Shhhh!

Just a quick break to say I found out that Phil is living about 5 blocks from my office. I walked to his place for lunch today. Crazy!

Oh, and I spent a good deal of time today so far rounding up enough new pencils to fill an ENTIRE shoe boxed size container. I am awash in office supplies, especially crafty ones. I have lots of glitter glue here, as well as enough paint to keep an entire first-grade classroom happy for at least a week. Considering at my last similar job I used paint with the kids exactly ONE time, that's a lot of paint to keep in my office.

I've been thinking more and more about the garden, and I'm realizing that it would do me right to actually make the beds this weekend if at all possible. It's going to be close to impossible to do it alone, though. Anyone want to come over and help out? Especially if you have a car/truck that can handle long boards. We can make it a party!

Usually when I research something I know little about I get frustrated by a lack of consensus. Internet Person A says that you should make a bed 12 inches deep. Internet person B says 24 inches. What's that saying? Something about opinions as compared to the number of assholes? Hm.

I also get overwhelmed when there are too many steps. I read one site today that said you should let black plastic kill the grass where you'll be installing the beds, and that I should have done it back in August. Greaaat. Another place said I should not only use compost/soil/sand/clay/loam/peat/moss/bonemeal/woodash as my growing medium, but that I also should be digging 16' down into the ground to loosen up the soil.

You know what? I can't do all of that. I am too ADD or something. I was planning on getting some boards, nailing them together, and dumping in a load of compost from the city right on top of the grass, with a liner of wire mesh and MAYBE weed controlling fabric.

See, that is much better. Interesting to notice. If a plan seems complicated I freak out a little. If I can just DO it without a plan, it might not be perfect (or even get finished but I will have enjoyed myself. Like the time I sewed myself a top out of a pillowcase. I messed it up, but with a couple of creative tucks here and there, I was able to change it into a very cute toddler dress, with a ruffle and all!

I can't follow a pattern to save my life. Not a sewing pattern and not a crochet pattern. All of those little abbreviations scare me. If someone SHOWS me a few stitches, though, I'll combine them in different ways, and play around with it. Eventually I either come up with something cool or I get frustrated and put it down.

Plans constrain me. Just so you know.

Reflections

So yeah, I probably won't be posting much specific about work, cause you know, you're not really supposed to do that, or so I've heard.

But. My immediate take on things: I feel comfortable. I feel confident. I like the people I'll be working with. There are some things that concern me, but not too too terribly much. I realized after today that there's a lot to learn about how things work, but I know I'll be fine.

The schedule, as I mentioned in the comments, has built-in goodness. Friday afternoons are an automatic off at 1 p.m., with MTWR schedules slightly longer to make up for it. It's kind of misleading though, because every other Friday I have a standing meeting from 4:30-6. So. I might just end up taking off every other Friday entirely instead of taking off from 1-4:00 on the meeting days. At any rate, I essentially set my own schedule.

I ate well today, that's for sure! I had a healthy, healthy, healthy lunchie, chock full of protein and veggies and lean meats. I drank a lotta water, and breakfast was also proteiny. And dinner will be very veggie-centric. (I had a coffee mid-day, but my GOD did I need it...)

I got up bright and early, grabbed the keys to the shed and set about taking the leaf mulch off of the front garden. Then I dug up a bunch of the bulbs that pervade that area. Tomorrow I'll continue doing that. It was hard work, and it felt good to actually carry off the remains to the compost pile.

Ahhhhhhh.

Life through 80's music

From This:



To This:




(Both of these particular videos made me laugh my ass off this morning. Just watch them)

Leonard Bernstein!!

Y'all know what tomorrow is? Do ya? Do ya?

My face does. Under my nose, I've got a nice sore lump that promises to be a gorgeous cysty zit. My hair knows, too! Its fancy sleekness begged me for a fast-food haircut last week and I acquiesced. Now it's uneven and choppy in an unintentional way. At least it's still greasy in the morning, because I'd be lost if I didn't have something ordinary to expect.

It's really not all dread though. I've got a healthy amount of excitement flowing through me. I have plans (don't I always have plans!) to make this life transition healthy like I did when I went home to visit my parents. I've been concerned about my body's functionality recently, due to less movement in general and the weight having crept, nay, sprinted up on me over the last couple of years.

The routine should do me well too. I have managed to spend the last bit of time very unmotivated. It might just be that the more you have to do and the less time you have to get it done, the more you actually accomplish. I hope so. So tomorrow I'll report to Capitol City at 10 a.m., having walked for 30 minutes already. I've got a slew of lunches in the freezer from my cooking jag last week, and a trip to Trader Joe's yesterday has replenished the non-freezer items. They're healthful lunches, too!

******
(Before I say anything else, I want everyone around to know that I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY like the following band, even though I'll be a little snarky here.)

For once in my life, I have found my own music. Listening to the few songs on the band's myspace page; I made a few observations. I like it because I can understand the lyrics. It's peppy sounding. That means it's pop, yeah? And then by extension it's clearly indie pop. Which doesn't surprise me, because ever since a friend introduced me to both the term and the genre while I was in college, I've liked that sound.

Anyway, the album begins with a song called When I Wake, and ends with one called When I Sleep. Brilliant, observant me listened to the songs side by side before looking at the track listing and thought, MY GOD this is a repetitive sounding band! My other observation was that they kind of reminded me of a boy band (God, I bet they'd hate that comparison!!)

Here are some places to hear them.

Watch this and tell me I'm not right about the boy band comparison!



Conclusion: I love The Changes, and they're going to hate me because of this so-called review. Darren, Dave, Rob and Jonny? Please don't hate me! If you come to my area, I promise I'll go see you. Right now the closest I can tell you are coming is about 2.5 hours southwest from where I live. And then you'll be going about 3 hours from me, but on the OTHER side of the state. You're very cute, too.

More fun with...

...FOLK ETYMOLOGY!

Shitload or Shedload?

Example: I have a shitload/shedload of things on my mind these days.

Passtime or Past(t?)time?

Example: My favorite passtimes/past(t?)imes these days have to be birding and daydreaming.

I swear I come across these things daily. I have definite opinions. I just like to double check with y'all.

Yarn and shipwrecks

My dreams last night were no doubt influenced by the fact that I had no heat in the house last night.

Yup. The heat went out, I called the rental agency, and the HVAC guy came and fixed it. The fix lasted one whole cycle. It's kind of cold here. Thank god for the miracle of cashmere plus down. (I'm convinced that cashmere is in itself the perfect winter fabric. It's soft, it's warm, it's not bulky, and it's beautiful.)

So. I had two main cold-inspired dreams. One was about an estate sale. I hadn't found all that much, but then I came across a cache of crafting/sewing/knitting supplies. SCORE. I got about 10 skeins and other units of gorgeously colored Lopi yarn, all the while internally crowing that I'd be able to send Jamie more cheaply acquired wool to fuel her winter hobby.

This dream was certainly related to a visit I took to my friend Maria's father's house on Saturday. He died some time ago (he's the only person whose ashes I have actually held in my hands. They're REALLY heavy!), and the family was clearing out the contents of his home. I ended up with some good cookware I'd been lacking (food mill, bundt pan, springform pan, angel food cake pan, a new tea kettle), some books, a puzzle, and a ball of brown Lopi much like the one I'd already sent Jamie's way.

The other dream was not as fulfilling. Wait. I just realized I had *two* more dreams!

OK, so the second dream was the woman who had a house outside the town where I used to live. I don't know why, but I went up to her house and just walked right in. I vaguely recall I was interested in the rural property and thought it was abandoned. The yard had an abandoned ski-hill that reminded me of a place down the street from my Dad's house*. There was more to the dream, not much though. I talked to the woman. She caught me in the house, and I told her that "Yeah, I just walked in. I figured it was OK." I remember feeling like I was trying to dig myself out of the hole I had created in entering without her knowing. But also I knew that she really was OK with me walking in without her knowing. It was weird.

The third dream was the scary one. It began with me walking down a beach/boardwalk and seeing a bird. I have a very specific picture of the bird in my head, because I didn't know what it was. I described its physical characteristics out loud, as I do when I need to ID a bird.

White water bird. Egret-like, with a yellow crest. Large black patch on the throat. Yellow legs. Curved heron-like bill, white.

It took off like I had flushed it, heading for the river behind the weathered wooden structure that faced the water. It seemed scared.

I kept walking, thinking briefly that I'd have to look the bird up as soon as I got my field guide. Then I noticed that there were TONS of these birds. They were all behind the plexiglass window of the barn-like, high school bleachers-esque building I had noticed before.

There were hundreds or maybe even thousands of them. They were all dead, piled up against the dulled though still transparent window.

I knew then that I was prey. So I began to hustle along the large wooden structure until I finally went inside.

(I'm feeling panicky just writing this! Seriously panicky...blech!)

The building was actually a ship. A wooden ship. Peeling paint, trapdoors and bleacher steps aside, it was clearly some kind of vessel that had been either abandoned or crashed at the beach. It had rooms that were linked to one another via wooden fence gates.

I saw my sister and her boys inside one of the rooms, and realized that I was fighting for my family. I had to not only fend off the (still unknown) predators, but also provide sustenance at the most basic level for a family of four.

So I went on reconnaissance, looking for food and drink. I went from cabin to run-down cabin, opening cupboards, refrigerators and freezers. There were many, and they were still powered, despite the abandoned state of the ship. I came across some odd possibilities, but nothing that seemed particularly promising. Mostly I found dregs of former meals. There was usually some kind of potential food or drink in each place I looked, but it was always unfit for one reason or another. The only find I specifically remember was ice cube trays full of frozen Jello shots. Thirty to forty-year old Jello shots.

Eventually, as I was trying to elude the man chasing me (who looked a HELL of a lot like Freddy from Scooby Doo), I ducked back into the room where I'd stashed my sister and the kids. They were being really good and quiet. Then I saw the motherlode of goodness, hidden from immediate sight, but seemingly endless once you saw it. Pringles in size 10 cans, pop**, bottle after bottle of liquor, granola bars, trail mix, cheese on wheat and other Lance (Warning, sound. Hilarious marketing sound!) products... I specifically remember thinking that Phew, these had to still be OK to eat, even after 40 years!

I gathered up a handful of snacks and took them to the kids. Oh there was red licorice as well.

That's where the dream ends. Saved by junk food. Maybe. It was never clear if we survived.

I don't feel very well now. I think I'm going to lie down for a bit. Reliving that dream caused much real anxiety.

**********

*A sadder sight you've never seen. Imagine two rope-tows and a snow machine.

**That's the word that came to me just now, so that's the word I'll use. As I examined the stash, I was pleased to note that there was Diet Coke and Caffeine-Free Diet Coke, and Annie and I had a pretty calm discussion about how nice that was. Notably, there was nary a Pepsi product to be found.

You know I knew, right?

I keep feeling slightly freaked out that y'all may have thought I didn't know that the answer is deep-seated. That's my fault, considering how I wrote it the entry. I have no idea why I care, either. I mean, *I* know I knew. My inherent goodness doesn't rest on whether I knew it or not or on what others think.

Maybe I'm just overly tired today. After all, I DID go tent-camping by myself (so no bodyheat for sharing!) yesterday. Last night it got down to 18º (-8ºC) , the park ranger told me this morning. My sleeping bag is rated for 15º (-9.5ºC).

Yeah.

I slept, I really did. I also woke up a lot. Believe you me I came prepared for cold. I had on lotsa layers everywhere I could.

Head: black hat, green hat over it
Neck: Pink stripy scarf, purple flecked knit scarf (thanks, SeaStar*!)
Torso: tank, long underwear, cashmere sweater, large wool army sweater
Legs: Black long underwear, white long underwear, jeans (oh, and panties, of course.)
Feet: Short wool socks, long wool socks, sheepskin boots

I also brought a wool afghan and of course, the down jacket Pinky gave me. The afghan was a good buffer between the cold ground and the bag. I kept the jacket inside the tent, but outside of the bag. That way, see, I could hold out hope that if it got REALLY bad I'd have something else to keep me warm. Mind you, there was also the car in a pinch.

I went thinking that if it got too cold I'd be able to just take off and go home. But they LOCK YOU IN!

My contacts froze in their saline solution. They were inside the car.

Oh I need a nap. Yes I do.

*One of the MANY nicknames for my sister.

A puzzle I need your help with.

Deep-seeded or Deep-seated?

Example: I have a deep seeded/seated desire to live a minimalist lifestyle, but my cashmere addiction gets in the way.

I'm not positive which is correct. I thought it was one way, but saw it written the other way today. I can sorta-kinda make it make sense either way.

So help me out here by weighing in. WITHOUT consulting any reference material, including but not limited to google or books, please tell me in the comments which you think is correct and why.

Thank you for playing. A cookie has your name on it.

On oddities and a tribute to my friends Ols and Emily

I'm weird, and I try to be proud of it. Actually maybe I'm just goofy, but I am spectacularly so.

Marianne and Jerry witnessed my essence a month or so ago when I was running around town with my hands plastered to my butt, waggling, pretending to be a gray squirrel swishing my bushy tail. For an hour or more. Incessantly. Accompanied by singing. Heh.

I'm pretty sure that that is the only time I've been 100% myself around those two in particular. Mind you, they're two of my very close friends. It just....takes a LONG time for me to really get there with people.

Yesterday I went to K&W Cafeteria* with Emily and The Cutest Baby I've Ever Known (sorry everyone else!), to celebrate my impending return to worklandia. Emily is one of them--one of those who have hung around with me enough for me to trust that she's not going to look at me funny when I break out in song or dance. One who will break out in song or dance with me.

When we got back to her house, Emily mentioned that she had gone to see "some Brazilian dance thing" she thought I'd have enjoyed. I asked if it was capoeira, simultaneously flailing around kicking my legs, swooping down to the floor and trying to be, well, fluid. I think I also made Hi-YAH noises to indicate the martial-arts aspect to capoeira. Emily reponded by saying, quite seriously, "No, it looked a little more like this," and broke out into rib-cracking, boob-heaving, arm-flailing cuchi-cuchi moves. "You know, like samba," she explained.

The conversation turned to whether I'd be interested in taking a Latin dance class with Emily. Um, not so much, sorry. Cause why? Because of Michelle "La Rubia" A Local Dance Instructor. She is the worst instructor I've EVER met. I hold a huge grudge against her. It's because she's a total attention whore. Yeah, she can dance. But she can't teach for shit. Her teaching involves giving extremely detailed, multi-step instructions, saying "got it?" and then proceeeding to whip her skirts around, twirl like an ice-dancer, and manage to look kind of desperate even as she does it. It turned me off of salsa lessons, that's for sure. I prefer the way I had already learned, which was from slightly to majorly drunk Latino men at clubs. Very nice, willing to show you what they are doing, and typically strong leads. Also, most were pretty receptive to the word No when their hands would move more toward groping territory. Whoops. That was a RANT!

Back at Emily's, Juan Luis Guerra's greatest hits was on, and I merengued and bachata-ed my way through the rest of the afternoon, without a bit of self-consciousness.

I came across the following video a half-hour ago or so. It made me think about how much fun I could have with Ols, learning the choreography to this and putting it on like a talent show, for her husband or my family. Take a look. I hope it makes you want to dance, too!




*Between us we ate, or at least tried to eat, the following: Country steak and gravy on rice, stuffed peppers, fried green tomatoes, red fruit congeal, turnip greens, creamed spinach, creamed corn, and buttered coconut pie.

Meals to Freeze

I have a bunch of ideas of things to do before I go back to work on the 26th, Monday, February, 2007.

I'm thinking a haircut, since the last time I went to a stylist was when I was still smoking. Also, I need to get my car fixed from that little bump over xmas in Michigan. I'd like to order and receive a truckload of compost from the county, which can be dumped into the empty garden space to await the new raised beds I plan to make.

That's right. Raised beds. With PVC frames stretched with chicken wire around them. NO BUNNIES! My stepfather might come down to visit, with my mom of course, in early April.He's got the raised bed mojo, since up at the cottage they're dealing with deer as well as bunnies. Do you think I'll have deer to worry about? Better safe than sorry. I also think it'd be prudent to line the bottom of the bed with smaller-guage chicken wire, for the sake of gophers and other things that tunnel.

Then I've got a visit from Jamie tentatively planned for a couple weeks later, after the projected end of the last frost. She's gonna help me plant. I've got the sorrel started inside so far, and I should really do a plan to figure out when to start the other seedlings.

Something else I'm planning to do before I go back to work is to stock up on home-cooked food. I am looking to eat healthily when at work, this time, and one way I can do that is to make a dinner every night until I go back and freeze several portions of each. Reach in, grab food, get on the highway.

Did I mention I've signed on for a commute of about 30 miles each way?

This is what I have on the menu so far. If you know of a good, healthy recipe for freezing (potatoes don't freeze very well, I've found), feel free to chip in with suggestions!

• Chicken Paprika from The Joy of Cooking. I've tweaked it some, because I am wary of freezing sour cream. Basically my plan is going to be to eat it sans fatty goodness. Oh, and I also added tofu cause I had it around. Beefs up the quantity (I slay me!) on the cheap.

• Chili: boring but a good standby. Healthy, tasty, filling.

• Chicken Saag? Dal? Some kind of Indian goodness that won't lose quality in the freezing process.

• Beef Stew/Pot Roast. Do you even know how long it's been since I've had stew? I don't care if the potatoes grow mealy in the freezer. This sounds fabulous.

• Stuffed peppers. I've always done this with rice, tomatoes and ground beef.

Wow. Substitute the Indian for Curried Chicken Divan and the chicken paprika* for veal stew, and I am my mother circa 1983, when she had to cook for 8 every Wednesday!

The Suggestion Box is open for other ideas, both for food and fun things to do before I go back to work. WORK!! YAY!!

Guidelines: reheatable, cheap, healthy, tasty, does not use coconut milk, and makes enough for about 4-8 servings, cause I'm gonna want some variety here, folks! Oh, and ideally that you can freeze together with the rice/noodles or whatever starch might accompany it.

*where is that 's' character with the upside-down circumflex I'm looking for, anyway?

Imagination on caffeine

I hear the train whistle right now
I can close my eyes and pretend it's not today
and I've got on an apron trimmed with rick-rack
around my neck is sweating a little bit from the heat...
and it's dusty outside
the kids are driving me absolutely nuts.
WAIT UNTIL YOUR FATHER GETS HOME!
i sit down and pour myself a bourbon two fingers deep.
the roast won't be done for another 20 minutes
and the sides will keep
(that's what a train whistle does to me)

******

I wrote that a few minutes ago, over IM while waiting for a friend to respond to something I had said.

My imagination is very active, though I may not document it. My dreams are alternately wacky or disturbingly reflective of the mundane details of my life. I find myself thinking about what I could do or what I'd like to do. I live a very, very rich life in my mind.

Now that I'm done with my Stew-as-a-1950s-housewife imaginary personality, I'll move on to the next Stew. Lady Stew needs to take her Marlyon out hawking.
(Falconry is cool)

*******

I made home-made suet cakes today. Bacon grease, peanut butter, birdseed, liberal amounts of cayenne and some flour all mixed up into a stiff dough, and then patted into a chunk.

Actually, the process wasn't that streamlined. It went more like this:

• September: buy a suet feeder to hang outside. Have a squirrel knock it down and eat the whole suet cake at once, breaking the feeder. Resolve to beat those darned squirrels!

•October: Remember you have an unused suet cake holder. Buy some gadgets to jerryrig the suet feeder to withstand squirrels.

• November: read about how to make own suet. Do nothing else.

• December: repeat November

• January: repeat December. Occasionally think, hm. I should do something about that feeder.

• February: repeat January.

Then one day, notice that you've been saving bacon grease for some reason. And that it would make a good suet base. Put the coffee can on the gas burner to melt the grease a bit. Dump in peanut butter. Mix in as much birdseed as you can. Find a tupperware that almost mimics the shape of the feeder. Pour the mixture into the mold and place in freezer. Wait.

While you're waiting, fix the feeder so that it hangs from a stronger chain, since the damn mammal freaking PULLED it down. Hm. Maybe it was a raccoon.

Take the tupperware out of freezer. Try to shove the now-congealed grease into the feeder, but realize the mold was too big. Chop up the spicy grease and mold into a more acceptable form with hands. Hang. Watch the whole damned thing melt and start falling apart in the sun.

Sigh.

Bring it back inside and transfer the feed into a bowl. Mix in some flour, dust liberally with cayenne and hang it up.

Notice NO birds are interested.

Remind yourself that it's the PROCESS not the result that's most important.

News Flash

This is what you've all been waiting for.

The
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answer
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is
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I GOT IT!

Update...news flash will come later.

I kicked ass today, and within a few days I'll know if I'll be back among the employed or not!

And I *really* had a lot of fun, both in talking to the people interviewing me and in the short lesson on STD prevention I gave them. I was so relaxed and I enjoyed myself....even if I don't get this job? It was a FUN day!

Then I went and got lunch with my friend. And I'm wearing cute new clothes.

Whee!

UPDATES

• 3 p.m.
This sounds good, right?
"We are very interested in you for our health ed position. I'm going to call your references today/tomorrow and will be back in touch with you after I've spoken to them."

• 6:30 p.m.
From one of my references:
"I gave you an awesome recco- sounds like you are high on their list-
keep me posted "

Happiness is...

(among other things)

• completing a task
• solving a problem
• being proactive
• doing something you do well
• believing in yourself


The peas are in, people.
Soon I hope they'll look like this:






p.s.????
I FINALLY had someone come here via a google result for Dave Neuhaus!

Anger and Strength

Any suggestions for angry songs? I'm making a playlist, planning on making a nice CD I can blast. I tend to react to anger either by crying or cheering myself up with happy music. It's time for that to change.

So far I've got the following from my own collection, but I can't come up with anything else:

Head Like a Hole, Nine Inch Nails
Another One Bites the Dust, Queen
My Wave, Soundgarden
Bawitdaba, Kid Rock

I took out some that last night seemed like they might fit the bill, but upon reflection they were more about being hurt or about avoiding pain.

I'm looking for strength here, people.

Edited to add: This is a listing of some songs that might fit the bill, if you take out the ones about scorned lovers. Any comments?

Hmm: here's another one.

The village

My stepmother has a blog, which I mentioned once a long time ago. When she posted last week for the first time since, gosh, maybe before the holidays, I scooted over there to see what was up. Much to my surprise, there was a commenter whose name I didn't recognize, but who acted like she knew Keash almost as well as I do!

I went through a mental list of names of people it could be...Keash's friends, nieces, coworkers, friends' kids, kid's friends...nothing was ringing a bell. At the same time I was thinking, I clicked on the link that this "Nicole" person had left. I poked around her site, and realized that it JUST might be someone I had heard of yet never met.

My dad has kept in close touch with his best friend from childhood, Ron. Ron moved out west from Michigan at some point (smart man!). Not that long after, if I remember well, my dad's brother Mike also moved to the same western city. (Minty...you know what city this is.) Ron said a toast at my sister's wedding. I last talked to Ron in 2004, alongside the beach in San Diego, CA. On the phone. While my friend Ols was rowing. He's a psychologist, and I needed to talk. Dad hooked me up. I barely remember the conversation beyond knowing that Ron and his family are family to me. The last time I actually SAW Ron, it was 1996.

When I was little I saw the Ron Family pretty often, as they would come home to Michigan to visit the grandparents. One time in particular I recall his older daughter not being able to sleep when visiting my dad's house, because it was 6 p.m. her time--jet lag. There was another daughter, and then the youngest, Ronnie. The last time I saw those kids was probably 20 years ago or more.

There was a really good chance that this Nicole girl was Ronnie's wife. RONNIE? Isn't he like seven years old or something?

Nope. He's a doctor. And his wife is Nicole. They have a baby. And Nicole has links to a flickr site. And on that site I saw all of my people...the far-away western tribe.

My family!

a hose, a cupcake and a marshmallow walk into a bar

Happy Birthday to me!

I had some people over last night, and had a lot better a time than I was expecting to. In fact, I've been so antisocial recently that i came this ---><--- close to just up and canceling the party. Today I'm planning on going to one of my favorite places with one of my favorite people, and then not doing much else. Hm. Maybe I'll think about things to get for the garden! Breakfast was a turquoise/teal-frosted cupcake (Thanks Pinky!) and a mocha latte, cobbled together from some decadent hot chocolate Marianne brought over, combined with espresso. I call it the Diabetes Special. I had to follow it up just now with a green-bean/potato/pesto concoction. I put too much oil in it, unfortch.

Special thanks to all of you who did so much to help me celebrate my birthday... I won't even feel vaguely alone today!

Media Mix

I really like the sentiment behind making mixed tapes*. I've also always been really bad at it. The last time I tried to make a mixed tape was for my dad, probably 3-4 years ago. I had an idea. It was good, but I petered out in the follow-through.**

The time before THAT that I tried to make a mixed tape I think it actually was a tape, and I would not be at all surprised if it had The Escape Club on it.

Others, though, have been extremely good and nice and wonderful about making me tapes. Last year, Jerry made me a CD composed entirely of songs with my name in them. I love it. My college boyfriend, who is now a brewer here, used to make me tape after tape after tape in the early 1990s. That's how I first heard Pearl Jam. Some of my favorite Spanish songs also come from a tape my friend Marta made me. I ended up buying all the CDs of all the songs on that one...crazy.

I bring all this up, though, because I've been listening to music a lot more in the last couple of months than I had for years and years. Part of that is because I have a CD player in my car AND a CD player at home now. The other part is cause I've had some great wonderful people who are exposing me to mixes.

The lovely Imperatrix got in on the goodness last week, and mailed me an unsolicited "Happy Mix for Stewie." I don't bitch and grump and moan on the blog to get CDs sent to me, but it was a nice side effect. Heh.

I've listened to the mix about 7-8 times now, and I have some favorites, though I really do like them all (good job, Imperatrix!)

The catchy/feelgood ones:
Golden by Jill Scott
Suddenly I See by KT Tunstall
Wake Up by The Ditty Bops

The Classic
Manha Manha (not this version: the Cake one)

The Naughty:
Chipmunk Fun by The Chipmunks (scroll down and click if you wanna hear it)

The Angry:
New Kicks by Le Tigre

Thanks everybody....


*Okay, everyone here knows it's a CD and not an actual TDK 90 min cassette, right? Sometimes it comes out of my mouth as 'tape' and sometimes as CD. We'll see what happens in this entry!

**If anyone feels like making my dad a CD, find a bunch of old songs that have been either covered or sampled in modern music. Example: America's Ventura Highway and Someone to call my lover (notice on Janet's video that she acknowledges sampling the opening riff to VH). Then juxtapose them. I thought Dad would like that.

An oldie but goodie

The cake eating has begun early and will continue in earnest through the weekend. Homemade frosting is...decadent, isn't it?

My understanding is that there will be at least three kinds of cake accessible to those who come celebrate the last few hours of my being 35 on Saturday night. I made one of the flavors last night, for no other reason than that I WANTED IT. NOW.

Dinner was homemade pizza (capers and garlic, with my own sauce I canned in August). Dessert was apple spice cake with vanilla frosting. Breakfast this morning was coffee and cake. Early lunch was pizza and cake.

3 p.m. snack has been, no kidding, a pound of broccoli. Roasted until slightly carmelized, salted, no butter or oil. If I hadn't run out, I'd have made seconds!

Apparently you need veggies to survive. At least that what my body tells me. I listened to it today, and then thought about my stepsister, Brenna.

She always used to sing the song from this video. She'd laugh her ass off, and I never knew what she was talking about. I love that I can look it up now and see what all the fuss was about!

Something for everyone...at a price

Would you pay $165.00 for a used Bill Cosby Sweater?

It's always sad when a bride sells her dress after the wedding. I always wonder if there actually WAS a wedding. At least this woman is a creative (?) marketer and has billed her dress as a Cinderella Ball Gown...for almost $600.

Or maybe you're more the Winn Dixie Pit Crew type. If you have an extra $125, that is.

If you're going for a price-per-unit approach, try this lot of jeans.

OK, so maybe I used to be Sneezy...

I've been sitting here in front of the almost blank screen, trying to figure out what to say. I'm in a funk. There's way too much drama in my life, currently. Even my therapist was bitchy to me yesterday. Ok, she was just short with me about not having a free appointment time this week, but still. Not what I needed!

I have very little interest in interacting with people, recently. Sometimes I think I'd be better off moving to a VERY isolated parcel of land and doing it all myself. 100% self-sustaining. Get some dogs for warmth and companionship, and make sure that I have internet somehow, so I don't feel a total loss of connection to other people.

Actually, a total loss of connection sounds pretty damn good right about now.