I'll Take I Didn't Pass for $400, Alex
I took the approximately 10 minute long Jeopardy! contestant exam last night as planned. I found ti rather difficult to type in my answer in 15 seconds! Well, I left enough blank that I probably didn't qualify. I was asked 50 questions on 50 different categories. Some stuff was on the tip of my tongue and thought of it after the fact. Sheesh!I went into taking the quiz with a headache and rotten sulky attitude. I was pissed about the appointment with my potential Little Sister being canceled. I don't want to jump to conclusions, but it seemed like the meeting didn't have priority with the father. I don't know their situation, but it just struck me as odd about it being moved to next week.
Then I was boling up inside about the whole going to Module 7 issue, because I really just can't understand what happened with my former classmates, and I don't know if they will tell me what was going on for them at that time. But I also great fear that I've not been the best friend to those who are sick or in need, that I always feel I could be doing more for others, but feel greatly limited by my location, lack of available financial resources, so I don't make phone calls, don't send out little gifts, and really have no excuse about sending e-mails or e-cards other than to say I forget half of the things I set out to do in a day.
I also felt guilty for buying the thread without consulting Pooky first. Since the New Year we agreed not to buy anything without consultation, and I had lived up to that agreement until a moment of extreme need and weakness got the best of me.
Emotionally it was a star-crossed day.
The sun will come out...
Today is better. I killed the moss growing on the side walks with the power washer, sprayed a toxic amount of Weed-B-Gone on the grass and weed in the sidewalk cracks, and decided that I could trick myself into being relatively happy and not grumpy.I get silly at inappropriate times
Lastly, I amused myself in a very bad way. Often when a highly stressful and emotional situation comes up, like the recent incident at C'Ville about someone faking their death, my perverse sense of humor kicks in. I was thinking how it might be very humorous if we all posted our fake obits on our blogs for April Fools' Day. They would have to be written tongue-in-cheek and very Shrone and crochet related, possibly seasoned with cats or non-cat pets. Here's a sample:Lori Carlson, age 92, passed away in her home surrounded by 60 cats. It was determined that the cause of death was due to the fact that she had neglected to keep a supply of tuna and the cats plotted her demise by crocheting an elaborate trap in the style of Rube Goldberg and unleased it upon her early in the morning before she had her first cup of tea and was most oblivious to a network of strings and objects in her path. Surviving her are her 60 cats: Mr. Sperm, Percy Qualm, Buffy Moon, Sir Walter, Mr. Spooker, Lady Godiva, Wendell Barnes, Mary Picadilly, Uncle Stenchy, Olaf the Elder, Eleanor of the Windy Moors, Her Majesty, Dr. Ming, Lord Archibald, Shady Burbon.....
Happy Birthday to My Pair of Eyes
Mr. B was serendaded this morning when he came running down for his can of tuna. He was swooned over and loved, wishing him the best 3rd birthday ever! He was very happy to receive his morning tuna. Later on I gave him some cat snacks because it was his birthday.I've been trying to find him an inexpensive galvanized garbage can. I saw a tiny size one at a store in Bellvue for $20, but figure that because it was a specialty shop they were charging more. Alas, I've not had the chance to look in our local mom & pop hardware stores (yes, they still exist) and see if there isn't an Oscar Can waiting for Mr. B. If I do find him his own little can, I'll stuff it with pillows and soft so he can snuggle inside and hide and sleep and be just a pair of eyes.
Previously Posted
Mr. B is receiving information from the Mother Ship that his 3rd birthday is this coming Friday, March 31st! Now is your chance to send him birthday wishes!
Mr. B enjoys blending in with the darkness and shadows. He is not very social and prefers to glower from atop the cabinets. It is possible that he should have been named Oscar and given a galvanized garbage can to live in. He does resemble Grover when he is in a cute mode.
He is most likely to barf and is allergic to chicken. Upon constant begging he will receive a second can of tuna if there are enough cans stocked in the pantry.
It is definite that he is Second in Command taking orders only from Mr. Doo. He has shown the kittens that he is a black force to be reckoned with. He still will hiss and growl at them when he is in one of his dark moods.
Friends of B
BB * Tiger * Tux * Goofball | Topper * Arnold * Bat * Ash | Andrea | Elle Marz | Misfit | Kari * David * The Boy and Hambut | Spooky | Lena * Kit-Kat & Stacey | Ryaira
Ode to B by Elle Marz
Mr. B
how I worship THEE
in your black fur
so fluffy and demur
with your eyes a-glower
you have evil power
but you cannot be seen
you are so keen
how I worship THEE
Mr. B
Your fan,
Elle
One Day Left To Vote!!
A grand thank you to those who nominated this year's Shrones for consideration of the 2005 Paps of Shrone Award! The nominees are now posted on the The Hall of Shrones site and the voting booth is now open!You can cast your vote until April 1st! The big announcement will be on April 8th, and the official award ceremony will be on April 17th or so.
Voting is limited to one vote per person. Anyone is eligible to cast a vote: you need not be a Shrone to vote.
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1. Awoke and had Kitty-Love with Smee, Stash, and Theodore Montague Links to other Thursday Thirteens! |
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It's that time of year for me to think about finishing up the odds and ends from my first year at LIOS. I have to make up all of Mini-Module 4. If you miss one day you have to make up the entire weekend of classes because that's they way things are. So I've got my room booked and I'll be spending April 21-23 doing that. I wish I could recall what this module was about. I had a very bad cold and was in a foggy frame of mind.
I will also be meeting the new to me first year students whom I will join in the fall as second year students. Confused yet? You should be. I'm technically a second year student, they are first years. But together we'll be second years come September. Actually, I won't be much of anything if I can't manage to acquire an internship.
Then I get to repeat all of Module 7. I dread this. I dread this with a passion because I will have to face again my former first year now second year classmates. The very same people who weren't there for me when I was terribly sick last summer. The very same people who would wax poetic on how they longed to help people in need, but just who in the fuck did they have in mind when they spoke about helping others? Did they mean paying clients? When presented with someone within their own community they ignored the call.
I'm still scratching my head over why this group did virtually nothing. OK, a handful of them got together bought me a get well card and signed it. In comparison, people with whom I've only interacted with online via their blogs and C'Ville called me, send e-mails to the hospital, and many of you sent more than just cards. I'm sure if some of you lived near me you would have made house calls.
I'm befuddled by how my former classmates who are going into the helping/caring professional field could be so negligent and thoughtless. It's like I didn't exist! When I did express my need for help from them, posting it on the group's bulletin board, all I got back were responses that read like this: "I think it's really great you can express what your needs are. I couldn't do that. I hope you are feeling better soon." WTF kind of response it that?!?!?! I can tell you: it is a sad-ass lame one!
OK, benefit of doubt, my former classmates have had a full year of growth and development. Perhaps now they will be different, but I don't want to sit and have that conversation with them in which I say what's my beef and they respond back with the program's party line of "I'm so glad you can state your emotions and what's bothering you." Or my other least favorite, "This is about you, not me." The reasoning being on that one still stumps me. Yes, it is about me and you are my problem. Don't worm out of it by making it appear that you are not involved and a co-creator of the situation.
All I can say is, I've got a TON of rage at them and I don't really want to show up at this module and unleash my fury on them because that isn't a good way to say hello after not seeing them for a year, but if I somehow don't calm down I'm likely to just vomit out all of the emotions instead of being cordial. I think the best thing to do is contact one of the program leaders and talk to her about my emotional state and get some guidance from her about it. Perhaps something can be set up in one of the days of module in which I have a talk with my former classmates. There will be crying, there will be tears—at least on my part. Never before have I wanted to say this to a group of people, but I really want to proclaim to them: Shame on you! You knew better and didn't do better!
Dear Beloved Pooky (aka Pooka-beast, P-Cake, and Sir Hiss),
I know you are a busy Loving Husband who doesn't have the time to purchase his Darling Wife a special gift that will make her feel appreciated for the domestic activities that she engages in (and truly despises doing), such as making sure there are groceries in the house, a hot dinner to come home to, clean toilets, happy cats, tamed laundry, mostly clean floors, and a peaceful and quiet evening in which to decompress from the stress of working at the Orange Box.
Therefore, on your behalf, I treated myself to a little gift that I know you would have purchased for me if you had the time. The threads that I picked out will be used to make the doilies that I plan on entering into this year's Fair. These doilies will never be used but admired under the safety and protection of glass and a highly sensitive security system utilized by fine art museums.
Thus, when you see the charge on the credit card (yes, I know we agreed not to make purchases without consulting each other) you can pat yourself on the back for being a Kind & Loving Husband who treats his Darling Wife very well. A happy wife is a good thing to have!
Lovingly Yours,
Pip
P.S. If I take first place the prize money will pay for my gift. So think of this as an investment.
I did see the doctor and he gave me an antibiotic for the acne/rosacea problem. No creams, just germ fighters. I don't see much of a difference yet in the rosacea, but the acne seems improved. I weighed myself on the official doctor's scale and I'm back to 133#. That's about my pre-operative weight all the way back to May, so I know my body has adjusted in that particular sense. It was nice to wear my size 8 jeans for awhile, but now I'm back into the size 12s.
I meet with my potential Little Sister this afternoon. I hope it goes well. If we don't match I have no idea how long it will take them to find another girl. I was hoping by now that I'd have been doing things with my Little for a month already. Patience, patience, patience. The agency called to say that the dad needed to reschedule so it was moved to a week from today. I hope there won't be any further delays. Mmmmrrrr!
I registered to take the online Jeopardy! test! Even if I pass the exam there are two random drawings that my name is put into. One is to audition, then if you audition well you are put into the contestant pool for one year. Since I have the worst luck with random drawings, I don't have my hopes up.
Now, I've wanted to be on Jeopardy! since I was 13 years old (maybe it was 12). The closest I've come to being on Jeopardy! is being in the studio audience at the big 20th Anniversary Tournamnet of Champions held at Radio City Music Hall. Watching how the game is played is just awesome! The contestants snap out answers very quickly. During the commercial breaks Alex was hilarious! He is really a fun person.
Well, Pooky wants pancakes for breakfast. Lately we've been bartering Snake as a means to rekindle the almost dead embers of passion in our lives. The winter is a bitch for me and romantic moods, and Pooky seems to have been phased by the cold and darkness as well. With Spring erupting everywhere it is hard not to feel "in the mood". Thus we've been issuing each other Snake promises. The point isn't to keep them, but to pique interest. If this is too much information, so be it. I'm giving you the scoop on my life...but I'll refrain this time from discussing bag issues.
This doily comes from Patricia Kristoffersen's Simply Delightful Doilies and the name of it is Impressive.
Materials used were Steinbach Wolle Maxi Ombre in blue shades, size 0 Clover Soft Touch Hook. Diameter is 17 inches. Pattern called for the use of a large sized hook (which I didn't use) so my finished size was one inch smaller. Still, it is impressive just like its name.
My heart always soars a little when the first magnolia flowers open. Yesterday I spied a few that were preparing to open, and I expected it would be a day or two and there would be the first flowers of the season. But today the sun was doing what the sun is supposed to do: shine, and the buds just outside the window where I sit at the computer desk decided that they couldn't stand to wait—they were going to open!
Last night I heard the humming bird flit around and sure enough while we ate dinner the h-bird drank his nectar. We've both heard him zoom around for about two weeks but now we are able to capture a glimpse of him. He looks like either an Anna's or Rufous, hard to tell because I can't get too close to check him out. They are very shy birds and you have to look at them like you aren't there.
The hummer feeder is on the lowest branch of the magnolia, so there is a double eye-feast treat of seeing the flowers and the hummers.
Previously, the magnolia tree opened on these dates:
March 4, 2005
In the scheme of things from the human perspective Spotty was just a goldfish. S/he was with us for almost three years. Spotty and his eight other comrades were the sacrificial lambs for establishing our tank. We lost none of them so we figured that they were just as good as the koi we had dreams of getting.
Spotty was the only one to have black spots. They were all koi look-a-likes. Spotty was the second smallest of the bunch. S/he lived a good life, and s/he shall be missed.
In parting, I found these words in which to send Spotty off to return to the Earth:
Still stunned, the fish floated about for an instant. Then he breathed deeply, letting the clean cool water run through his gills. Now the felt weightless again and with an ever-so-slight motion of the tail he could move to and fro, up and down, as before.The sunrays reached down with the weeds and gently shifted patches of luminous color. This world was surely the most beautiful of all worlds. He smiled at this friend the frog, who sat watching him from a lily leaf. "You were right," he said. "Fish is fish." ~ Fish is Fish, Leo Lionni
I can see the doctor on Monday morning, if I get to his office by 7:30 am. He sees walk-ins at that time so I think I can motivate myself to get in early and have him give his pronouncement. I was doing some research on rosacea and edema can accompany it, but there is evidence that it is caused by diet, bacteria, and probably sun spots and phases of the moon.
I've got a wedding to perform on Saturday and I feel ugly. Make-up can only disguise the redness and it can't hide the dead, dry skin. I'm crossing my fingers I won't continue to swell. I can't look at pictures of me from my youthful days in which my skin was virtually flawless. Yeah! growing older has its rewards.
Not to mention I am having my period so I feel like a slimeball.
About the best thing today has been Smee. He's my Sweet Smee. My darling Smee. My Smee-Baby-Smee. My Smee-Ami. We cuddle and fuzzy a lot together. He is always trying to clean me. He purrs so loudly he sounds like a machine. He'll follow me through the house when he wants his Smee Love. So I indulge him and we sit somewhere while he burrows into my chest. *Sigh* Kitty love is the best medicine there is!
I awoke this morning knowing that my rosacea had worsened, could feel it burning first thing, but then I felt something more—a heaviness around my right eye. I didn't look right away at the cause. The bathroom was filled with cats by their food dishes looking pitifully hungry, and my bag needed attention.
When I looked I about died! My face is all swollen, particularly around the eyes. I usually have a sunken eye appearance, but not today. I feel almost bruised.
Ever since my second surgery my complexion has gone to the dogs. I can't deny it any longer. I really need to see a dermatologist. Which means I'll first have to go back to my family doctor—an annoyance, but I think it is necessary, considering the rest of my face is pitted with acne.
Looks like I need to tame my eyebrows. I hate plucking them. I never have had to pluck them in my life until about a year ago. I blame hormones and nearing middle age. If I could, I'd have electrolysis to rid me of the unwanted hairs. Truth be told, my complexion has a lot of characteristics of being on steroids. I wonder if my adrenal glands are malfunctioning? All of those years of being on prednisone did screw up my body, despite what all of the doctors may claim.
Help Me Win a Space Alien!
When Lady Linoleum put out the challenge to win a crocheted space alien, I just knew I had to win one of them! So help me do it by casting your vote for my clever little space ship entry! Yes, this is a shameless plea! I think you have until Sunday to cast your vote if you haven't done so already. I'd be so very happy with Shrone glee if I won a space alien. I have two names already picked out: Grubnuck and Zorgon. I can't decide which will be used.
Science geeks may recognize the design of the craft as being modeled directly from a T4 virus bacteriophage. Pooky assisted with the wood construction of the head and skin while I crafted the rest from pipe cleaners, cardboard tubing from a paper towel roll and a very handy glue gun. I didn't get the best pictures of the ship considering every time I bring it out there are three curious cats wanting to sniff it and then chew on it.
Carnivorous Plant
Speaking of Lady Linoleum, I recently received one of her stellar creations: a Venus fly trap complete with signature eyeball! The plant hasn't yet instructed to "Feed me!" and I am waiting for it to spring to life and clamp down hard on my hand.
My over-active imagination is pretty sure that this plant has psychic powers and can read my mind. I'd expect nothing less of Lady Linoleum's magical creations. Now, if it could give Tarot readings for proft I'd be on to something!
Promotion
Pooky confirmed that the promotion he expected to get was made official. He went for the piss test and everything else. He is leaving the flooring department and is now a Department Head of the Pro Desk. A slight pay raise and weekends off since the Pro Desk is a Monday thru Friday affair. He may be required to be readily available at all times since he is now the bottom level of management.And the good news is that his pay raise is already spent! Thankfully, the mortgage company raised our interest rate (NOT!) I think he said he'll be able to schedule his own work hours. Perhaps we'll have a designated time for dinner each evening? How cool is that?!?!?
New Shrones
While I have your attention, link on over to the Hall of Shrones to check out the 4 new Shrones! We're up to 40 groovy gals who have been named!
Stash is obsessed with climbing on backs and shoulders. This has led me to formulate the theory he was a famous WWF wrestler in a previous incarnation. Here he demonstrates his near strangle-hold on Pooky. As you can see, Pooky is slumped over and nearly passed out from Stash's awesome grip.
Stash is so confident at neutralizing Pooky that he can afford to look away nonchalantly, as if something else is more intriguing and worthy of paying attention to.
It is apparent that Stash is a lethal weapon, a force to be reckoned with, and should not be left unsupervised in the presence of middle-aged men. He can and will hug them to death.
On Saturday night I finished Wicked. I can't say that I was really into the story—I appreciated the cleverness of the story, giving the Wicked Witch of the West and East a personal history, but I think I've watched the movie one too many times, played the movie soundtrack too often during my impressionable years, and have tried to impersonate the Witch's voice screeching "Sleep!" and "Poppies!" well beyond the limits of sanity.
It is a good story. I'm sure if I read it again some day in the future I'll connect with it better than I do now. That's happened to me before. I've read a book and mentally went huh?, only to read the book again a decade later and mentally proclaim aha!
I am 4 books behind on the 50 Book Challenge shedule. This is week 12 of the year and I've read 8 books so far. I am disappointed in myself in that I've not yet read the pithy school stuff I have, instead indulging in the bliss of fictional works. Hopefully during the summer I can read with zest as the long summer nights often put me into full night owl mode and I can read until 2 am without suffering for it the next day.
Rating: 4 out of 5
Recommendation: 4 out of 5
Swiped from Noricum
We spent much of last week cleaning the house so as to make it look less fur-coated by the C-beasts. The futon in The Spirit Room was made up and the cats promptly claimed it as their new bed. Luckily, Jenn and Glen have cats, adore them, and didn't mind the bits of fur. It made them feel more at home.
Saturday was their arrival, though I didn't know what time. Therefore, they arrived just before I was going to take a
shower. I was still in my PJs and morning look, and thankfully I had gotten the vaccuuming done!
Pooky had to work until 3pm, which wasn't too bad. By the time he got home we were all starving.We all ate ourselves silly at the restaurant.The food is soooooo goooood I went with the chicken molé this time.
After dinning we gave them a quick tour of the historical homes of the town, went by my mom's house and showed them the flood plains of the Chehalis, Newaukum, and Skookumchuck rivers. It was terribly exciting. It was too overcast to view the volcanoes of Mt. Rainier, Mt. St. Helens, and Mt. Adams.
I showed them some pictures of the C-beasts as kittens along with pics of Mr. Doo and B at their best. I wasn't surprised to see Mr. Doo and Theodore Montague warming up instantly to Jenn and Glen, for these two have no shame. Smee made an early appearance, but was suspect. Stash dashed around, and of course Mr. B stayed in the darkness, only flitting by briefly to show he wasn't going to be social.
The plan for Sunday was I'd make buttermilk waffles topped with fresh strawberries and crème fraîche. (Crème fraîche is easy to make. Pour about 2 cups of heavy whipping cream into a Mason jar, add two tablespoons of cultured buttermilk and let it sit on a counter that is room temperature for 24 hours.)
The menu for dinner would be a prime rib roast, twice baked potatoes, salad, and white chocolate cheesecake with raspberry topping. The roast came out ok, but the meat wasn't as tender as the one we had for Christmas. Everything else was very yummy.
While waiting to do the cooking Glen, Pooky, and I, played a game of Talisman. I chose the [Evil] Warrior of Chaos to play. Since I had to cook bacon and stuff my ability to play well was hampered. Pooky and Glen did a whiz-bang job of playing. Jenn opted to watch TV. The cats continued to slink around wondering when the foreigners would leave.
Now it just so happened to be that Jenn took to Mr. Doo, and I think this had a lot to do with Mr. Doo using his awesome mind powers on her. She would swoon over him, fed him snacks, and doted on him.
Mr. Doo wasn't very pleased with Glen, however. Glen plays rough and Mr. Doo would bitch in his best Katharine Hepburn voice that he didn't like or appreciate the blatant insolence! It think it was all a show because Mr. Doo secretly enjoys being roughed and scrubbed.
We got the scoop on the family back in Pennsylvania. We told of our news, that sort of thing. It was nice to see them again. It was 3 years ago since we last saw Glen. He had been shipped out to Bremerton, called into active duty for the Navy. This time his visit was his two/three week training period. He opted to do it out here because they both like the scenery, and it gave them the chance to visit with us.
Hopefully we can make a trip back soon. For years now I've been dying for a real NYC style pizza, decent Chinese food, and good greasy diner food.
What feels like half a century ago I signed up to become a Big Sister through Big Brothers Big Sisters. After the screening process I was accepted (yeah!) and recently I was contacted finally with a potential match. I know very little about her, just her age (9 yo), she doesn't have her mom in her life, and her dad is disabled. The big interview/meeting day is March 30th when she gets out of school for the day. I was told she has a weight problem and is teased at school.
As much as I'd like to count my chickens before they are even laid as eggs, I have learned to keep a realistic outlook about such things that tend to make me very excited. In my heart of hearts I hope this is the Little I am to be paired with, and that we'll form a lifetime friendship, be in each others lives for quite awhile. Much will have to depend on if our personalities match.
An odd thing about myself that I have come to know is that I generally gravitate toward people with weight problems. I've never had skinny friends. The reason being is that a skinny person has no desire to explore the realm of culinary arts, nor do they care to eat, and to me food is one of the best things in life.
I have identified why I am fond of food. It is twofold. First, making food and sharing food with others is a way of bonding, of sharing sustenance and of giving love, affection, and that warm feeling inside. Second, I've had prolonged bouts of not being allowed to eat. The doctors called this "bowel rest". I think when the body is deliberately starved it triggers an instinct to want to eat, eat, eat to make up for lost calories. I do receive pleasure both from making food for others and in eating good food.
Which brings up a concern I have. How do I address in a positive, healthy way regarding the Little's weight problem? I know I will need to find out if she is eating poorly because her family situation is financially limited. Poorer people tend to eat poor quality foods, or have the resources for making a lot of homemade meals from scratch. She may also not have the resources for physical exercise. So much left unanswered at this time that I'd be making wild-ass assumptions. Best to wait and see.
Meanwhile...there is so much I long to share that I think I'll overwhelm her. I need to recall how I was at 9 yo. What did I think about, what was I interested in, and how did I view the world? There is so much I can show her, allow her to experience, and I think it all hinges on her willingness to be a co-explorer and co-experiencer with me.
Being that I no longer live in the northeast, such things as Fish on Fridays during Lent is no longer part of my awareness. So this bit of news caught my attention: Corned Beef and Catholics. I'm sure without this special exception that some may have short circuited like those androids on a couple of Star Trek episodes when Captain Kirk managed to put them into a logic loop that fried their robotic brains. This is why I'll never fit in well with religions: I wouldn't need a bishop, pope, or other cleric give me special permission to eat meat or other dietary no-no's, ok's, or maybe not's. Hopefully I'm not coming across as disrespectful toward those who do follow dietary guides via an organized religion. My intent is to acknowledge that I couldn't follow the rules. If you can manage to follow them, more power to you, because it does take self-discinpline, self-denial, determination, and believing in that you are doing.
These are the Lucky Charms pants I am wearing today. It's the only green clothing I own. A little personal trivia. Though Pooky comes from mostly Irish heritage, he didn't have a family recipe for corned beef and cabbage. His grandfather's Irish stew was what he had, but not the traditional CB&C. What is funny is the recipe I use was one that I learned from my previous SO who hadn't a drop of Irish blood in his body (his heritage was eastern European). This year I'm making it in the crock pot (see above) because I want to see if it cooks the vegetables less harshly than the stove top method. For accompaniment I thought of making Irish soda bread but then discovered a box of sour dough bread for the breadmachine. Thus, I'm letting the appliances do all of the work. (Tee-hee)
I discovered Mr. Patty O'Doo shedding his fur on the burgundy winged back chair. He twisted himself into a very peculiar yoga position, I think it is called the praying mantis or devotional rabbit.
He is actually upside down. I didn't distort the perspective. He is pressed against the back of the chair. Odd little monkey that his is, I'm sure he got better reception that way from the Mother Ship. I'm sure he telepathically communicates with space aliens.
I should have dyed his morning tuna green. There is still time for me to color up a can of Bumblebee. That would be rather weird looking—green tuna! Well, if it can be done to beer....
1. Are you Irish?
Everytime Pooky and I have marital relations I have a little lot of Irish in me ;-) (Pooky is ay least 50% Irish)
2. Are you by any chance wearing green today?
I'll be wearing my Frosted Lucky Charms pajama pants all day, even in public!
3. What kinds of special things do you do to celebrate St. Patrick's Day?
I'm going to the store to get the vegetables to make corned beef and cabbage. I have the corned beef, just need the cabbage and carrots and potatoes.
4. Do you believe in luck? How about fate?
I believe in all of that mystical, mysterious stuff. Sometimes I think the lesser gods conspire against me. It's because I don't pay them as much homage as I give to Mr. Doo. One such god is jealous. He even said so in the Bible.
5. What would you do if you found a pot of gold?
I'd either be attacked by the leprechaun owner, or someone else would claim it was theirs so I'd have to settle for the measely reward money of finding the lost gold. This is not being pessimistic, just realistic, which is what pessimism is (for the most part).
Taken from the new incarnation of Friday Five
Meet Pineapple Song featured on the cover of Absolutely Gorgeous Doilies by Patricia Kristoffersen! She was made using DMC Baroque thread (white) and a size 0 Clover Soft Touch steel hook. She measures about 21" in diameter once blocked and starched.
She will be sent to my SP7 pal who seems to appreciate doilies.
As of February 25th the earth's population reached 6.5 billion people.
It is predicted that on October 18, 2012, we'll reach 7 billion people.
Let's take a look at what this means:
- You'll wait longer in most lines. More people means longer waiting.
- Increased gridlock traffic. If you think it's bad now, it's only going to get worse.
- If your skies are still blue where you live, count yourself lucky. Where I live which is about 90 miles away from two major cities (Seattle and Portland) there is a nasty brown haze on the horizon. That's air pollution. More people means more cars and more brown hazy skies.
- More houses and less natural land to enjoy. What natural land remains will be turned into places for folks to amuse themselves and isn't the point of going to a natural place to escape from other people? You and dozens of other like-minded folks will be sharing that precious turf of beach or grass at the park.
- More urban sprawl and more mega stores. Because today's paradigm in society isn't about quality of life. It's about you being a good consumer and consuming the natural resources (which are dwindling rapidly, but don't talk about that—let's pretend that we can be sustainable and use renewable resources. As if!)
I'm sure there are more inconveniences we'll be experiencing as more and more of us come into existance. It's the waiting in endlessly long lines that pushes me over the edge. Gridlock traffic does it, too.
I fully admit: I wasn't born with a strong gene for reproducing. Biologically speaking there has to be a drive to replicate, but I think the instinct has gotten out of hand.
I betcha for each child born it probably translates to an increase of 20 minutes waiting in line or gridlock traffic per person, per day. It's just a number I pulled out of my ass, but it would be interesting to see what the number crunchers could tell us.
Last night was the big concert performance. We played to a 99% full house! I thought it was going to be just family in attendance, but apparently the word has gotten around about the orchestra.
My dad and stepmom were able to attend, and of course Pooky was also there to show support.
During the performance I did find myself a couple of times not being able to play along (hey, it's been a long while since I've played) so I faked playing. I was tucked behind so if I did totally stop playing (which there was a moment or two) no one hopefully saw, or they just assumed I was taking a rest that was written in the music.
My philosophy on playing is, and I said this all the way back when I was ten years old learning to play the violin, but my violin teacher said I had the wrong idea: If we play the wrong notes, the audience will think they are the right ones because they don't know how it is supposed to sound.
It still holds true today.
After the concert as I was making my way to find Pooky and my dad & stepmom, a little old man who needed to use two canes was struggling to walk out of the building and he said to me, "Thank you," and of course I replied, "Your welcome." It's nice to know that even though the orchestra is not perfect, that's it just a bunch of folks who like to play, make music, and develop their craft, are appreciated for our efforts, be they wonky at times.
I'm excited about returning next quarter because there will be soloists and doing the accompaniments should be more playable than the Scottish music we were stumbling through.
And yes, the bag piper was loud! Me and another cellist decided that a bag pipe can sound like a platypus in a blender. But it's still cool.
Yesterday's mail brought goodies from the United Kingdom! My Secret Pal sent me two copies of Crochet Monthly, the British version of Magic Crochet, a doily pattern book, thread cutter ring, stitch markers, and cat body bookmark. All of it is very extraordinary because I haven't the access to such things, being that I haven't ever been to the UK (but wish almost daily that I could go there and roll around in my native soil).
I'm getting to know my SP and she recently told me she think she fits being a Shrone, with the exception about cats. While cats and Shronedom do seem to be intertwined, it is more about the relationship with a cat, which can also be had with a dog, parrot, rabbit, horse, and possibly lizards and amphibians. Plus, I think one is automatically a Shrone if they are native of the UK. It has to do with the lilting sounds of the various UK accents. Anyone possessing an accent is most likely a Shrone. Which is ironic since I have none: I don't even have that twinge of a Washingtonian way of saying "wARsh" for "wash". I've got that bland news caster way of talking. [Oddly, when I had braces a few years ago people kept asking if I was Irish. I'd look at them funny and ask why would they think that? Apparently, the braces were affecting my ability to enunciate properly.]
What is so keen about the Crochet Monthly copies is that they are loaded with Yoko Suzuki designs! I betcha Yoko is a Shrone. She's got way too much style not to be!
It all began with MamaKelly's post about the Housewives Tarot. I knew I had to have a copy after seeing the deck's Death card.
Saturday I had a wedding in Seattle so we were near Archie McPhee and I had to stop there to by my SP7 pal some goodies. I purchased for Theodore Montague a Squeak Salmon. (I will eventually take his picture doing his sea otter routine with the salmon on his tummy.) I also bought some things for my sister: the Marie Antoinette action figure (she thought this was better than the Avenging Unicorn), a couple of corn dog air fresheners (with yummy mustard scent), and a sushi air freshener.
I got myself two packages of their newest candy cigarettes: Death Row and Black Lung, and I am now showing my support for bacon.
Then on Sunday Pooky went to the monthly store meeting and found out that his bonus check was a lovely amount, and he suggested we go to Fuddrucker's and do a little shopping we had been talking about. It was then that I knew I needed to by the Housewives Tarot that day from Powell's Books.
We discovered a new branch of the Powell's empire! In a neighborhood in Portland on Hawthorne Street is the Home & Garden store filled with cookbooks and gardening books! I only looked at a fraction of the available cookbooks, and Pooky scanned the gardening. He found us a book on vegetable gardening in the Northwet.
And a bonus....they had a small crafts section! Pooky made the ultimate score in finding this:
It was marked as $13.95, but at the register it came up as $19.95. Well, since the sticker had the lower price, he got it at that! All of the other books were correctly marked! Talk about the deal of the day!
I found for my sister a book of tablecloths and placemats all in size 20 or 30 thread. She has been bemoaning to me the fact that there are no patterns done in these sizes of thread, especially large projects. The book was only $5! What is scary is to make a 53 x 72 tablecloth some of them require 300+ motifs! Talk about taking awhile to make!
Silver Sassy McKat has been named the Official Shrone Spokescritter for 2006.
Silver's role as Official Spokescritter will entitle her to fame and not so much fortune, as she will grace all Shrone documents and business dealings.
Like an elder Shrone, Silver is reclusive and isn't very socialable around strangers. You have to prove yourself worthy of her attention. If you are very good she will test your resolve by placing a paw on your. Or perhaps she may bring out her Box and Gom Jabar and test to see if you are an animal or human. It is rumored she belongs to an ancient order of the Bene Gesseret and consumes her weight in Spice.
Her turban wearing gives her an aura of psychic ability, which may or may not be true. She has been known to communicate with The Mother Ship (i.e. space aliens) and has an other-worldly presence. Some may say she has an old soul. It is quite possible she's just an old cat full of SASS!
Today I did a Google on Shrone. Not to see where my site comes up, but to find more Shrone-goodness in the world.
- A poem about a Prince named Shrone called Middle Path
- Race horse
- A web address: http://www.warrior-shrone.tk/
- SHRONE SLIDE, THE. AKA and see “Ned Connor’s Slide.” Irish, Slide.
- This excerpt:
Shrone was his name, that young man's name. Indian stories use names with some significance. Shrone means one who is capable of hearing, of listening. So the name is significant. He heard Buddha for the first time and he went to him and he said, "Initiate me."
Buddha said, "Think it over. I know you, I know about you."
Shrone said, "Once I have decided something, I have decided it. I am not accustomed to thinking twice about anything. Give me initiation right now." As he was so determined, Buddha gave him initiation. He became a Buddhist monk.
- Athlete Shrone Austin from Seychelles
- And this picture taken in Shrone looking west. Something tells me I really need to visit Shrone! I can tell that this is my native soil.
The Paps of Shrone (they really do look like breasts!)
- The Ancient City of Shrone (It may just be wishful thinking, but I really do strongly feel that all of us Shrones lived in this city long ago, once upon a previous incarnation)
- A document in which Julia Lucey tells us:
The City of Shrone, at the foot of the Paps mountains is just five minutes drive from my home and has always been a special place for my
family. It is an ancient site of worship, and Lá Bealtaine, a day of pilgrimage, is celebrated there on May Day. It brings people from near and
far to ‘do the rounds’ and afterwards for some caint, ceol agus craic.
The rugged beauty of the area, the good humoured friendly people, the many traditions – you just never want to leave.
- Those in the know now call it The City. Seems that there are rituals performed in Shrone. The First Annual Convention of Shrones must take place on May Day. I think "pay rounds" is ancient Gaelic for "cruising for penis".
- We belong to a very profound place in the world. This guy says so:
There is a City in Kerry, said Dan, which not that many people yet know about, yet enough know that matter. It is a City like no other City in the whole world, maybe just a circle of old stones and rude altars and ruins that you see now but, in truth, one of the oldest holy places, ritual places, on all the face of the Earth. And it is about four miles from the Kerry village of Rathmore at a place called Shrone. [Emphasis added to show texture.]
My fellow Shrones, I am absolutely tingling to have made these recent findings with PICTURES and stories and historical information and significance about our name sake and physical location! Indeed, I think there is a strong, extremely strong spiritual bond regarding Shrones and this awesome City of Shrone! More than ever I truly hope that the workings of the Universe (as pecular and unknowable as they are) will permit all of us, if not most of us, to one day descend upon the City and pay our respects and of course, cruise for penis and dance away while festooned in turbans!
1. Do you wear perfume or cologne?
Sun*Moon*Stars is my favorite brand-name perfume. My other was L'Effleur (no longer made).
2. What brand or kind of soap do you use?
It's a French soap that I find at specialty shops, currently I get it at my tea shop. I love the Linden, Violet Moss, and assorted other aromas.
3. Do you use anything to scent your home (candles, potpourri, scented oils, etc.)?
You name it, I use it! I've got candles, incense, Wizard or Glade brand oil poofy things, and so on.
4. What's your favorite scent on a member of the gender to which you're attracted?
I'm not big on men wearing colognes, but I do like them to be clean smelling. I don't like body odors. If Pooky gets too naturally aromatic I comment he smells too much like skin.
5. Have you ever tried aromatherapy? If so, describe your experience; if not, do you think it works? I'm not sure if I've done aromatherapy. However, smells and scents are important to my well-being, so I would imagine I naturally am aromatherapeutic in that I will burn certain incense frangrances at certain times, and so on. I have certain scents for certain phases or moods.
On the topic of scent, I am keenly aware of the way people smell, and the way their living environments smell. I refer to the natural odors that people generate (not sweaty smells). I know the aroma of my own house, it is a mixture of old wood and house, and sometimes it has an incense-y smell depending on what I've been burning.
When I enter my sister's abode I notice a candle smell, and then a warm feeling. Sometimes the lingering essence of food is there, but mostly the candle smell overrides any food smells.
My friend Pibb cannot use detergents and other cleaning chemicals, she can only use natural products, and because of this she has an interesting scent about, clean but natural smelling. Her personal scent is not masked by a multitude of chemicals. It is hard to describe how I perceive her scent, for I would say there is a wet or damp quality to it, almost earthy and woodsy. I could be blindfolded and know her by her scent alone.
I know Pooky's scent, too. He has a manly, musky, almost oily quality to him, sometimes a touch yeasty. His smell can go from being mild to overbearing depending on how physically active he's been.
Without it being surprising, my scent is salty! Yes, it comes out in my pores. I can get whiffs of my own bag, and I am driven nuts by it because I am sure the rest of the world can also detect it. My body scent changes with my hormonal cycle. I can tell when I'm about to menstruate as a sharp smell comes a few days before or at the time of.
Each of the cats has a distinguishing scent, too. Mr. Doo has a classic cat smell to his fur. It's not the smell of tuna, but a fur-smell. Sometimes his fur will take on various scents, particularly if he's just been outside. Stash's fur really picks up wood smoke when he goes outside. Smee has a light, almost sweet scent to his fur. Mr. B has what I'd call a poo smell to his fur, and to a degree, so does Theodore Montague. Both keep themselves groomed, but their natural cat smell is one that I find disagreeable.
Also, no matter how rancid and rank the stuff in my bag can be, nothing beats the gas the cats pass! Man, I swear they are equipped with a special "stink gland" in their digestive system that adds incredible stench and stink to their flatus!
Tonight's rehearsal is cancelled thanks to a stomach flu the conductor got since yesterday. I think there is something floating around among the masses. I hope I don't get it as I don't care to find out how Ian-Sophia would take to that kind of output. She's doing fine these days and I am happy to no longer have the feeling of an ostrich egg in my rectum. Most of the time I don't even feel like I have a stoma. When the bag fills up then I notice it, or the skin gets itchy. I do miss my reading time on the toilet...but well, I'm not crying alligator tears that I have to do my reading in bed or on the couch.
Since I have tonight back to myself, I hope I can finish off the doily I am working on, and then get started on my SIL's sweater. She and her DH are coming on the 18th & 19th and Pooky already made her the poncho he promised. I can snap out her sweater in 3-5 days, and I'd rather her take it home with her than mail it. It's just a matter of getting the motivational flow going. I've made the pattern so many times I think I could crochet it blindfolded and while in a coma, possibly even in the dark while in a tight yoga position.
I'm off to get Pooky. Tomorrow he has the day off and if I swoon him nicely enough I just might get to enjoy some of that marital bliss that I fondly recall. (Woo-woo!)
This week we have extra rehearsals. We are actually starting to sound like an orchestra. Typically we don't end the practice session until 9:15 or 9:30, and by that time of night my brain sees the notes but doesn't send out the proper signals to my left hand to play them. Throw in a sharp or flat note and I'm a gonner.
I've got the paper work ready to sign up for next quarter of orchestra. I just need to cough up the $20. I think next month I have to pay for my rental. Eek! I paid two months in advanced when I got it.
The ages of those in the orchestra range from what I guess to be about 10 years old all the way up to senior citizen. In the cellos there is this groovy lady named Doby who is a dyed in the wool Shrone! She even wears a crocheted, bright red hat with floppy brim! She often says to me that in her next reincarnation she wants to come back when there aren't eye glasses or keys, that technology will have found a way to replace these items. I will have to get her picture taken one day, perhaps at the concert? She distributes her poems to the orchestra. She gave us one for Valentine's Day.
There is a second Shrone in the violins. She's senior citizen aged, but doesn't wear any funky hats.
Tomorrow night we will rehearse yet again, then on Saturday we have a morning rehearsal from 9-11 am. Saturday is going to be a full day. It starts off with the rehearsal, then I have a 2 o'clock wedding, then in Seattle I have a 7 pm wedding. Pooky found out that someone at work will also be attending the Seattle wedding. Small world in action. Well, the bride's parent's live here in town, so it doesn't surprise me that someone else who lives here would be invited. It is a small community and everyone knows just about everyone else. Pooky was pleased that he'd know someone at the wedding—someone to talk to, as he put it.
I smell like onions. I made a Philly cheesesteak for dinner and I still reek of them. Time for sleep. I hope I don't start bowing in my sleep.
I received on Saturday my second surprise box of goodness from my SP7 Secret Pal! She's fantastic, oustanding, and totally Mr. Doo approved!
I was overwhelmed (yes, I think my eyes bulged, I stopped breathing, and I gulped) when I saw that she had gifted me with a copy of Wicked! I tried to get this book from the library, saw that there was no way I'd get it in this lifetime, and have had to put it on my wishlist. What a lovely, meaningful to me gift to have gotten! Now I feel sparked to resume my 50 Book Challenge. (I don't think I read any books for February.)
Plus, more chocolate bars! Mmmmm! Lovely scented candle, note pads, and fun little Easter thing for me to play with and decorate, and some healing salve. I adore the word salve.
She included a note saying she would be casting on for my sweater for the final reveal package. I've been blessed with the dearest, most thoughtful and surprising Secret Pal! She is truly beyond golden and into platinum!