Like Lady Linoleum, I love Halloween! It's the one day of the year you can dress-up in a costume and no one will think you odd. For one night strange neighborhood children will come to your door and you'll give them free candy—or, you can take your dressed-up self and wander the streets with your bag and collect a booty of sugary-wealth to consume until a parental figure says you'll get sick if you keep eating too much candy.
It is a time to decorate your house in festive lights, carve a pumpkin, and consider for a moment (even if subconsciously) the realm of the dead and all things spookable.
Our first year in The Pearl House I was pleased with my 60-something little ghosts and ghouls who honored my doorstep seeking free sugar. It was the first time in my life I got to play "the adult" role of handing out delicious candy. I loved every moment of it. I didn't have a costume to wear, so I made one up (I think). Then last year I splurged and bought a cheap (well, not so cheap) Wal-Mart sorceress dress and haunting cape! (That's me up above)
I also buy those "master carver" patterns as you can see that Pooky can really do a good job with them. I have to stick to the ones that have large spaces, so I mostly make moons out of my pumpkin. He has a knack for all of that. And he also has a knach for consuming large quantities of sugar without ill effects. I am amazed at his prowess to snarf down countless Tootsie™ rolls without looking green.
Our second year at The Pearl House word had spread that I was a candy-giving maven and I had 70-something visitors. This year I'm aiming for 100. The trick is to figure out two things: 1) how much candy to buy for the kids; 2) how much candy to buy for Pooky. He pouted last year when I gave out all of the candy. Mind you, he had been given two 3½ bags to enjoy prior to the holiday!
So come one, come all! Walk down the pumpkin lit way to The Pearl House and knock on The Shrone's door. Be greeted with a cackle and a whopping handful of treats! Celebrate the season with jack o'lanterns and don your best costume. Grab a large bag and roam the neighborhood and be kindly rewarded for your efforts. And if we're lucky the light of the full moon will shine to guide the way.
Take heed, for Halloween is the kick-off for Thanksgiving and then the Yule, and last but not least, the New Year!
I called my mother to tell her I had been sick which is why I didn't go to her yarn shop on Saturday. She brings up the subject of my brother because she went to look at pictures his wife posts online of their children and family. My mother started in on her usual critcisms about his wife, about him, about his children.
She continued on with other issues she had regarding him, and as I was listening to her I realized that she was expecting him to act one way, but that she wasn't reciprocating the behavior she expected of him. I construed her as saying one thing, but then doing another. Specifically, she was carrying on how she really didn't care if she didn't have a relationship with him, yet her actions were stating something different.
Instead of just telling her what trends I was picking up on, I first asked her if she'd like some feedback about what she all had been saying. For a brief moment I was in my LIOS mode and putting to use all of last year's edu-ma-cation I've received for $40,000.
She said she would hear my feedback. When I gave it to her she wouldn't listen to what I had to say. (Many people are like that, but I realize I was hoping she would be open to hearing my perceptions.) Is it threatening to be told: I think you are saying one thing, but doing another?
I guess I'm too used to the LIOS crowd and the circle of people I associate with who can tolerate this type of feedback. I've been spoiled. Yet, I thought my mother would be open to it as she watches Dr. Phil, Orpah, etc. and is into self-help books.
I kept saying to her that all I wanted to do was help her reconnect with my brother and offering to her some advice that would help her accomplish that. I said she didn't seem to be very clear about what she really wanted out of the relationship with my brother, and that if she did get clear about it, get her thoughts and actions into synch, she would find it would be easier to connect with him.
She told me that people don't think about relationships like that. Some do, and for those that don't, subconsciously they do. I said sometimes people don't need to state their boundaries or needs, but sometimes you do, but in order to move ahead getting clear about what you want is important. She would have none of it. She resorted to denial as a defense.
Then she pulled out the old artillery that I was thinking she was crazy and nuts and her tone got really angry, and I said that I didn't feel that way at all, I was only offering to help her. Then she pulled out another missile that she could hear the hatred and hostility in my voice, that I really hated her. I said if she wanted to paint that story about me and she wanted that to be her truth, she could say that, but I said that I didn't feel that way at all about her, and that maybe instead of assuming and judging how I felt, it would be better to ask me and trust that how I felt is honest. Truthfully, I was on the verge of laughing and was holding back because it would have been inappropriate to laugh at the way she was carrying on.
And she was carrying on. She was going in circles. At every turn she was running like mad to avoid everything I was saying. In my opinion, I wasn't saying anything that was threatening to her. I tried to keep a calm and steady voice.
I feel very sad that she can't hear what I had to say. She is apparently in a place where she is "happy" and she doesn't want to change. (She even says she is old now and isn't going to change.) That really saddens me even more because at any moment in our lives we hold the power to change and undergo metamorphosis and transform ourselves into an entirely new person. To think this way at 62 is something I cannot conceive. I will not give up improving myself, ditch my curiosity about life, or kill my inner child, until I draw my last breath!
The psychoanalyst in me says she is probably taking this tact because if she declares she is too old to change, then by golly, she doesn't have to do the work it would take to get over it all! It is so much easier and takes no energy not to change, but this I feel is an illusion people create for themselves. In reality, they are resisting, and I experienced in a very useful exercise in class that resisting takes far more energy than to go with the flow. There is also the illusion that it is everybody around who needs to change and conform to our needs and expectations and that we are fine and don't need to change, when the reality is, if you have a problem with someone else, it is really you who has the problem.
And going with the flow of life means changing! All around us Nature is going through her changes, her cycles. Mountains are made and then erode and new ones get made elsewhere. The landscape that you see in your own back yard wasn't there 100,000 years ago, nor was it there a million years ago. We will never see the dramatic changes that Nature makes because our time is vastly different than Nature's.
But even in our own short time on this earth, change still comes to us. Sometimes we plan for those changes, but often they come abruptly and disrupt our lives. Then we struggle to find a new equilibrium for awhile until the next one comes.
Sometimes it takes for our world to be turned upside down for us to see things from a new perspective. It often takes for us to go through a change to incite us to do things differently, to see them from a different perspective.
I believe that I upset my mother enough that hopefully she may look at the situation in a new way, but if she is too perturbed she will shrink back and refuse to take a new look at things. From that $40K edu-ma-cation I've been receiving, we talked about this very thing. I didn't intent to shake up her world, but that's the way things go.
For some silly reason which I have no words to explain, I still love and care about my mother in a deep way. With all of the crazy stunts she has pulled, all of the shit she has unloaded on me, I still stay with her. Many people tell me that long ago they would have told her good-bye, but that is not me. I don't give up on people that easily.
I shouldn't be shocked by her reaction, but I am. That's why I am writing this post. It is my intent that by writing his, I can let my shockedness go. And I can take comfort in the thought that very soon people will be seeking me to give them the feedback they want, that they will listen to what I have to say, and maybe they will get upset, and maybe they won't, but the best thing of all about this is they will pay me $80/hr for it!
I awoke Friday morning feeling a sense of general malaise, and I thought it was the onset of a cold, so I medicated myself appropriately. I settle myself into the futon and tried to watch TV, but sleep won out. I awoke around 6pm and felt very achy and peculiar. I took my temperature. It was 101.5°.
Then later I started throwing up. Pooky said I probably had caught the flu, but I thought about it in my foggy head that it could be a sneaky urinary tract infection. To test my theory I started taking an antibiotic I had leftover. I soon started feeling less feverish, but the vomitting and nausea persisted.
Finally by Monday the antibiotic had started to win the battle of the germs, but my stomach still felt wicked. I was eating little bits. Last night I finally started to feel myself again.
Today I'm back in the saddle again, but still feel weak and weary. I've got to get a shower today. There is a distinct ripe odor developing within the crevices of my body. My hair has that "I've been sick look" to it.
By now the bathroom heater has hopefully gotten the chill out and I'll begin the process of returning back to normal life. I just want it to be known: I HATE BEING SICK!
If you read knitting blogs then you probably know about their version of Secret Pals that they run. They are up to their 6th round of this type of exchange. I see now that they permit crocheters to join, but their questionnaire is still knitter oriented.
I was reading their rules for participation, and I think they have something going that C'Ville might want to model. First of all, a blog is mandatory. You must have one in order to participate. This allows the person you are being a pal to to find out who you are.
They have set their spending limit at $50. This include shipping as well as hours spent making something, and giving bought items. I think that is a more realistic amount over three months.
Instead of having one person work as coordinator, they have a handful. It's needed because they have so many exchangees. If/when the C'Ville secret pal signs up, may be we who belong, and consider borrowing these ideas? Just a thought...
I feel bummed I missed the sign up. I've subscribed to the SP6 blog to find out the details of SP7. I need to be a secret pal or sistah to somebody. My life is dull without it!
We took Mr. B in to be seen by the vet this afternoon because his listlessness continued and both eyes were leaking. The inner eye lid (that white membrane inside of a cat's eye) was all red and puffy. Poor Mr. B was running a temperature and so the vet prescribed a course of antibiotics and some eye ointment to be applied twice a day.
Why oh why must cats ever need to be ointmented or medicated? Do vets understand the reality of ever getting a pill down a cat or getting ointment into one of their eyes? They know the tricks to doing this and make it look so easy so you get this false sense of confidence that you too can get the cat to swallow a pill or not shred you to bits as you get too much ointment onto every surface but the eye!
Smee and Stash also have leaky eyes with redness so the vet said to also medicate their eyes with the ointment. I'm either going to become really good at apply ointment or suck at it.
The bill came to $68 because the ointment was a slick $25. The office visit was only $32 and the pills $10. (If my math doesn't add up to $68 it is because I rounded some numbers.)
Mr. B seemed slightly more perky after the first pill given to him by the vet. He still hisses at the kittens. I got him a new grooming brush and managed to make his fur look a bit glossy and tamed. His tail still looks ragged. What he really needs is a professional grooming, but I dread doing that for two reasons: First, he'll need to be sedated in order to be washed and groomed; Second, the cost is most likely outrageous. I have no idea how much is charged to sedate and groom a cat. Plus, I'm sure you tip the groomer just as you would your beautician.
Tonight's feline antic I could have done without: Smee got up on the koi fish tank and managed to knock the make-shift wooden lid into the water. He wasn't terribly submerged, more scared than anything, so he sailed across a remarkable distance to land into one of my crochet storage tubs. It was rather funny how he just flew off of the tank and landed rather "splat" into the tub!
He then returned to the base of the tank and kept roaming around it as if he had unfinished business! I kept screaming at him to go away and was gently moving him away with my foot. He finally got the idea to vacate the premises.
Additional feline news: I got them two bags of their favorite Tuna crunchies treats. One bag has been devoured. The Corkscrew doesn't care for them, but the remaining 4 (all tuna eaters) couldn't get enough of them! We also bought a third litter box as I think having an additional one will help keep the two boxes already in use from filling up so quickly. I think I should at least get one litter box for each cat. It's a theory that I'm willing to test.
Non-feline related news: I'm going to christen the Kitchen-Aid mixer by making a pound cake! I bought the ingredients I needed and shall have Pooky show me how to use the mixer since I've never ever used one in my life. I've always used hand mixers. My mom never owned a stand mixer so I'm clueless how they actually used.
Pooky announced that work was hosting a potluck dinner to say good-bye to a temporary manager. He said from what he heard people were going to bring in donuts and chips, no one really bringing in actual food, so I suggested I could make some spaghetti or I could make mac n' cheese. He said to go with the mac n'cheese so I made the recipe as given to us by Good Eats.
Follow-up: I called the local mental health agency I sent my resume to and although the director said he didn't recall receiving my letter, he did recall my name. He said to e-mail him my resume and internship requirements, so I did. He said that he wanted to know where my areas of interest were since they have more than one clinical supervisor, and some internship positions are already filled. He said once he receives my information, I should hear directly from the appropriate clinical supervisor and I'll go through an interview process similar to being hired for a job.
He seemed to be very positive about me becoming an intern. I said that currently I'm not sure when I could start an internship. I could begin in January if my professors allow me to switch to Winter track, or I informed him I may not be able to start until next June or September. He said that would be all right. I just wonder where the letter I sent him went? I know often secretaries will open the mail and just toss something if they think it isn't worthwhile. Of course it has been a full month since I sent the letter, and I explained I had unexpected surgery. He was OK with that.
Last but not least: My dad sent me a $50 gift card from Amazon.com so I got a new toaster—one that is wide enough for bagels. Pooky complains about the toaster we have: it only toasts regular bread. I was going to buy a bagel guillotine, but since it wasn't shipping directly from Amazon.com, I would have to pay over $8 in shipping charges, so I figured that will be something I pick-up in a kitchen gadget store. What I got instead was a boxed set of cookbooks by Paula Deen. I'm hoping to learn the ways of southern cooking, and what mojo she uses to keep from weighing 600 pounds.
As a dedicated feline maintenance worker of over twenty years, I have identified and categorized a syndrome unique to Felis domestica, which I have named Feline Gastric Inversion Syndrome (FGIS).
There are five distinguishable stages of this syndrome which are outlined as follows:
Stage 1: Forlorn and Pitiful Looks
The sydrome begins when the food dish is almost or completely empty. Felis domestica will notice that status of the food dish which prompts them to behave with dis-ease and looking up at the feline maintenance worker with a pitiful or forlorn expression that indicates they are aware that the kibble or tuna bowl has become depleted.
At this stage the brain of Felis domestica transmits a neurological signal that activates specialized receptors within the stomach lining that subsequently produce a hormone that will commence a type of muscle contraction that results in the final gastric conversion at the end of Stage 5.
The stomach may still contain food recently eaten, but this hardly matters to the awareness of Felis dometica. A depleted food dish indicates that the entire world is now void of any nourishment. If the situation is allowed to continue, Stage 2 will follow within one to two hours.
Stage 2: Vocalization
If the feline maintenance worker has failed to replenish the food dish, Felis domestica will emit short to sustained vocalizations, commonly referred to as "caterwauling" in the attempt to rouse the worker into dispensing more food.
The muscular contractions of Stage 1 intensify while any contents of the stomach is rapidly emptied. The stomach of Felis domestica in this stage is preparing to undergo a phenominal tranformation of turning itself inside out.
Stage 3: "Dying"
The vocalizations can escalate to the point where the Felis domestica will sound as if it is "dying". The previous facial expression of Stage 1 will also be employed to culminate in a fanastic display of misery and imminent death.
If you provide maintenance to multiple members of Felis domestica, they will begin to swarm. Swarming can also include Felis domestica to suddenly drop and roll into a supine position exposing the abdomen region for petting.
The stomach has cramped sufficiently to cause the ends of the stomach to roll up that will ripple across the organ and will induce the inversion.
Stage 4: Last Resort: Love Attack
If food has not been dispensed at this critical, life-threatening stage, Felis domestica will lapse into a "wild" phase of part attack and part unrelenting affection. Death is imminent if food isn't immediately dispensed. Using the last reserve of energy as a last ditch effort, Felis domestica will rub against the legs and accessable body parts of the maintenance worker in an overly loving and affection manner with loud, ceaseless purring, trilling, and "big eyes", with shameless displays of the abdomen for rubbing. All acts of an affectionate nature by Felis domestica will continue until food is dispensed. The love and affection will feel like lint sticking to a velvet coat.
The stomach, now partially inverted, rubs against the sharp, bony spine of Felis domestica. As the stomach rubs against the backbone, Felis domestica is acutely aware of the gastric inversion process.
Stage 5: Death or Slaying
If Felis domestica is deprived of food past Stage 4, then death or slaying will commence. If the gastric inversion is complete, resulting in the total inversion of the gastric organ, Felis domestica will spontaneously and ceremoniously succumb to death.
If the gastric inversion is incomplete, Felis domestica will kill the maintenance worker in cold blood as it sleeps. A blood bath will be discovered by the authorities when the neighbors complain of a sharp, ripe odor polluting the neighborhood. Felis domestica will be hiding and most likely will resist capture for the crimes committed.
Warning: Do not let Stage 5 be reached!
Cute as can be, kittens are playful, mischevious, and ever-curious. Like you, kittens hate getting wet. Kittens are often loving, but are known to scratch or bite when annoyed. These adorable animals are the most popular pets in the United States--37% of American households have at least one cat. Whether it is your gentle purr or your disarming appearance, you make a wonderful kitten.You were almost a: Monkey or a Bear Cub
You are least like a: Bunny or a SquirrelWhat Cute Animal Are You?
Found on April's blog
Mark That Stitch!
Here are the three lovely sets of markers I received from my 3 swap partners. In order, they are from Shari (sem464), Kelly (kellyv), and Kari (hariholtz). Thank you gals! (Kari, I'll be sending yours out to you with the Shrone package once you have moved & give out your new address.)
Secret Pal Package!
My secret pal sent me a box of goodies that I received on last Friday. She included a ball of blue Patons Divine and two balls of Burgundy Brilliant. I have to think what I will make with these wonderful yarns! I love the sun windchime and it will fit in well in my "spiritual room" where we have a moon/sun/celestial theme. Also included was a wonderfully scented votive candle and a stick of lip gloss from Burt's Bees.
I ♥ everything you've sent to me—the cards and little goodnesses tucked inside to your e-mails that have cheered me up! Thank you, Secret Pal!
My Entries
The Competition That Won
It took me a few looks at the two winning doilies the realize it was the exact same pattern but done in different sized threads. I think the smaller, white doily was made in size 100 thread. The larger one done in size 10.
Does this "kristy pup" corn dog remind you of perhaps a body part your husband has, or maybe a toy you keep in your top dresser drawer that runs on two D batteries?
Fer the rest of ye fair bonnie lasses (and lads) you had the pleasure of celebratin' National Talk Like A Pirate Day, but for the likes of me, it was me burf-day! If I be worth me weight in gold according to my age—alas, I have no idea what this means! I might be stinkin' rich or just a silly lass tryin' to sound pirate-y after a long day at The Fair.
But I knows what ye are all dying to hear: How did your fair Shrone fair at the Fair? She landed 2nd place ribbons on both entries! That means to ye common folk that I also get some booty (prize money)! I'll be receivin' the vast sum o' $8 for me winning efforts.
The doily that took home first place, best in category, and grand champion, was a 1917 pattern done in what looked like size 100 thread. It wasn't a difficult pattern, but the one the judges liked because it also was used (by a different person) in the larger doily category and took first prize. I am anxious to find out where I lost points on both doilies so I can improve my scores. Last year I heeded the comments made and went up by a place. Now I just need to find what makes a doily a first place doily, and possibly, a grand champion doily.
I looked over the baby clothing winners and the judges favored crocheted monstrosities once again, so I don't have high hopes for my stylish romper set to get above an honorable mention, but I will still enter it anyway with the hopes to show the world that not all baby crocheted items are hideous and made out of Red Heart Super Saver. (Please, if you use RHSS, discontinue this practice. Invest in at least Lion Brand and your projects will look better.)
I will post pictures later, and also announce special birthday Shrone Award recipients! There's three lucky gals about to become part of the ranks! Be anxiously glued to your inboxes to see if you've received that all-important e-mail from me!
I'm no longer upset by my dreams like I was Saturday night/morning. I was having a strange reaction to reality even without dreaming, but thankfully that has passed thanks to the Ativan leaving my system.
Now this morning my dreams were crochet related. I think I'm thinking crochet because tomorrow I'll find out how the judges rated my two doilies entered into the fair. If I didn't place I'll be fine with it—because I learn from the mistakes I've made because they do give you a score card with comments when you pick up your entries after the fair is over.
Anyhow, my dream began with The Crochet Hospital! In the dream this hospital was in operation in the early 1910s and served ill people up until the 1930s. Why was it called The Crochet Hospital? Well, the patients would be surrounded by crocheted items, like afghans and such, because it was thought the crocheted items would help in the healing process. In the dream I was looking at old photographs of patients having crocheted covers for their casts. It was really strange!
Then I dreamt about my crochet being entered into this competition that involved the Russians, and this very important lady in this competitive crochet world came to me to ask if I'd be interested in participating in this highly renowned event, and I was surprised that she found out about my work, and even thought I was talented enough to be in this competition!
This dream also involved my sister taking a hot bath before me, and then when it was my turn I got into the shower and the water never got hot enough, it was warm to cold water, and I felt that there should have been hot water available because I had waited long enough for the water to heat back up.
Then the dream switched to I was in this little town back in the 1950s and I was part of this girl group that was a bit wild, but all they wanted to do was get married and find a husband. I recall trying to roll a cigarette because someone was a smoker and I said I thought I could do it. I couldn't. One of the girls was very excited to be getting married. It was totally strange!
I don't even want to look up the dream symbols for this odd series of my subconsciousness ramblings. I figure it is a bit obvious that I am thinking about crochet! Now as for the rolling a cigarette and the not enough hot water thing—I'm taking it all a face value!
Friday night I realized I had no more Atavan to take, but I didn't realize how the sudden cut-off from this addictive medication would effect me until I slept and had normal dreams that upset me (everything just felt weird) and I spent all day Saturday feeling weird. The DVD that had arrived was Midnight Cowboy and I think it was a little too odd for me to watch, but did it anyway because the alternative was to continue watching the documentary, The Prize.
The documentary is about the history of crude oil, and how much our glocal economy/society is addicted to the stuff. Kind of makes you feel guilty for driving a car, just being alive and a consumer living in a first world nation. What is insane is third world nation's want to be like us: polluting, glutonous, indulgent, living the "good life".
Last night we did night shopping at Wal-Mart. I was able to walk the whole time and push the cart. I did wear out at the end and had to sit down while waiting to be checked out. What was also another accomplishment was that I was NOT irriated by the fellow shoppers. That's because no one was in my way.
The crack in reality caused by the withdrawal from the Ativan seems to be sealing. Yesterday didn't "feel right" somehow. It's hard to explain, so I won't even try. Today feels more right, but I still feel a bit out of place.
I'll wake up tomorrow and be another year older. Funny how that works. Turning 33 is one of those "who cares how old you are" birthdays because it isn't a milestone birthday like turning 30 or 40. It's just another year aged. I'm happy to report I'm wrinkle-free and still have issues with acne.
One thing about belonging to an online DVD rental club is you come across movies you never heard of, so you take a chance on putting them in your selection list and hope for the best.
I really didn't know what Songcatcher would be about because the brief description/synopsis mentioned it was set in the 1910s and I love period movies. It seemed charming so I took a chance. I wasn't disappointed!
The feel and flavor of the movie reminded me a lot of the short-lived TV series of Christy that was adapted from the novel by the same name, written by Catherine Marshall.
The main character goes into the deep mountains to be with her schoolteacher sister who has set up a school to educate the mountain children. Much to our main character's surprise, who has a doctorate in music, she discovers the mountaineers have carried with them through the generations the old love ballads of their native Scotland and England.
She takes to scientifically recording as many songs as she can acquire from the hesitant mountain folk. Everything seems to be going well for her until it is discovered by two of the mountain men that her sister is seen kissing the other schoolteacher who helped establish the school. The ignorant men burn down the school and in the fire all of the songs are lost.
By then our main character is ready to leave the mountain and return to the life of the outlanders. Her plan is to take her newly found love who sings and plays banjo and guitar and they will sell recordings to people who are finding all things from the mountain people to be quaint and charming.
The songs are sung similarly to those popularized in O Brother, Where Art Thou? and have a catchy quality to them. So check out the movie. I think you will enjoy it!
Run, don't walk to your nearest Trader Joe's and buy all bags of Snow Peas in stock. Then box them up and mail them to Joy because she needs them.
I can get them from an Asian supermarket in Seattle cheaper than what Joe's sells them for and there is Japanese writing all over the bag. It's the exact same snow pea crisp.
Now you may be thinking, these things have got to taste gross! A snack made from snow peas?!?! But they aren't! It's like eating a puff of lightly salty crispness, and no hint of grean pea-ness to be tasted. The flavor is hard to explain, but it is addicting.
I think on my next excursion to Seattle I'm going to have to detour to the Asian market and load up on snow peas. My life hangs in the balance until I do!
Click to see bigger image
I like checking my stat counters to see the search phrases folks use to stumble or find my blog. There are a few this time that have me laughing.
"Sexy ass lori" caught my attention. I'd like to think my ass is sexy. Then there is the phrase "lori likes it". I wonder what it is that I like? Let your mind wander with that one and see where it takes you. I believe "cracked teapot spiritual lady" might be a code phrase for a Shrone. I see I'm not the only one asking how much does Rachey Ray weigh. She has a nice figure for someone who professionally cooks. And the riddle is solve: "pooky smells like poo" reveals the source of the bad smell. All the while we thought it as the litterbox! Actually it is me who is stinky. I showered last Saturday and collapsed onto the floor while trying to towel off. I had used my showering chair and still felt drained. I've since done a few sponge baths. So if anyone is smelling of poo, it is me!