the size of my thigh. It has to be strong and rigid so it doesn't bend when the doc inserts it, but Jesus... The only fun part of the whole thing was watching it go into my spinal cord on the fluoroscope, but he just felt my back with his fingers and deftly inserted it. You can tell he's been doing this a long time and is at the top of his game - there was no hesitation whatsoever, and he knew exactly how far to push before he backed off and pushed the plunger. Even so... He wound up putting four shots into my spine and somehow managed to hit the same hole every single time.

The one in my knee hurt every bit as much. I had to keep my knee bent (I was flat on my back with the fluoroscope on either side of it) so he could maneuver the needle under the kneecap and into the cartilage. He didn't even have the good grace to put Flintstones Band-Aids on the injection sites.

So I've been completely wiped out all weekend. I wasn't allowed to do anything on Friday, and Hubster made me stay home from work this weekend and rest. It was the best thing I could have done, really. I just wasn't able to do much of anything. So now I wait to see if the injections helped at all. If they do, then I get to have them done again in two weeks. I'm tempted to say they didn't do anything just to avoid that horrible feeling. He's talking about switching my pain meds to morphine (probably the pump they surgically implant) or Roxanol (pure THC), but he's waiting on that until he sees how I'm doing. We'll discuss back surgery later on, but only if it will considerably alleviate my pain level. A few things are certain: it isn't going to heal, it's not going to get better, this is all just to help the pain level, and I'm fucked.

With the biggest dick of all.

I Can't Think of a Title...

2009-05-21T14:19:00.000-07:00

but that doesn't stop me from blathering.

So what's new? My friend from England came over for two weeks, and we had a wonderful time. There was lots of knitting, a trip to Warner Brothers Studio, dinner on the beach at San Diego, bumming around downtown Idyllwild, working on orders for the shop, organizing my studio, and lots of other fun things. Hubster took her out some days because I was sound asleep, but they seemed to enjoy themselves. All in all, I think it was a wonderful two weeks.

On the medical side of things, I went to see my new pain doc. He has me on a new pain med (Dilaudid), and another new pill for fibromyalgia. He also ordered scans of my lower spine and left knee. His fear is that a virus has attached itself to my spine and is eating through the bone. If that's the case and it reaches my spinal cord, well... let's just say that i won't be writing many more blog entries. I'll find out the results when I go see him next week.

There was another contact from that bitch who apparently thinks she's hot shit in this town. This time, she left a message on the post that included the letters we traded, saying I had hand-delivered her items and not refunded her shipping. She also said that she questioned my business integrity. I sent her a reply, left up the comment until I got bored with it, and then deleted it. I also refunded her $7.00. Since I apparently talked about nothing but my health at the SnB meetings, she should have heard that my short-term memory has been affected by the disease and drugs. Heh. Like I give a shit. What puzzles me is why she waits a few weeks and then attacks. I had no idea I was so interesting. Unless the meetings have been moved to a secret place, they've been shut down at the coffee house; the blog has also been removed. Since there were only a few people attending each meeting, that seemed to be the most logical thing to do. Either that, or I'm Typhoid Pam.

Hubster and I went out the other night and returned with a new car (new to us, anyway). We only have the truck, and if it breaks down, we're stuck with just the bike (like Hubster would ever ride behind me). Being Memorial Day weekend (and a really sucky economy), there were sales galore. We found a Jeep Liberty for a terrific price; the thing looks brand new. I've claimed it as my own. It's a deep garnet pearl - my first red car. I just love it and can't wait to take it to work this weekend.

I think our daughter is coming this weekend, too. There's lots to do around here on Memorial Day weekend - art shows, a community-wide garage sale (complete with map so you can find all the houses having one), spaghetti dinners, etc. We're attending a few of the events, but since I have to work and the kid will be here... It'll be nice to see her. She's moved into a house with lover boy and his sister, so I'll get all the gossip.

We're also currently under an ant attack. The bug guy is coming tomorrow to get rid of them. We have these huge black ants and these red, hairy things (I'm not sure I like living in the forest yet). I'm also covered with bites from spiders and skeeters. So much for being Nature Woman.

The shop is close to being open again. I've been trying to get out vendors' packages (those who are leaving), and listing new ones. We're also changing the look of the shop. One new thing we're having are grab bags. For $50, you get five skeins of top-name indie yarns. I'm also having Opal grab bags and Lorna Laces grab bags. I have so much yarn that it just isn't feasible for me to photograph and list every one, so my friend came up with the idea of the grab bags. I'll try to honor color requests, but these are all multi-colored skeins. I think it will be a fun thing, and everyone will be getting a bargain on the prices. Hopefully, it will go over really well.

I think we're going to take a surprise trip back home next month to celebrate my and my mom's birthdays. I'm in the mood to have a good seafood dinner in San Francisco. I'm sure that Emma will enjoy the ride, too. She gets groomed tomorrow, so she'll be sweet-smelling and clean.

Knitting is going along really well. i have two socks on the needles - one pair for me, one pair for Hubster, His has a pretty pattern (stranded knitting), whereas mine is just plain and simple. I've decided to crank out a bunch of socks for both of us (well, some for him if I have enough yarn). I like doing stupid simple socks for me because they go fast; I can also talk and watch TV while I'm doing them.

I think that's all that's going on around here. I'll try to write another post next week; after all, I have to get in the habit for SP14. That's coming up next month, but I can't say anything more about it.

After all, I have that short-term memory loss thing going on.

I've Got a Ticket... and Not to a Ride at Disneyland, Either

2009-05-04T05:07:00.000-07:00

Quite the provocative title, huh? Is it a speeding ticket? A lottery ticket? More to come in just a minute.

First of all, Sheryl arrived last Sunday after a horrendous 11-hour flight. It took her a few days to acclimate, but now she appears to be on our schedule. It's been difficult for me to get on a "normal" sleeping schedule, and since it's 5:10 a.m. (and I'm typing), it's obvious that I'm failing miserably. I've been getting up at a reasonable hour and going out to do some things with her, but it's been up to poor Hubster to take her into town and go shopping on those days when I've slept most of the daylight hours away. I feel terrible, but I'm doing the best I can. She's been a tremendous blessing - she got all the orders packed and sent out, is helping me go through the stash and sort it into piles (throw away, give away, sell, keep), and is helping me list new artists this week. She's also a lot of fun to just hang out with. I've yet to feed her a traditional breakfast, go to the day spa for a day of pampering, and do a bunch of other things - but she's going to be here all week (and maybe another week after that), so we've still got time. Unfortunately, we're about to undergo a big warmup - she doesn't do well with warmer weather- so there goes Disneyland. We've got a lot to do, though, so I doubt we'll even miss it.

Today, we decided to go to San Diego. After doing a bit of research, we found a yarn shop we wanted to go to. It was okay - kind of small - but we both found some things to buy. I wound up putting all my yarn back because I realized I had more than I would ever knit in a lifetime, so I just bought some books and patterns. The shop owner informed me that she was converting to all indie yarn and was quite pleased with herself... until I told her that's all I sell and wasn't doing well. I'll have to go back to see if she really does it. I saw several labels which I carry, so I know I've got some modicum of good taste.

Anyway, we went to Old Town afterward and found that a fiesta was still going on (I forgot that Cinco de Mayo is tomorrow), and a lot of street vendors were still open. I scored big at a pottery place, buying some new chimes, a hummingbird feeder, and a peacock for the front yard (don't ask). Hubster was less than pleased. Then we decided to head over to the main drag, where I found a Chuck Jones gallery. After seeing the prices on the cels, paintings, and sculptures, i found a little original drawing of Marc Antony and Pussy Cat (you remember that cartoon - Marc Antony the bulldog finds a stray kitten whom he adopts, only to get into a lot of trouble with both the kitten and his mistress) which I could afford. It now resides on an end table in my front room. Then Sheryl was hungry, so we grabbed some food at Pizza Hut and headed to our favorite beach to watch the sun set over the ocean and eat our dinner. That's when the trouble began.

After eating, I lit a smoke and sat there watching the waves. It was then that I noticed a truck driving across the sand. The truck stopped at the people next to us - they had a fire going in a pit - and then drove over to us. Huh? What did I do? It turns out that you can have a dog who shits on the sand, but smoking on a public beach is illegal. Instead of just warning me, the asshat wrote me a ticket for smoking. I couldn't believe it. So now we have to call the courthouse to find out what my fine is. Had I been thinking, I would have given him false information. So now I have a point on my record, got Hubster all pissed off, and had the perfect ending to a less than happy day. Sigh. I think today will be much happier, though - we're going to stay in and knit all day.

Speaking of knitting, we're both using these 9" circulars by HiyaHiya. I thought they were silly at first, but then I transferred my work to one of them. It's fantastic! Going round and round beats the hell out of dealing with the joins of each new DPN. I'm working with size 1 on this project (socks, of course, and basic ones at that), but I've got up to size 3. I was kind of leery of using them (that's the snob in me coming out - any needle which I didn't pay more than $20 for had to stink) - but I'm really happy with them. I got stainless steel instead of bamboo because I like the speed steel affords me... and I always seem to break bamboo or at least get them splintered. I bought a set for Sheryl and also got a set of Darn Pretty DPN's for other projects (from Grafton Fibers). I had to find a new DPN since Golding no longer makes them, and these are an acceptable substitute - they're strong, sharp, and... well... darn pretty. They're also inexpensive, which I know makes Hubster happy.

So that's it for now. I've just fallen asleep and slept for an hour, so I'm going to wrap this up and do some knitting before I fall asleep again. I have lots more to tell you all, but that will wait for my next post. My lovely disease is attacking my left knee, so I can barely walk without excruciating pain. A day in sounds like just the ticket.

And once I find out the fine for the ticket, I may just be knitting and not going out for some time to come.

Wow - I Never Expected This

2009-04-17T12:40:00.000-07:00

I truly don't know what to say. It was just what I needed to bring me back to my normal, bitchy, fighting self.

What am I talking about?

The overwhelming love and support which was extended to me over this entire mess with the knitting group.

I have never received so many comments, nor have I gotten so many letters telling me that I was clearly in the right and to not let it bother me. Between the private emails and the public comments, there were close to 50 notes. To a person, nobody could believe that such a callous, rude, nasty letter was sent. I can't even begin to express the love and appreciation I feel for each and every one of you. I wrote to as many of you as I could, but those who left public comments didn't always have their email addys listed. I left comments for some of those, but if I didn't get a note of thanks to you, consider yourselves thanked.

Anyway, the saga continues. This woman wrote me another email telling me that she needed me to remove her letter from the blog. What the fuck? What good would that accomplish? I told her I wouldn't do that. She claims that her email was private and that I didn't have her permission to publish it. I begged to differ, and it went downhill from there. I think there were two more emails with her trying to argue and/or intimidate me, but I refuse to be pushed around by anybody, let alone somebody who caused so much grief. If she didn't want anybody to know about this, then she shouldn't have written the damned email to begin with. I also told her to leave me alone and, if she continued to bother me, I would publish those emails on the blog, too. The strange thing is that I received emails from other women in the group who were as shocked as I was about the letter; they wanted me to continue coming to the group or, lacking that, to knit with them privately. It just proved that she acted either alone or with just a few other people in the group. I'm definitely not going back; I have far better things to do than sit down with a bunch of women who really don't want me there. I've been looking at the list of cities on the sidebar and noticed that there were people from my town and the surrounding communities reading it. I don't know if she's one of them, but I'd be willing to bet that she is. I also think that my language is a bit rough for their fair virgin ears, and they also probably don't much care for how I look or the fact that I'm a smoker. Fuck 'em. The ladies who wanted to remain my friend are different; the ones who think I'm a freak can go play with themselves and an unlubricated dildo for all I care. Heh... the spell checker doesn't recognize either "unlubricated" or "dildo".

Now that that little drama seems to be behind me, I've been working on Hubster's socks. In fact, I just had to frog all the slip stitch work I did because it was too tight. Then I read the instructions a little more closely and found out that I was supposed to change to the next larger size of needle for that part of the sock. Live, rip, and learn.

I'm dead tired, so I'm going to go take a nap. Tomorrow should be a big day in the village, what with the gorgeous weather we're having. I have a three-hour reading tomorrow, so I need to prepare for that. Hopefully, I'll get a lot of clients this weekend. Then I have to really work hard on the house next week - Sheryl comes a week from Sunday!!!

Thank you all again for your support. It truly made me feel loved that you all came to the forefront and stood up for me. It really helped me feel better about myself - I was truly down in the dumps over this whole mess. I love you all; if you ever need me for anything, don't hesitate to call on me. Most of us may be miles apart, but that doesn't matter. Friendship and love make those miles disappear.

And on that note, I'm back to my chair to sleep. Have a lovely weekend!

Pissed Off? Hurt? You Bet Your Ass

2009-04-14T19:57:00.000-07:00

I just received this letter from one of the women in what I thought was my SnB group:

Hi Pam:
I need to pass on to you that your presence is killing the local group, just like you suspected.

These women just want to get together, knit and talk. They feel and believe that your behavior has threatened their ability for several reasons.

1) Your statement that you are dying and your constant reference to your health issues. They're just regular people looking for a place to knit and talk about their lives. Hell, they live w/stress & guilt all day. This is their outlet for their stress & you're bringing more stress & guilt.

2. Drama. How can their lives compare to yours? You alienated them.

3. TB issue. Some of them have little kids, and your arguments haven't made them feel safe. In fact, it insulted them for being cautious, considering your argument on your blog that made them look stupid rather than cautious.

I don't blame any of them. It isn't your appearance; it's your behavior that affects them.

BC

Here is my response:

Hi Becky,

Well. How nice to know that I've been discussed, and behind my back, no less. Yet again. Just when I thought that I had found a group of women with whom to socialize, this happens. I know I had said that I would be happy to leave the group if it was my presence that was causing the lack of attendance. However, I never thought I would receive such an insensitive letter in my inbox. You have truly hurt me.

Allow me to address each of your comments.

1. I don't make constant references to my health issues. I was asked about it, so I told whoever asked what was wrong. It's not my fault that I'm the way I am. I feel sorry for anybody who is ill around the group. Are they also a threat, or is there faked sympathy, when all the while the group is threatened? And what do you mean by "regular people"? I thought this was an open town. I see now that the women here are no different than anywhere else - close-minded and narrow. How in the hell am I bringing them more stress - and guilt? What guilt? Have I blamed any of them for what ails me? Or do they feel guilty because they don't like to be around people with diseases, and having me there makes them realize that they're bigots?

2. It's also not my fault if they lead boring, mundane lives. They chose their lives, not me. If this is their outlet for excitement, then I feel sorry for them.

3. This comment is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. If these women can't research (and the Internet is a marvelous place to do research, since they must not have the time to go the library - they have those little kids underfoot, after all), then they are stupid. Cautious has nothing to do with it. If they don't believe articles written by doctors from such lousy, silly institutions as the Mayo Clinic, then there's nothing I can say that will convince them otherwise. Cautious my ass. They'll certainly feel and look stupid and ignorant when I write about this on my blog. I fully intend to publish this letter and the letter which caused it to be written on my blog as well.

I don't believe that my appearance has nothing to do with this. These women act like they're from the Midwest, not California. I'm being treated exactly the same way I've always been treated by women, which is exactly why I don't like women. They're catty, nasty, rude, and ostracize people who are different from them. Even though I don't like kids, I'm treated better by them than supposedly mature adults. I knew the drop in attendance was because of me; I'm not the stupid one. Fine.

You won't have to worry about me alienating your precious group. I don't go where I'm not wanted. You can all burn the things I gave away last week - just in case they're also infected with who knows what virus. I wouldn't want people to feel guilty for accepting things from a sick woman. Or maybe they can just wipe everything down with anti-bacterial wipes. That should kill any disease on them.

If I sound angry and bitter, it's because I am. It's always the same, no matter where I go or what I do or say. You can tell the group exactly what I said, because frankly, I don't care. Maybe they should put themselves in my place and try to see how it feels to be told that you're a walking death sentence to a group. All I wanted was to sit, knit, and visit. Shit... I hardly say anything to anybody and help where I can. If that's what scares them, so be it.

Have fun knitting. I'll be doing it alone at home where I can't infect anybody, including my granddaughters. How utterly pedestrian.

Pam

P.S. (from Mark) Unlike my wife, I'm at a loss for words in how to respond to such an ugly, small, and petty list of ignorant complaints. You have lost an opportunity to get to know and learn from someone who is incredibly interesting with more funny and true anecdotes than most best sellers on the bookshelf. I read your complaints below, and not one of them seems to have any substance whatsoever. If those items give any sense of the threshold of "other-ness" that your group is able to put up with, then you will always have a very boring, vanilla, and "stress-free" group. I suppose it would be best to end with a quote from the philosopher Judge Judy Sheindlin -- "Beauty fades... dumb is forever."

It would appear that Hubster is also pissed off, and rightly so. His wife has been violated.

You know, I've tried for years to belong to groups. In the past, these were quilting guilds. I was always somewhat forced to sit in the back of the room where the other members could pretend that I wasn't really there. Hubster would go with me so I wouldn't have to sit alone. Eventually, I just gave up trying to belong.

The reason I'm bringing this up is because I'm tired of trying to fit in. Shit... I've never really fit in anywhere. People are either afraid, cautious, worried, embarrassed, and any other number of labels concerning me. The end result is that I've had it. I'm done being nice and trying to be a part of the group. I guess I'm too flamboyant - or just too accepting- to be around such asinine people. What the fuck are they talking about with the guilt, my alienating them, stress, blah blah blah? Am I just too colorful to be around Puritans? What the hell is WRONG with these people? I haven't been this pissed off in a while, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get.

There was a comment above about the women feeling stupid rather than cautious. They should feel stupid. This is all about the TB shit. Had they bothered to read the articles which Google had on their home page - they had links, for chrissakes - they would have seen that exactly what I said was true. I'm less threatening to their or their precious children's health than the mosquitoes.

I need to stress that there are women in the group who aren't a part of this. I just received a lovely letter (which also made me cry - it seems to be my night for that) from one of them who apologized for what is going on. She isn't the only one. There are others who like me and enjoy my company. I'm not a fucking ogre - I'm just myself. I'm glad that some of the women have the good sense that Creator gave them, and I welcome them in my life.

That's really all I have to say tonight. I'm going to go sit in my chair and knit out my anger and sadness - that is, if Emma the Consoler peels herself away from me. She always knows when I'm upset and tries to cuddle against me to make me feel better. Or she'll lick away my tears. Anybody who says that animals are stupid and don't know your feelings don't know what they're talking about. They're more perceptive than a lot of people.

I think you know which people I'm talking about.

Snowed in on a Friday Night

2009-04-10T20:14:00.000-07:00

Yep. You read that right. It's snowing, and I mean SNOWING. It began about four hours ago and doesn't show any signs of letting up. I'm ecstatic! And here I thought our rain/snow was over for the season. Heh. I love being wrong sometimes.

Before I go any further, let me warn you that there are some graphic paragraphs coming up. I know that will entice many of you to read faster so you can get to them; others will run away shrieking. You've been warned.

I hadn't realized that so much time had gone by between posts again. It seems like time just keeps going by faster and faster. At this rate, I'll be dead in a week or two.

ACK! Sorry about that. We're watching Antiques Roadshow, and this absolutely HIDEOUS clock with a picture of some old dude just came on the screen. When you have a 64" TV, everything is somewhat... uh... bigger. If I saw this dude in a dark alley - or anywhere, for that matter - I'd run screaming. OH SHIT! His eyes move as the clock ticks! NOOOO!!! It's worse than a clown!!!

Ahem.

Anyway, here I sit typing and eating a bowl of snow. Powder. Freshly fallen. Hubster has three bowls set out on the deck railing to catch it. I just uh... uh... well... OK, I'll say it - I just got my tongue pierced, and the cold is really good for shrinking the swelling. I'm just letting Mother Nature work her magic as it sits on the piercing, soothing the ache.

So why in the hell did I do such a thing, you might ask? Well, I don't really know. I had a tongue piercing many years ago and finally got tired of it, so I took it out. They heal over very quickly, and before a week was gone, it was like I never had one to begin with. Well, I got the urge again, and it just grew stronger and stronger. After we went to see my new pain doc (more on that fiasco in a minute), we drove to Palm Springs because Errant Daughter (ER) found a studio on one of her electronic gadgets (she was here for a few days - more on that later). When we found the place, it was in the old (now very trendy) part of town on a little side street. Very clean. Very new. I felt comfortable immediately, so ER and I walked inside.

The first thing I saw was a plastic male torso sitting on the floor with thong underwear and an enormous cock. Huh? What did enormous cocks have to do with piercings (unless you're a man and want your own enormous cock pierced)? For that matter, what did thong underwear and plastic male torsos have to do with it? Then I saw clothing hanging on the wall. Fetish clothing. Male fetish clothing. Hm. Next, I ventured over to the counter to check out their jewelry. Very large CBR's (captive bead rings, a type of ring that doesn't go all the way around - it has a bead in the opening which is held in place by pressure). Male fetish objects. Prince's Wands (men put them in their dicks - they have a post which you put through a piercing to hold it in place). It's a practice called sounding. I used to be really involved in the piercing world, which is how I know about this shit. Then it dawned on me. This was a studio for gay men, or at least run by gay men.

The man who would be my piercer was behind the counter doing some paperwork and was extremely friendly, telling me to browse all I wanted and to let him know when I was ready (I had already told him what I wanted). ED and I looked around a little more, and then it was time for the big moment.

He took me into the back (it was draped off for complete privacy), carefully marked my tongue, clamped it, told me to breathe deeply, and on about the third breath, he did the piercing. He spoke in a very soft, soothing, calming voice. While he got the jewelry ready for insertion, his partner came in and asked me if I wanted a hug. I grunted (it's a bit difficult to speak when your tongue is hanging out of your mouth with a clamp on it and a large needle through it), so he came over and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. Once the jewelry was in, he squeezed me tightly and kissed me on the nape of my neck. There was no pain; this man was the best piercer I've ever had, and I've had a lot of them. When we were all finished and I had received my care instructions, both men gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. Should any of you be as stupid as me and want to get a piercing (and you live in the Los Angeles/Palm Springs/Idyllwild area), the name of the place is Palm Springs Piercing Company. I highly recommend it.

Since my foot and ankle are swollen to the size of a tree trunk (bigger than my tongue, even), I've been doing a lot of sitting with my foot elevated (well, at least as much as I can - I can't sit that way forever, and I like to sit with my legs crossed), and knitting, reading, and sleeping in front of the boob tube. It's been delightful tonight with the snow, although I think that by now, it's stopped snowing. The other thing I've noticed about sitting down here for so long is that something is living under the house. This room was built in a space under the house, so I seem to be sharing it with some creature who has come in out of the cold - maybe a raccoon, or a squirrel, or a possum - which I hear moving about until Hubster opens the door to take a look. Then, of course, it either vanishes or hunkers down. Great. Now Emma is going to go apeshit (if she ever wakes up long enough to investigate). Right now, she's curled around my hip and snoring. Anyway, I've been working on Hubster's socks. They're coming along great. I'm ready to insert the second color and begin the slip stitch design. They look huge on the needles, but then again, his feet are the size of surfboards.

Work on the never-ending house project continues. I had no idea I had accumulated so much shit over the course of my life. But then again, when you're half the age of an antique and are as materialistic as I used to be, you tend to attract objects. I've been very good - I've not bought much of anything, even for decorating the house. In fact, I have more than enough crap to put on the walls, tables, mantel, etc. I finally found the box which had my antique quilts in it, so I draped my favorite one over the upstairs railing (it hangs down into the front room so everybody can see it as soon as they walk in the front door). Some years ago, we had attended an auction to benefit breast cancer at the Sutter Cancer Center in Sacramento and won the bid on a batik quilt (it's sized for a king bed). Since it had a hanging sleeve already attached, we bought a pretty curtain rod (the kind with the fancy finials) and hung it on one of the hallway walls. Slow but sure, the house is turning into a home. Since my dear friend arrives in 16 days(!), I want as much of the house done by then as possible. Since ED was coming for a few days, we had to hurry and set up one of the guest bedrooms, which is where Sheryl will be sleeping. That's one important task out of the way.

Since I've blathered on enough for one night, I'll save the saga of the pain doctor for my next post. It's almost 10:00 p.m., and I need to feed the old man. I also need to pee. TMI? I think not. You can rely on me to report the facts.

To those of you who are of the Christian persuasion, Happy Easter! To those of you who are of other persuasions, Happy Ostara - or whatever it is you celebrate.

And to those of you who don't give a shit - have a lovely weekend.

I Need a Magic Wand...

2009-03-25T23:11:00.000-07:00

to get all this shit done. Why is it that it takes so long to set up a new house? I honestly can't remember how long it took to set up my Sacramento home, but it seems like this one is taking forever. Maybe sleeping around the clock isn't such a good idea after all.

And for all you smart-asses, yes... I do have wands (some of them magic), but they're not geared to do Bewitched-type things.

Here's what things look like at Chez Goddess tonight (and most nights):

There's Hubster and Emma watching TV. Yeah, right. Hubster is watching the insides of his eyelids, and Emma... well, I don't have to say anything about that.

There's the fireplug. She long ago passed pot roast stage.

We just got notice that our daughter is planning on coming for a few days in two weeks. Deadlines. I work well with deadlines, but I don't know if I can pull this one off. Being out of remission sort of puts a dent in one's armor. We'll do the best we can, but I don't know. My foot and ankle are swollen up like a balloon - the skin is stretched so tight that I can barely flex the ankle, and it burns like a mofo when I do. I also can't walk very well. The last time this happened, the skin actually split because there was so much fluid in there. It's about to do that again, so I'm seeing the doctor in town (I think there's only one) tomorrow. I have to see him anyway to get my meds set up (not the pain meds, but the ones that keep my head from sprouting horns and spinning around). Maybe he'll have an idea of what to do. The man who gives me massages told me to drink a lot of water - he thinks that because we're essentially high desert and it's dry, my body is holding on to whatever moisture it can. That's a pretty good theory, except that my ankle split in Sacramento (close to sea level and humid because of all the rivers). This is also something that happens when my body decides to go apeshit on me. So I'll hobble around with a pressure bandage on (I look like a mummy in progress), swear as much as I can, and hope that this new doc will have an idea of what the hell is going on. Nobody else seems to.

I'm also cold - very, very cold. Right now, the house is up to almost 70, but I'm sitting here in sweats, shivering and having a hard time typing because my fingers are freezing. It does no good to bitch, but I do it anyway because... well, I don't know why. Oh well. That's what the blog is for.

My SnB meeting was cancelled tonight due to lack of participation. Last week, there were only three of us. I hope that I haven't scared the shit out of everybody with the TB thing. If so, I'll have to drop out. I don't want to fuck it up for the rest of them. We also found out that having a SnB group means you have to run it according to bylaws or some such shit. I say, drop the name and call it the Idyllwild Knitting Group. I don't think any of us do well with rules.

My readings are going really well. I guess the whole town read the ad in the local magazine and now knows who I am. We had dinner at a little pub the other night, and a waitress shook my hand and welcomed me to town. Wow. People want to meet me instead of running in the opposite direction. I've got posters up around town, too, and I think it's working. I had a lady frantically trying to contact me for a reading this past week. We finally hooked up today, and it turned into a two-hour session. The best part of doing this is that it allows me to help people. Weekends are fun - I sit on the front porch of the shop and knit or play my flute. Both activities draw a lot of attention. The knitters now know that I have a shop which is opening to the public (many happy people there), and the flute makes people stop, listen, ask questions, and possibly want a reading. It's all good.

As you know, my friend Sheryl is coming next month for a two-week (or longer) visit. I tried to get tickets to The Tonight Show so she could see a taping, but they're impossible to get because he's leaving. Oh well. I've got lots of other things planned, but I had wanted to see it, too. We'll have fun, even if we're just sitting on the couch in front of a fire (it still gets cold enough at night to have one) knitting and gossiping about everyone we know. Don't worry - your secrets are safe with me. It's all the other stuff...

Speaking of knitting, I have a pair of socks for me, a pair for Hubster, and a sweater on the needles. I'm going to knit tonight instead of work - I'm just too tired to do anything other than sit. My big chair should be in any day now, so Emma will be able to sleep with me again while I knit. I'm tired of cramming my big ass into the chair we have now, so that will be welcome. In the area of home improvement, I've hung baskets of flowers all along the walkway from the garage to the house. It's gorgeous, although one of them didn't fare well in the cold temps the other night. I might have to replace it, but I hope not. It was one of the prettiest ones, with the flowers hanging down over the edge of the pot. In any event, the colors brighten up the entire outside of the house.

I've decided that I'm just taking the bike out and riding it, class or no class. The damn class is $400; while worth it, I think I learned enough from the last one to stay upright on the iron horse. I'm going to try it as soon as my foot unswells, which means I may be waiting until Halloween. I'm just dying to ride it (and may die doing so); it sits in the garage twinkling at me. During the weekends, the town square is full of riders. My bike is the prettiest one I've seen (preening over here), other than the electric banana yellow trike I saw last weekend. That, and the all-black Corvette Z06 which made me cream my sweats.

Hubster finally told his boss that he's moved to SoCal. She wasn't happy. I told him he should have told her that it's closer than North Carolina, where she lives. He's come up with a plan, though, to keep him from having to fly back to San Jose for meetings. We're getting a note from the doctor saying that I can't be left alone and he has to stay here to keep an eye on me. Heh. We'll fix them.

They'll probably fix us at bonus time - and not in a good way.

The Secret Package is Here!

2009-03-20T16:07:00.000-07:00

Two posts in one day from me. Unheard of.

Unless there's something really, really special I want to share with you.

I was a participant in Secret Pal 13, but I had to drop out due to all the shit going on in my life. Well, my spoiler wanted to keep me and talked the swap mom into letting her do so. She's been sending me a lot of fantastic packages along the way, but the last package - the one where she revealed her identity - was a huge secret and surprise. And indeed it was! There were two items in it - one for me and one for Emma - as well as a card revealing herself. Here's what she made for me:

That's right - a February Lady Sweater with yarn she dyed herself! I'm so excited that I can barely stand it! Her knitting is superb, and I'll be wearing it tonight!

She was also VERY thoughtful and included this for Emma:

Yep... a bone with a squeaky inside! Emma wore herself out throwing it in the air and catching it, then laying down, holding it between her paws like a cat, and munching on it. She's now snoring away with her Daddy.

Kim, my pal, knits for the Knit Picks catalog, as well as being published in a magazine. I'm truly honored to be wearing one of her creations, especially since she made it with yarn she dyed just for this project. I won't give out any more details about her - I don't want her privacy invaded - but I had to share at least this much.

And to Nic, my darling swap mom - thank you from the bottom of my heart for allowing Kim to remain my spoiler. My entire weekend has been made a LOT happier by this act of kindness! She was absolutely the best pal that anybody could ever have!

Now I have to go make chocolate mousse - a little late (it has to set for four hours), but I figure that by the time we eat it, it will have chilled enough.

Thank you, Kim!!! Much love to you (and to Nic).

All is Well - Just Busy as Hell

2009-03-19T22:49:00.000-07:00

Wow. I'm a poet and didn't know it.

Seriously, I've been so busy that I can't see straight. Take that, add to it my being out of remission again, and you have all the makings for a difficult time. I received a letter from a new artist (well, she's not new - she's been waiting for months) to the shop, and she listed all the excuses (read: reasons) I've given her as to why her work hasn't been listed. She's absolutely right on every single point she listed. I've been horribly remiss in listing several people, and it's just from all the things which have conspired to keep me from doing my job and doing it right. If you're an artist who is still waiting for your work to be listed, please forgive me and hang in there. We're almost there. I'm not going to continue listing reasons; I'm just going to do it.

On the brighter side of life, my knitting group is going really, really well. It varies from week to week how many people show up, but the ladies whom I've met are absolutely wonderful. I really enjoy going. It's the first time I've enjoyed being with a group of women and enjoying myself, as well as looking forward to the next meeting. I have nothing but terrific things to say about all of them.

To Polli, who left an absolutely hysterical comment to my last post, you made me snort coffee out my nose. Thank you for a much-needed laugh.

It looks like our Emma is going to be a TV star! During our last meeting, the owner of the place where we take her for grooming came in (our meetings are held in the local coffee shop). I introduced myself, and he told me about his wanting to make a video featuring Emma, Bella (another Bully), and a few other funny dogs as an advertisement for his business. I guess Emma runs around and shoves her way through the mad pack (he has a playground for the dogs where he puts them for boarding and/or after they've been groomed and are waiting to be picked up) in order to greet and play with the other dogs. I thought she would be shy around strange dogs, but she isn't. He says she's funny as hell. That big, hard head of hers comes in handy for banging open doors and getting to where she wants to go, including here at home. She's glued herself to Hubster when she wants to sleep and to me when I'm walking around the house. She's also gotten bigger and broader - quite large for a female. We absolutely adore her. I think she misses the snow, but it's supposed to snow on Sunday. It's soft on her big, webbed-toed feet.

I've been hobbling around the house for a week now. My right foot and ankle are blown up to the size of a balloon; it's painful to even flex my ankle or touch my foot. My left knee has also gone out, which tells me that the disease has landed there and is eating away. I've been remiss in finding a pain doctor and have a short time in which to do it now. My meds run out in a month, and I don't want to go into withdrawal. I also don't want to drive for 10 hours to go to my old doctor. Sigh. I hate having to find a new doctor, and I also don't have the time to fuck around with this. But do it I must.

I got notification in the mail today that my SP13 pal's package has arrived! It's something special, something she made for me, and I can't wait to get it, see it, and find out who she is. She's been the best pal and an absolute doll, and I can't thank her enough for everything she's done for me. I'll be posting pictures of what she sent. We got to the post office after it closed and found the notice in our box, so Hubster will be there when they open to pick it up. Yay!

I'm boring tonight - no funny stories, nothing interesting going on - just buying things for the house (I got a huge pot rack and a gorgeous antique - Art Deco from the late 40's - sideboard), so I apologize for that. I have two pairs of socks on the needles and a cabled Gansey sweater which I try to work on at night. My Tarot readings went really well this past weekend, and I even had one woman stop to ask me for my URL. She thought I was interesting and wanted to learn about me. That's a first. Usually, people run away from me shrieking loudly. The owner of the shop where I read and his partner have invited us to dinner tomorrow night, so we're happily going (his partner is an amazing cook, and I'm bringing dessert). It should be a fun evening and a wonderful break from unpacking.

I thought I was taking forever to unpack and put the house together until I heard from a lady who took over seven years to do it. Now I feel absolutely speedy. If I felt better, I could do more, but I don't, so I can't. Hubster has that pesky job he has to work at during the day, which sort of puts a crimp in my getting him to help me. Here it is, 11:00 p.m., and I haven't even cooked dinner or cleaned the kitchen. He's working in my studio right now. Shit.

So it's off to make dinner and then work on the room some more. Tomorrow is baking/photographing/listing day, as are the weekend nights (and probably Sunday, if it really snows - downtown tends to literally close down when it snows). I love it.

Maybe tonight, I won't run face-first into the pots hanging from the ceiling.

For My Idyllwild SnB Knitting Group

2009-03-10T23:25:00.000-07:00

It has come to my attention that something I said in an earlier post has concerned some of the members of my knitting group. It was also suggested that I amend that post and link it to my group for them to read. I thought it was a good idea, so here it is.

When I said I had TB, some of the ladies in my knitting group became frightened and concerned. Rightly so. Even though I went on to explain it, I think it was sufficient to scare the shit out some of them. Here is another explanation, one that I hope will resonate with them.

When my TB test came back positive (this is the bubble the doctor injects into your forearm), I was immediately sent to the hospital for a lung X-ray. That X-ray showed I had been exposed to the disease, not that I had full-blown TB. I have these "things" in my lungs which indicate I've been around it. Since I'm already so sick with the auto-immune stuff, I think that compounded the problem. Anyway, I was then sent over for a blood test which showed I didn't have TB, wasn't active, and only had been exposed to it. That's it. I DO NOT have TB; I can't be active for something I don't have; I take very strong antibiotics every day to ensure I don't switch over and get the actual disease (and another pill to protect my liver from the antibiotics); I have to take the damn pills for six months; I have to get my blood tested regularly; and I would NEVER go around anybody if I had it.

In fact, should I ever show that I'm positive (or if I was positive in the first place), I would be thrown in the hospital for six months in an isolation ward. No argument. No excuses. It's a public health risk, and I wouldn't put anybody in harm's way. I have my grands to think of in addition to the rest of my family and the public at large. I may be a bitch, but I'm not a cunt.

I hope that explains everything. In any event, I'll be at the meeting tomorrow night to further explain things.

And to those of you who don't say words like the "C" word, that's just who I am. I try to be on my best behavior when I'm around those of you ladies who don't say bad words.

I'm just a pig.

I am Truly Tired

2009-03-05T12:52:00.000-08:00

Boxes. Stock. Hanging pictures. Shopping. Studying tarot cards to refresh my failing memory. Knitting. I've never been so tired, and you all know how tired I can get. Throwing my back out didn't help matters any, either. I was confined to my chair for about three days, but it's much better now. At least I can climb the stairs without screaming.

I have to tell you that this is the town I was meant to live in. I'm accepted here. Nobody gives a shit that I'm bald and have tattoos. Everybody is excited to see the bike when I'm finally able to ride it (there's still too much gravel on the road and melting snow for it to be safe for a novice rider). My knitting group is a joy to attend - the ladies are simply delightful. My house is a dream come true. What more could I ask for?

I could think up some things, but I'm going to try and not be greedy.

Things are actually going quite well. Emma has turned a year old, but she's still very much a puppy. Right now, for instance, she was just running around with her branch; then she plopped down and began snoring. She's beginning to calm down, though, and takes great interest in both the computer and TV. Having a dog that heavy standing on your legs while you're trying to type is an adventure, but we wouldn't have it any other way.

SHOP ANNOUNCEMENT: 20% OFF SALE ON ALL MERCHANDISE, MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY NEXT WEEK.

The shop is coming along just fine. I've purchased new cubes for display and hope to open the house to the public in a couple of weeks. My knitting group is in a lather waiting for it to open so they can go shopping. I'll just be glad to get some things sold. I also am getting a sizable list of artists for Sock Summit, but I need a lot more. If you're one of my artists, please consider joining us. It's a remarkable opportunity to get your work noticed.

In addition to reading the tarot on weekends, I'm also going to be giving knitting classes in my home. I'm making a list of classes which I think might be interesting and showing them to my knitting group. We'll decide on what we think the residents would like, and I'll advertise in our local paper (it comes out once a week). The gals told me that a lady was giving beading and jewelry classes here about a year ago, and her classes were consistently full with waiting lists. I'm hoping that the knitting classes will be the same way. The gals seem to think they will be. As for the tarot readings, I'm really looking forward to those. We're expecting nice weather this weekend, which means a lot of tourists in town. I have to go to the shop today to see how my area is coming along. I also have to begin moving some of my things over there so I can set up.

I found the coolest pot rack (which we're picking up today) at our local antique emporium. It's huge and in perfect condition. The price was just too good to pass up on. I'm amazed at the prices of things up here, but I suppose coming from the capital of indulgence, the Bay Area, anything looks cheap (other than LA and/or Rodeo Drive; I'm going to take Sheryl, my friend from England, there when she's here). We're going to stroll Via Rodeo and pretend we're rich bitches. I think I'll also call LA Ink and see about getting some new ink while we're there.

Speaking of Sheryl, I've got lots of things planned while she's here for her two-week vacation. I can't mention them because they're surprises and I know she reads the blog, but Sheryl... you can rest assured that you'll have the time of your life. We'll have pictures to post because I want a lot of things for memories of places we went and things we did. You have no idea of how excited I am to have her. The shop will be open while she's here; I'm going to put her to work wrapping orders. It'll be wonderful having someone fun to work with.

Other than that, the usual is going on. I just wanted to leave a post to let you all know that I'm alive and busy. Oh... for some reason, my blog is going blank from time to time. I don't know why - a dear friend suggested it might be the Neo displays I have on the sidebar, but those have been there forever - so if you log on and get a blank page, just reload. I have to figure out what the hell is going on.

And for those of you to whom I owe emails, I'm working hard on catching up. So much to do, so little time.

I think I'll take a nap and dream about all the things that need taking care of.

March? Already?

2009-02-25T08:23:00.000-08:00

Where did the winter go? I want more snow, more rain, more overcast and cloudy days. But here it is, the end of February, and the sun is shining brightly. There's still snow on the ground, but it's melting fast. At least it's windy, which means that I can hear the four chimes I have placed around the house and yard. But I know what this means. It means summer is on the way.

And with summer comes heat. I don't do heat. So where do I move to? The high desert, of all places. At least bike riding season is fast approaching. And I don't mean a Schwinn, either.

I lived in Phoenix for three years (Hubster is from Scottsdale and used to love the "dry" heat of the desert). I finally came home one day, told him that I was going home to the Bay Area and hoped he would follow, packed my clothes, and left. He stayed behind to sell our house and pack it up; then I drove back to help him with the final details and get the hell out of there. That was back in 1994, I think. Then we moved to Sacramento (with no pool for seven years), finally buying what I thought was our dream home. Back to the Bay Area after that for two years, and now we're here. Supposedly, it doesn't get much hotter than the 80's (with a few really hot days) during the summer, but we'll see. At least I have A/C, so if things get rough, I can hide indoors. Sigh. I miss my pool and swimming every day. Maybe again some day...

In the meantime, I'm continuing to work on the house. It's looking and feeling more like a home with each passing day. I bought the most beautiful painting of an old Indian warrior at a local antique store. The way our recessed lighting is placed makes it look like the painting is hanging in a gallery; the wall he rests on is directly under one of the lights, and it illuminates the painting perfectly. His face is weathered from many battles and living a hard life on the plains. He has on a buffalo horn headdress and is gazing majestically. It was a true find. I love it when things like that happen. I also made friends with the shop owners (they've declared that we have to have dinner at each others' houses), so that was a lovely surprise. On arriving home, there were two people walking their dogs in front of our house. We talked for a few minutes, and the lady expressed a desire to see our house (she's always wondered what's inside). So we dragged them inside. It's that type of community - you see someone on the street who has admired the outside of your home, and you invite them inside without knowing who they are. She loved the house - it's very Arts and Crafts style - so now we've made some more friends. I'm trying to be nice and friendly to everybody because I know that everything I say and do will be broadcast all over town. What's odd is that it doesn't bother me at all. In fact, I find it strangely comforting. I rarely lock any of our doors at night and feel perfectly safe. The newspaper lists the crimes every week, and they're usually car accidents or people going to the medical clinic for a cut. It's absolutely amazing.

I keep finding new surprises about this house every day. For example, I just discovered that we have a central vacuum system. Now to find the hoses... The man from whom we purchased this palace, his sister lives in town and owns a couple of inns. She's coming by on Monday to pick up the furniture we don't want (it was left in the house for us - we're keeping some of it, like the two couches), so I'll ask her if she has any idea where the hose and nozzle are. That would be too cool to use something like that. The canister is in our downstairs bathroom, so I know it really exists.

My tarot room is coming along beautifully, and the shop owner has made a huge poster (as well as a small flyer for the local shop owners to post in their windows) with my ugly mug front and center. He also put me on the back cover of the local magazine advertising the fact that he's now offering that service. I found out that the magazine isn't all that local - it's distributed from San Diego to Santa Monica to Palm Springs. Holy shit! We're opening for business the second weekend in March. I have to sew some panels for a privacy screen, which means I have to unearth my sewing machine and try to remember how the fucker works. I also have a serger, but forget that. There's no way in hell I can remember how to use it, especially with the short timeline I have to work with. It will all come together, and I'm really looking forward to this. Talk about making new friends (unless the cards have something bad to say)...

No pictures today - I've just been busy knitting and studying my readings. My sweater is just about done, and I'm ready with my comments for the lady I'm test knitting it for whenever she's ready. Then it's back to socks. I'll be glad to work on them again, but it's been fun working on the sweater. I went to our local SnB meeting last week, and the ladies there are absolute gems. I'll be a regular participant in the group from now on. I've also been asked to help with the local quilt show, and I'm taking part in the annual Haunted Town we put on every Halloween. Meetings for that are starting soon. I'm really looking forward to scaring all the kids (and the adults, too). Talk about getting involved in the community! I've turned into a nice person. Shit.

Orders for the shop are going out tomorrow. I had to find all my wrapping paper (and still haven't found it all), as well as finding the rest of my artists' goods. I found a nice bookcase thing from Ikea (and here I swore I would never shop at that place) to hold all my stock, so I might order that in the next day or two. The nearest store is Burbank, which is about two hours away. I'd rather pay the shipping charges than drive over there. We'll see. Hubster may put the kabosh on the plan, since I need 10 of the things to hold all the stock. I've got four new artists who have just signed on, so that brings my total to around 100. I still can't believe it. Once I'm organized, I can get things listed just about immediately instead of making people wait a couple of weeks to see their work in the shop. Things are moving along beautifully, and I couldn't be happier. Thank you to everybody who wrote me with such nice things to say about getting this house. I don't know that I deserve it, but I'm sure as hell not giving it back.

Monday was Hubster's 42nd birthday, so we went to a local casino for dinner and a little gambling. He never wants to celebrate his birthday (I love celebrating mine and do everything short of taking out an ad in the newspaper to announce when it is), but I wanted to do something for him. Unfortunately, we arrived too late to go to one of the nice restaurants, so I went into the gift shop and bought this really cool, funky clock for the kitchen (they have something like four gift shops with different stuff in each one), and we wound up eating in the coffee shop for dinner. The food was really good, and he got prime rib for half of what we would have paid in the steakhouse there. I would have liked to eaten in the steakhouse, though - the ambience is so much nicer. Then we gambled a little, lost all our money, and headed back home. It was a nice evening, although I still owe him a cake. I think that will be the weekend project. I've never done high altitude baking (being over a mile up qualifies me for high altitude, methinks), so it will be interesting to see how it comes out. Speaking of baking/cooking/eating, we went off the hill last night to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to get a new portable grill (one of those you use in the kitchen). He not only bought me the grill (it's Calphalon and makes all kinds of stuff - I love it), but surprised me with a Food Saver. I love those things - they make freezing food a breeze. Since I'm trying to be Suzie Homemaker and Betty Crocker and keep my larder stocked, it will definitely come in handy. We had the old model, but this one does everything short of sealing your snatch shut (if I could fit it in there, it probably would do that, too). He spoils me so.

For those of you who noticed the "Sock Summit 2009" button on the left sidebar, yes... Yarny Goodness is going on the road. In yet another attempt at advertising, we're driving to the event and setting up a booth. If any of my artists are reading this, please get ready - I'll be asking you to send me as much stock as you possibly can so the booth is full. I figured that since I carry mostly sock knitting stuff, this would be the ideal location to "come out" at. Besides, I want to meet some of the teachers they're having. Being a vendor means that I can't take any classes, but that's okay. The last time I tried was with a well-known teacher, and I kept falling asleep in her class. Fortunately, she was an absolute doll and took extra pains with me. However, I don't want to go through that embarrassment again.

I should be getting lots of fun stuff from UPS today, so I'm looking forward to that. I'll fill you in on all that crap after it comes.

Before I go, I want to tell you about two extraordinary people and the difference they've made in my life. First is my Secret Pal from the SP13 swap. I don't know who she is yet (I'll find out very soon, though), and even though I had to pull out of the swap, my swap mom was kind enough to let her keep me to spoil. This lady has gone above and beyond, sending me lots of little packages with fantastic goodies inside. I can't wait to meet her so I can thank her properly. She came into my life at a time when I thought I was going insane and saved me. She's become a cherished friend, and I love her with all my heart. That's the thing with swaps - they're a crap shoot. Either you get a really good partner or one who sucks the big pipe. She falls into the former category. I consider her a dear friend - a lifetime friend - and I'll always keep her close to my heart. I know she reads my blog, so thank you, dear WP. I love you.

The other person whom I want to mention is my other dear friend, Sheryl. Sheryl lives in England, but that didn't stop us from becoming the best of friends. In fact, we're so close (I swear she's my long-lost sister) that she's flying all the way across the Big Pond to come visit me at the end of April for two weeks. I can't wait! I've got all kinds of fun things planned, as well as getting a lot of quality knitting time in. We want to sit on the deck under the stars , drink tea, knit, and gossip - among other things. I want to make her stay with us as special as I can and can't wait to show her the wonders of Southern California. Since I can't show her San Francisco, I'll make sure to include as many things down here which I think she might like. The main thing, though, is just being together. I know she reads my blog, too, so Sheryl - I love you, too, and can't wait until you step off that plane. I'm so glad we have this house and are able to give her a bedroom and bathroom all to herself on a floor separate from our bedroom. It's going to be delightful.

And on that note, I'm off to knit. Hubster is getting ready to take a nap in preparation for his meetings today, so I'll have a few hours of peace and quiet. He'll take Emma off to bed with him, so I'll be saved from her snoring, too.

It's amazing how noisy fat gazelles/pot roasts can be.

Still Buried

2009-02-15T17:07:00.000-08:00

You know, every time we move, it just gets worse.

Take the shop, for example. Sales have been really slow, so I shut it down while we were going through the move. Now I'm beginning to get a bunch of orders. That's great - don't get me wrong - and I'm thrilled for the people who work with me, but all my stock is packed in huge wardrobe boxes. I managed to find some of it, but there's a ton of it still packed away. I'm going to work on that tomorrow and get the shop back in shape, but my new studio is filled with a bunch of other very large (and very full) boxes. I guess we accumulated a bunch of shit while we lived in Sacramento, so now I have to pay the price and unpack it all. We seem to get more and more shit every time we move, which translates into having to find room for it in a new house. I'm going to simplify and get rid of a lot of things so I don't have to deal with this again. It's a good thing I sold the T-Bird because there's hardly room in the garage for the truck and my bike. We never would have gotten two cars in there.

I've got the living room pretty much put together; the kitchen is finished other than a few things which I want to hang on the walls; the dining room is a mess; the bedrooms aren't even started on; the bathrooms are finished. I guess I'm making progress, but it's slow. I could work on the house a lot more than I am, but I have other things which need to be done as well. I may have this thing put together by the time our first year here is completed. Sigh.

We're also expecting a huge storm beginning late tonight and lasting through Tuesday, so I'm prepared with food in the pantry (and food which I have to cook in a few hours). If we lose power, refrigeration isn't a problem - we just open the door in the kitchen which leads outside (if the snow hasn't piled against it), and stick everything in the snow. Our fireplace heats things up, so we can sit in the living room and read. We have candles for light. I'm learning how to live in the snow, and I'm loving it (although my fingers are cracked wide open from the lack of humidity and the cold). Here are some pictures of the storm we had last week to give you an idea of what this storm will look like.

This is a carved eagle (with a chainsaw) which sits on our lower deck. It's actually carved from the tree which comes up through a hole in the deck, so it's not just sitting on top of something - it's part of the tree. We have a deck which runs around the house from the kitchen to the back of the house; then you go down a set of stairs to the lower deck (which is where the eagle and our table sit); then you go down another set of stairs to get down into the backyard.

This is looking out over the deck into the backyard.

These are the stairs which lead from the upper deck to the lower deck where the eagle sits. It would make a good slide at this point.

This is looking out into the backyard from the small deck which is outside our lower story (it's the home theater). There are stairs which lead into the backyard from this deck, too.

These are our table and chairs on the lower deck.

These are our barbecues which are outside the kitchen. It looks like I've planted mutant mushrooms. There's an enormous tree stump which comes up through a hole in the deck next to one of the BBQ's which acts as a cutting block. Very cool (cold at the moment).

This the front of the house right outside the front door. As I said in an earlier post, everybody up here names their houses. We're special - we even have the elevation posted.

This is looking out into the front yard. The walkway to the right leads from the front door to the garage and also to the driveway. Not today, though.

And finally, these are backlit icicles hanging from the upper deck down to the bottom deck. I thought they were gorgeous, so I made Hubster take a picture of them. In the daytime, they sparkle with all the colors of the rainbow - sort of like a really good diamond.

Emma loves to run around in the snow. She looks like a pudgy gazelle as she plows through the powder. Hubster and I bought those snow dishes to go sliding in the backyard, but our fat asses sank down into the snow and we didn't go anywhere. I managed to make it to the back fence by paddling with Emma right next to me, but then I had to hike back up the grade to the house. She was jumping by my side; when I toppled over and fell into the snow, she climbed on my chest and stood there. I could barely breathe, let alone move. Then she began to lick all the snow off my face. Great.

I've had a couple of accidents while up here. I was getting out of the truck and my foot hit the snow. Unfortunately, it slid, and I went shooting out of the truck while hanging on to the door handle. My ass hit the pavement while my back hit the steel on the door frame of the truck. It hurt - a lot. Then I fell down one of the sets of stairs today (we have four staircases - one goes to the lower level, one goes from the second story to the stairs which go down, one goes down into the living room from the second story, and one goes upstairs to the third story). I went down to the first story to the theater room. I'm a little sore, but it could have been worse. The carpeting is slippery, and my foot hit the edge of the step. Emma went nuclear - she thought I was dead and was licking me like crazy and butting me with her head, trying to get me up off the floor.

Speaking of Emma, she's eaten the corners off two of the bottom stair rails. We have to keep an eye on her. She's still in her chewing mode, and this house is made entirely of wood. It must be like a giant chew toy to her. That shit you spray on things that's supposed to keep her from chewing something doesn't work with her. She seems to like the flavor.

As for my tarot readings, I went into the shop where I'll be working yesterday to see how things are coming along. Robert (the owner) is so excited about this whole project that he's gone nuts. We went upstairs to my room so he could show me his progress. He's painted it a light apricot and has a table he made in the corner to hold my crystals. He's also making me a reading table and putting up a bunch of shelves. The two windows are being changed over to stained glass, and there's a Persian carpet on the floor. I'm making screens for one of the "walls"; he's making the other into an etched glass screen. It's going to be gorgeous. There will be ferns and other plants, an area for my incense, and everything I could want, including an outdoor patio with a table and chairs. I can read out there in the spring and fall; it might be a little too warm in the summer. In any event, I can go outside and have a smoke. I'm also going to sit on the front porch and play my flute between appointments. We get a lot of visitors from Los Angeles and Palm Springs, and they tend to spend a lot of money. I'm hoping this will be a busy enterprise for both of us. In any event, it will be fun. I'll be riding the Harley to the shop (it takes five minutes to get anywhere in town) with my flutes strapped to my back. Hubster is even taking bike riding lessons, so be prepared to hear that we've purchased another bike.

I got the loveliest package from Laura Neal as an honorable mention prize for a contest which I entered. She not only sent a gorgeous skein of yarn (buy her yarn, peeps!), but some candy and a Valentine's Day heart box full of candy. She's such a doll - thanks, Laura!

I also got a package from Karen of KaratStix. She sent more stock for the store, as well as a housewarming gift which she made for me. I can't tell you what that gift is because I'm hoping to sell them in the shop soon (you promised, Karen - no pressure here), but I can tell you that you're all going to go apeshit when you see what it is. Heh. Karen actually rendered me speechless, which as you all know is a very difficult thing to do. I never expected to receive such a thing. Thank you so much, Karen - I'll be writing you a letter later tonight.

I think I've bored you all enough for one night. I'm off to the kitchen to begin cooking. The Bay Area is being smacked hard with rain right now; our part of the storm is expected right after midnight. That gives me time to get my cooking done and get everything else we need within easy reach. Those of you who live in the snow all winter are probably laughing at me, but you have to remember that I'm a weather weenie. I've lived in temperate climates all my life and have never seen the seasons, let alone snow. I'm enjoying the hell out of it.

But I need to put on my down robe. I'm cold.

Home Sweet Home or Box Hell?

2009-01-31T20:22:00.000-08:00

Good God. I hadn't realized it's been so long since I last posted. We didn't get computer service until a week or so ago, and before that... well, suffice it to say that it's been sketchy. Hubster was able to rig up something so I could get email, but that was sporadic. I apologize to everyone who has written asking where the hell I've been. Under a mountain of boxes is where.

We are happily ensconced in our new home, although we're far from having it all put together. We can't work on it every day because Hubster does have a job which he needs in order for us to eat and pay the rent, and I'm working on a test project for someone, so that leaves the nights. By nighttime, we're both exhausted, so we don't work every night, either. However, we're devoting this weekend to getting as many boxes unpacked as possible so we can put everything together.

As for the shop, it remains closed. As usual, everything is taking a lot longer to do than what I had anticipated. We haven't even found the boxes full of inventory yet. They're buried in the really large boxes in our respective offices, which we hope to unearth tomorrow. I have some orders to fill, so I'll get those out ASAP. The guys who packed all our stuff when we left San Lorenzo didn't label the boxes, so we don't have a clue as to what is where. However, we've gotten several rooms unpacked (but not put away), so we're getting close.

As for the house itself, it holds a lot of surprises. In the main room, there are these doors built into the wall. We assumed it was a closet, albeit a weird place for one. The first night we got here, we opened them and discovered not a closet, but a bar - complete with refrigerator, glass-front cabinets (for glasses and booze), an ice bucket, a sink, a large counter, and everything you could possibly want to have a party in front of the fireplace. There's a funny little room under one of the staircases complete with a light. It's too small to be a closet, yet there it is. Maybe it's for Hubster to sit in when I get pissed off at him. We have air conditioning, which we were told wasn't a part of the house. I have no idea of what we'll find when we get the bedrooms cleared out. We have a trampoline in the backyard which I bounced on today (it was a blast, but I'm sure out of shape, and being at 6000 feet takes the air out of me fast). It's like Christmas.

The kitchen is put together, two of the bathrooms are done, the downstairs home theater is set up (but not really done yet), I've ordered some things for the house, we've got a guy who picks up our garbage every other week and takes it to the dump (we have no garbage service here), we've made friends with a lot of the shop owners in town, and... sit down and take a few deep breaths... I got a job. We were in a shop yesterday and were talking with the shop owners, and I wound up walking out with a gig playing the flute on the front porch (it's in a Victorian house - they sell art and locally made items such as lamps, candleholders, paintings, etc.) on the weekends, and also doing tarot and Medicine Card readings. We get a LOT of flatlanders (read: people from Los Angeles) on the weekends during the winter and just about every day during the nice weather, so that will bring in a lot of business. A lot of folks also have cabins here which they use as second or part-time homes. Anyway, I'm going to start in a few weeks. Next Friday, I'm going in to select whatever I want in the shop for my little area to make it "mine" (artwork, goddesses, etc.). The owners are painting a banner to hang on the front of the shop to announce the new service. I think it'll be a blast. As for riding my bike, no can do yet. It's snowed a couple of times (yay!), and there's a lot of gravel on the road (a real ass buster if you hit it sideways or wrong). I won't be riding until spring. Hubster and I are taking the motorcycle course together in a month or so (I need to take it again, and he's decided he wants to ride), and this area is primo for riding. I can see why so many bikers come up in the warmer weather. And get this - we have an ocean view. If the smog lifts just enough, we can see it when the sun is setting and the rays hit the water. It shimmers a fiery orange and is absolutely gorgeous. This is truly paradise.

What blows me away are the small things - having the bank president coming over to welcome us to town when we went in to open our accounts, having people on the street overhearing us talking to someone and coming up to welcome us, having the shop owners giving us a welcome discount on our purchases, having people just smiling and saying good morning... all the small things which don't always happen in larger towns or cities. Everybody is friendly and there is no fear of strangers. In fact, there are no strangers. Going to the post office is a social event. It far outweighs the minor headaches (like not having something I'm used to using in the grocery store). We can drive down the hill to a larger town if I need to go to a large store, but we're finding that we'd rather do without than leave our little hamlet. We're both so happy to be here - it's like Mayberry RFD or something. We're turning into nice people. Egads.

One incredible story (I have a bunch, but I'll save them for later). The shop owners for whom I'll be working were waiting in line at the local theater (yes, we have one, but you have to call to see which movie is playing) when they caught a man smiling at them. They smiled back, nodded, and said hello. One of them said to his partner, "That guy looks really familiar, but I can't place him". His partner told him to shut up. They saw this guy again at the snack bar and smiled again, but still couldn't place him. While they were waiting, this man took off his sunglasses, stuck them in his shirt, and took his popcorn into the theater. It wasn't until my friends got home that one of them said, "OH... MY... GOD... THAT WAS BRAD PITT!". This was right after Fight Club had finished filming and he had a goatee, so they didn't immediately place him. I think they're still kicking themselves that they didn't recognize him. There are a lot of stars/celebrities around here - they can walk the streets, go shopping, and just be people without crowds and cameras. The most that happens is that someone says good morning or tells them that they loved their last film. It must be really nice for them. Some of them own homes here, others just rent cabins when they want to come up and visit. Now I'm on celebrity alert.

So I'm fine - just really busy - but I wanted to leave a post so you all know I'm alive and well. I'll get caught up with my email during the week and will address shop problems as I can. For now, I'm going upstairs to make risotto on my kick-ass stove (it's even more powerful than the one I had in Sacto, and that one was a commercial beast) and enjoy my kitchen. I don't mind that the house isn't a home yet - at least not in the traditional sense. I don't care that there are boxes everywhere. It doesn't bother me that I don't have anything on the walls yet. It doesn't matter that we can't have company over yet. I've purchased some incredible antique goodies from the local emporium (and that's what it's called) which are laying all over the place (the Art Deco dresser with amber pulls is still in the back of the truck), and even though I'm looking forward to hanging or placing them, it doesn't make one whit of difference that they're on chairs. My soul is at peace, Hubster is so happy here that he could shit, and I can't believe that this is ours.

I'm finally - after all these years - at home.

TB and the Flu Do NOT Mix

2009-01-04T14:49:00.000-08:00

Oh geez. I haven't been this sick in a long time - and I'm the queen of being sick.

It all started with the TB, of course. My chest hurt, my head hurt, everything hurt. Then we made the mistake of visiting those germ-infested midgets otherwise known as our grands. Daisy was okay; she had gotten over her cold the week before. Lily, though, was still sick, and that's all it took. Hubster got what she had and very kindly passed it to me. Since I catch everything under the sun anyway, I really got whacked with the flu. The doctor had warned me to avoid people with colds, the flu, or anything else contagious. Well... it didn't quite work out that way.

This is the disease-ridden little Smurf who gave us the death rattle.

You see, with TB, it's already in my lungs. Getting the flu (or any other thing which settles in your chest), makes things VERY painful. Now there's not a square inch of me (except for my snatch), which doesn't hurt, produce bloody phlegm, cause my head to feel like it's going to explode, or a bunch of other lovely things which seem to happen simultaneously. The big fear is pneumonia. If I get that, then it's time for the hospital. Just what I need, especially since this is moving week.

If there's one saving grace, it's that it didn't cost that much more to have the moving dudes pack everything for us. So all we have to do is sit back and direct them as to what we want packed. Every day this week (other than Monday), is like a horror show. We're actually leaving a week from Monday, so that will give us time to clean the house. I want my deposit back. We're also taking the car to Carmax to sell it on Tuesday. Since nobody is buying anything with this economy, we figured it would be the best way. Yes, we're losing money by doing it this way, but at least we'll get some money. We need to pay for the move, after all.

That's my hotrod. I sure hate to let it go, but I'm really trying to simplify my life. We don't need two cars; besides, I'll be riding the bike all year except for the winter. Those trees are sure going to smell great as I'm cruising along. True, the Bird is a convertible (that hardtop comes off), but it's not quite the same.

I still can't believe that we're moving so far away. It doesn't seem real. I don't think it will seem real until all the furniture and other stuff is gone. It's good, though - a whole new area, new friends, just me and Hubster - we really need this. I feel guilty for moving when Mom has the potential for being sick, but I can't stay until I'm sure everybody is well. Something is always going to come up, and I can always be back up here in about nine hours if I need to be.

A bit of good news came along late last week. Rachel (Yarn-a-Go-Go) was asking for a volunteer to knit a test sweater for her (I think for the book). I dropped her a note saying that I would love to do it and not thinking that she would chose me. I figured a bunch of other people would jump at the chance. I was wrong - I don't know how many other people volunteered, but she chose me! I just bought the yarn and only have to buy a circular needle which I don't have, and I'm in business. It's a Gansey-style with raglan sleeves; the pattern is a knit/purl diamond design on the center panel with cables on the two side panels, so I'm doing it in a light lavender, sort of heathered, color. I think it will be gorgeous. I'll post pictures when it's done. I'm quite honored to have been chosen for the job; it will be a nice change of pace from knitting socks.

Speaking of pictures, I know I've been light on them of late. I've been so sick for so long that I haven't been able to do anything. But here's a little something which may amuse you:

Emma has decided that it's comfy for her to lay on your chest and cuddle against you. This is what used to be that adorable little creature that fit on my chest. Now she's a giant 50-lb. sausage with legs that covers my entire torso. It's okay, though - she's nice and warm.

This is my 90-year old grandma at Christmas. She giggles (which I think is adorable), so Hubster caught her giggling. That fat hand pointing at her is mine.

This, of course, is the bad-ass bike. It's a shitty picture, but it was overcast outside and wasn't conducive to good picture-taking. Since our garage is so crowded, we couldn't get the whole thing in one picture, but at least you get to see the front of it. I'll get a better picture of it posted when I have it outside (hopefully I can at least polish it this week).

I think that's about all the news. Since I don't have to pack or do anything horrible, I'm going to sleep for a while and then try to work on the shop. My poor artists - they've been so patient with me while I've been going through all this. I'll try and make it up to you, I promise. Oh... speaking of the shop, if you order anything beginning this Wednesday, it won't go out for about two weeks. While I'm keeping the shop open, I won't be available to mail anything out. I have to put everything in place in my new studio. That's the fun part of moving - putting things in a new place and making your new house look like a home.

We're going home.

To All of You

2008-12-24T12:54:00.001-08:00

I just wanted to wish all of you the best and merriest of holidays - whichever form you choose to celebrate - and a new year filled with all the good things that were missing from the old. May you prosper, laugh, love, and grow; may your new year be free from whatever ills and woes befell you through the old; may the good far outweigh the bad.

And to all, a good night ...

Hey Baby, Let the Good Times Roll...

2008-12-20T15:10:00.000-08:00

... but it doesn't look like they're going to roll any time soon.

As I type, there sits in my garage a brand-new, purple/blue Harley with gleaming chrome, a deep throaty engine, and a seat big enough to fit my big ass. But can I take it out and play with it? Can I practice on it, learning how to balance? Can I polish it with a diaper? Nope. Why? Because I have more news for you, really bad news... and this time, it's me.

We'll wait on that little tidbit, though. This house is so fucking small that I can't even go into the garage and walk around Buffalo Goddess (that's her name, the purple/blue shiny death machine). I had to tilt her up just to get by her and out of the garage. You try tilting up a 700-lb. bike by one handgrip and see how simple it is.

I can tell this is going to be a disjointed post, so please forgive me. I have a lot to say, so I'll try to say it as succinctly as possible. Please bear with me.

First of all, the answer to the SP13 questions are... no, I'm not doing any holiday knitting. That sort of takes care of the second part of the question. There just isn't anybody in my family who would like something like that other than Grandma, and I just don't have the energy or time. I am making a few things for two friends, but they'll be mailed after Christmas. WAY after Christmas.

Let's move on to news about Mom. The surgeon came out to talk to me and Hubster and told us that everything looked good, that he didn't see any errant cells, that he sent out 25 specimens just to be sure, and that he thinks Mom is out of the woods. We should find out the lab results next week, so that will finalize everything. We're all so relieved. This is the best Christmas gift we could have received. She isn't in any real pain - just some soreness - so she's out and about driving and doing stuff (no lifting, though). I have to take her to UCSF on the 9th, so our moving date will be pushed back a few days. Not a problem - we still haven't begun to pack.

Speaking of packing, we hired a mover who gave us a really good price. If our estimated weight goes over what he guessed, we don't pay any additional money. If it's below what he estimated, we get money back. We both liked him, and his bid came in $300 cheaper than the other estimate. Now I just have to call and get the bike scheduled for pick-up.

Right now, we're trying to work out all the logistics. The dates are funky, since the day we want to be there is on a Sunday. I think we're going to have to rent a cabin for two nights, dash to the realtors on Monday to get the key (that's the day the movers are coming), and go home (I love the sound of that) to await the arrival of our possessions. We're leaving the day after Mom goes to San Francisco, so that means a tiring weekend. A lot of stuff is going with us in the truck, things like pottery and anything else which is breakable. I'm not taking all the stuff which could break - there's far too much of that - but the antique stuff isn't going with anybody but us. I don't know what to do about Emma. We'll have to figure that one out. Then we turn around the following week and come back up here for two doctor appointments. That's the last time, though. Why two? In a minute, my dears.

My class for learning how to ride the bike was a huge flop in more ways than one. The first two class sessions went really well. My range riding on Saturday went pretty well (I was scared and tense, so that affected things... then I relaxed and it all fell into place) until we reached the last exercise of the day. I was in the lead and was told to do a California stop at two cones placed in the middle of the range; then I had to ride diagonally to the opposite corner, turn slowly in a tight little turn, and stop when my bike was facing forward in preparation for a fast run and even faster stop at the end of the line. No problem, right?

Big problem.

Everything went fine until I turned the bike around at the corner. Then I don't know what happened. I panicked and was suddenly flapping like a sheet drying in the breeze, hanging on to the handlebars for dear life. At some point, I must have opened the throttle because I was going about 40 mph when I finally went down. The bike fell on top of me (covering me from hip to toe), dragging me along the ground for about 30 feet, and my leg got tangled up in the rear wheel. What was even more unfortunate is that my upper body went in the opposite direction of my lower body, so I wrenched my back. When it was all over, I just laid there on the asphalt until the instructors came running. They wanted to call an ambulance (apparently, I flipped over the handlebars and made quite a spectacular scene), but I told them I was fine. My clothing wasn't even ripped (now I know why they're so damned expensive - they save your skin). The instructors asked me if I was done for the day (duh), so I limped over to a chair to watch everyone else do their exercises. One other gal dumped her bike earlier in the day, but she went on riding. She took a chunk out of her chin and had considerable road rash (she didn't have on riding gear), but she didn't hurt her back. Then they told me I couldn't ride on Sunday, so not to even bother showing up. I did, however, go to the classroom after the day's fun and games to finish up the classroom portion of the class. That way, I wouldn't have to repeat all that. However, I kept falling asleep in class (I finally had to take my meds around noon because I felt so lousy), and they had kicked in. I was taken out of class by the instructors and told that they wanted Hubster to come to the final class on Monday night because they were worried that something bad would happen to me (yeah, listening to what Hubster had to say about all that all the way home was the worst thing that would happen). I kept trying to tell them I was fine, but no go. So I pretty much said okey dokey and didn't go to class on Monday. It was too bad, too - one of the students was the West Coast rep for H-D (he was in town from Wisconsin) and was taking everyone out to dinner. I just couldn't sit there watching everyone else graduating and getting their certificates. It all turned out okay, though - I could barely move for a few days. So now I've got the Iron Horse in the box called a garage just waiting for me to play with it. Today is one of the few sunny days this week, so I was really hoping to take it out and begin playing with it. Oh well - everything happens for a reason.

Now for the bad stuff.

You all know that I've been really, really tired of late. I figured I was out of remission (which I may well be), but I wasn't quite prepared for what just happened. When I went to the prison last Monday, I was given the paper for my annual TB test (when you get your badge renewed, that's one of the things you have to submit). I called my doctor when we got home Monday afternoon and made an appointment for Tuesday. Carol (one of his nurses) shot me up with the stuff they use and told me to come back Friday morning. Around Wednesday night, I began looking at the thing. It was raised and hard, as well as bright red. Hubster did some research and found that the color has nothing to do with it - it was the raised and hard part they were concerned with. It didn't get any smaller on Thursday, but when I went in on Friday, I fully expected it to be okay. Wrong.

The diameter of the thing was way over acceptable guidelines.

The doctor immediately sent me over to the hospital for a chest X-ray (that's how they find out if you have it or not). After the X-ray, the technician told me to wait in the waiting room while the radiologist read the film. About five minutes later, he came back out and told me that the film was normal. Whew.

Uh...

"Normal" means that I don't have infectious TB. I can't make people sick by being around them. However (and make no mistake about this)...

I have TB.

Are you shitting me? Of all the stupid diseases I had to get next - that one?

The doctor figures I got it at the prison, and I think he's right. It's highly infectious, so all you have to do is walk through the air right after someone who's infected coughs. Normally, your immune system does it's thing and fights it off, but since we all know what kind of a dandy immune system I have... well... I didn't. Apparently, I have just enough of one left to keep me from becoming infectious - at the moment. The doctor told me that had I waited a couple of weeks, I would have been infectious. That would have meant I'd have been thrown into the hospital immediately, which would mean no move. Period. Hubster was joking and calling me Typhoid Pam. He found it funny. I didn't. This shit is in my lungs, and I'm beginning to cough. So get this: I have to take antibiotics for SIX months along with vitamin B-6 (the antibiotic wipes out all your B-6). Not only that, I have to have a blood test now and every three months after that. This is really serious. I'm really, really sick. Today, I can barely walk and everything is spinning around me. I'm supposed to rest as much as possible and not put myself in a stressful situation - things like that exacerbate the disease. I'm moving - that ranks right up there with death and divorce on the high stress meter. I also get sick from antibiotics, so I don't know how much of the shit I'm feeling today is from which corner. This could also be why I dumped the bike - it affects your balance. I asked the doc if I could still ride, and he told me yes - as long as I just practiced and made sure I rested well before I undertook any fun and games. (insert very heavy sigh here) I just looked at my arm, and the damn thing is still there, large and hard and telling me that I'm fucked. Merry Fucking Christmas. I don't even get to open anything from Hubster on Christmas Day because we're moving and I've got a new bike. Now I'm wondering if I should have waited on the bike. Probably. But it makes me happy just to see it, so maybe I'll be able to ride it soon. I hope so. Please realize that I'm NOT infectious - you can't get the disease from talking to me, or touching me, or even being around me if I cough. I don't need to be isolated from anybody. I can work on the shop. I can mail things to you. You are perfectly safe around me (unless you decide to ride on the bike with me). I'm NOT going to get you sick.

So there it is. That's all the fun stuff I can think of to tell you. After I proof and post this, it's back to the chair. I have a long list of things I can and can't eat, so we're having fish and chips tonight. I'm supposed to eat protein, but a portion no larger than a deck of cards. Are you shitting me? I can stick that much up my nose.

Sometimes, I hate being me.

I'm Totally Overwhelmed

2008-12-12T00:19:00.001-08:00

I want to thank each and every one of you who left me comments and/or sent letters, both for my not being well and for sending prayers and hugs and good thoughts for Mom. I know that I'm remiss in answering all your emails, but I'm so overwhelmed with things that I can't get caught up. I'll get to them, but it may not be for a few days.

Anyway, I thought I'd let you all know what's going on.

Mom's doctor called and informed her that she's having surgery on Monday. Of course, I'll be at the prison, so we're leaving from there and hightailing it to the hospital. I want to talk to the doctor because I know that if it's bad news, she may not tell me the full extent. I also want to see her, to make sure that she's still with us. Because of the fast surgery time, I had to take her over to San Mateo (across San Francisco Bay) for an MRI. She saw her doctor again yesterday and will see her GP today. I tried to joke around with her, argue with her, anything to keep her mind off what's looming in the immediate future, but she's scared. It's the first time in my life that I've seen her frightened and vulnerable.

Of course, I'm not only contending with all that. I started my motorcycle class last night. Out of a class of 10, there are three women, none of us ever having ridden before. Trying to study the material is difficult. I ride all weekend, so I'm hoping there's some stress release there. On Monday, after going to the prison and the hospital, I go for my last class. Of course, that's the one where I'm tested for my driver's license. Could the timing be worse? Maybe it will take my mind off of things, but if the news isn't good, I'm going to be shattered. I guess I'll have to deal with that when I come to it.

I'm still not well, and Hubster sounds like he's coming down with something. On top of all that, today is our 17th wedding anniversary. We're both so bummed that we didn't even want to celebrate tonight. I guess we'll go out to dinner next week in San Francisco, but that's all we're doing for that.

We had a mover come over to the house and give us an estimate. It was nowhere as bad as I thought it would be, so I can have my bike shipped with no problem. We have one more estimate to go, and then I think we'll begin packing up all this shit. I can't even see daylight right now, let alone try to pack anything. It has to get done, though, so do it we will.

Sheryl, if you're reading this, I tried sending you two letters which bounced back. Please let me know how to get in touch with you.

Needless to say, all work on the shop has come to a grinding halt. It will resume next week after we hear what the doctor has to say. I apologize deeply to the artists who are waiting to have their work listed, but I can't right now. I'm so sorry.

All the love and support you've all shown to me and Hubster has been a true lifesaver. I really feel that if I fall, you'll be there to catch me. Right now, you're helping me to breathe. There's not much I can say except thank you. Thank you.

And on that note, I'm going to go to sleep. I'm tired, and being awake means I listen for the phone to ring. When it does, my heart stops. When it's not Mom, it starts beating again. So either I'm awake and doing that all day, or I sleep for a few hours and have nightmares. What a choice.

If anybody needs me for anything, don't hesitate to drop me a note. As I said, it might take a few days to get back to you (I'm SO behind on my email), but I will.

One way or another ... I will.

There's Nothing Like Having all the Air Knocked Out of You

2008-12-07T21:20:00.000-08:00

As you all know, I've been doing nothing but sleeping. That trend has been going on for the entire week, including today. However, I only had a few errands to run today and figured I'd work on the shop later tonight. The best laid plans ...

After reading this post, you'll probably think this is out of place, but I have to say it. Yarny Goodness is having a 15% off sale on everything beginning Monday and running through Wednesday. Okay ...

We went over to the Harley store this afternoon to pick up my goggles (I look too cool for words - read: like a fucking dork - in them), and then decided to go visit the grands at Mom's. We got there, went into the family room, sat down, and the kids began crawling all over Hubster. They do adore their Grandpa. I was busy chatting with Mom and Grandma when my mother looked at Hubster and said, "Now, I've got something to tell you.". Uh oh. When she utters those words (and especially when she can't look at me), someone has died or gotten into an accident. I immediately began running through my remaining family members to come up with who was dead and/or in an accident when she uttered the three words that have knocked all the air out of me:

"I've got cancer."

WHAT?

All I could do was stare at her while she explained. She had had a partial hysterectomy a few months ago, and everything appeared to be fine. For some reason, the tests on the tissue were run three times, and the third time came up with the cancer cells. The other two were false negatives. Now she has to have surgery again from a gynecological surgeon from UCSF; he wants to remove the tubes, ovaries, and a bunch of lymph nodes. First, though, she has to have an MRI to see if the cancer has spread.

WHAT??

At this point, I realized that my ciggie was no longer lit because the stream of tears flowing down my face had landed on it and extinguished it. Then I realized that I was angry. I don't react well to news like this (not that anybody else does, either); one of the things that happen is that I get really, really angry. I asked her how long she had known, and when she said three weeks, I came unglued. When she said that she had told Amber (my daughter) a few weeks ago, I went right over the edge and began yelling. Hubster told me to stop screaming, but I couldn't, so I did the only thing I could do.

I yelled at him to shut the fuck up.

The rest of the visit is a blur. I'm going to take her for her MRI, and then I'll come back up for her surgery in January. I wish we could have found a house here, but it just wasn't in the cards. Besides, I think I'm going to need a place to escape to. Hubster keeps telling me that everything will work out okay and she'll be fine. I'm not so sure. In fact, I'm not even remotely optimistic right now. All I am is tired, and defeated, and everything coming up - the bike, the move, Christmas - have suddenly lost all their luster and seem absolutely pointless. For the first time in my life, I'm staring at losing my mother right in the face.

I know that a lot of the women who write the blogs I read have recently (or within the past year) lost their mothers. I cried when I read those posts and felt horrible for them and their families. But now that it might be my turn, I'm numb. I'm in a vacuum. It's like everything is underwater and I'm trying to hear what's being said. It's too surreal.

IT CAN'T BE HAPPENING.

But it is. And I literally have to think to take a breath. The tears roll without warning. We went out to dinner afterwards, and I sat at the table eating a breadstick and crying while I was talking to Hubster. He keeps saying she'll be fine, that the cancer hasn't spread, blah blah blah. I can't hear him. I can't hear anything.

I'm gong to curl up and pretend that this isn't real. Maybe, if I fall asleep, I won't have nightmares.

But I know I will.

Still Alive ...

2008-12-03T20:08:00.000-08:00

... but I sure as shit don't feel like it. Think I was kidding about sleeping? Here's proof - and proof that friends don't let friends sleep alone.

Yes, those are all ciggie holes. This is why the Monster isn't coming with us - that and the fact that the armrest is shot. This is the last time I buy furniture from Laz-E-Boy (or however the hell you spell it). The last couch we bought from them? It took six months to arrive and broke down in a couple of years. They make lovely recliners, but even they get shot pretty quickly. Don't you also love what a classy broad I am? That is the best duct tape money can buy on my ultra-expensive Scandia Down pillow. Hey... I paid a fortune for that thing. I'm not going to trash it after all these years when duct tape fixes little holes that let the down go floating out (especially when you lay your head on it and the pillow goes "POOF!").

That is the position I've been in of late, both with and without Emma. She loves to sleep with one or both of us. I think it makes her feel secure, although there are days I would like to strangle her (like when she eats my DPN's). I did, however, order some square DPN's from the Knitting Software people, as well as a set of Signature (I think that's who it is) 6", stiletto-tipped beasts. I don't usually like to knit with metal, but I saw them at Stitches last year and thought the straights were kind of neat. I'm sure Emma can still crush them with her mammoth jaws, though.

Here's another shot of the "M" alone, basking in her queenly glory.

That should also give you a close-up of the results of my trying to set myself and the house on fire.

I want to thank everybody who sent me well-wishes for a speedy recovery. I'm so very blessed to have you all as my family, whether you're a customer, a friend, an artist I represent ... it doesn't matter. I've received letters from all of you, and I'll be answering each one as soon as I can. Tonight, though, I'm sleeping again. This is just another symptom of the lovely disease I have and shows that I am, indeed, out of remission. With any luck, the blood work will show something simple can be done to make me stop sleeping so much and begin functioning like a real person, like my meds needing to be adjusted (especially for the thyroid). With any luck.

We have movers invading our house tomorrow to give us estimates on how much scratch it will cost to move our boxes and what little furniture we have left. As usual, I've procrastinated and still don't have anything done in the way of packing. Since I've been sleeping, Hubster has been working on either the shop or his real job. We're just going to have to white-knuckle it and begin stuffing shit in boxes. God, I hate moving. It's worse than divorce. At least with divorce, you get money to go along with your loneliness. With moving, you just get a lot of work to do on both ends.

What else is going on? Not much, really. I start my motorcycle classes next Thursday, so my theory is that if I sleep a lot now, then I can stay awake in class and during a 10-hour day (both on Saturday and Sunday) on the back of a bike. At least we'll be outdoors, so I can probably smoke during class if I'm not on the bike. Smoking on the back of a moving bike is worse than trying to smoke in the T-Bird with the top down. I still haven't listed the car, nor have we taken pictures of the thing. With this economy, though, I don't hold out a lot of hope for a quick sale. It would be nice, but you know how these things go. I would like to get it listed before Christmas so people still have some money left.

I have to tell you that I have the most incredible pal for SP13. She sent me a box chock-full of goodies the other day (pictures to follow as soon as Hubster gets the camera out). Included were a lavender-scented candle which is going in one of my new bathrooms, some yarn she dyed herself (blue and black - I think she might have been matching colors to my bike), a purple tote bag, a stuffie for Emma, some yummy treats for Emma, a bottle of patchouli essential oil - just incredible things. I can't remember if I'm missing something (I'm sorry, WK!), but you'll see it all for yourselves when I get a picture up on the blog.

I guess I really don't have a lot to say tonight. I'm just tired and want to curl up on the chair, watch some gory movie on TV, and knit. That new sock is coming along great, and I'm really happy with both the yarn and pattern. I might actually get a pair done. I'm so overwhelmed by the move and all the work we have to do that I'm sort of paralyzed. I get that way - instead of just attacking the problem, I tend to hide and pretend that we have lots of time to do whatever it is. What's going to happen is the same thing that happens whenever we have something large to do. We'll do it at the last minute, and I won't get everything done which I wanted to do. I desperately want (well, need ... who in the hell wants to go through all the hassle) to have a garage sale so we can make some extra dough and get rid of a lot of shit which we won't be taking with us. As for the stash, it remains to be photographed. Will we get it done before we leave? I'd like to think so, but I don't hold out much hope. At least we have until January 10th to get out of this shithole, but I want to be gone before then and in our new house. So many things I want to do ... so many things which I won't have time for. I want to go to San Francisco and have a last, glorious, seafood dinner on the Bay. I want to spend a lot of time with my grandma, but when I'm over there, I can't wait to leave. I know that Hubster wants to spend time with the grands (as do I, but they only have eyes for him if he's within 50 miles of them), so maybe we can do that this coming weekend. Sigh.

Time to go doze. I can work on everything tomorrow.

Sleeping, Knitting, Sleeping, Sleeping, and ... Did I Say Sleeping?

2008-11-28T19:42:00.000-08:00

Yep. That's been my life for the past few days. I have taken some potty breaks, eaten my obligatory meal a day (no, I'm not dieting; it's just how we eat ... although after seeing what size jeans I had to buy, maybe I should diet), bought more shit I probably don't need from the Harley store (see: size of jeans comment), read ... and that's really about it. We had some issues with the server going down and Hubster was working on the shop, so I really couldn't work on it even if I wanted to (which I didn't). So I've taken a little vacation and am much happier for it. Tomorrow, however ...

Sometimes having a shop is really nice. I get first pick out of anything that comes in. Normally, I put everything up for sale to give you guys first chance, but I just couldn't with the Woolly Boully order. I snatched the color I didn't have, and since this is a new base, well ... I had to complete my collection. This stuff knits like a dream and is gorgeous. I've only got six skeins of it to list, so if you're a fan, then you might want to keep an eye on the shop late tomorrow or Sunday. It'll be there, along with new artists like Misfit Yarns and several others. Hubster has the shop running like a well-oiled machine (until we get a report from an irate customer that something is fucked up), so now it's up to me to finish listing what I've got. Really, there's not that much left. I just have to stay awake long enough to finish it.

As for the rest of my life, I've got movers coming next week to give me an estimate. I'm really hoping we can afford this, because I neither want to nor can help Hubster load/unload a U-Haul. I especially can't help him with that damned TV because it has to go down stairs, and there's a nasty little landing where you have to hang a hairpin turn. Once it's downstairs, it'll be fantastic, but since there's likely to be snow on the ground, it goes in the front door and not around the back of the house through the back door (and there's still a nasty turn to make there). I hate moving. I truly hate it. We haven't packed a single thing, but fortunately, I didn't unpack a lot of the boxes we moved with (mainly because there was no room to put away their contents). We also saved all the boxes from the things we did unpack, so we don't have to buy any more of those. Hubster has to take pictures of the stash so I can get those skeins listed in the shop (I'm selling each one for $10 regardless of what it is) and hopefully sold (less to take with us), and I still have to list the damn car. I had to wait until after the 9th to even think about listing it because we didn't want to sell it and then find out that we weren't moving, and then the weather turned cloudy and/or rainy. Tomorrow is supposed to be sort of sunny, though, so he'll take pictures of it (we can list up to 18), and I'll get the listing taken care of. It would be lovely if that sold immediately, and we're fortunate to live near several very wealthy communities where people haven't been affected by the foreclosures or the economy in general. Buying a car for a Christmas present and forking over $27K in cash won't even make these people bat an eye. We'll see how it goes. A lot of stuff will get packed in our truck (especially things like my collection of Red Wing stoneware and pottery from the 1930's) to ensure they arrive in one piece. I've had too many things broken over the years from movers being asswipes and not paying attention to what they're doing. Those items are irreplaceable; even if I could replace them, I couldn't afford it. I don't know if any of these movers offer total coverage insurance, but we're going for economy here. We're not taking our couch, the Monster, or the recliner (they're full of ciggie burns and Emma tooth holes), so we'll sell them at a giant garage sale I'm planning. Somebody who is into upholstery or slip covers can do something with them. That will help with the moving bill. The only reason I'd take them is if they cost next to nothing to move (hahahaha!). Those fuckers charge you by the Kleenex, just like hospitals.

As for the bike, I'm contacting a carrier service which does nothing but move bikes around the country. I can't ride it down - I don't have the experience to undertake a ride of that length, let alone one that may involve snow and definitely involves a large mountain with very windy roads and no guard rails (not to mention the Grapevine which frequently sees snow in the winter and is not only a pain the ass, but very long). I'll save that little journey for the spring when I've got some miles under my ass. I'm also having it delivered rather than ride it home after my last class. After talking to the good service people at Eagle's Nest, the consensus is that for the maiden voyage, I should take it around the block during the day, not on the freeway at night. My classes start in two weeks, so that means the bike will be here in less than three. Yay!

In the bad news department, I went to turn my Kindle on and got a screenful of zebra lines, even when I turned the thing off. After calling Amazon, they said they'd send one out immediately to replace it. We called on Wednesday; it arrived today. I'm impressed with their service. They even sent me a label to send the broken one back. I assume they'll fix it, recondition it, and resell it as a used unit. Fine by me. My new one is charged, loaded with books and a subscription to the LA Times, and ready to roll. I missed it and am glad to have a new one. I'm so looking forward to sitting on one of my decks with my morning coffee and reading the paper or a book. Life should always be that horrible.

As for Thanksgiving, well ... I guess I'm a Commie. I've never liked the holiday and rarely have had much to be thankful for. Even during the good years, something always came up that soured the whole thing. This year, though, is different. Even though we didn't go to Mom's, I roasted us a chicken, made some parmesan pasta and corn, and thought about all the things which have happened this year. All in all, it's been a pretty good one. The best thing, though, is that we're changing our lives completely, and I think we both really need it. Hubster is really excited about the move and even happier that we'll be near LA, but not living IN it. We're also close to San Diego and all the oceanside communities, as well as the ocean itself. Then we can come home to sanity. I'm giving up a car for a bike. We're leaving everything I've ever known and moving somewhere I swore I'd never move to. And before anybody asks, no ... I'm not telling our daughter where we're going. I don't even know that I'll tell her we're moving. I have half a mind to just snatch the kids and take them with us. That would put her tits in a knot. I haven't spoken to her in a while, but I understand that she spent T-Day with mom and grandma and even cooked dinner. That fries my ass. She does all this shit over many years, and they just act like nothing has happened and welcome her back. Not me ... not this time. I can't. My shields have gone up because I have to protect myself from her. She's hurt me too often in the past, and I won't let her do it to me again. So anyway, yes ... we have a lot to be thankful for this year. That doesn't mean I have to eat turkey. Don't like it, never have, never will, unless it's slathered with mayo in a sandwich. Even so, I still prefer ham.

Heh ... ZZTop is on TV. I still like them. They're singing "Pearl Necklace". Not my favorite, but it's still a good driving song.

I mentioned about the jeans up above, so I guess I should explain that fiasco. Harley seems to realize that a lot of the broads who ride (or are hog whores) have BIG asses, so they make their clothing up to size 3X. I had to get a leather jacket and chaps (you know, for that memorable time I'll blog about in the future when I dump the bike and turn into a giant road rash), so I started looking for a matched set. I have to pretend I look good. Anyway, I found this very cool fringed jacket, and they had the chaps to match. The even better part is that they had both of them in my size. Then I found a pair of jeans in the sales section, so I grabbed what I thought was my size and one size larger, grabbed Sylvia (my lovely salesgirl), and headed for the dressing room.

You have to understand something about me. When I say I hate clothes, I mean it. I HATE them. I hate everything about the clothes-buying ritual: the selection, the guessing of sizes, the trying-on of said garments, the deep depression which comes from realizing just how horrible you really look and how big said clothing is. Anyway, I tried on the first pair of jeans - the ones in the size I've worn for years. Uh ... nope. Not a chance. I couldn't even bring the two ends of the waist together in order to button them. Shit. I knew it ... I knew they wouldn't fit ... but I had deluded myself into thinking that I was still a cow, not a heifer. Heavy sigh. So I peeled them off (when they were tight on my thighs as I was pulling them up, I realized this wasn't going to happen), and put the next pair on. Whew. I'm still a mini-heifer, so I buttoned them up and looked. Not bad. They held my gut in and made me look semi-presentable. As for the jacket, it fit perfectly, even with the boobage factor. The chaps fit like a dream. They're not the easiest things in the world to put on (it's a rather involved process, but I'm sure I'll get it in no time), and that's where Sylvia came in. She fitted them on me, showed me how to get the length right, where the part that goes around your waist should sit, blah blah blah. Long story short, decked out in my leathers, I felt good. Natural. This is how the big dude meant for it to be - me decked out in glorious black cowhide with fringe. Yep. So I plunked them on the counter and forked over the credit card. Uh ... shit. The bill came to over $700. Oh well. One must pay the price to be safely dressed and stylish at the same time. What it boils down to is that the other jackets were fugly. Give me fringe any day. Combine that with my leather fetish (I love the way biker leathers smell - they're that really heavy cowhide to take the punishment of the road instead of your skin), and you've got the makings of a very expensive little hobby. At least I only buy clothes once a year, and that's under protest. I've got underwear so old that the elastic in the body of them gave out a decade ago, so when I inhale, they shoot straight up my ass.

The really horrible thing which happened this week is that I was knitting and fell asleep. No big deal, right? Not normally. But this time, Hubster didn't rescue my work from my hands (see the next paragraph). Emma jumped up on the chair to lay next to me, and we snoozed together. However, at some point during the night, she woke up and saw what I was holding. She removed it from my hands (she's a sneaky little thief), and when I woke up, she was merrily chomping away on a pile of kinked yarn with little sticks imbedded in it. I looked at it (it was out of focus because I'm getting blind as a bat and had just awakened, but I could make out what it was), snatched it away from her, and saw that she had not only ruined the yarn but broken all three DPN's into matchsticks. Then I freaked out even more because I realized that the fourth one was missing. It was bad enough that she destroyed them - they're the ones I can't get anymore, the ones made by Golding - but if she had eaten that fourth needle, there was a high probability of it piercing her esophagus or some other internal organ and doing a LOT of damage, possibly fatal. So I woke up Hubster, chewed his ass out for not taking my work away from me, and then we embarked on a search for the missing needle. I slid the chair away from the wall and there it was, lying unharmed on the floor. So then I had to tear the house apart looking for another set (I knew I had more than what was out on the table) and finally found a brand-new set tucked away in my knitting bag. WHEW. I've now got about three spares and the good set. I keep thinking that I have more of them, but I don't know how many I've purchased over the past several months. If there are more, they're in my studio, and I'll find them when we get all the boxes and bins out of there as the truck is being loaded. I'm guarding this set like the crown jewels. As for the ruined yarn, I've got more than enough to make the pair of socks, so I just cut away the ruined part and started over. It's a good thing I like doing ribbing because I have 2" of it on these socks and had almost finished it when Emma began eating everything. I hate when shit like that happens.

So that's been my week. Now I'm going to plunk down in the Monster, have Emma jump up there with me, and watch TV while I knit my latest pair of socks out of that glorious Wooly Boully. I'm sure that at some point, I'll fall asleep with my work in my hands. Hubster will gently remove it and put it away, and then I'll wake up in a few hours, pick it up again, and we'll repeat this little ritual throughout the night.

It don't get any better than that, dudes.

New Shopfront is Up and Running

2008-11-20T11:34:00.000-08:00

Take a look at the shop - we're finally making progress! I'll be working all day putting new artists up on the site. I had hoped to have this all done by last Saturday, but you know how that goes. Then we lost our server for a total of three days, including yesterday, and it had to be reconfigured again early this morning. We're golden now, though.

Have fun... and let me know what you think. :)

Wow... Mondays are Getting Weirder... and Sunday News, Too

2008-11-18T18:44:00.000-08:00

Let's start with this weekend, shall we?

I got my voice back just enough so I didn't sound like a croaking frog when I spoke, so off we went to our appointment at the Harley dealer (the one I spoke of in my last post). Our trusty salesman, Louie, was waiting for us and took us to see the model I had in mind. I had enough money to pay cash for it, so I took a good look to make sure it was what I wanted. Something told me to look at the other models in that particular color (it turns out that the color I wanted was available from October through December of the year, and that's it), so we wandered into the dealership to look at the five models they had painted like that (it's a custom, and the dealerships only got one of each style in it). Anyway, I immediately gravitated towards the Softail Deluxe - a retro-looking bike with wide whitewalls, full fenders, and all kinds of other cool doodads on it. I heard Hubster groan when he realized that was most likely the bike we were going to go home with. After sitting on it, drooling over it, and telling Hubster how much I loved it, we heard a roar behind us. We turned around and saw Louie riding that very bike into the showroom in that gorgeous purple (which really isn't purple at all - the color is called Blue Ice/Black Ice). That did it. I sat on it and didn't get back off until Hubster said to get the loan application papers.

Now, you all know my credit woes. The likelihood of our getting a bike/auto loan, especially in today's financial environment, was nil to you're full of shit. But being the idiots we are, we filled everything out and sent Louie into Finance with it. After a 20-minute wait and many ciggies, we got the news that if all the info on the application was correct (meaning Hubster's salary), we were approved. All we had to do was bring in a pay stub (and we also had to make a really hefty down payment). So I said good-night to my sweet ride, we had dinner, and came home. Hubster printed out three pay stubs, including one for last year, one for last month, and one for his last pay period. We had told the dealership that we would bring all the paperwork in on Sunday. Now came a horrifying wait, especially since what Hubster said he made every two weeks wasn't what his pay stubs said. Fortunately for me, I slept through the entire evening - this damn flu thing is holding on, and any activity during the day wipes me out.

Fast-forward to Sunday. Louie was again waiting for us when we arrived, so we took our paperwork to the powers that be and waited for their verdict. It turns out that there wasn't any problem at all, so we added a Lo-Jack to the bike (I have it on my T-Bird) and took out a full protection plan (not something we normally do, but we felt it would be a good idea for a bike). After signing the papers (and marveling that WE had gotten a LOAN!), the bike was all mine!! Then the nice lady who was our finance person, Julie, told me to go upstairs and pick out a helmet - the store would buy it for me as a thank-you. Since I was going to change helmets anyway, I went upstairs and chose a more suitable brain bucket. Then it was on to the Parts Department, where my bike was sitting with a "SOLD" sign taped to the gas tank (heh) to order some engine bars (they protect you and the bike if you dump it). That done, I got my Harley Christmas special - five large pewter bikes of the 90's (special editions, I think), all mounted in a lovely shadow box. Whew. I hauled all my loot to the truck, sat my happy ass down, we went to dinner, and I promptly fell asleep as soon as we got home. Too much excitement for one day. I had to be up at 4:00 a.m., though, in order to get ready in time to leave for the prison.

This time, we didn't sleep through the alarm, so we had a cuppa and got ready to go. No problems getting there, but when I got to the guard station, no Bill. The guard told me that he said he would be right back and to wait. After waiting 45 minutes, he still hadn't shown up, so I decided to take the taxi to the sally port and then walk the rest of the way, hoping Bill would get the message I had left him and pick me up along the way. Nope. I got checked in and walked onto the yard, but it looked and felt different. My boys weren't there, and a lot of the inmates were new. First, I got approached by one guy who said that I looked like a lot of fun. I made a smart-ass remark, and he told me that he wanted a taste of me. Holy shit... definitely not people who knew I belonged to a group. Then, as I passed a picnic table full of younger inmates (in their 20's, I would say), they began smirking while one of them put his hand to his crotch and made a jacking-off motion. What? I just stared him down and kept walking, hearing them all chortle as I passed. Then I opened the chapel door and ran right into one of my boys. He had been on the yard; however, he thought I wasn't coming (I was really late because of Bill), so he had gone into the chapel to tell everyone I wasn't there and was just leaving. It turns out that all my boys were waiting for me but seemed a bit peeved.

After talking things over with them (we had more of a meeting than a class), it became apparent they had been lied to. I won't mention any names, but they hadn't been told I was there when I showed up and couldn't see them, the group was being slowly dismantled (two of them were missing, one never to return), and another was being fired from his position as clerk. When I initially walked into the chapel, Bill was sitting there with his new clerks passing the time of day. I tore into him while he backpedaled and said that my message said I'd be there in five minutes. From the main gate? Huh? I don't think so.

Class over, I asked Bill if he was driving me back; he told me he had to get the cart. The yard was cleared because there had been a stabbing right in front of it while we were inside, so my boys couldn't hang out with me; they had to have an escort come get them and take them back to their cells. I told the guard that two of them were walking me back to the entry door, so off we went, not bothering to wait for Bill. I didn't even bother to say good-bye to him. I think I'll walk the last two visits rather than depend on him; I'm so angry with him that I could strangle him myself. One of my boys had, in fact, gone into his office that morning and ripped him a new one because they found out about a bunch of other lies Bill had told. Things aren't good there. I'll be attending the annual Christmas party (it's conveniently on a Monday), and I think that will be the last time I see my boys for quite a while. I'm keeping my brown card, though, so I can come visit when I'm in town.

I slept all the way home, not even realizing that we had made a few stops (including at my mom's to pick up Emma). Hubster woke me up when we got home, and it took about 15 minutes for me to wake up enough to get out of the truck and into the house. I sat down in the Monster and promptly fell asleep again, waking up around midnight. After taking my pills, I was awake for another hour and that ended my evening.

Today has been spent sleeping and trying to get insurance quotes for the bike (our company quoted $8K/year). I don't think so. The dealership is working on that because the payments would be around $700/month with the other quote. We can't afford that, and we have to carry full coverage because of the loan. I'm hoping this doesn't turn into a cluster fuck, which would mean Hubster would get really uh... difficult to live with. I know it won't be cheap, but that's ridiculous. It was partly because of the accident I had last year in the truck, but they already raised our rates for that. Now they're trying to penalize us twice. Sigh. Nothing is ever easy. Even if I could give back the bike (there's a paper you have to sign which says that California doesn't have a second-thought option), I wouldn't. Our monthly payment on the bike plus our new house payment is less than what we're paying now for rent, but we just can't add any more to that number. Shit.

So now I'm working on getting orders out and the shop finished. I haven't seen hide nor hair of the magazine, so I don't know who (if anybody) has received their copies of it. I do know that it will be out any day now, so I'm working as fast as I can to finish this up. Hubster was putting the finishing touches on the new shopfront when he began having trouble with our server, so he's on the phone right now to try and figure the problem out. I won't ask what else can go wrong because, sure as shit, something will.

If you hear screaming from the Bay Area, you know that I was stupid enough to ask that question and yet another thing has gone wrong at Chez Goddess.

All Hard Work Does is Make You Sick

2008-11-15T00:42:00.000-08:00

Hubster and I have been working like fiends all week, trying to get everybody listed and the new storefront operational before later today when IK hits the stands. So other than feeling like a total failure, what happened?

A few things, not the least of which was the flu.

Yes, the good old-fashioned, barf until your guts are heaving and you wish you were dead, bodily fluids running out of both ends so fast that all you can do is shit every time you barf into the bucket between your feet, a body so sore that it hurts to blink, gotta love it flu. And I was the proud recipient of this lovely illness all week. Sigh. The other things that happened were minor compared to that: a computer that wouldn't work for a while, too many vendors to list in the amount of time I had left (I always overestimate how much I can get done in a given amount of time), and other assorted and sundry problems which were easy enough to fix but took up precious time.

Today, I finally felt pretty good. I was able to drive over to KaratStix's house to pick up new stock for the store. It was a great day to drive across the San Mateo Bridge (it sits right on the water for the vast majority of the span - it's a weird feeling, but I've grown up with it and love it) with the top down on the Bird, the sun beating down on my head and shoulders (it was 86 - holy shit), smelling that salt air as I raced along doing 80 mph (I swear, I didn't know I was going that fast), the radio churning out Led Zepplin and other classic rock tunes. The drive back was just as much fun. I got home, put the new stock in the house, and we decided to go out to dinner. On the way, Hubster jokingly remarked that he was looking forward to sleeping for four hours when we got home. I jokingly said that I was looking forward to sitting down and knitting. Heh.

You know what happened, right?

Let's just say there was no knitting involved. Let's also take this a step further and say that when I cracked my beady little eyes open, it was midnight, I was sitting in the same position I sat down in when we got home, and my feet and ankles were swollen to the size of weather balloons. Ohhh SHIT.

So here I sit at 1:00 a.m., nothing done yet, tired to the bone and, worse yet, feeling like shit again. I have two choices at this juncture: I can work all night getting what stock I can up on the site and get really sick all over again, or I can pack it in and sleep for the rest of the night, get up at a decent hour and work until its time to leave for my 3 p.m. appointment. Where am I going that's so damned important? More on that in a minute. For the time being, suffice it to say that I don't think I'm going to try and get more stock listed tonight. I think the wise thing to do is to stop pushing myself so hard and rest. I think the best thing for everyone concerned is to go blow my nose AGAIN and curl up in my chair. If I get really sick again, I'll be of no use to anybody. I can get a whole lot more done in a shorter amount of time when I feel good than I can when I'm running to worship at the porcelain god every 15 minutes. So to those of you who are still waiting to see your work listed, take heart: I'm on the home stretch. Hubster is at this very minute putting the finishing touches on his masterpiece and then doing beta testing. All will be well, everything will get done, and I'll be well enough to go see my boys on Monday and try to explain to them why I'll only be seeing them three more times. I don't have a clue how I'll be able to tell them that. Sigh.

So the all-important appointment. Hubster and I will climb in the truck at 2 p.m. and head down the freeway until we get to Lathrop. Once we get there, I'll be walking through the doors of a lovely shop I visited a week or so ago and selecting one of five...

PURPLE HARLEYS!

No, I haven't sold my car yet. My mother loaned me the money so I could get the bike I wanted before they sold out (yeah, right... all they can sell right now are helmets if they're not the really good ones). Anyway, I did want to be sure that I got the bike I could handle, the one that made my heart go pitter-pat, the one that... oh hell, I'm buying the bike I want without having to settle for what's left. That's why she gave me the money before my car sold. This purple is wicked, too - it turns into a cobalt blue depending on what angle you're looking at it from. I just have to be sure that I can pick it up if I dump it and it isn't too big to fit between my legs (that'll be the first time in history that something has the potential to be too big to fit between MY legs). Ahem.

I'm signed up for their class in December (I think I told you how the Harley class - "Rider's Edge" - is so much better than the one I was signed up for), so once I'm finished with the final night of classroom work and test-taking, I'll ride my new toy home from the dealership. They'll keep it there for me until I'm able to ride it (they also have free home delivery, but I have nowhere to store it in our dinky one-car garage). I want a few things done to it - maybe a sissy bar for my passenger (looking at Sheryl across the pond and waving - I have a helmet for you, darlin'!), maybe a set of bars that keep the bike from sliding across the pavement on the gas tank if you dump it, definitely saddlebags, maybe a new instrument cluster. It all depends on which one I buy and what comes with it. I'm looking hard at the Sportster - easy enough for me to handle, but not too good on the comfort level for longer trips - and the Heritage Softtail Classic (the bike I've always wanted - they have this ultra-cool retro one with big fenders and wide white-walled tires), which is a much heavier bike but is designed for touring. I think what I may wind up will be between those two. I just need something that I can ride on the freeway if necessary; the majority of my trips will be around town. They were right at the dealership, though, and it wasn't selling you the most expensive bike they could bullshit - the bigger bikes are much safer than scooters. As cute as the scooters are, you can't see or hear them when you're in a car with the radio blasting. You can always hear a Harley coming. Thank goodness for American-made iron horses. Besides, my boys would shit a major brick if I bought an Italian scooter when I could have bought a Harley. I still expect to find some tricked-out custom bike sitting in my driveway one morning when I go outside to get the paper, courtesy of one of my motley crew who's getting out next year.

So it's to the chair for the duration. I'll get up around 9 a.m., work until we have to leave, and then stop at Borders to see if the magazine is on their stands yet. Even though I subscribe to it, I want a copy I can keep pristine. It IS my first ad in a major rag, after all. Besides, I refuse to be sick all weekend. It would screw up my Harley-buying trip. It would fuck up my prison visit. It would make me a very unhappy broad for the entire weekend.

'Scuse me while I go worship.