After a very long hiatus, I'm back. although I actually did this project back around WOYWW #160! Between being busy and just flat-out forgetting to post (whoops), it's now WOYWW #186!
Anyhoo, this is a now discontinued IKEA product that I loved, called a Fira. It's a little wooden dresser sort of thing that came in different configurations and you finished it any way you wanted. This is my version, used on my desk to store pencils, pens, binder clips, etc.
Happy Boxing Day!!
Photos after this break.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Sunday, December 16, 2012
The cost of unhooking
Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. ~Buddha
I've been totally incommunicado for nearly four days I've been checking email randomly, but not facebook at all--I think I've determined I can do without that little social evil--and I don't watch television at all, except for one or two shows we watch on the BBC iPlayer or Hulu. So...imagine my horror this AM when an artist and mom in the UK whom I follow sends out her newsletter and it's about the shootings in Sandy Hook. What shootings, I say...and where is Sandy Hook?
Language alert: read more here:
I've been totally incommunicado for nearly four days I've been checking email randomly, but not facebook at all--I think I've determined I can do without that little social evil--and I don't watch television at all, except for one or two shows we watch on the BBC iPlayer or Hulu. So...imagine my horror this AM when an artist and mom in the UK whom I follow sends out her newsletter and it's about the shootings in Sandy Hook. What shootings, I say...and where is Sandy Hook?
Language alert: read more here:
Thursday, November 08, 2012
I wanted to steal "...and Nazis"
But that is the particular domain of my favorite blogger, Jim Wright, over at Stonekttle Station. His most recent post is probably one of the best he's written. I know conservatives won't read it, or if they do, they'll just rant about that disgusting LIBrull. But, they should read it. They should read it more than "librulls" should read it. The piece holds real information as to why the Republican Party got, as Rachel Maddow put it, "shellacked" Tuesday night. Her segment is below if you missed it. Another great piece--I could loop it endlessly
For my part, I am relieved...for the moment. The promised obstructionist behavior of the Republicans has me worred, though. I foresee more of the same selfish, self-serving, self-righteous, dog-in-the-manger bullshit we've had to endure over the last four years. The Republicans have proven, time and again just how un-American they really are, just how little they appreciate the sacrifices of our veterans. To actively defeat their own legislation designed to help all of these men and women suddenly without jobs because the wars are winding down, just because they didn't want it to happen on President Obama's watch, is just plain disgusting. What a pile of steaming, stinking pig poop. I don't know if you've ever smelled pig poop....but it's fairly vile.
I think Jim and Rachel have said it all for me...and much more aptly. Go..read...watch. Enlighten.
Congratulations, Mr. President.
For my part, I am relieved...for the moment. The promised obstructionist behavior of the Republicans has me worred, though. I foresee more of the same selfish, self-serving, self-righteous, dog-in-the-manger bullshit we've had to endure over the last four years. The Republicans have proven, time and again just how un-American they really are, just how little they appreciate the sacrifices of our veterans. To actively defeat their own legislation designed to help all of these men and women suddenly without jobs because the wars are winding down, just because they didn't want it to happen on President Obama's watch, is just plain disgusting. What a pile of steaming, stinking pig poop. I don't know if you've ever smelled pig poop....but it's fairly vile.
I think Jim and Rachel have said it all for me...and much more aptly. Go..read...watch. Enlighten.
Congratulations, Mr. President.
Monday, November 05, 2012
While waiting for Mdme B's astounding post...
Some appropriate music, Maestro, if you please.
Another one of those crap I LOVE posts, just because I love to annoy you.
1. Grey, misty, foggy days, and the temp must be below 55°
2. My new Crocs. Where have you been all my life?
3. Random hugs from my teenaged boy..okay, so I said this last time, too. But can't have too much of a good thing, right?
4. My frying pan I got at HEB on sale. Love. This. Pan.
5. Cheese. Haven't met a cheese I didn't like. Some need a bit of, um, tempering...? As in they need other things to kind of lessen the impact. There are fake cheeses I don't like, but real cheese is nomworthy.
6. Rock Star Zero.
7. My dogs.
8. Annoying you.
9. Sumatra Coffee.
10. Playing Angry Birds. There, I said it. :P
Another one of those crap I LOVE posts, just because I love to annoy you.
1. Grey, misty, foggy days, and the temp must be below 55°
2. My new Crocs. Where have you been all my life?
3. Random hugs from my teenaged boy..okay, so I said this last time, too. But can't have too much of a good thing, right?
4. My frying pan I got at HEB on sale. Love. This. Pan.
5. Cheese. Haven't met a cheese I didn't like. Some need a bit of, um, tempering...? As in they need other things to kind of lessen the impact. There are fake cheeses I don't like, but real cheese is nomworthy.
6. Rock Star Zero.
7. My dogs.
8. Annoying you.
9. Sumatra Coffee.
10. Playing Angry Birds. There, I said it. :P
Monday, October 22, 2012
Something stinks like rotten fish
Okay, I'll admit it right up front: I've never been a huge fan of cycling. The Tour de France went on for decades and I neither knew nor cared about it. And I know Lance Armstrong is a bit of an arrogant birk, but this? This is bullshit.
From the moment he won, the French just couldn't stand it and started accusing him of doping. All the times he won or placed, they accused him of doping, but the blood tests never showed anything. I find it quite interesting that France (and Belgium) dominated the race until the mid-80s, and have not won it since. Lance was just the most obvious target. I'd watch out, if I were you, Miguel Induráin, you have the next most numberous wins.
What a crock of shit, USADA, that you should buy into France's pettiness.
From the moment he won, the French just couldn't stand it and started accusing him of doping. All the times he won or placed, they accused him of doping, but the blood tests never showed anything. I find it quite interesting that France (and Belgium) dominated the race until the mid-80s, and have not won it since. Lance was just the most obvious target. I'd watch out, if I were you, Miguel Induráin, you have the next most numberous wins.
What a crock of shit, USADA, that you should buy into France's pettiness.
Thursday, October 04, 2012
Me again.
I finally, after some yammering with Start Logic and the Google blogger forum, have my URL back. Not that I expected, you know, droves of my readers to defect to Dooce because they couldn't find me, but my Web address is out there in a few places. Of course anything that was linked to a specific post is now jiggered, but oh well.
So to my army of readers, I apologize. //sarcasm
In other news, I feel incredibly like...not working. At least not at work. I'd rather be dusting at home than doing anything at work. That's pretty sad, considering how many people need jobs and you know...I actually like the people I work with (I have one overly excitable, loud Alabamian and one overly loud Detroit...ite?--both of whom I could gladly chuck water balloons at on a daily basis, but they're okay sorts at the end of the day), and they like and respect me...something new for me, lol. And what I do is important, even if any well-trained, fairly intelligent monkey could do it. But it's not really the job or the people, it's the fact that I've been working for almost all of 42 frippin' years. Okay, subtract a couple for being an actual, honest-to-goodness housewife and mommy 1971-73, and it's 40.
It seems like 60.
I'm ready to retire, I'm ready to do things *I* want to do, even if I have to have a part-time job to help pay for things (the retirement pay, at least until I'm old enough to collect Social Security [that is if the fucking Republicans don't screw me out of that], is not enough). I want to paint, journal, sew, clean, decorate, paint rooms, draw, garden, mosey... I'm tired of "Miss Naaaaaannn, can you...." whatever it is they think I can pull out of my ass this time. Little do they know, it's all smoke and mirrors. *sighs* God love 'em' even though I like all of them, I could walk out tomorrow and not look back.
I dream about it...I fantasize about it, about winning the Texas Two-Step so I could have enough to pay off our bills, buy a decent car for R, and do the repairs on the house before it falls in around our ears.
I moved a bunch of 70+ year-old Fortune magazines we have in the office (about a four-foot high stack of them) from a lateral filing cabinet to some "Very Useful Boxes" like these yesterday so the two afore-mentioned loud mouths could use the drawer for personnel records, and today my hands are just killing me. I'm quite sure I'd go thru a lot of this at home, too...but there I can kick back, pet a cat, and swallow a half-bottle of ibuprofen--or vicodin--and chill. Here, I gotta keep working. Bah.
Oh, whine over. I need to do some webby maintenance.
So to my army of readers, I apologize. //sarcasm
In other news, I feel incredibly like...not working. At least not at work. I'd rather be dusting at home than doing anything at work. That's pretty sad, considering how many people need jobs and you know...I actually like the people I work with (I have one overly excitable, loud Alabamian and one overly loud Detroit...ite?--both of whom I could gladly chuck water balloons at on a daily basis, but they're okay sorts at the end of the day), and they like and respect me...something new for me, lol. And what I do is important, even if any well-trained, fairly intelligent monkey could do it. But it's not really the job or the people, it's the fact that I've been working for almost all of 42 frippin' years. Okay, subtract a couple for being an actual, honest-to-goodness housewife and mommy 1971-73, and it's 40.
It seems like 60.
I'm ready to retire, I'm ready to do things *I* want to do, even if I have to have a part-time job to help pay for things (the retirement pay, at least until I'm old enough to collect Social Security [that is if the fucking Republicans don't screw me out of that], is not enough). I want to paint, journal, sew, clean, decorate, paint rooms, draw, garden, mosey... I'm tired of "Miss Naaaaaannn, can you...." whatever it is they think I can pull out of my ass this time. Little do they know, it's all smoke and mirrors. *sighs* God love 'em' even though I like all of them, I could walk out tomorrow and not look back.
I dream about it...I fantasize about it, about winning the Texas Two-Step so I could have enough to pay off our bills, buy a decent car for R, and do the repairs on the house before it falls in around our ears.
I moved a bunch of 70+ year-old Fortune magazines we have in the office (about a four-foot high stack of them) from a lateral filing cabinet to some "Very Useful Boxes" like these yesterday so the two afore-mentioned loud mouths could use the drawer for personnel records, and today my hands are just killing me. I'm quite sure I'd go thru a lot of this at home, too...but there I can kick back, pet a cat, and swallow a half-bottle of ibuprofen--or vicodin--and chill. Here, I gotta keep working. Bah.
Oh, whine over. I need to do some webby maintenance.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Life sucks...or not...
My Saints lost by one freaking point tonight. One. Freaking. Point. Really guys? C'mon. You couldna dug up a safety or a field goal or throwing a cheerleader over the goal line or something? *sighs* At least my Longhorns won a tough one...that ought silence the critics...for about three days.
And, lest you think from the second to last post that I'm a whiny weener over no one liking me...it's not just the SCA thing, it's a whole host of shit. and I have to keep telling myself: someone would be stuck with my piles of crap at work and home...and that just wouldn't be a nice thing to do to anyone. but really, sometimes I wonder what the point of life really is...just to keep plodding on, raising kids who will just plod on toward a more diseased planet and society...bleah. But, here's a list of favorites, so you don't think I'm a complete negative nellie noo.
Things I love...in no particular order:
1. Waking up surrounded by my kitties. Reaching out to find soft fur first thing is the best.
2. Hugs from my big, gangly teenaged boy. *melts*
3. Rain on a sunday afternoon.
4. My studio (even though it's still overcrowded with CRAP atm)
5. Sonic's Chicago Dog.
And, lest you think from the second to last post that I'm a whiny weener over no one liking me...it's not just the SCA thing, it's a whole host of shit. and I have to keep telling myself: someone would be stuck with my piles of crap at work and home...and that just wouldn't be a nice thing to do to anyone. but really, sometimes I wonder what the point of life really is...just to keep plodding on, raising kids who will just plod on toward a more diseased planet and society...bleah. But, here's a list of favorites, so you don't think I'm a complete negative nellie noo.
Things I love...in no particular order:
1. Waking up surrounded by my kitties. Reaching out to find soft fur first thing is the best.
2. Hugs from my big, gangly teenaged boy. *melts*
3. Rain on a sunday afternoon.
4. My studio (even though it's still overcrowded with CRAP atm)
5. Sonic's Chicago Dog.
In other news...
I really, really, really wish my kid would start writing in her blog again. It was poignant, funny as hell and gave me insight into the adult child that I don't otherwise have. Damn marriages...ruin everything. ;) (she basically stopped blogging once she got remarried).
Feh.
Ice cream or booze?
As in death by.
I try not to be a drama queen..okay, so there have been a few times, but for the most part, I keep my whining to myself. A couple people I know on FB are continually posting all their woes and how depressed they are and this ailment is kicking up and that thing is rotten and...and... You know, I'm not a fan of Dr. Phil, but there are times when I want to say, you know...everyone has depression and fits of suicidal mania, get over yourself and move on. but I don't. Unlike Dr. Phil, I know everyone's different, everyone has different issues and depth of character, depression, and resources. Lately though, I feel like everything is closing in I'm old, fat, unable to do the things I want to do, stuck in a pointless job shuffling papers for people who could give a shit in the longrun--and this crew likes me betther than any I've ever worked with. I keep on trying to get back in the SCA, but R doesn't really want to, the boy doesn't really care, and truth be told not one single person except the couple I introduced to the SCA a couple years ago would give a flying shit if I stepped off the Congress Avenue bridge tomorrow. Some of that is my own fault, I know, but it still begs the question, why? Why bother trying to go play with a bunch of people who could care less about you than a fire ant mound? I don't have enough money really to play, we only have one car, so even if I did, I can't go leave R without the car for the weekend.
I know this sounds like a rambling pity-party, but after crying myself silly this afternoon and sleeping till 8:30, I really am wondering why am I bothering worrying about making costumes, etc. when in the end I won't have a reaons to wear them.
And all this typing is really making the shit in my thumb flare up. *sighs* Fuck it. I'm going to go do laundry...and see if I can find a 5-gallon bucket of ice cream. I hate the feeling too much alcohol gives me.
I try not to be a drama queen..okay, so there have been a few times, but for the most part, I keep my whining to myself. A couple people I know on FB are continually posting all their woes and how depressed they are and this ailment is kicking up and that thing is rotten and...and... You know, I'm not a fan of Dr. Phil, but there are times when I want to say, you know...everyone has depression and fits of suicidal mania, get over yourself and move on. but I don't. Unlike Dr. Phil, I know everyone's different, everyone has different issues and depth of character, depression, and resources. Lately though, I feel like everything is closing in I'm old, fat, unable to do the things I want to do, stuck in a pointless job shuffling papers for people who could give a shit in the longrun--and this crew likes me betther than any I've ever worked with. I keep on trying to get back in the SCA, but R doesn't really want to, the boy doesn't really care, and truth be told not one single person except the couple I introduced to the SCA a couple years ago would give a flying shit if I stepped off the Congress Avenue bridge tomorrow. Some of that is my own fault, I know, but it still begs the question, why? Why bother trying to go play with a bunch of people who could care less about you than a fire ant mound? I don't have enough money really to play, we only have one car, so even if I did, I can't go leave R without the car for the weekend.
I know this sounds like a rambling pity-party, but after crying myself silly this afternoon and sleeping till 8:30, I really am wondering why am I bothering worrying about making costumes, etc. when in the end I won't have a reaons to wear them.
And all this typing is really making the shit in my thumb flare up. *sighs* Fuck it. I'm going to go do laundry...and see if I can find a 5-gallon bucket of ice cream. I hate the feeling too much alcohol gives me.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
More changes...I like confusion....
Well, not really. I don't like paying $110 a year for webhosting, when I can do what I do on Blogger. So I'm moving back over here. I've imported my posts from www. madamebizarro.net and they might look a bit...discombobulated. Some of them I will fix and some I won't. I'm going to gradually move my photos to Picasa, because they're all hosted on StartLogic atm.
So...bear with me.
So...bear with me.
Tuesday, September 04, 2012
Jeans Recycling.
I've been hoarding a pile of old jeans for a while now, telling myself "I'll make purses! Or bags! or a brooch, or a pterodactyl... " and there they sat. So when my husband wanted a sleeve for his tablet, I said...ooooh..I have just the thing. And there they sat. I finally got my workdesk in the studio cleared to be able to sew and started late Sunday night. The only thing I had to go get was some Velcro®, everything else I had.
Monday, September 03, 2012
More stupid car tricks
These fake wire wheels with the "knock-off hubs" are ridiculously stupid looking on big cars...they're just plain insulting to a Mercedes. I ought to leave the tag number so people can write to them and tell them just how stupid their car looks.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
As I was just saying....
This happened on our corner yesterday afternoon.
http://www.weareaustin.com/news/top-stories/stories/vid_3632.shtml
http://www.weareaustin.com/news/top-stories/stories/vid_3632.shtml
Monday, August 20, 2012
Hang up the #*%%#@ phone and drive! (PG language alert)
I should put this all in caps, because I really, really want to shout this at drivers:
Put away your fripping cell phone, the nail polish (yes, I did see a girl painting her nails while driving 65 down I-35 one morning), the make-up, the Big Mac, the GODDAMNED LAPTOP FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!, the sales figures, the CIGARETTES (why are you smoking in the car anyway??)...and DRIVE!!! Some of you even need to shut the fuck up and not talk to passengers while you're attempting to drive....hell, you shouldn't even have passengers.
95% of you can't drive worth a shit anyway and you're going to distract yourselves even more by talking on the phone (and no, you can't talk on the phone and not be distracted), paint your nails, put mascara on (??!?!?!?!), eat a taco and drink a soda, text, jack-off, or prep for your morning staff meeting while you're driving? Really.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Randomocity
Many is the day I really want to write serious, thought-provoking posts. then I come to my senses and realize that would take effort. And organization skills I left at university when I graduated. I think about essays and telling people to get bent and how to do things....then, yeah, the whole effort thing comes up and I go play Bubbletown....again.
The same thing happens with my house. I picture myself with this really cute, well-decorated, clean, organized house (with the broken things fixed), and having a party to "unveil" the new and improved digs. Then my reality hits and I go read a book. Right now, for instance, I'm supposed to be cleaning the bathroom (at least according to the little dilettante in my head) and yet, here I am, writing a blog post instead. Hey, at least I cleared all my crap off the kitchen table and fed the dogs....what more do you want? No wonder my son is so screwed up.
I have this friend (you know who you are), who comes home from work and repaints entire rooms, builds furniture, plants gardens, and changes her oil...all before dinner. Lately she's been very ill and has the nerve to beat herself up because she's not getting anything done. Really? Chill, girlfriend. I come home from work, look at my piles of shit, the ADHD kicks in, I get overwhelmed and go hide somewhere (Helloooo, Bubbletown!). Occasionally I get on this manic tear and get stuff done, but it seems like such a tiny drop in the bucket, I feel like I haven't really accomplished anything. If I sit back and look objectively at things, I can see it, but that takes....you guessed it: effort.
I've made a huge effort lately to keep the kitchen clean most of the time and it does make me feel a lot better, even if I don't necessarily do the dishes every.single.day. Climbing up out of a 20-year bucket of depression is not the easiest thing in the world (and I don't really mean to moan and cry "depression!" here, but when I look at things honestly, that's what's going on); some days you just say screw it and slide back into the bucket (it's warm and floaty in there). But then I think of all the things I'd rather be doing with my time than cleaning and de-cluttering, like my art, and sewing, and training my dog, and maybe going fishing with my son before he's too old to appreciate it, gardening, weekend trips, visiting my mother and and daughter more than once every 6 months--well, I see Mother more often than that...she's only 5 minutes away, truth be told, the kiddo is only about 10 minutes away, but whereas my mom would welcome me every other day if I wanted to be there that often, the kiddo is a bit more...reclusive... Gee, I wonder where she gets THAT from?
The same thing happens with my house. I picture myself with this really cute, well-decorated, clean, organized house (with the broken things fixed), and having a party to "unveil" the new and improved digs. Then my reality hits and I go read a book. Right now, for instance, I'm supposed to be cleaning the bathroom (at least according to the little dilettante in my head) and yet, here I am, writing a blog post instead. Hey, at least I cleared all my crap off the kitchen table and fed the dogs....what more do you want? No wonder my son is so screwed up.
I have this friend (you know who you are), who comes home from work and repaints entire rooms, builds furniture, plants gardens, and changes her oil...all before dinner. Lately she's been very ill and has the nerve to beat herself up because she's not getting anything done. Really? Chill, girlfriend. I come home from work, look at my piles of shit, the ADHD kicks in, I get overwhelmed and go hide somewhere (Helloooo, Bubbletown!). Occasionally I get on this manic tear and get stuff done, but it seems like such a tiny drop in the bucket, I feel like I haven't really accomplished anything. If I sit back and look objectively at things, I can see it, but that takes....you guessed it: effort.
I've made a huge effort lately to keep the kitchen clean most of the time and it does make me feel a lot better, even if I don't necessarily do the dishes every.single.day. Climbing up out of a 20-year bucket of depression is not the easiest thing in the world (and I don't really mean to moan and cry "depression!" here, but when I look at things honestly, that's what's going on); some days you just say screw it and slide back into the bucket (it's warm and floaty in there). But then I think of all the things I'd rather be doing with my time than cleaning and de-cluttering, like my art, and sewing, and training my dog, and maybe going fishing with my son before he's too old to appreciate it, gardening, weekend trips, visiting my mother and and daughter more than once every 6 months--well, I see Mother more often than that...she's only 5 minutes away, truth be told, the kiddo is only about 10 minutes away, but whereas my mom would welcome me every other day if I wanted to be there that often, the kiddo is a bit more...reclusive... Gee, I wonder where she gets THAT from?
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
WOYWW #160
Hi, y'all--some of you might remember the debacle that was my kitchen table and studio in WOYWW #159. Well...I got the kitchen table all cleared off and a nice table cloth on it, and made lots of headway in the studio (more on that in a bit), but still had to draw on the table this week. I started doodling last night, thinking zentangles, but that's not exactly what came out. Oh, before I show you the new pics, click here to see the vid of my son's journal--I showed you the cover in WOYWW #158.
In the studio, I started consolidating fabric and gave away four empty bins (some fabric might follow). That has freed up a bunch of space; I have more to go, but when I'm finished I should have space for a lot of art supplies, files, etc. I'm also tossing and culling as I go, so don't worry that I'm hanging on to everything. One of the things I started was a fabric journal. I used a cute (ack!!) little notepad with very nice, strong paper (that's not perforated!) I won as part of a goodie-bag door-prize YEARS ago. There were a few things scribbled in it, including doodles by my son, who was a toddler at the time. I just went over all that. It's small enough I can keep in in my purse when I shop for notions and matching fabric, or if I have a design idea. I labeled flip-top bins, small IKEA boxes, and Roughneck totes with things like FABRIC 1, 2, 3, REMNANTS 1, PROJECTS, etc. and then everything is getting recorded in the journal, with the box it's in, a swatch, width, and the yardage, plus fiber content, if I know it (a burn test will tell you if it's cotton, silk, wool, linen, ramie, rayon, or some sort of synthetic). Now all I have to do is flip through the journal and pick a fabric, go to that box and Bob's yer uncle.
And this is the work desk...or main event, as it were, with my art journal piece in progress (99%). Mixed media, Pitt pens, water color, water color pencils, and gesso and glue (had a bit of a repair issue due to old miskit).
Hope you enjoyed the show! Mwa!
In the studio, I started consolidating fabric and gave away four empty bins (some fabric might follow). That has freed up a bunch of space; I have more to go, but when I'm finished I should have space for a lot of art supplies, files, etc. I'm also tossing and culling as I go, so don't worry that I'm hanging on to everything. One of the things I started was a fabric journal. I used a cute (ack!!) little notepad with very nice, strong paper (that's not perforated!) I won as part of a goodie-bag door-prize YEARS ago. There were a few things scribbled in it, including doodles by my son, who was a toddler at the time. I just went over all that. It's small enough I can keep in in my purse when I shop for notions and matching fabric, or if I have a design idea. I labeled flip-top bins, small IKEA boxes, and Roughneck totes with things like FABRIC 1, 2, 3, REMNANTS 1, PROJECTS, etc. and then everything is getting recorded in the journal, with the box it's in, a swatch, width, and the yardage, plus fiber content, if I know it (a burn test will tell you if it's cotton, silk, wool, linen, ramie, rayon, or some sort of synthetic). Now all I have to do is flip through the journal and pick a fabric, go to that box and Bob's yer uncle.
And this is the work desk...or main event, as it were, with my art journal piece in progress (99%). Mixed media, Pitt pens, water color, water color pencils, and gesso and glue (had a bit of a repair issue due to old miskit).
Hope you enjoyed the show! Mwa!
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Will's Journal
Remember WOYWW #158? Well, I finished the journal and the vid. Best viewed fullscreen on YouTube.
Thank you Jennibellie for the inspiration!!
"My son thought the two little dos-à-dos journals I made were really cool and said he'd like to have a journal made for him. A lot of the journals people make are really girly so I tried really hard to keep this one very masculine. I got my idea for using the box and tutorials for sewing in the pages from Jennibellie at http://jennibelliestudio.blogspot.com/ (She's super awesome, by the way.)
Music by http://www.danosongs.com/"
Thank you Jennibellie for the inspiration!!
"My son thought the two little dos-à-dos journals I made were really cool and said he'd like to have a journal made for him. A lot of the journals people make are really girly so I tried really hard to keep this one very masculine. I got my idea for using the box and tutorials for sewing in the pages from Jennibellie at http://jennibelliestudio.blogspot.com/ (She's super awesome, by the way.)
Music by http://www.danosongs.com/"
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
WOYWW #159
Hi, Madame B here. I forgot to mention last week that it was my first WOYWW post! (I was #178...posted on Thursday. Hee.)
We had a marvelous thunderboomer in our neck of the woods today--not all of Austin got rain--lowered the temp and watered the garden a bit. DEEE-lish!
Okay, I never had to go to confession, but I imagine today's post would be a harrowing experience in the confessional: Forgive me, for I have sinned. What is your sin, child? I have allowed a large, wonderful place to work and craft get so totally cluttered with schtuff, I've had to work in the kitchen. Ooooh...I'm not sure there are enough Hail Marys or Our Fathers to cover that, but your penance is banishment from all craft stores until it's tidied up!!
So, before you click the thumbnails of DHOOOM below, a bit of an explanation is due, I think. My house is one constant reno project and things get moved about all the time. Pic #1 is my kitchen table, because of Pics # 2-3. My studio. *sighs* I had to move things in there and then they didn't get organized at all. Today I was home, giving Valentino meds for his nastily infected eye, so I attacked the studio and started organizing fabric and project bins. Actually made some headway, too. :)
When I came in the kitchen to sit a bit, I was gessoing odd bits of things to use as tags and journals...and playing Bubbletown on the computer. Any wonder I don't get more done?
These are thumbnails, click on them for larger pics!
We had a marvelous thunderboomer in our neck of the woods today--not all of Austin got rain--lowered the temp and watered the garden a bit. DEEE-lish!
Okay, I never had to go to confession, but I imagine today's post would be a harrowing experience in the confessional: Forgive me, for I have sinned. What is your sin, child? I have allowed a large, wonderful place to work and craft get so totally cluttered with schtuff, I've had to work in the kitchen. Ooooh...I'm not sure there are enough Hail Marys or Our Fathers to cover that, but your penance is banishment from all craft stores until it's tidied up!!
So, before you click the thumbnails of DHOOOM below, a bit of an explanation is due, I think. My house is one constant reno project and things get moved about all the time. Pic #1 is my kitchen table, because of Pics # 2-3. My studio. *sighs* I had to move things in there and then they didn't get organized at all. Today I was home, giving Valentino meds for his nastily infected eye, so I attacked the studio and started organizing fabric and project bins. Actually made some headway, too. :)
When I came in the kitchen to sit a bit, I was gessoing odd bits of things to use as tags and journals...and playing Bubbletown on the computer. Any wonder I don't get more done?
These are thumbnails, click on them for larger pics!
Monday, June 18, 2012
Curse you...why'd you have to do that?
My wonderful, techno-blessed hubby figured out how to get the BBC iPlayer here. Not the craptastic BBC America, which shows only a few things and has US commercials, but the actual BBC iPlayer. We watch all sorts of shows (contrast to one or two American shows I watch--and only one of those on a regular basis, Castle). And the more I watch, the more I want to live in the UK. I want it so badly, it's a physical heartache. And...unless I win the freaking lotto...I know I'll never even visit.
Makes me loathe the unbearable heat of Texas even more. I know this probably isn't the way to look at it, and soon enough I'll make the paradigm shift just like I have with every other dream or fantasy I've had, so it'll fade to the background. Meanwhile, if anyone from the UK reads my site, send me photos, links, anything...tell me how to get from King's Cross to somewhere else, tell me about things in the store and living in a village...I know it sounds utterly insane, but if i can't go, I can sure as heck live vicariously, eh?
English village street, stolen from some random blog.
Ta.
Makes me loathe the unbearable heat of Texas even more. I know this probably isn't the way to look at it, and soon enough I'll make the paradigm shift just like I have with every other dream or fantasy I've had, so it'll fade to the background. Meanwhile, if anyone from the UK reads my site, send me photos, links, anything...tell me how to get from King's Cross to somewhere else, tell me about things in the store and living in a village...I know it sounds utterly insane, but if i can't go, I can sure as heck live vicariously, eh?
English village street, stolen from some random blog.
Ta.
More June
Not too much done this weekend, on any front. Got some more things moved to the storage unit. Don't know if I said this yet or not, but over the years, I kept getting a storage unit as a "temporary" thing, a stop-gap measure while I supposedly dealt with getting my house painted, arranged, whatever. 2-3 down the road, I'd still not have gotten anything done, but was paying out on the unit, so I'd move everything back and it would sit around, in the way, for years. *sigh* This time I just flat-out said, "I need a storage unit, pretty much permanently." I've put things like the antique chairs and table that will be my daughter's when they get a house, the Xmas stuff that only comes out once a year, camping gear that only comes out a few times a year (and hasn't been used at all in some time, since we've not been going to events. So, to make a long story short, I now budget the $58 /month for a 5x10 storage room. I j just kind of look at it as part of the mortgage payment, since our house is seriously storage-challenged.
Didn't get to the dog park on Friday, didn't get much done on the boy's journal--a little added to the inside covers. One of the cats has his nasty eye-infection back, so I need to call the vet today about that. Got a very few things organized in the studio...very few...and mopped a section of the floor where my old cat tracked nasty stuff all over before I finally had him put down. *cries* Slowly, slowly.
Projects on the block here:
Not necessarily in that order. Oh, and write at least a chapter a week...uh huh.
I'm writing from work because I'm waiting for the scans to finish on my old computer and for Office Max to deliver the transfer cable so I can move everything to my new computer. Woo..it's lunchtime, baby!
Didn't get to the dog park on Friday, didn't get much done on the boy's journal--a little added to the inside covers. One of the cats has his nasty eye-infection back, so I need to call the vet today about that. Got a very few things organized in the studio...very few...and mopped a section of the floor where my old cat tracked nasty stuff all over before I finally had him put down. *cries* Slowly, slowly.
Projects on the block here:
Call the vet about ValentinoDone- Build the kitty loo
- Updating the kitty condo (see lessons learned)
- The boy's journal
- The boy's wash--since I think my brother will finally make it over here to get him this week
- The cleaning and organization of the studio--huge
- The cleaning and organization of the greatroom--even huger...gargantuan
- Finishing up the bathroom--stripping that awful popcorn crap off the ceiling and painting said ceiling, putting the last couple of baseboard pieces in, and framing up the mirror with molding
- Getting rid of more crap in my bedroom and organizing the rest
- Building my bed.
- Selling the trumpet, Navajo loom, dog gates, and primitives
- Making and posting the vid about my dos-à-dos journals
- Finish painting the kitchen--big job
Not necessarily in that order. Oh, and write at least a chapter a week...uh huh.
I'm writing from work because I'm waiting for the scans to finish on my old computer and for Office Max to deliver the transfer cable so I can move everything to my new computer. Woo..it's lunchtime, baby!
Friday, June 15, 2012
UK-speak *giggles*
From the Dictionary of English Slang. Seems like one would need to be very careful about -ff, -ffer, -ffed, -ffed as, -ffed to, -ffing, -ffin', and to whom one is speaking.
| chuff | Noun. 1. Rubbish, nonsense. E.g."That film was boring, too long, and generally just total chuff." 2. The anus. [Orig Aust.] 3. The vagina. 4. A passing of wind from the anus, a 'fart'. Also used as a euphemism for 'fuck' in expressions such as the denial - "Did I chuff!" Verb. To break wind. E.g."She chuffed just as we were saying grace before dinner" |
| chuffed | Adj. Pleased, delighted. Compare with 'dischuffed' and 'chuffed to buggery'. E.g."I'm well chuffed at the result." [1950s] |
| chuffed as nuts | Adj. Extremely pleased. |
| chuffed to buggery / fuck | Adj. Very pleased. E.g."She's chuffed to buggery that they are marrying before the baby is born." |
| chuffer | Noun. 1. A contemptible person. 2. An annoying, difficult or disappointing occurrence. E.g."It's a right chuffer, breaking my leg just before the football season starts." Chuffer is a euphemism for 'fucker'. |
| chuffer (train) | Noun. A train. Children's talk. Also chuff chuff. |
| chuffing | Adj. An intensifier, and euphemism for 'fucking'. E.g."That chuffing idiot scratched my favourite CD and now it sticks on the third track." |
| chuffin 'ell! | Exclam. Expressing anger, surprise etc. A euphemism for 'fuckin hell'. |
Thursday Doodles-ICAD
The first of my "index card a day." It's a 5x8 index card from work--I printed a form on the backs of these, used them for one semester and decided I didn't like the form, so the cards are going spare. Rather than throw them in the recycle bin, I decided to use them for Daisy Yellow's ICAD challenge. I doubt I'll do one every single day, but it gets me using my hand again. It's a doodle and demonstrates why I hate journaling on my work *laughs*. It's a combination of Sharpie, colored pencil, and a really old, craptastic roller ball pen. Hey, you use what you have at hand, right?
Ta.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Pen envy
I have decided I want a reasonable set of Copic Markers. They are obscenely expensive, but are so very worth it for many reasons. This lady has about a kabillion of them. I only want 12 or 20 or....
*le sigh*
*le sigh*
What's on Your Workdesk Wednesday #158
I know, I know, I'm a day late with this...but here it is. I'm working on a journal for my son to take with him to New Orleans for the summer. He's going to stay with my brother and learn how to work on computers and install CC cameras, techy-stuff, for which he will get paid! After I made the dos-à-dos journals (still need to post those!) I asked him if he wanted a journal to take with him and he said yeah! so many of these smashbook type journals are soooooo girly, so I'm trying to keep this very boy.
I took a box that a store version of Hamburger Helper came in (don't look at me, I don't eat that crap), gessoed it, painted it matte black, then Mod Podged on torn pieces of scrapping paper. Then I mixed ultramarine acrylic with some Mod Podge and scraped that on.
Tonight I'm at the coffee house, writing, but tomorrow...after I get back from the dog park, I'll do the inside covers and start sewing in the signatures.
I took a box that a store version of Hamburger Helper came in (don't look at me, I don't eat that crap), gessoed it, painted it matte black, then Mod Podged on torn pieces of scrapping paper. Then I mixed ultramarine acrylic with some Mod Podge and scraped that on.
Tonight I'm at the coffee house, writing, but tomorrow...after I get back from the dog park, I'll do the inside covers and start sewing in the signatures.
Wednesday Whatfors: Riddle me this....
Why do bagged lettuce producers think we love those big chunks of romaine spine so much?
If the popularity of the Pontiac G-series was as large in relation to the numbers of them I've been seeing lately, why did Pontiac get axed?
Has Michael's really gotten that lame, or is it just the one in the Arboretum area?
Why do so many art journalers make these gorgeous background pages and then completely cover them with gesso and or torn up paper....baroo? I don't get that, sorry.
Why do so many art journalers have these big-eyed, tilty-head cartoon girls in their work?
Why is it the more I look at other's journals, the less confident I become about doing my own?
Why didn't I post this on Wednesday?
If the popularity of the Pontiac G-series was as large in relation to the numbers of them I've been seeing lately, why did Pontiac get axed?
Has Michael's really gotten that lame, or is it just the one in the Arboretum area?
Why do so many art journalers make these gorgeous background pages and then completely cover them with gesso and or torn up paper....baroo? I don't get that, sorry.
Why do so many art journalers have these big-eyed, tilty-head cartoon girls in their work?
Why is it the more I look at other's journals, the less confident I become about doing my own?
Why didn't I post this on Wednesday?
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
It appears...
...I'm five days behind on my schedule. Well, hey, you got two posts one day!
If I had a regular reader base...oh, heck, a reader base at all...I'd be more fussed about it, but as it is the one whole person who reads my site understands. *evil grin*
I have a whole raft of things going on. I made a couple of dos-à-dos journals out of a box that canning rings and lids came in. They're small, but came out quite nice. Even my 15 YO son thought they were cool. Going to do a very small video on them, just to kind of get started on the video blogging. Now I'm making a smash journal for him to take with him to New Orleans; he's spending the summer there with my brother. I have to make sure it's not in the least girly, or he won' t use it. There are a kabillion and one video tutorials and flips and flops of art journals, smash journals, "junque" journals, junky journals, journal journals, and-how-to-desecrate-a-book journals, ruin Moleskine journals (and create very nice art journals from them, too)....you name it journals out there on Youtube, but you know...what we need is just one more lady sharing her art, right?
On the "desecrate a book" thing: at one point in time the idea of "altered books" was just....blasphemy to me. But to be realistic, there are crap-ton of old, falling apart books that will either end up in the landfill or --if someone is doing the right thing-- in the recycle, so why the heck not make something nifty out of them? There are all kinds of artists making sculptures out of old books, but this guy really blows me away. I'd go insane trying to do all that. Particularly, I think old, out of date textbooks are a prime candidate for upcycling into art.
One of the projects I want to do is creating a memory journal out of a really, really old book I had as a little girl (©1950!). In fact, there are several I'd like to do that with. This particular one was a favorite of mine, about an old guy who has a clock shop. Anyway, none of the original pages would be taken out or destroyed. I'll vid it when I do it.
Took the dogs to the pet clinic today. Turns out they only do vaccines at 1:20 PM...so I had to haul them back home, and then I left the old man at home and just got Abby taken care of. Tested for heartworms (negative, woot!!), annual boosters, they micro-chipped her for free (it'll cost $18 to register the chip), claws clipped, a tube of Advantage for each dog and HW preventative for Abby all for $87.50. Not too shabby. Serg is is 13, so they might not even give him shots. I will have him tested for HW. He might need sedating for the claws, though, since they're so long and it would HURT. So...might not do that either.
Abby was a scaredy-cat, but behaved very well. She's a very sweet dog, but just not used to other humans. So...after a few days, I'm going to start walking her again and taking her to dog parks and stuff; she really needs to get out and be social.
Meanwhile...I discovered bugs in my ceiling. The good news is that I don't think they are termites. The bad news is, they're probably ants. Bleah.
If I had a regular reader base...oh, heck, a reader base at all...I'd be more fussed about it, but as it is the one whole person who reads my site understands. *evil grin*
I have a whole raft of things going on. I made a couple of dos-à-dos journals out of a box that canning rings and lids came in. They're small, but came out quite nice. Even my 15 YO son thought they were cool. Going to do a very small video on them, just to kind of get started on the video blogging. Now I'm making a smash journal for him to take with him to New Orleans; he's spending the summer there with my brother. I have to make sure it's not in the least girly, or he won' t use it. There are a kabillion and one video tutorials and flips and flops of art journals, smash journals, "junque" journals, junky journals, journal journals, and-how-to-desecrate-a-book journals, ruin Moleskine journals (and create very nice art journals from them, too)....you name it journals out there on Youtube, but you know...what we need is just one more lady sharing her art, right?
On the "desecrate a book" thing: at one point in time the idea of "altered books" was just....blasphemy to me. But to be realistic, there are crap-ton of old, falling apart books that will either end up in the landfill or --if someone is doing the right thing-- in the recycle, so why the heck not make something nifty out of them? There are all kinds of artists making sculptures out of old books, but this guy really blows me away. I'd go insane trying to do all that. Particularly, I think old, out of date textbooks are a prime candidate for upcycling into art.
One of the projects I want to do is creating a memory journal out of a really, really old book I had as a little girl (©1950!). In fact, there are several I'd like to do that with. This particular one was a favorite of mine, about an old guy who has a clock shop. Anyway, none of the original pages would be taken out or destroyed. I'll vid it when I do it.
Took the dogs to the pet clinic today. Turns out they only do vaccines at 1:20 PM...so I had to haul them back home, and then I left the old man at home and just got Abby taken care of. Tested for heartworms (negative, woot!!), annual boosters, they micro-chipped her for free (it'll cost $18 to register the chip), claws clipped, a tube of Advantage for each dog and HW preventative for Abby all for $87.50. Not too shabby. Serg is is 13, so they might not even give him shots. I will have him tested for HW. He might need sedating for the claws, though, since they're so long and it would HURT. So...might not do that either.
Abby was a scaredy-cat, but behaved very well. She's a very sweet dog, but just not used to other humans. So...after a few days, I'm going to start walking her again and taking her to dog parks and stuff; she really needs to get out and be social.
Meanwhile...I discovered bugs in my ceiling. The good news is that I don't think they are termites. The bad news is, they're probably ants. Bleah.
Wednesday, June 06, 2012
Art, Depth, and Self-Doubt.
I have a very, very, very good friend, who also happens to be an author. She writes new-agey books on spirituality (that's how we met, in a round-about sort of way), and the Shadow World vampire series. Her blog, Crazy Beautiful, is down there on the right under RSS feeds, if you care to check her out--she's one of the most awesome people I know (and that's saying something, because I know some fairly awesome peeps).
Anyway....on Tuesdays she posts "Tuesday Currents" in which she writes about what she's eating, drinking, doing, watching, listening to, working on, thinking about, etc. Last Tuesday, she wrote about watching videos by Jennibellie, who is a drop-dead gorgeous young lady in Nottingham, England. She's an artist and makes these fabulous journals. I spent night before last, staying up waaaaaay too late, watching all of her tutorials. Why is this important, you ask? Well, it's a long story, and I'm not going into all of it here.
Anyway....on Tuesdays she posts "Tuesday Currents" in which she writes about what she's eating, drinking, doing, watching, listening to, working on, thinking about, etc. Last Tuesday, she wrote about watching videos by Jennibellie, who is a drop-dead gorgeous young lady in Nottingham, England. She's an artist and makes these fabulous journals. I spent night before last, staying up waaaaaay too late, watching all of her tutorials. Why is this important, you ask? Well, it's a long story, and I'm not going into all of it here.
Bonus Post-IKEA hack
This is to make up for not really doing a bona fide post yesterday. Way back, I bought a couple of Metro shelves at Sam's. At the time they were only $70. One went in my kitchen to pad out my pathetically small pantry (read: teeny weeny closet with some shelves). I made a table top thingy from nice birch plywood and the middle shelf relieved my counters of the microwave and toaster oven. The other Metro shelf went in my sewing area to hold supplies, etc.
So, one day when I was in IKEA...they had these really great lightweight cotton bedspreads, the Bomull series, for next to nothing. Sadly, they've been discontinued, but I snagged a few before they did. When you wash them, the fabric becomes wonderfully rumply and natural looking with defined ribs.
I took one of the bedspreads and cut it into panels and used IKEA's Riktig curtain clips to make a curtain around the bottom, hiding all the really ugly stuff.
So...this is what I made:
So, one day when I was in IKEA...they had these really great lightweight cotton bedspreads, the Bomull series, for next to nothing. Sadly, they've been discontinued, but I snagged a few before they did. When you wash them, the fabric becomes wonderfully rumply and natural looking with defined ribs.
I took one of the bedspreads and cut it into panels and used IKEA's Riktig curtain clips to make a curtain around the bottom, hiding all the really ugly stuff.
So...this is what I made:
Cat Condo-IKEA hack (photo-heavy)
Lord have mercy...I actually uploaded these pictures almost two years ago, and according to the stats on the original pictures, I took them in May of 2009. *le sigh* But now I know (aside from my terminal procrastination) why I didn't want to do this post. With the really time-consuming and awkward photo insertion tool in WordPress, this post is taking far longer than it should have!
Anyway.....check it all out....
Anyway.....check it all out....
Tuesday, June 05, 2012
June Challenge-Day 2
So...here I am. This is kind of a mini-post; I plan on making a larger one later today.
In my vast readership of ...one...do I have any takers on the June Challenge? (Got an FB message from her that no, she can't, she only does project posting publicly and isn't about to do a project a day. Hmm...well, you could do a day-by-day of it, but anyway). Anyone else out there in my legions (hahahahah) of readers?
Put a link in the comments to your blog if you're on.
ttfn
In my vast readership of ...one...do I have any takers on the June Challenge? (Got an FB message from her that no, she can't, she only does project posting publicly and isn't about to do a project a day. Hmm...well, you could do a day-by-day of it, but anyway). Anyone else out there in my legions (hahahahah) of readers?
Put a link in the comments to your blog if you're on.
ttfn
Monday, June 04, 2012
Challenge
Sometimes I wonder why I pay the annual "rent" for this web site. I constantly think of things I should be posting, writing about, uploading ideas, pictures, etc. and yet here it sits. (Oooh..not too shabby, it's been "only" exactly 2 months since my last post. Groan.)
I've been watching Jennibellie's videos on YouTube. She's got me all fired up about art and things to do with all the paper and paint and ink and beads and ribbons, and CRAP I've accumulated over the years. I even now have ideas about these ancient kids' books I have.
My challenge is a post a day for the next 30 days. About anything, but I hope some will be about a project or something nifty I've done.
Ta.
Blatantly stolen from someone on FB. Haven't laughed that hard in a bit.
I've been watching Jennibellie's videos on YouTube. She's got me all fired up about art and things to do with all the paper and paint and ink and beads and ribbons, and CRAP I've accumulated over the years. I even now have ideas about these ancient kids' books I have.
My challenge is a post a day for the next 30 days. About anything, but I hope some will be about a project or something nifty I've done.
Ta.
Blatantly stolen from someone on FB. Haven't laughed that hard in a bit.
Tuesday, April 03, 2012
The ideology gap...is it really a lack of respect?
I have to admit, I did not really read this article, but I did peruse the first page of comments. Pretty standard fare these days, with the exception that some of this bunch seem to be a little better educated than your average right-wing keyboard-thumper (although in rereading some, I'm considering withdrawing that statement). Don't get me wrong...there are plenty of left-wing idjits out in the netosphere, too. I will say, though that usually the left-wingers seem to attack substance rather than just hurling the standard epithets at "liberals" like: uneducated, ignorant, stupid, mentally ill, etc.; not to mention using the word "liberal" as a pejorative, much like "leper" or "mother-fucker." (And, in looking over the article, I think what it really means is that conservatives just get wasted more...juuust kidding. I think. ) I think it very telling that conservatives malign progressives almost as much as they do liberals. Think about that for a moment.
I suppose, since I don't fall into their particular definition of "conservative," to them I am a "liberal," with all its nasty connotations. I'm not. I'm not conservative, either, nor moderate.
I think about each issue.
Just to give you an example, I have absolutely no problem at all with drug-testing to get welfare or food stamps, thank you very much. I have no problem with my tax dollars going to help someone who really needs it, but if you're getting my hard-earned money, you won't be spending it on drugs, booze, fast cars, big TVs, or fancy cookware...or cigarettes.
That's a pretty conservative notion.
Contrast it with the fact that I have absolutely no problem with gay marriage. In fact, "gay marriage" is a misnomer as far as I'm concerned. If two people love each other and want to join in a legally sanctioned partnership, I could give a rat's patootie about their sexual orientation. A friend of mine (well, she's married to a friend—both of them are so ultra-conservative they make GW look like a 60s flower child) posted something about liking an FB page "...in defense of marriage."
In defense of marriage? Whaaaat?
So, if I understand this correctly, Sam and Tom get married, you're suddenly going to run off and get a divorce or start sleeping with goats? How does two guys or two women marrying each other really hurt you?* Please explain this to me. I can understand if you really and truly feel homosexuality is wrong (which in and of itself is misguided, because we have scientific proof that almost all gays and lesbians are born that way, for one reason or another; their orientation is not a lifestyle, it's who they are). Fine, don't marry someone of your gender. But, just as in the case of abortion, your beliefs are not someone else's problem—or they shouldn't be.
And therein lies the problem. Conservatives think liberals are all pushy for wanting things like clean air and water, pure food supplies, good education, and healthcare. Things that benefit everyone.* Conservatives seem to think it's okay to push their religion off on you, tell you whom to marry, whom to sleep with, what you can do with your body (particularly if you have the bad luck to have been born female...sucks to be you).
To be fair here, I find some of the idiotic things the far left does to be utterly mind-boggling. Carrying the PC bit to extremes, for instance. Like this little jewel. The NYC Board of Education requested that 50 words be taken out of standardized tests. Words like "dinosaur" and "birthday" and "divorce." I'm not making this up. Most of this was based on not wanting to offend certain faiths. Fortunately, someone got a clue-by-four for their birthday, and the request was withdrawn. I can only imagine the original request was drawn up by some left-wing committee somewhere.
Back to the comments—and by the way, this whole thing broke my personal rule of not reading the comments (reading the comments erodes my faith in the human species), but it was like a train wreck—here are two that epitomize some of what I'm talking about (the second bullet is in reply to the first):
I would love to know where they get these facts, although I suspect they got them the same place many of these people do: Faux News. I'd be willing to bet that, yes, many blacks, uneducated or otherwise, vote Democratic. Why? Not because they want hand-outs—necessarily—but because they know the Democratic Party is much more likely to protect their rights. In almost everything I've read uneducated whites tend to vote conservative, largely because they tend to be closer to Christian fundamentalism, I would think. And some people might add racist, as well, but I won't go that far, simply because I don't like to be characterized as being this, that, and the other simply by how I live or vote. And last time I checked, felons lose their right to vote.
So if I'm to believe these paragons of political knowledge, a person, simply by virtue of being liberal, is a lay-about hippie who only votes for people who would give him or her handouts.
Bull. Shit.
The more I read those two comments, the angrier I get. Either because I identify with some liberal tenets, I'm a lazy lay-about or because I DO work hard for a living, I'm a conservative? How neat and simple. Why bother with going to school, when these folks have it all figured out for us? You know, it's quite okay to disagree with me, I'll honor that, but when you think you know me, categorize me, and can vilify me all because I think women should have control of their own bodies, anyone should be able to marry, your religion has no place in my child's school, or that I think you should prove to me you're not spending my money frivolously, then I draw the line. I'm not evil, ignorant, mentally deranged, or lazy simply because of my ideologies (whether I might or might not be otherwise is for another post).
The thing we lack in today's world is respect. And the internet aids and abets the lack of respect. Instead of sitting down and carefully crafting a letter to an author or the editor, any individual with internet access can just fire off what they're thinking at the time, usually proving their lack of knowledge, spelling, and respect. Back when Johnson and Goldwater were running for president—and of course I was a lot younger—I just don't remember the level of nasty that people rise to today. Laughable as it seems to one of my generation, Goldwater, who was about as conservative as you could get in American politics in his day, wouldn't get his foot in the door of the tight-ass right-wingers club of good ol' boys of today.
I respect your right to disagree with me. I might not understand where you're coming from or how you can read things differently, but I'll shrug and agree to disagree. I probably won't have much respect for you if call me stupid (I'm not), uneducated (I most certainly am not), ignorant (I could probably read more, but if you mean I don't listen slavishly to Faux News, ah, well...you might have a point), or mentally ill (I might be, but it has nothing to do with my politics). I won't have any respect for you at all if you tell me my rights are less than yours simply because of my gender.
And I won't have much respect—or patience—if you come on my blog and rant at me. My place. You go rant at your place.
*I have my own theories about conservatives being married to the bottom line being the real reason they don't want gay marriage or controls that cut into the profit margin.
I suppose, since I don't fall into their particular definition of "conservative," to them I am a "liberal," with all its nasty connotations. I'm not. I'm not conservative, either, nor moderate.
I think about each issue.
Just to give you an example, I have absolutely no problem at all with drug-testing to get welfare or food stamps, thank you very much. I have no problem with my tax dollars going to help someone who really needs it, but if you're getting my hard-earned money, you won't be spending it on drugs, booze, fast cars, big TVs, or fancy cookware...or cigarettes.
That's a pretty conservative notion.
Contrast it with the fact that I have absolutely no problem with gay marriage. In fact, "gay marriage" is a misnomer as far as I'm concerned. If two people love each other and want to join in a legally sanctioned partnership, I could give a rat's patootie about their sexual orientation. A friend of mine (well, she's married to a friend—both of them are so ultra-conservative they make GW look like a 60s flower child) posted something about liking an FB page "...in defense of marriage."
In defense of marriage? Whaaaat?
So, if I understand this correctly, Sam and Tom get married, you're suddenly going to run off and get a divorce or start sleeping with goats? How does two guys or two women marrying each other really hurt you?* Please explain this to me. I can understand if you really and truly feel homosexuality is wrong (which in and of itself is misguided, because we have scientific proof that almost all gays and lesbians are born that way, for one reason or another; their orientation is not a lifestyle, it's who they are). Fine, don't marry someone of your gender. But, just as in the case of abortion, your beliefs are not someone else's problem—or they shouldn't be.
And therein lies the problem. Conservatives think liberals are all pushy for wanting things like clean air and water, pure food supplies, good education, and healthcare. Things that benefit everyone.* Conservatives seem to think it's okay to push their religion off on you, tell you whom to marry, whom to sleep with, what you can do with your body (particularly if you have the bad luck to have been born female...sucks to be you).
To be fair here, I find some of the idiotic things the far left does to be utterly mind-boggling. Carrying the PC bit to extremes, for instance. Like this little jewel. The NYC Board of Education requested that 50 words be taken out of standardized tests. Words like "dinosaur" and "birthday" and "divorce." I'm not making this up. Most of this was based on not wanting to offend certain faiths. Fortunately, someone got a clue-by-four for their birthday, and the request was withdrawn. I can only imagine the original request was drawn up by some left-wing committee somewhere.
Back to the comments—and by the way, this whole thing broke my personal rule of not reading the comments (reading the comments erodes my faith in the human species), but it was like a train wreck—here are two that epitomize some of what I'm talking about (the second bullet is in reply to the first):
I would love to know where they get these facts, although I suspect they got them the same place many of these people do: Faux News. I'd be willing to bet that, yes, many blacks, uneducated or otherwise, vote Democratic. Why? Not because they want hand-outs—necessarily—but because they know the Democratic Party is much more likely to protect their rights. In almost everything I've read uneducated whites tend to vote conservative, largely because they tend to be closer to Christian fundamentalism, I would think. And some people might add racist, as well, but I won't go that far, simply because I don't like to be characterized as being this, that, and the other simply by how I live or vote. And last time I checked, felons lose their right to vote.
So if I'm to believe these paragons of political knowledge, a person, simply by virtue of being liberal, is a lay-about hippie who only votes for people who would give him or her handouts.
Bull. Shit.
The more I read those two comments, the angrier I get. Either because I identify with some liberal tenets, I'm a lazy lay-about or because I DO work hard for a living, I'm a conservative? How neat and simple. Why bother with going to school, when these folks have it all figured out for us? You know, it's quite okay to disagree with me, I'll honor that, but when you think you know me, categorize me, and can vilify me all because I think women should have control of their own bodies, anyone should be able to marry, your religion has no place in my child's school, or that I think you should prove to me you're not spending my money frivolously, then I draw the line. I'm not evil, ignorant, mentally deranged, or lazy simply because of my ideologies (whether I might or might not be otherwise is for another post).
The thing we lack in today's world is respect. And the internet aids and abets the lack of respect. Instead of sitting down and carefully crafting a letter to an author or the editor, any individual with internet access can just fire off what they're thinking at the time, usually proving their lack of knowledge, spelling, and respect. Back when Johnson and Goldwater were running for president—and of course I was a lot younger—I just don't remember the level of nasty that people rise to today. Laughable as it seems to one of my generation, Goldwater, who was about as conservative as you could get in American politics in his day, wouldn't get his foot in the door of the tight-ass right-wingers club of good ol' boys of today.
I respect your right to disagree with me. I might not understand where you're coming from or how you can read things differently, but I'll shrug and agree to disagree. I probably won't have much respect for you if call me stupid (I'm not), uneducated (I most certainly am not), ignorant (I could probably read more, but if you mean I don't listen slavishly to Faux News, ah, well...you might have a point), or mentally ill (I might be, but it has nothing to do with my politics). I won't have any respect for you at all if you tell me my rights are less than yours simply because of my gender.
And I won't have much respect—or patience—if you come on my blog and rant at me. My place. You go rant at your place.
*I have my own theories about conservatives being married to the bottom line being the real reason they don't want gay marriage or controls that cut into the profit margin.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Getting your shit together, as it were.
This, right here, scares me more than anything. It's not that my house is like this—although if you looked at my garage, living room, or craft/sewing room/studio, at the moment, you might wonder (more on that later)—it's that I'm afraid of my house looking like this. Okay, not the one with the kajillion cats or the 2500 "pet" rats. O.M.G. But just accumulating too much crap, shit...stuff you don't need. Frankly, I look at some of those houses and wonder just how...how....when did you start throwing the empty cat food cans in the bathroom, for God's sake? And now they're two feet deep? I lknow hoarding is a sickness and not an easy one to tame, but some of these places look like just plain laziness. But, I'm not the expert... (just an ellipsis abuser!)
I've always been a bit of a clutterbug. Somewhere, there's a picture of my room when I was in the 4th grade. Daddy was taking a pic of my little blackboard, upon which I had printed "EXOTIC HAIRDOS" (don't ask) and in the surrounding area are piles of kid stuff. My brother got the neat genes, I got the clutteriffic genes. There is a reason, though. My mother took the time and taught my brother how to do it, and him being a tractable, amiable sort, took to it quite nicely. By the time I came along, 5 years later, her approach had changed, but also, me being the distracted, stubborn, ADHD* type...she would finally give up and just come in and do it herself. That set a bad precedent, lol, but not at all my mom's fault.** I guess subconsciously, I just figured someone else would always bail me out of my clutter-prison. Sort of a Cinderella complex.
The weird thing is, I can organize the hell out of things...but let me get started projects? Oh...dear... While I'm working on any given project, I'll think of a dozen other things I could ALSO do and drag the materials out to look at them, and then lose interest in all of it and move on to something else. The ADHD has the weird affect of making you avoid things. I look at a pile of stuff and literally do not know where to start, so I go read a book. There's also the perfectionism theory put forth by Marla Cilley. "You can't do it perfectly, the way you want to now, so you don't do it at all." Between the ADHD and the perfectionism...oh, man.
This past weekend, my mother and I drove down to visit my aunt and uncle. I won't use her real name, but Auntie Di is one of those pre-programmed, born-organized, never in a fluff kind of women you admire, wish to emulate, and hate all at the same time. There's never a speck of dust or anything out of place in her house. Ever. You can't catch her with her guard down. Her pantry is always stocked, her kitchen neat and spotless. She works her butt off in her own business, she and my uncle garden (we had a salad with winter greens they had grown themselves. In Texas!). Oh, wait...I forgot, her myriad plants were still sitting in groups by the garage, waiting to be distributed around the yard in their spring and summer locations--they'd just taken them out of the greenhouse. *sighs*
If you're like me, you ask, "How does she do it?" Well, I'll tell you. Aliens. That's gotta be it. Aliens.
No, seriously. Here's the secret, as Marla's site will tell you: Routines. I'd bet you a month's salary if I sat down and asked Auntie Di about her routines, she'd say, "yep, every day I do this, and once a week, I do this, and once a month this." Because I know that if you clean before you see the dirt (or pile of crap), you'll never see the dirt. I also gave a lot of thought to the notion that you'd never, ever find Auntie Di sitting down playing a stupid-ass computer game for hours. She reads, she watches some TV, and she and my uncle have their cocktails on the deck at dusk...well deserved rest time. But I know that lady is up and doing things all day. And it shows. She's in better shape at almost 74 than I am at almost 60.
So, Auntie, you should be happy, because it's more you prompting me to get things cleaned up and organized than all those gruesome pictures of houses that should more than likely be bulldozed.
As to the rooms that need the most help, really only the living room has no excuse, except that I used it as a staging area for crap from other rooms while I was working on them...and so it hasn't gotten cleaned properly in a long time. This is open-heart admission, here, folks...but I still won't go into detail until I post the after pics. :)
*donning deep-shit diving gear now* If you don't hear from me in a week, call out the Texas Rangers...I've most likely gone down in a crapalanche.
*I was not actually diagnosed as ADHD until I was 49...and sure did 'splain a lot, Lucy.
**I've done the same thing with my son, it's easy to do without realizing you are.
I've always been a bit of a clutterbug. Somewhere, there's a picture of my room when I was in the 4th grade. Daddy was taking a pic of my little blackboard, upon which I had printed "EXOTIC HAIRDOS" (don't ask) and in the surrounding area are piles of kid stuff. My brother got the neat genes, I got the clutteriffic genes. There is a reason, though. My mother took the time and taught my brother how to do it, and him being a tractable, amiable sort, took to it quite nicely. By the time I came along, 5 years later, her approach had changed, but also, me being the distracted, stubborn, ADHD* type...she would finally give up and just come in and do it herself. That set a bad precedent, lol, but not at all my mom's fault.** I guess subconsciously, I just figured someone else would always bail me out of my clutter-prison. Sort of a Cinderella complex.
The weird thing is, I can organize the hell out of things...but let me get started projects? Oh...dear... While I'm working on any given project, I'll think of a dozen other things I could ALSO do and drag the materials out to look at them, and then lose interest in all of it and move on to something else. The ADHD has the weird affect of making you avoid things. I look at a pile of stuff and literally do not know where to start, so I go read a book. There's also the perfectionism theory put forth by Marla Cilley. "You can't do it perfectly, the way you want to now, so you don't do it at all." Between the ADHD and the perfectionism...oh, man.
This past weekend, my mother and I drove down to visit my aunt and uncle. I won't use her real name, but Auntie Di is one of those pre-programmed, born-organized, never in a fluff kind of women you admire, wish to emulate, and hate all at the same time. There's never a speck of dust or anything out of place in her house. Ever. You can't catch her with her guard down. Her pantry is always stocked, her kitchen neat and spotless. She works her butt off in her own business, she and my uncle garden (we had a salad with winter greens they had grown themselves. In Texas!). Oh, wait...I forgot, her myriad plants were still sitting in groups by the garage, waiting to be distributed around the yard in their spring and summer locations--they'd just taken them out of the greenhouse. *sighs*
If you're like me, you ask, "How does she do it?" Well, I'll tell you. Aliens. That's gotta be it. Aliens.
No, seriously. Here's the secret, as Marla's site will tell you: Routines. I'd bet you a month's salary if I sat down and asked Auntie Di about her routines, she'd say, "yep, every day I do this, and once a week, I do this, and once a month this." Because I know that if you clean before you see the dirt (or pile of crap), you'll never see the dirt. I also gave a lot of thought to the notion that you'd never, ever find Auntie Di sitting down playing a stupid-ass computer game for hours. She reads, she watches some TV, and she and my uncle have their cocktails on the deck at dusk...well deserved rest time. But I know that lady is up and doing things all day. And it shows. She's in better shape at almost 74 than I am at almost 60.
So, Auntie, you should be happy, because it's more you prompting me to get things cleaned up and organized than all those gruesome pictures of houses that should more than likely be bulldozed.
As to the rooms that need the most help, really only the living room has no excuse, except that I used it as a staging area for crap from other rooms while I was working on them...and so it hasn't gotten cleaned properly in a long time. This is open-heart admission, here, folks...but I still won't go into detail until I post the after pics. :)
*donning deep-shit diving gear now* If you don't hear from me in a week, call out the Texas Rangers...I've most likely gone down in a crapalanche.
*I was not actually diagnosed as ADHD until I was 49...and sure did 'splain a lot, Lucy.
**I've done the same thing with my son, it's easy to do without realizing you are.
Thursday, March 08, 2012
A Little Piece of Austin Has Died
If you're not from Austin, I can understand not having heard of Leslie. If you are from Austin--or at least lived here for the last 10 years or so--you've been under a rock if you don't know who Leslie Cochran was. Was. He died this morning at 1 AM. He was just a year older than I.
Leslie was one of the weirder things about a city that prides itself on being weird (much less so than 29 years ago when I moved here).
To read about Leslie (you can Google him...there's lots out there, so I won't be redundant here), one gets the notion that he was mentally ill...crazy...his cheese slipped off his cracker...but I don't know. To look into his eyes...
(c) Austin American-Statesmen 2000
...those aren't the eyes of a crazy man. Somehow, I think Leslie had the best laugh of all. He lived out those wacky fantasies we all shove into some dusty shoe box at the back of our closet (not that I really want to walk about in a thong and not much else) while enjoying the reactions and adoration of the "freaked out normals." He made enough to live on and did what he wanted to do, when and how it suited him. Society, of course, will label someone like Leslie as mentally ill, or at best nonconformist, simply because he didn't fit the simple, round, 9-to-5 hole.
It's not a life for everyone. And, of course, we need doctors, lawyers, beauticians, mechanics, musicians, and politicians...okay, so we don't really need politicians, but you get my drift. The world works the way it does because everyone fills a niche. Leslie filled a niche, too. He provided entertainment, a topic of conversation, a distraction, a reminder to not take life so bloody seriously all the time. The thing that made Leslie weird was not his supposed insanity, but his chosen avocation. Just another wacked-out homeless dude is not that weird, to tell you the truth; every city has a gazillion of them. As the article points out, Leslie did not have to be homeless, and often wasn't. He could have held down a regular job, too, I'm guessing. If choices make us who we are (Professor Dumbledore said so), then so do our lack of choices. So much of my life has taken place on auto-pilot, doing whatever the path of least resistance led me to rather than where my heart would have rather been.
So...stuck in a dead-end job, doing crap you'd rather not...or being free to wear a thong in public and run for mayor in silver fuck-me shoes...when you're a guy...and yet still getting by. Makes me wonder who was the more successful....
Farewell Leslie, fair winds and following seas.
Leslie was one of the weirder things about a city that prides itself on being weird (much less so than 29 years ago when I moved here).
To read about Leslie (you can Google him...there's lots out there, so I won't be redundant here), one gets the notion that he was mentally ill...crazy...his cheese slipped off his cracker...but I don't know. To look into his eyes...
(c) Austin American-Statesmen 2000
...those aren't the eyes of a crazy man. Somehow, I think Leslie had the best laugh of all. He lived out those wacky fantasies we all shove into some dusty shoe box at the back of our closet (not that I really want to walk about in a thong and not much else) while enjoying the reactions and adoration of the "freaked out normals." He made enough to live on and did what he wanted to do, when and how it suited him. Society, of course, will label someone like Leslie as mentally ill, or at best nonconformist, simply because he didn't fit the simple, round, 9-to-5 hole.
It's not a life for everyone. And, of course, we need doctors, lawyers, beauticians, mechanics, musicians, and politicians...okay, so we don't really need politicians, but you get my drift. The world works the way it does because everyone fills a niche. Leslie filled a niche, too. He provided entertainment, a topic of conversation, a distraction, a reminder to not take life so bloody seriously all the time. The thing that made Leslie weird was not his supposed insanity, but his chosen avocation. Just another wacked-out homeless dude is not that weird, to tell you the truth; every city has a gazillion of them. As the article points out, Leslie did not have to be homeless, and often wasn't. He could have held down a regular job, too, I'm guessing. If choices make us who we are (Professor Dumbledore said so), then so do our lack of choices. So much of my life has taken place on auto-pilot, doing whatever the path of least resistance led me to rather than where my heart would have rather been.
So...stuck in a dead-end job, doing crap you'd rather not...or being free to wear a thong in public and run for mayor in silver fuck-me shoes...when you're a guy...and yet still getting by. Makes me wonder who was the more successful....
Farewell Leslie, fair winds and following seas.
Monday, January 02, 2012
Happy New Year and All That Jazz...
2012
Twenty-twelve.
It beleaguers the imagination.
I've been trying to figure out why this particular new year's has been so devastatingly depressing. I mean...for a long time now, new year's has been one of those days I try not to think about. Just another day, new date on the checks, etc., etc. You know, the new year...is. It's just the inexorable march of time. One more year I can't go back and salvage. And I ain't gettin' any younger, either. That's a huge part of it, I know. I'll be 60 this year.
60
SIX-ty.
Shit.
That, in and of itself is enough to make me want to jump off a bridge (if I weren't afraid of heights). Part of the disconnect is that I do not feel 60, hell...I don't feel 40, mentally. Physically, my body is a disaster zone. Physically, I feel like I'm 90 most days. All this BS about 50 is the new 30 and 70 is the new 40, or whatever...those spinners never lived in my body. 60 is the new 90. Bah!
Instead of chronicling what I feel the issues are (which sounds suspiciously like making excuses), I'm going to try to take a page out of the sunshine and lollipop spin and look at ways to make 2012 a better year. I mean, you know...just not sitting around being morose would make it a better year, right?
First up, I'm decluttering the house. It's a gargantuan undertaking, but I'm gettin' 'er done, by gosh. In that vein, I've decluttered Mdme B's space here. My previous theme mirrored the usual state of my desk (might have even been cleaner...but I'll never tell), but I've noticed most of the well-read sites are simpler, with white backgrounds.
Before you get all mushy and think this is a list of resolutions, don't. I don't do resolutions. They set you up for failure. These are things I've already been working on or need to do anyway, new year or not. It just seems like a good time to trot out the list since one of the things I'd like to get in the habit of doing is actually, you know, like...USING my web site--what a novel idea. Which reminds me of another one on the list. Setting up a time to write, every day, same time. I might actually get that novel done before I really am 90.
Dump about 80-90 pounds. Didn't say pounds of what, now did I? (Technically, I've already done this: in decluttering in the last couple of days, I've trashed, recycled, and donated well over 100 pounds of schtuff. HA!) But yeah...part of the feeling 90 thing is this extra couple of bags of mulch I'm carrying around. Hee. In order to clearly demonstrate what carrying weight on your body is like, I use the following analogy: you know those bags of garden dirt, compost, or mulch? Each one weighs 40 pounds. I can barely tote ONE of those around. And I'm carrying at least two on a small, 5'5" frame that wasn't intended to carry more than about 145 pounds at the most. TWO! No wonder my knees are going and my feet hurt so much. (218 when I last weighed myself at work before the winter break, if you MUST know.)
Another thing I'm going to try for is consistency. Juliet said something about the moon's inconstant orb...but you know, the moon is rather consistent. Each month, she does the same thing, perpetually. I'm not sure I'd want to be quite that predictable--and boring--but one could do far worse than be as consistent as Lady Luna.
Getting back on track being a vegesaur. Several times over the holidays, whether it was just because I was tempted by some yummy-meat thing or because there really wasn't anything else to eat in the house, I've had things to eat which I regretted later. Regretted either because of guilt or because they upset my system something fierce. This goes along with actually planning some meals, doing shopping, and cooking! Gah...I have a teenager, for crying out loud, and I rely on my husband to cook most of the meals, but he doesn't make veggies and green things, so no one gets the nutrition they should. *slaps own hand*
One last thought on this is time spent on the computer. It is a very useful tool, when used properly, but I spend too much time on FB and playing games, and not enough time doing creative things with it. Posting projects and the like here will be a part of a renewed effort putting what little time I have left on this earth to good use. Believe it or not, I actually go days without checking FB, I don't twitter, or Google-group...but I still manage to waste an inordinate amount of time on teh intarwebs. I love googling ideas, items, history, pictures, etc. THAT can really eat up time, lemmetellya.
So. I'm off to clean that other catbox, start a back-to-work-and-school washing marathon, finish scanning a kajillion photos for my boss (he's paying me), bake two more loaves of banana bread, wash dishes and continue sorting and culling 20 years of crap that grew in my house and wonder if clutter is like mold or a fungus...does it spread by spores?
Twenty-twelve.
It beleaguers the imagination.
I've been trying to figure out why this particular new year's has been so devastatingly depressing. I mean...for a long time now, new year's has been one of those days I try not to think about. Just another day, new date on the checks, etc., etc. You know, the new year...is. It's just the inexorable march of time. One more year I can't go back and salvage. And I ain't gettin' any younger, either. That's a huge part of it, I know. I'll be 60 this year.
60
SIX-ty.
Shit.
That, in and of itself is enough to make me want to jump off a bridge (if I weren't afraid of heights). Part of the disconnect is that I do not feel 60, hell...I don't feel 40, mentally. Physically, my body is a disaster zone. Physically, I feel like I'm 90 most days. All this BS about 50 is the new 30 and 70 is the new 40, or whatever...those spinners never lived in my body. 60 is the new 90. Bah!
Instead of chronicling what I feel the issues are (which sounds suspiciously like making excuses), I'm going to try to take a page out of the sunshine and lollipop spin and look at ways to make 2012 a better year. I mean, you know...just not sitting around being morose would make it a better year, right?
First up, I'm decluttering the house. It's a gargantuan undertaking, but I'm gettin' 'er done, by gosh. In that vein, I've decluttered Mdme B's space here. My previous theme mirrored the usual state of my desk (might have even been cleaner...but I'll never tell), but I've noticed most of the well-read sites are simpler, with white backgrounds.
Before you get all mushy and think this is a list of resolutions, don't. I don't do resolutions. They set you up for failure. These are things I've already been working on or need to do anyway, new year or not. It just seems like a good time to trot out the list since one of the things I'd like to get in the habit of doing is actually, you know, like...USING my web site--what a novel idea. Which reminds me of another one on the list. Setting up a time to write, every day, same time. I might actually get that novel done before I really am 90.
Dump about 80-90 pounds. Didn't say pounds of what, now did I? (Technically, I've already done this: in decluttering in the last couple of days, I've trashed, recycled, and donated well over 100 pounds of schtuff. HA!) But yeah...part of the feeling 90 thing is this extra couple of bags of mulch I'm carrying around. Hee. In order to clearly demonstrate what carrying weight on your body is like, I use the following analogy: you know those bags of garden dirt, compost, or mulch? Each one weighs 40 pounds. I can barely tote ONE of those around. And I'm carrying at least two on a small, 5'5" frame that wasn't intended to carry more than about 145 pounds at the most. TWO! No wonder my knees are going and my feet hurt so much. (218 when I last weighed myself at work before the winter break, if you MUST know.)
Another thing I'm going to try for is consistency. Juliet said something about the moon's inconstant orb...but you know, the moon is rather consistent. Each month, she does the same thing, perpetually. I'm not sure I'd want to be quite that predictable--and boring--but one could do far worse than be as consistent as Lady Luna.
Getting back on track being a vegesaur. Several times over the holidays, whether it was just because I was tempted by some yummy-meat thing or because there really wasn't anything else to eat in the house, I've had things to eat which I regretted later. Regretted either because of guilt or because they upset my system something fierce. This goes along with actually planning some meals, doing shopping, and cooking! Gah...I have a teenager, for crying out loud, and I rely on my husband to cook most of the meals, but he doesn't make veggies and green things, so no one gets the nutrition they should. *slaps own hand*
One last thought on this is time spent on the computer. It is a very useful tool, when used properly, but I spend too much time on FB and playing games, and not enough time doing creative things with it. Posting projects and the like here will be a part of a renewed effort putting what little time I have left on this earth to good use. Believe it or not, I actually go days without checking FB, I don't twitter, or Google-group...but I still manage to waste an inordinate amount of time on teh intarwebs. I love googling ideas, items, history, pictures, etc. THAT can really eat up time, lemmetellya.
So. I'm off to clean that other catbox, start a back-to-work-and-school washing marathon, finish scanning a kajillion photos for my boss (he's paying me), bake two more loaves of banana bread, wash dishes and continue sorting and culling 20 years of crap that grew in my house and wonder if clutter is like mold or a fungus...does it spread by spores?
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So how does that explain the fact that 90% of under-educated blacks vote Democratic, as do uneducated whites and felons? The people that make this country work and pay the vast majority of taxes and obey the law vote Republican. Go figure.