Friday, February 29, 2008

Just a little

Hi guys!
I'm doing OK, but it's been a tough week. I'm so happy that this month is ending. The cold, the gray, the endless freaking snow. Where the hell was this snow in November? Why isn't it above freezing now? Waaaaahhhh!

I've been purposely staying off the computer a bit this week: self employed taxes need done. I suck at record keeping, which makes the job so much more like having someone dump molasses in your brain so that the zombies will eat it faster. I'm learning a lot through this, like how stupid it is not to keep records up to date. Quicken has defeated me time and time again, and I am prone to giving up on things if they aren't easy to use. Which is why I'm learning to knit now instead of 15 years ago. So keeping the computer off has been my motivation to work on those damn taxes, so that all my info is ready when we go to have the pro do the actual tax work. BLECK.

In other news, I am re-dedicating myself to non-violence. I think that fake violence is hilarious, but I want the world to be a more peaceful place, and change must start from within. So I'm reading a few books by the Dali Lama and meditating on these ideas. The Owl and The Pussycat had a lovely post on the other day with a cool Buddha...go check it out! It really made my day. So peaceful.

Let's see, other things to check out...
  • The Vampire Weekend. Too cool.
  • Bedouin Soundclash. (The song starts at about 1:23 if you want to skip the intro...)
  • Freedom in Exile, by The Dali Lama
  • In Cold Blood, by Truman Capote
  • The chocolate truffles at Whole Foods. They are Vegan, soo freaking good, and did I mention delicious?
  • Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine. I am dork, hear me make sarcastic noises.
  • Curel's Natural Healing Lotion. It's the only one Curel make without Gelatin in it, and it works wonderfully. Better than the expensive stuff I was buying at Aveda.
  • Target's Italian Soda, especially the blood orange or pomegranate stuff. I did not care for the blueberry, it was way too sour.
Well, that's all I've got. Hopefully I'll get that bag (OR SOMETHING!) done this weekend to share. If not Monday is sewing night! hope you have a lovely weekend, and thanks, by the way, for the comments lately. I 'perciate it!

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Waldorf, maybe

Despite the winter storm warnings and several inches of new snow last night, I ended up going to the Waldorf class. Boy, I'm really having a hard time with this right now.

The people are nice, but last night there were 5 people instead of 15, and none of the absences were weather related. For as nice as they are, however, the other members of the class last night struck me as very, um, not reality based? One lady is really, wonderfully accepting and nice. One lady is clearly one exit away from bonkers, but still nice. The others are nice, and run the gamut of personalities between the other two. I'm more emotional than most people, but when one woman started crying because we don't sleep with our children I wanted to roll my eyes. I know how she feels. I dealt with it when the decision was made. She obviously still has some issues, despite her child being 7 now. OK. But I came to this class to make the daycare better, to help kids along their journeys in a more peaceful and caring way. Not to hear you answer a question with an unrelated story about your polarization therapy. Perhaps my reaction is unfair or harsh, but I want to tell this woman to suck it up while we're in class, and we'll support her when it's break time.

The class is interesting and the teacher is nice, but when I ask a question I like getting an answer. I do not like vague things, I do not like pseudo-science, and I do not like a closed language being used and then not explained. Unlike the others there last night, I have no trouble reading Steiner. I get what he's saying, even if the terms he made up are irritating. But I can't just believe his theories lock, stock and barrel. The teacher kept referring to "all the research behind this" but I fail to see how one can research the "higher beings who guide us between death and re-birth." I have no problem with spirituality and the idea of "higher beings" or "angels" as some kept calling them. What I do have a problem with those ideas being stated as fact.

I one of those people who believes in reincarnation. I'm not certain that it's true, but it makes the most sense to me. Steiner's views, therefore, are familiar in a sense. But he ignores all other life forms; only humans count. Last night someone mentioned the Celestine Prophesy, and the teacher said it wasn't as "scientifically based" as Steiner was. WTF? I need to do some more research on this. I'm going to email this lady and see if she can direct me to some proof, something tangible that shows this guy didn't just pull stuff out of his ass all the time.

All that skepticism aside, I like what Waldorf teaches. I like the methods and the results and so I will probably continue to take the course. The instructor also promised we'd get to the practical stuff soon, so I have a reason to hold on. The potential job helps, too. But I will remain the skeptic, as I have always been. I'm going to work on not getting irritated when the others in the class get too kooky for me, because I am kooky, too. I really love the concentration exercises and look forward to them every night, so I'll keep those up no matter what. But not because tracing things backwards lets us visit the Etherial realm where time moves backwards, and that's where our angels live and cause us to breath. I'll do it because it makes me more aware of the connections in this world, and how what we purchase and use effects the entire planet.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

The making of a mad genius, plus weekend shots!

Check out my new curtains!

I made them last night while J and the kid were at story time.

The fabric is a light cotton I found at JoAnn's. I love the yellow and blue flowers, but they don't show up from a distance.

I also made this bandanna last night. It was supposed to be for me, but I grossly underestimated the size of my head. It fits the kid nicely.

I'm going to make her an Easter dress from this material, too. I'd also like to make some handkerchiefs for to sell, but I'll have to see how much fabric is left after the dress.

This is a very proud child and her new horse. Every horse is named after the one her grandparents let her ride, and this one is no exception.

Just look at the joy in that face!

Her "Aunt" Becky brought the horse for her, forever claiming a bit of this child's heart. She also taught the kids to make letters with their bodies, which has been a big hit this week.

And last but not least, here's a picture of us. In the mall bathroom. There are several issues with this photo:
1) We are in a bathroom. In the mall.
2) Beck tried to get a serious look, and it worked. She looks like she's about to pull a bottle of mace out of that purse and spray you, but good. I am just the innocent journalist!
3) I am so good at photoshop that I have made my dear, dear friend look like she just came out of a deep fryer. The picture was a little too dark, so I auto-corrected it. Bad move. I promise, she is much less red in the real world.

Tonight I have my second Waldorf class. J had to talk me into going tonight, after I whined about the class not being what I expected, too much time, etc. I had such an uplifting experience last month, so I'll give it another shot. But 14 months is a long ass time to be in a class, you know? So I won't get the beach-combing bag done for Beck tonight, but I do have the fabric picked out. Corduroy, linen and gnomes! Hopefully I'll get something done tonight, so I can show you tomorrow. If not you'll be looking at pictures of my sad, sad knitting.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Surrender, Surrender! Just don't give yourself awaaaaaay...

I give. Today has been so craptacular that by nap today I was sitting in the living room with the vacuum on bawling into my skirt. One of the infants is going through the "screaming every time he gets drowsy" phase. All kids have it-a phase where they scream like they are being boiled alive whenever they start to drift off. I AM BOILING NO ONE! So shut your scream-hole, OK kid? With one kid this stage is trying. I have all six kids here today and I am seriously questioning my vocation right now.

I give (part 2). I had a great time with my friend this weekend. It was wonderful to pick back up almost like we were still in college. Except she doesn't drink like she used to, and is much happier. Oh, and I'm married with a kid. But close! We had wonderful talks, laughed a lot, and I took our picture in a mall bathroom. I'll post that one later.

The one thing we didn't get to do together was make stuff. Time goes so fast when you're having a good time, and she was leaving before I was ready to let her go. Sunday afternoon J had people over for game, and I wanted to have a girl's craft time. Instead I worked on baby shower invites. They needed done, but I was so disappointed I didn't get to do any of the sewing I'd been hoping for. Beck (college friend) and I did make it to the fabric store, so I have more awesome fabric to sew. And tonight J is taking our little one to the library for story time, so I'm going to get some time to myself. Finally.

Balancing the work/home life thing with the daycare is very difficult. I leave the house once or twice a week, usually with E in tow. I get very little time alone, and since I grew up spending most of my time alone, this is hard for me. I adore my husband and daughter, but I've reached the point that either I take time to myself or I go batshit. Since my Waldorf class is on a Tuesday, I may take Tuesdays as the night for me. I asked J to pick a night as well so he gets the same luxury. As much as I love being a mother, it is not all I am. I need to reclaim a little of that other person before she's lost.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Plans: Sysiphian effort?

My grandmother arrived at my house just before nap time today. She brought us vegan ice cream. I love that woman so! But after she left nap time went to hell, and I got nothing done. It was worth it.

Grandma is 80 something. In the last year she's had both knees replaced, cataract surgery on both eyes and some work done on her hands. I hope I'm as feisty and spry as she is when I'm that age.

It's time for bed. I have a dear friend coming tomorrow, so I'll write when I can. Bueno weekend.


I'm ready to claw my own eyes out at this point, which is why I'm on the computer and not painting or singing or changing a diaper. Tuesday E decided it was time for Big Girl Panties, and so for the last 2 1/2 days I've been asking about the potty, taking her to the potty, cleaning up when we don't feel like going to the potty, etc. It's actually been going pretty well, except my girl? She is stubborn. Going to the potty is GREAT! Except when it isn't, then it's scream and fight and tantrum until Whoops! What's that in my pants?! And Mama wants to beat her head against the wall and cry.

Add to this an infant who received 5 shots yesterday and won't stop screaming, and you see how my day is going. J's helpful advice was to "view it as a game or contest" instead of a fight. I can see the wisdom in that, so I resisted the urge to tell him to come home and just go ahead and do that. (Work sucks for him right now, anyway. I have a great job. I should be more sympathetic.) It's normal run-of-the-mill frustration, what I have. Because there is only so much shit one person can deal with before getting frustrated. She'll get this! She will! In less than a year, even!


Last night I finished a bath mat for E, because the one we had in her bathroom produced so many fuzzies that I could track where we'd been after each bath. The new one has gnomes! I'll post a pic after nap time...I don't like having the kids out of sight unless they are asleep. Tonight I think I may make a few gnome headbands. Today I'm going to knit around the kids; hopefully it will calm us all down. I need to go start the potty game again, so I'll be back later. I love the not posting for two days and then catching up game!

By the way-think good thoughts for GreeneMama over at The Owl and The Pussy Cat. She's studying for her teaching certification thingy, and could use some positive vibes, especially this weekend when she takes the test!

Monday, February 18, 2008

Hey! I made stuff!

Oh, weekend, I love you. LOVE YOU. I miss you when you're gone. So come back, weekend. Stay longer. Because I want so much to make more stuff, and I only seem to make stuff with you, weekend. Sigh.

J managed to hurt his back on Friday by, and I'm not sure how he did this: sitting in a chair. I made him this "Ouchie Heart" to make him feel better. He slept with it, which caused me much joy. E has adopted it since then, again, much joy!

Here's my newest home project. I'm ridiculously happy with this tablecloth. It's vintage material I found in an antique shop over the weekend and some blue linen I've been wanting to use. I found the material at one of the antique stores in our small downtown. One street, at least 6 antique stores. No idea why, and my parent's town is the same way. The midwest is apparently teeming with antiques.

I went in for buttons and came out with this material, a jar of buttons and some satisfaction. You see, I've been lusting about those pictures I see on blogs, the ones where the author goes to a thrift store or antique store or whatever, and then posts pictures of the fabulous finds they have purchased. I want to re-use, reduce and recycle! I do those things as much as I can. but when it comes to sewing I've been bad. So I finally got to a place this weekend where I could buy the stuff I've been looking for. I am a satisfied lady.

Do you see the blurry part of this photo? Left hand side, third stripe in, near the top? I need to clean my camera lens.

I've also been having an affair, one that got a little out of control last week. I went out and purchased a stack of linen. That's right, I'm having a love affair with linen. I am a freak.

Notice the gnome fabric on the bottom? It's not linen, but I love it anyway. No idea what I'm going to use it for, but who cares? Whatever I make will be that much cooler because it's made with gnomes.

<I am still having some trouble with Blogger and layout of photos. I am not technically inclined by nature, I think. Did you notice the banner? J started a blog and figured out how to do that in 5 minutes. This is my 73rd ish post, and he had to show me how to put up a banner. This is sad, folks.>

I finally made some napkins for our family, too. These are made from (gasp!) linen. I'm very happy with how they turned out, but I think I need to learn how to miter corners. At least for the ones I want to sell. I know how to miter in theory, but I need to practice because each time I try my machine jams and I end up inventing new words. In fact, I think I may need to get my machine serviced because of the button hole option on my machine: I cannot seem to get the damn thing to do anything but jam. And me with all these cool buttons to use!

With luck, I'll make something each night this week. Some will be for our home and some will be for the mystical Etsy store, forever pending. But that's another post. I'm hoping for more photos, less typitty typitty type in future posts. See you tomorrow!

Friday, February 15, 2008

Chocolate helps, too.

V-day was nice in these parts. I made a card for J with fabric, paper, embroidery thread and a marker, plus he received a book of "coupons" for sleeping in, a night out and other, uh, unmentionable treats. I made E a box with an "E" in blue buttons and flower fairies decoupaged on. There were some treats inside, which was her favorite part. J spoiled us with a Richard Scary book and Metalocalypse, which is a word that will never look right when typed out. It was a nice night, and it ended with a DVD of the X-files that wouldn't work, laundry and some wine. Very, very nice night.

Last night was so nice, in fact, that I think something finally broke the depression I've been struggling with lately. I've been on medication for depression since I was 14 or so, and I will be for the rest of my life. But I won't take anything while pregnant, and to be safe I try to stay off any meds for two months prior to trying. There's a sweet spot where I can get pregnant and let those hormones take over for the anti-depressants I usually take. But after that it gets dicey. By three months off the meds I start getting those signs, the ones that glow like neon signs for "crazy," as Dooce so elegantly put it. When I'm pregnant I'm happy, calm and free from anxiety. I have self-confidence. I'm stable. This is as far as it gets from how I feel off meds and not pregnant. When depression hits, it uses brass knuckles.

for the last couple of weeks I've been noticing what J calls my "acting weird." I get paranoid, and I start feeling like no one likes me. "What's to like?" I think. I get angry for no reason. My fuse goes from OK to short to gone. I feel trapped and alone; I get restless. I want to run. I become painfully insecure about J, my mothering abilities, my weight, my hair, everything. I have anxiety attacks and mood swings. Sometimes having a conversation is just too much work. Basically, I'm a barrel of fun. I've been fighting this stuff off daily lately, and the battle wasn't going well for a few hours each day. I'd pull out of it after a while, but I was starting to get to the place where going back on meds was the only reasonable reaction. Getting worse meant being someone I don't like very much, and the fact that I need medication to keep that person at bay just makes me sad. Sadder.

But then: SNAP! I'm OK again! I feel like the world is OK, I feel creative again and my patience is back to where I feel like I have some. It's hard no to lose it when I feel so down, and it's so important not to lose it with the kids about. They model my behavior; I need to be a good model. Today it's been so very easy, where yesterday and the day before were so very hard. This is such a wonderful and unexpected bit of good fortune that I'm dancing as I type this. Well, chair dancing, anyway.

J has bouts like this, too. He's been going through a similar patch, which means my feeling better is even more important. I don't know how E can dodge this bullet. She is the queen of recessive genes with her red curly hair, but with the percentage of people with depression in both our families I think we're going to have to deal with this no matter what. There are three things that naturally help fight depression: Sun, Sleep and Sweat. J doesn't need anti-depressants, his beast is his own and he tames it with his own methods. Because he can do this I hope E gets his brand of crazy and not mine. Because I feel broken sometimes. I really really hate having to take a pill so I'm not an angry paranoid jerk that can barely muster the energy to breathe. I don't want my happy little girl to have to fight this, too.

I'm not Bi-polar, so I don't get the up swings, it's just down, down down, baby. Straight to the pit of despair, which is not a place I like. I like balance, and so I take my pill. I'm going to catch this upswing, whatever caused it, and I'm going to get sleep and I'm going to sweat because I can't control the sun. When medicated I still have ups and downs, the downs just don't go so low. With a lot of work I might be able stay balanced until I get preggers. Making sure I get enough rest (so hard when you want to sew! but have to do it after 9 pm) and working out (almost) daily.

We can do this, brain. Eyes on the prize: Oxytocin. Relaxin. Good hormones. Endorphins will hold us over until we get there. Using the full spectrum light when we sew will help, too. As much as I loathe feeling down, feeling better always rocks.

I hope you have a great weekend! Next post should be some sewing goodies for the Etsy Shop of Myth, with lots of photos and way less crap to read! Hooray!

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Just before making stuff, after cleaning

I got my (gift) copy of Newsweek in the mail a few days ago, and I've been slowly reading it. I hate election years. Please, please make it stop.

I feel like politics is a huge joke sometimes, something that is not being performed for us but, rather, on us. Maliciously. A joke at us. I feel the same way about quite a lot of things, actually. But the worst is politics. It's not a funny joke, either. It's a mean one, one that leaves you stung and tears welling in your eyes.

I'm not just talking about the U.S. in an election year, either. For some stupid reason people in charge all over the world blow the living bejeezus out of the people not in charge, all over the same world. It just sucks harder when you watch it with what seems like no recourse. I vote the hell out of my one ballot, every time. But I live in one of those states that mysteriously turned red, and I can't be sure my vote was counted at all. Fraud in electronic voting machines, etc etc etc. I want so much to see peace, civil liberties valued, education balanced and managed well. I'm someone who would be thrilled to see a ministry of peace, and not have it dedicated to everlasting war.

Watching my little girl grow, I want her to have a garden. I want her to know stillness and silence, wilderness and freedom. I want her to help change the way works, so it will be here for her children, and theirs. You know-a world with grass and air and an ozone.

I want to be an optimist, but that gets harder when people collectively act like assholes. I just don't get it. But I've never really liked practical jokes, or mean jokes. So every election year I read about or hear otherwise sensible people saying things that make no sense, and I want to bang my head on the wall. Politics and politicians bother the hell out of me. I just want someone who is honest and is really trying to do the best for everyone, not just line pockets.

Ahhhh, dare to dream.

70th post, apologies

This is my 70th post, which doesn't surprise me. There is a reason that one of my tags is "Holy crap that was a long post." Sometimes I can talk for hours, and sometimes I have nothing to say. Silly human.

So: sorry about the heavy post yesterday, I guess the winter blahs got me a little. There's also the fact that I do actually need to prepare myself for what could happen if I get pregnant again. So sorry again about the heavy, but if it doesn't come out here it doesn't get to come out.

So to make up for my downer posts, here are some photos of my sewing/craft room. Let's call it a studio, and laugh and laugh...

I'm hoping that this will end up being a "before" set of photos. I'd love to have an "after" set in which the dresser has made it upstairs, and the drawers are in it. The "studio" (HAHAHA) is in our loft, so there's one wall that is a railing. I have no idea what to do with the couch, or the layout of the room. I'm married to someone who is very understanding, but gets a little irritated when I constantly move the furniture about. I can't tell how something will work unless I actually have it set up that way. The room also doubles as J's game room, so he can play video games while I sew or glue or basically craft my ass off. So not only do I have space and layout issues with my sewing stuff, I have to make sure he is comfy, too. This set up is working, but it's not great. Someday I will get to great, and will be able to call my sewing room a studio without snickering. Today is not that day.

Oh, blogger, why do you do this to my pictures? Just put them on the left like I asked you to, OK?

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

And now for something completely different

My kid pooped on the floor.

It was an accident.

It was still really, really gross.

J told me all about it.

This is the scarf I made for my Etsy store.

Yep, that one. The etsy store that does not yet exist.

I call it Chocolate Cherry, this scarf.

It is made of linen, cotton and flannel lining.

It is the only thing I have made for my imaginary Etsy store.

I clearly lack commitment to Sparkle Motion.

What I'm ready to face again - edited to reduce jibbering

I went to work one day, long ago, and fell asleep at my desk. I'd been feeling really tired lately, and my job was as far removed from anything I cared about as it could be. Plus it was boring and pointless, but not so much so that I should have found myself dozing on my keyboard as 11:30 in the morning.

"You're pregnant!" all the office women told me. The harpies more than others. They would hover around my desk for hours debating and pondering how pregnant I was and what I should be doing and the best way to get pregnant, etc. If I could have fallen asleep at that point it would have been a mercy.

As it turned out, I was pregnant. I had been going to a clinic type place, not realizing it was a clinic type place until I was told. After they lost my file 3 times in one visit I found a new and really well respected OB/GYN in a better part of town. He came recommended by several people I trusted, and I fought my way there through some really rough morning sickness that lasted all day. He checked things out, told me my yolk sack was larger than normal and that sometimes this meant something was wrong, but it wasn't certain. I was around 8 weeks pregnant.

I sat in my Mom's car near a park crying and overcome with worry about this new little thing inside me, something J and I hadn't planned on conceiving just yet. I looked out at the gorgeous summer day, watched the kids playing in the park, and felt the fault line of reality slip a little. J and I were delirious and happy with the idea of having a baby and how our lives would change. We'd always wanted children, and then suddenly I was faced with a huge gray area, wanting to be happy but scared shitless something was wrong. All I could do was wait and take good care of myself, despite the fact that the "morning sickness" was so bad the thought of ingesting anything actually did make me hork.

At my twelve week visit the OB/GYN made a grumble and then left the room. He was gone for 5 minutes, and when he cam back he sat down and with no pretense sent us to a hospital. He wouldn't tell us what was going on, he merely said he saw something troubling on the ultrasound, and he wanted us to go to a friend and colleague with better equipment. We went, confused and shattered, still trying to hold hope but knowing we were grasping at the last straws.

The doctor we met looked like my uncle, but was detached and clinical. They did another ultrasound, a 3-D one this time. It was an internal exam, and not only was it humiliating, J and I were terrified. The doctor and nurse mumbled things back and forth, with lots of "yeahs" and "See that"'s and the like. Then the doctor sat down to tell us our baby had anencephaly. He did this while the nurse was still doing the internal exam. In tears, I half pleaded half yelled at the doctor to finish the conversation once I wasn't being prodded naked on a table anymore. He was really sorry, and I think I surprised him. I don't think he'd been seeing us as people up until that point.

When we finally were able to talk to him, fully clothed and sitting up, he told us about our baby. No top to the skull. No brain function. Will die right after birth, if not before. He urged us to terminated the pregnancy for my health and for our mental health. We asked questions, and asked more questions, trying every angle. Was there any way the baby could live? What if I carried to term? Was the baby in pain? None of the answers were what we wanted to hear, except that the baby felt nothing, for now. There was no chance the baby would live, and if I tried to carry the baby to term my pregnancy could last over a year, because the fetal brain wouldn't be there to tell my body I was ready to deliver.

We waited another week, had another high-tech ultrasound and were told that nothing had changed. I was sicker, J was numb but trying to be strong, and my Mom was doing everything she could think of to help. We debated and thought, wept and wept and wept. I missed my graduation from college because I was grieving. We ended up having a D & C very quickly, so that there would be no chance of the baby suffering. We called it "the bean," and I still choke up when I use the word bean sometimes. Shortly after I had a miscarriage, and shortly after that I got pregnant with E. I don't remember much from the point at which I found out I was pregnant the first time to finding out about E; it's a dark place that I poke at from time to time, but I don't go spelunking there.

I'm lucky I had the doctor I did. He was and is very good at his job. He found this at 12 weeks when some women haven't found out until 4 or 5 months, and thus spared us greater heartbreak.

If I'm ready to try pregnancy again, I have to be ready for these outcomes, the fact that something horrible could happen again. The chances are small, but they are there, and they must be faced and dealt with before the hormones set in. There's nothing sexier than a sniveling hormonal moma throwing up all the time. (Morning sickness remained constant through all three pregnancies.) To remember our loss we planted a small flowering crab apple in our front yard. This is to honor the face we never got to see, the soul we never got to know. The miscarriage was an early one, so we grieved that one differently.

Even though I still can't walk past a Cinnabun without wanting to puke, I'm excited to do this again.

I found out about a world I didn't know existed through these experiences, too. Nearly every woman I talk to has a story similar to this one. It seems to be some secret club, a society of women who have lost a tiny part of their soul and who keep it hidden, because only other members of the club could understand. Or perhaps it's just too hard, this loss. We don't talk about it all the time because we couldn't do anything, and we had to stand by helpless as our hopes and dreams left us, alone. We cover it up to continue, we enjoy the other wonderful parts of life, and we try to forget that hole we have. But everything worth trying for has these risks, and the greater the risk, the greater the reward. (Well, usually. I'm not sure about sky diving.) The love I feel for my daughter has been deeper than the losses I felt in order to get her. It may not have healed the pain and loss, but it filled that hole up damn near to the top.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Applesauce: Miracle food?

I called my Mom last night about the "carrot poop" situation. She mentioned my sister had a similar problem at about the same age, and the pediatrician told her to feed little sis nothing but applesauce for a day. It apparently worked, so the kid is getting some applesauce today. Not 100% applesauce, she also ate some soy yogurt (Whole Soy! Yum!) and a PB&J. But more applesauce than not, and it seems to be working. The bug could also be working its way out of her system, either way I'm pleased.

(As a short aside, I once read a book about the Lipizzaner Stallions. I couldn't figure out why the crowd kept going crazy with applesauce. It was applause.)

Ahh, February. I'll be honest, Feb, I don't like you much. It's 10 outside, it's gray, and joy of joys (actually, I really mean that) we're supposed to get snow tonight. If this month didn't contain J's birthday I'd detest it completely. Well, that and the chocolate that gets thrown's OK too. We never do much for V-day, perhaps because we are practical and jaded people who see the day as a commercialized chance for disappointment, as well as the fact that the history of the day is usually ignored in exchange for gaudy cards and red stuffed bears. I was stood up for a date one time, and most of the other Valentine's days I've had have been equally depressing or disastrous. There was the year I fell down the stairs, the year I got a concussion, the year the jerk I was dating proposed (we were in HIGH SCHOOL!) and best of all, the year my parents gave me a big box of chocolate and I ate it all at once and threw up all night. This year, however, I am actually looking forward to the day. I'm making J his card and a small present, and I have some stuff to make E her own special box. I'll be making vegan chocolate covered pretzels with the kids on Thursday, and on Wednesday we'll be making our valentines. I guess you're not so bad, February. But maybe a little more sun? And stop with the wind around these parts, please. It sounds like a banshee on a bad day all night. Jeez.

Let's see, what should I do now? Work on taxes? Clean? Try to sew some more stuff for Etsy? Oh-eat lunch! Always the best option. Hopefully I'll get a chance to post the pics I took over the weekend tonight. Nothing fantastic, just the before photos of the craft room, the ugliest thing I've ever made, a cool scarf for etsy and some of a tired girl eating applesauce.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Plans: Crushed like bugs beneath our feet

I'm totally opening an Etsy store this weekend. No, this weekend. The one that's coming up. Why is it that you thought I meant the weekend we are ending, you ask? Well, clearly you've been smoking crack again, dear. It's a bad habit you should consider giving up.

Actually, my little one has been having some gastro-intestinal distress for the past week, and it went to a new and horrifying level this weekend. We instituted containment areas, showered her down several times and disinfected after each explosion. She's acting fine, but these "carrot poops" as she calls them, are horrible for all involved. (I don't know why they're carrot poops. It cracks me up.) After dealing with mass amount of horrible smelling shit everywhere, I just didn't have the energy left to work on Etsy stuff.

Thanks, by the way, for the tablecloth tip. That's what I'm going to do.

Another carrot poop, gotta run. Ugh.

Friday, February 8, 2008

Just a quick test

Google has stopped displaying this blog as a search result, so I'm trying to figure out what's going on. The real post will happen at naptime!

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Cabin Neurosis

This is how I've felt for the last couple of days. I've been stuck inside the house with 3 to 4 toddlers and 2 teething infants, and as rosy as I try to keep my disposition, I've been a little cranky.

Part of the problem is the fact that every online store I have looked at has the fugliest oilcloth and laminated cotton I could imagine. Some of the plaid with cherries and leaves would make Lovecraft weep, I'm sure. The other part is February. I detest this month. Where we live it is gray the entire time, rainy or slushy, and did I mention gray? AGGGGHHH! I need the SUN! There's also the "by the way, this is your body and you're not pregnant this time" factor, which as we all know, makes a girl just sunshine and rainbows, yes? So I'm devising ways to cheer the hell up, and fast. Without potato chips.

J was supposed to go game tonight, but the wife of the guy running the game has really messed up her back. (She can't walk right now, and the doctors keep telling her to wait 6 months. Poor lady. ) So instead of grabbing my kid as soon as all non-blood related children are out the door and taking her out for some errands and dinner, I might just escape on my own. I want to check out JoAnn for oilcloth or laminated cotton, hit Target for the kind of photo album I like(pictures are piling up everywhere!) , and then come home and sew like crazy. I'd like to take my wee one with me, but we'll have to see when Daddy gets home. I just need out, or else the kids might start learning some questionable gestures soon. (I KID. I'd just teach them one gesture, see above.)

I need to get a few things made so I can open the store, which is handy since I have a full-spectrum light by my sewing machine. I'm thinking of starting with a few headbands, some napkins and some placemats. I organized all my fabric during naptime yesterday, so I'll start moving furniture around today. I'll share photos tomorrow, assuming I remember to take them.

Concentrate on sending some sun to the midwest, please!!!!!

Tuesday, February 5, 2008


You know those chairs I recovered? The ones I scotch guarded the hell out of, because the fabric had white patches, and I run a daycare? Weeeelll, scotch guard isn't going to receive any tongue kisses from me anytime soon. I'm also going to have myself tested for any tumors that could be causing me to be as incompetent as I was to order that particular fabric for that particular project. (Again, I digress...) The point is, I need to re-recover the two chairs I finished, because it looks like the apocalypse happened on that gorgeous fabric. So sad. I've also decided to open my Etsy shop this weekend, and I'm having trouble sorting through all the business crap from Etsy and Pay Pal. So I'm pleading with you:

First plea: Where do you buy your fabric from? I have a few online stores I browse through, but I'd love to know where you've ordered from and what you liked best about them (good service, quick delivery, etc.) I'm looking for oilcloth for the chairs right now, but really, a good fabric store is like taking a mini-holiday, even if you have to do it online. So any favorites?

Second plea: Please, someone, give me some "starting your own online store" advice! Please! Is Pay Pal horrible? Wonderful? How do you do mastheads and/or banners? Should I build a website? Where do I start?!

So that's my tiny freak-out for the day. Tonight we're going to watch the original King Kong, and tomorrow I have a friend coming over for dinner and to knit. She's such a sweet and smart lady who has been widowed for far too long. Her son is still in bad shape from his aneurysm, so we thought dinner and some time with friends might take her mind off things for a bit. Now, give me some online shopping love!

Monday, February 4, 2008

Reading the fine print

I totally went to order that hedgehog fabric I'm lusting about right now, when I noticed that the price was for 1/4 yard.

OK, fine. I'll still order the fabric, I'll just get 1 yard instead of the 3 I was planning on.

Shipping is how much?

Oh, fuck it.

This one isn't a novel.

I almost took my camera to the party, but I left it at home because I knew I'd be inebriated.

Damn damn damn.

The party was at my friends Lauren and Lee's place. Lauren was there first, and then decided Lee was being a good enough boyfriend, so she let him move in. Anyway, Lauren created a place with some unexpectedly gorgeous spots-my favorite was a mirror in a sink with a rope hanging in front. The rope had a scarf on it. Trust me, it was cool. IF ONLY I HAD A PICTURE TO SHOW YOU. Lauren promised I could come back and take pictures, which is fantastic. She has the most unpretentious and wonderful apartment I've ever seen. I can't wait to share!

We had an awesome time, arriving just after noon and staying until 11am the next morning. We did very little, and finally relaxed. It was great not asking everyone if they'd pooped or if they needed to go to the potty. And I changed not one dirty diaper. Which is fortunate, given the ages of the people there.

I also had the opportunity to talk to some of the crafty ladies that were about. Holy shit, I know some cool people! A really interesting and nice girl I'd talked to a couple of times revealed that she does craft shows, and asked if I'd be interested in sharing space. HELL YES! I think, if I remember correctly (not bloody likely) that there were 3 people definitely interested in going the Domesticrazy umbrella, and another 2 possibly interested. I need to work out details, but the basic idea is this: I have a shop on Etsy. My friends send me or give me stuff to sell there, under their own line name. I give them their money, minus a 5% operating fee. It's friends, so I may nix the fee, I may not. I'd be taking the pictures and managing the shop, so I may keep the fee just for sanity's sake. The other part of the deal is that these genius girls and I will get together once a month to hang out and make shit. Well, high quality items; I don't get to swear out loud often around here. BUT! That way we can teach each other what we know how to do, hang out and have a good time. Girl time. CREATIVE girl time, for money. It's a dream coming true. And the stuff these people know! I'm just too damn excited. But I promised no novels, so I'm going to go buy that hedgehog fabric I've been eying, unless it's sold out. If that's the case, I'll go take some pictures for tomorrow's post. Too many words = boring the crap out of you = Not good!

Friday, February 1, 2008

Heavy and Light

First: the light:

This has been cracking me up. I need to add her to the links.

Also: I found this emu on the internets. I do not remember which internet it was.

Second: The Heavy:

Last night I had dinner with a good friend. She's going through a pretty major transition after a 12 year relationship, and it was tough to see her so torn between love and living the life she wants to live. The transition is going to be a tough one, full of heartbreak and manipulative language, pleading and recrimination. But when she's through it my friend will be free; she will feel like Atlas released. Her partner is my friend as well, and I hope he will get through this and find himself. He is going to have a hard time, after 12 years with no job, no insurance, no responsibility. As hard as it is, I can't help him with these things, because if he doesn't learn to be responsible and care for himself now, he never will. And another crutch would be the cruelest thing I could give him.

It has amazed me since I was small, how scary and hard change can be. We moved a lot, every few years, and so I quickly grew accustomed to leaving friends and houses behind. It wasn't easy, but it was what I knew. (My Dad is a Very Good Businessman, and we kept moving so that he could take better and better jobs.) Once we settled down, however, I found myself in the same boat as everyone else. The Devil I knew was preferable to the Devil I didn't know. I stayed with the same asshole boyfriend in High School (we spent the last three years of it in the same place), until I could escape to college with a clear conscience. And I knew that I wouldn't have to see him everyday there, and listen to his pleading, his constant entreaties to marry him.

But I've never stayed at a job I hated because I was too afraid to leave, and those years of packing up and leaving while I was a kid gave me the courage to leave my corporate job and start my business. It may not seem related, but it's the reason I have tattoos and piercings. It's an idea that is so simple, and it as become my mantra when I worry about the disapproval of others. It's simply this: If I don't live my life in a way that makes me happy now, I may not get the chance. This doesn't mean I put myself and my wants above others, actually, the opposite is true. Because working to make the planet healthier, people happier and animals suffer less makes me happy. Having my bills paid, earning a living and being responsible make me happy; I just get those things done my way. I wish this kind of happiness for everyone. If working in a cubicle makes you happy, then that's how you should make a living. There are so many people, however, that work in a place that kills their soul a little more every day, and for what? We spend the majority of our time at work, and if you hate every minute of that time, is it really worth it? How much is your happiness worth?

Which leads me to J. We had a lovely, if slightly wine-addled, talk last night about his going back to school. What he really wants to do, and where his heart is, is writing. Teaching English, writing short stories or novels or papers about books he's read, it doesn't matter. He loves the written word and he wants to share this with other people, preferably in an atmosphere of learning. He's also a wicked study of people and motivation (He has figured out every "surprise ending/twist" movie from The Usual Suspects to Fight Club to every M. Night movie in the first five minutes, and it is extremely annoying sometimes), and would love to do something with psychology. But both of those paths would severely impact how we live. We would have to reduce our sending, sell our house, get rid of at least 1/3 of our stuff to fit into a new, smaller house and we would have to do this for years. Until J got through student teaching, or practicum, or whatever else. Plus we'd like to have another Wee One before we're through with spawning, so we need to consider how that fits into the while scheme, too.

All of this is fine with me. I'd live in a hovel for J to be happy. I will make do, and E would benefit from learning how to live with less. It's a good skill to have. But my lovin' husband doesn't want us to suffer for him, and so he's debating Business Psychology, so that maybe he can get a job that doesn't trample on everything he believes in, plus we can afford to get E the education we'd like her to have. But I'm going to keep after J to follow his heart in this, because he needs to be happy, too. My only hovel requirement is indoor plumbing and hot water. We are very lucky, and we have so much. I'd be fine with one cup, plate and bowl for each of us, and we could easily streamline the rest of our possessions. (Yet I still feel a little pang when the bigger houses are built around us. I don't want a bigger house, cleaning this one is tough enough. Why?) I did feel a little panicky last night though, talking this through. It would be a big change. Moving to Michigan was mentioned, so that he could train to be a Waldorf teacher. Change is always scary, even when you're used to it, I guess.

WELL! Nice rant there, eh? I'll stop dumping out my internal monologue for now, and you may go about your weekend in freedom. I hope it's a really rockin' one, because I'm going to party like I don't have kids.