baa baa black sheep

Moved

2008-03-22T06:55:00.000-05:00

Clicky

2008-03-19T06:44:00.002-05:00

So I have this stupid cold, and cramps, and also last night I was given a Really Bad Haircut. I went in for a trim, and explained the trim I wanted, and also a few minor changes. And then stopped paying attention because my stylist, who is pregnant with t-w-i-n-s, asked for suggestions on girl names. IVY, I said, you must consider Ivy. Just think about it.

While I was expounding on the virtues of Ivy, she was chopping off way more of my hair than I expected. Also: the front, I fear, is shorter than the back, which is the opposite of everything I believe in. She asked me if I was freaking out, and I looked at it and said no, it's hair. It grows back. It'll be back in no time! When I got home and looked at it some more and got all disgruntled. But it will be back in no time.

And, now, let's all mosey over to here, because I finally decided I wanted My Own Blog. And let's pretend this is a good change, because I am feeling decidedly panicked about the whole thing.

Clicky click,
black sheeped

Monday

2008-03-17T07:16:00.002-05:00

The weekend is, in my mind, a whirlwind of errands, a ridiculous county convention (I cast my delegate vote--as awful as it seemed, four hours of local government candidate speeches, disorganized counting, and painfully annoying arguments about wording on various 'planks' was a small price to pay for representing someone I believe in), cleaning like crazy for an impromptu in-law visit (I didn't realize how filthy the house had gotten, squalor hidden by denial), and then an impromptu Great Redoing of Our Taxes with my mother-in-law.

Also, of course, Cab was bad. When I shooed the dogs downstairs because wrestling on our tax documents was getting old, my in-laws requested that Monk stay up with us. Monk is a good dog, they said. Monk was not always a good dog, however, and I'm standing by a belief that Cab will not always be a shithead.

This week my husband is on spring break. It's 7:21 a.m. and he is in bed. Monk also decided to stay in bed (Monk would sleep in every day, and also would go be in bed by 6:00 p.m. after a full day of napping if Cab didn't force him to, gasp, play.) I got up at six, followed by Cab. We went out. Cab watched me pick out clothing, he watched the bathroom door while I showered, he watched me put on make-up and fix my hair. And then he sighed and went back to bed. Also, the cats are sleeping upstairs, and blinked crankily when I flipped on a lamp.

They are all obviously jerks.

I think I feel more tired now than I did Friday evening, but it will be a good week. J will get to stay home and write, the house is actually sort of clean, Artemisia is coming, work suggested I take Thursday off to be able to spend more time with her, I mopped my studio floor, and think I will be able to finish two paintings that have been looming over my head. Both are gifts, and I get a bit cantankerous when I am trying to make a piece of art for a friend/relative, because I will feel bad if they hate it and think they should pull it out of a closet only when I visit. One is for my sister. When I was about half-way done I called my mom to ask if my sister had anything in her house in the main color of the painting. My mom thought for a long time and said, "No, I don't think so."

Whoops. (Hi, sister! Sorry! You can always hide it in a closet. That's what closets are for. Closets are also designed to be pissy cat escape tunnels. Just a tip.)

And finally, to wrap up this ridiculous post, yesterday J and I trimmed the cats' claws and put new SoftPaws on them. Coltrane, as usual, was a bit horrified and shed wildly. After her ordeal, which was painless and took all of two minutes, she ran to my closet. This closet has a little panel in the back, which covers an opening to the bathtub plumbing. Also, it opens down to the basement, above the washer and dryer, assuming you are tiny and insane and willing to jump. Coltrane realized the panel had fallen open and made a ridiculous escape. So she was in the floor/ceiling, and I think maybe it explains a lot. Like how she gets so dusty, and how sometimes I can not find her to hug her.

Oh! Also, this is how she is about J. Yesterday morning I got up first, and was sitting on the couch. Coltrane was sitting pissily beside me, sort of angrily squawking if I tried to pet her. The usual. When we heard J get out of bed and start to walk around upstairs, she looked up at the ceiling. This soft, creepy expression of evil love crawled across her face. Her eyes closed halfway, she started purring loudly, and breathing quickly. She was purring at the ceiling, at his foot steps.

Pets again!
black sheeped

Dogs

2008-03-14T07:20:00.003-05:00

If you have been wondering how the dogs are doing (which, I assume, you always are), the answer is that they are More Awful Than Ever. It's been warming up a bit, and the frozen water stuck in the earth is thawing, bubbling to the surface, refreezing at night, melting again during the day, etc. This means that we are living in some sort of squishy-mucky-horrible-sinking-ground world, and my shoes, by noon, make squelching noises with each step.

This also means that Monk can not bear to put his delicate, dainty paws to the ground. EVEN TO POOP. Even when we threaten to skin him and maybe even feed it to him, he will stand miserably with one paw in the air, waiting in some sort of Slightly Damp Paw Agony until we take him back in. He is always apologetic, and always looking back at us in the garage with his quivering pathetic apology-tail-wag (not because we are mean to him, but because he knows he needs to poop but just can't bring himself to do it in such puddly conditions). This means dog gas. The only relief is when the ground is frozen again in the morning, which is more acceptable to his tastes than wet.

Also, Cab has always had a habit of flinching uncontrollably every time we touch him. When we adopted him he was malnourished and had cuts and things, and we'll never know if he's just hand shy or if someone used to hit him, or if his mother was a shy dog and he picked it up from her. But nothing makes you feel more monstrous than reaching out to scratch behind your dog's ears and the dog responds by wincing before you even touch him.

I did some googling the other day, and read some tips, all of which were things we already do. Except for one, which was so obvious I was kicking myself mentally, because: DUH, DOG OWNER. And that tip suggested instead of reaching a hand out and over to pat a dog's head, bring your hand up, from a low place, and scratch their chest or neck or under the chin. No hand over the head action until the dog is ready. So all week I'll been doing this, and it is MAGICAL. No more flinching, no more ducking, no more reflexive squinting when I pet him. He's very calm when I pet him that way, and he's been coming up and asking for pets, even.

I feel like such a jerk, for not thinking of that sooner.

The last thing about the dogs is this:

Just now, Cab was resting on the dog bed peacefully. Monk came over, checked out the bed situation, then deliberately laid down directly on top of Cab, pinning him down by putting his foreleg over Cab. Monk placed his head on Cab's chest sleepily. Of course, because eighty pounds of pointy elbows were now ON him, Cab starting kicking at Monk. Kick, kick, kick. Monk sighed, and struggled to remain on top, but soon they were flopped over and making out, dog fashion, by clicking teeth and licking each other's tongues. Now they are cuddled up against each other, each asleep, spooning.

So I announce, I officially throw out J's theory that their relationship is one of brothers.

Question day!

What's the last magazine you read? HONESTLY. If you got a spring break, and could go anywhere in the US, where would you go? Do you have any houseplants? What time will you get up tomorrow morning?

My turn: yesterday at work I flipped through a Van Dyke restoration magazine looking for something specific, but the LAST thing I went through was a JC Penney catalogue that came in the mail. I looked at it right after work, while I was still wearing work clothes and unwilling to face the three or four more hours until bedtime, and the dogs were wrestling and J and I were chatting. Because I? I know how to start a Thursday evening. With a free catalogue.

I feel as if I'd like to go back to Arizona, for Royals spring training games. We went a few years ago, and it was AWESOME. Especially the hiking. And the drinking of beer at springy small baseball games.

I have several dying plants, that have been half alive for a few years. It's pathetic.

Tomorrow I will get up at seven, for it is County Caucus Delegate Time! WHOOOOOO.

Love,
me

Upcoming

2008-03-13T07:12:00.003-05:00

This week has been sort of crazy. You know that week? The weeks that even includes one of those special moments when you cry in front of your bosses (uuuuuuuggggggggggggggggggh) (seriously, how ridiculous? UGH), and your uterus is going crazy, and you're annoyed that the robots are calling to ask if you'll possibly change your delegate vote, and also, HOW CAN BURT'S BEES BE SOLD AT WALMART? Actually, that happened last week, but I'll still reeling from it.

Also, from an ad I saw in a magazine for Burt's Bees. A totally sexed up cliche lame stupid ad of a woman's naked hips and torso (WHY IS THAT IMAGE STILL BEING USED, HUMANITY?), like ads you see in every stupid Cosmo and Glamour and why?

Why?

I don't blame the original Burt for moving back to his turkey coop.

The good news is, is that my cute sweet friend I left back west is coming to visit next week. I think the whole world will be on spring break (unfair, unfair) including my husband, and I wish I could also be, you know, OFF for this visit. But work is busy busy busy. And we'll have a couple of glorious evenings to catch up, and I'm excited.

I'm also excited that our dogs:

and their dogs:

are going to have the Most Awesome Doggie Wrestle-Mania Sleep-Over Extraordinaire 2008 EVER. It's true that I'm happy that there will be four dogs in my house, it's true. I'm happy there will be ridiculousness and romping and funny stiff dog tails while they meet, and probably a lot of mouth-breathing.

Last night I confessed to Artemisia that I transfer pet hair from home to my desk chair at work, and she said that happens to her too, and that she transfers it to the people she works with, and I was all, YES, ME TOO. I felt very very relieved that this happens to someone else. And I can't remember ever seeing pet hair on hair, because she always looks impeccable, so that gives me hope that I don't look quite as slovenly as I imagine I do.

This post is ridiculous.

In short: bad week, but friends are coming, with DOGS, doubling the dog content of this house for a few days, and I'm wearing a size smaller pants today. With PMS bloating!

Love,
black sheeped

Family

2008-03-11T07:26:00.002-05:00

I think a lot about the man who lived in this house for decades, before he got sick and passed away. His wife lived here, too, but passed away several years ago, and the house we first saw smacked of single tidy man, with the exception of a few trinkets and mementos displayed from a 50th anniversary event.

When we viewed the house, all of his things were still here, and it smelled of grandparents and undisturbed objects and dust. We were told to tag the items we'd like to keep, so we tagged a little hutch, a big cedar chest, and a few ridiculous rickety wooden chairs that were in bad shape--I fell in love with them. Most of the rest was auctioned off, other than old trashcans and half-used bars of soap.

Our neighbors tell us about the man, sometimes, and at work I found the paint records for the house--it had last been painted in the late seventies, and one room in '81. I always think of him by his formal name, and here I'll call him Mr. Fox, since I feel I shouldn't use his real name.

I like seeing the things around the house he did, that he rigged up hilariously, the little quick fixes that ended up being long term solutions. A small block of plywood holds the tub plumbing in place, precarious behind the wall. Stacks of chicken wire peep down from the crawlspace in the garage. A piece of hidden Styrofoam holds the kitchen light fixture in place, the toilet paper dispenser has been set at a crooked angle among the plastic bathroom tiles, steel wool holds warning tags on the washer's cords, the shelves in the kitchen cabinets were inexplicably nailed down with multiple, multiple nails. Downstairs in the studio area, a host of random nails and hooks wait silently in the rafters, planted in the beams for mysterious reasons. Bent up thick wire runs below the beams, make-shift indoor clothes lines that I use every time I do laundry. There are pulleys and chains hanging from a beam by a window. A mysterious paste held the (wrong-sized) toilet seat to the toilet. Doors were cut into the paneling in the basement with little-to-no regard for practical size. We suspect the paneling was put up and the doors were cut after the washer and dryer were placed in the utility room. The wiring, in places, is downright scary.

Under the utility sink I found bottles of ancient cleaners, three flower pots (one is a McCoy), a cook pot with a lid, a dirty looking bedpan, and layers of yellow, scummy newspaper. Resting on hidden shelves up under the workbench, I found four incredibly heavy antique sawhorse legs. Under a rafter in the exposed studio ceiling, I found an ancient (untripped) mousetrap. Under the stairs, boards of various sizes were hidden, and a faded dirty sack of rusted tire chains, with the lable of the tire chain company just barely visible. The hutch's tiny drawer held an old thermometer, a deck of playing cards, dice, and a button from some forgotten town-wide celebration.

In the basement cabinets, there are strips of rotting masking tape, with penciled labels written in a shaky hand. Some of the words are misspelled. The back compartment of a kitchen drawer held a slotted spoon and a hand-crank style eggbeater. The garage had a broom and a tiny banged up metal filing cabinet on legs. A cabinet in the garage holds outdated chemicals and pesticides. The cedar chest held two teeny tiny plastic dice. The shed in the back yard held planks and boards and poles in a variety of sizes, a large remnant of cheap plywood, hooks, metal loops, more chicken wire, empty plastic flower pots, and a fake floral arrangement obviously yanked from a grave at a cemetery. In the yard a plastic finch feeder full of moldy seed hung from a tree, and a wooden birdhouse hung from the clothes line. It is so old lichens creep across its roof, and the wood is soft and crumbly. A wren's nest was left behind in that house.

I think about Mr. Fox quite a bit. I wonder if he sees us, I wonder why he loved nails and hooks so much. I feel bad about the dog spots burned in the lawn, I cringe when I accidentally scuff a wall or scratch the hardwood floor, and feel as if maybe Mr. Fox is frowning behind me. I feel guilty getting rid of the draperies that were put up years ago. Maybe he is shaking his head at the yellow I painted the basement floor, maybe he hates the dogs, maybe knows I broke the curtain pulls in the living room. I feel a respect for him; I don't want to uproot everything that was familiar to him. I imagine him crossing softly from small room to small room, wearing the same pants every day, bathing carefully, helping our neighbors, wearing black socks, only taking off his shoes when it is time for bed. I wonder if he got sick enough that he didn't feel up to changing out of his clothes at night, and if he slept in them to avoid the hassle, like some residents at the nursing home I worked at tried to do. I wonder why his sister told us he didn't drink, when he had built a makeshift bar and antique beer paraphernalia decorated the bar area. I wonder if he smiled much, I wonder if he kept a cup on the bathroom vanity top for denture cleaning, I wonder if he ever picked up acorns in the front yard and looked at them for hours. I wonder if he fed the squirrels, I wonder how often he laundered his pillowcases. I wonder if, like my grandfather, every evening at seven o'clock he sat at the kitchen table to eat vanilla ice cream out of a white Corel bowl.

Sometimes he seems stern to me, but other times not so much. Now and then I remind myself that maybe he would like younger people to be here, that maybe scratches on the floor wouldn't bother him because we laugh and dance. I wonder if he quietly sees when I cry at night, I wonder if he laughs when he sees that I let Monk sit on the couch with me when my husband is not home, and then shoo Monk away hurriedly when we hear J return. I wonder if he knew his bushes were covered in scale, and if he is glad I viciously trimmed them all down. I wonder if he would be okay with all the bulbs I planted. Maybe his wife liked irises, after all. (Or maybe she didn't. I know the lady across the street hates trees.)

Although I am not necessarily a believer in ghosts, sometimes I feel there are presences. I imagine Mr. Fox is around, quite a bit, and I feel no fear. I've always felt afraid of dark, but have been able to walk around in blackness in this house at 2:00 a.m. comfortably. I feel we are sharing the space amicably, and that if his presence makes me respect the structure of our home more, so be it. I think he is slow in movement, but upright. I suspect his nails are just a bit in need of a trim, and I am sure he had slippers. I wonder how he would feel if my husband and I would sit on the wooden patio on summer evenings to share cigars. I wonder if he realizes the paint I used to paint birds on the kitchen cabinets will scrape right off.

I like Mr. Fox.

Monk does too.

Love,
black sheeped

Proof

2008-03-10T07:15:00.002-05:00

This morning the dogs were all OH HECK NO IT IS NOT TIME TO GET UP FOOLS, which is further proof that we should get rid of Daylight Savings Time. Archaic, I say!

More further proof of...something else, which is that Cab is infinitely more primitive than Monk: Monk's clock is set by schedules. He thinks he should poop after he eats dinner, whether it is 7:00 or 5:15. He knows he will go out when we get home. I used to call on my way home frequently to see if J needed me to stop at a store or anything, and Monk never anticipated my arrival until he heard J's cell phone ring--then he'd run and wait for me. Monk is always surprised by the noon siren. He knows we're going somewhere when we put on shoes at the same time. Therefore, we can trick Monk sometimes.

Cab, however, the primal jerk, has an internal clock of champions. He knows when it is 7:30 a.m. and time for us to go to work--on weekends he spazzes out at 7:30 or 8:00 because OH NO OH NO THEY ARE STILL HERE THE WORLD IS ENDING AAAAAHHHH! If we eat dinner early, like last night, he didn't care, but at seven (or eight, stupid time change), he freaked out and wanted to go pee RIGHT THEN. Because that is normally when we finish eating and take out the dogs. He anticipates when we're going to arrive home, and freaks out. Therefore, his whole world is shaken up every weekend, and he spends a lot of time whining/howling around eight a.m. and then around one p.m. (when we go back to work from lunch during the week).

So, this morning, because he was an hour off, he got back in bed after we got up. Because Monk is not a morning...dog, and frequently groans when our alarm goes off, he also went back to bed.

Also this weekend, I finally cleaned the house (!) and we finished rearranging, and I played phone tag with this lady, and I went to work, and I worked on a painting for my sister, and I read my new sewing machine's instruction booklet about fifty times. My mom gave it to me for my birthday (the machine, too, not just the booklet, COME ON). It seriously took me (I watched the clock) about two hours to figure out how to get everything threaded correctly. The page with the threading instructions is now all wrinkled, and I spent much of the two hours angry, muttering, and scowling. Confusing! Confusing and poorly worded! Thread is hard to...grip. Right? It's so tiny and slippery and I can barely even feel when I am holding it, and there was much mouth breathing and a few times I had to take breaks for some calming breathing.

However, I finally figured it out, and made a very crooked throw pillow, and repaired the dogs' beds, which Cab had destroyed again.

Now I have to go to work, and Cab is unsure of what is happening. He knows it is totally not time to go in his box, he has another hour, COME ON.

Love,
black sheeped

PS. Okay. I want to finally make an art site and maybe make my own blog, bust free of Blogger. Any tips on web hosts? Because I am overwhelmed. So! Many! Hosts!

Lots

2008-03-07T07:13:00.002-06:00

I have a lot of photos from the last few weeks, and here are some. But first, I must tell you this: last night as Monk was sleepily lowering himself to the floor to wait for his dinner, he farted. Super loudly. Startled, he stood up, scurried across the room, and looked around in confusion as we laughed.

On to photos--some of these are of the pets (of course), some are from my last early morning drive to the psychiatrist's office (which is located by a large cemetery). This, however, is a vase of carnations:

And these are some pets:

The cemetery last week was cold and sunny, sort of brittle and watery and quiet. I drove through it on my way back to the highway, and I felt comforted somehow that the ground four feet under stays around fifty degrees year round.

I like this state.

I also like these two idiots:

More of the cemetery:

More of that sunrise:

This is what I look like after I've been driving on ice for forty minutes, at seven in the morning. I certainly have not regretted the purchase of the yellow coat.

These are the dogs, again.

More of this guy. Sometimes I'm not sure if he even likes me. I woke up at one in the morning yesterday and realized his face was pressed against mine, and his tail was wagging. Aw, I thought, he likes me. He does!

Then he continued to pester me (and J) for the next five hours until we got up. Turned out he just needed to take an explosive crap.

Aw!

I discovered this morning that he nibbled the suede off my favorite pair of maroon (suede) heeled boots. I had to settle for black, and that was not nearly as sassy as I had planned. Also, if he would quit eating my clothing, his poops would be less painful. I'm sure of it.

And then a bit more of this:

It's Friday, and that means question time. (I wouldn't make you scroll through all that without question time.) What shoes are you wearing today? If your bed was covered with clothes, and you were super sleepy and it was late, what would you do? If you have an alarm clock, what wakes you up in the morning--radio or alarm noises? What are you doing this weekend?

Today it is windy/snowy/cold, so I am wearing boots. My brown boots, purchased at Target, from the kids' shoe section. They're very sturdy. I also finally found my other turquoise-colored knee sock, thank GOODNESS. In the past, if my bed was covered with laundry/pets/books/other things, I would just burrow into the crap and sleep with it. I'll even admit that I liked it. It's true: I like sleeping in a chaotic bed. However, out of respect for my husband, I no longer let myself lazily lie in such squalor. Last night I crawled into bed and sleepily pushed a pile of laundry onto the floor, and then felt genuinely happy because I was being helpful. I'm awesome that way.

We have the alarm set to the only radio station it will pick up. I'm normally awake when it goes off due to dogs/cats, but if I'm not I'll often sleep through the radio alarm. I'm better with buzzers and beeps. The local radio station is usually finishing up the weather and moving on to livestock reports (hogs) when it goes off the first time. If we hit snooze and it goes off again, it's "news." If we hit snooze again, the third time we get to hear the guy reading the list of local happy birthdays, which seems to horrify my husband.

This weekend! Tonight I hope to clean the house, and tomorrow I have a client meeting at 9:00, and then the rest of the weekend hopefully will be dedicated to art/doing things on my to-do list/catching up on correspondence/napping.

Your turn,
black sheeped

Important

2008-03-06T07:41:00.002-06:00

Last night I thought that if I had a Butters shirt, I would probably wear it just about every night.

Oh, Butters.

Love,
black sheeped

Loot

2008-03-05T07:29:00.002-06:00

Before it gets toooo far past my birthday, I have to tell you about two gifts I got this year that were especially hilarious/awesome.

My sister-in-law sent me coasters. But get this: they are coasters she designed on Snapfish, using PHOTOS OF MY PETS taken from my Flickr. So I have these beautiful little shiny coasters with pictures of the dogs and cats on them. I love love love them, and refuse to use them. I cannot sully their awesome shininess with a wet cup. Instead, I am going to think of a fun way to display them, because they're quite pretty. AND AWESOME. I thought that was such a funny and thoughtful thing to do, and had to share it with you.

Next: back when J and I first met, we had a long conversation about the television show The Young Riders, which I watched religiously every evening when I was around 11 or 12. It had cute boys AND horses, AND a girl who sassily dressed as a boy to be a Pony Express rider. I LOVED that show, so much. No one else seemed to remember it, and my conversation with J was full of me being excited that he even remembered it. It was probably the first or second conversation we ever had, and it was delightful. We haven't discussed the show since then. A few days before my birthday I randomly exclaimed something about, man! I wish Young Riders was on! He started laughing, and rummaged around in another room where he had hidden my birthday loot. AND PRESENTED ME WITH THE FIRST SEASON ON DVD.

When I told my mom about it, she cried, "Oh! You LOVED that show!!!!"

Kisses,
black sheeped

Seven

2008-03-04T07:09:00.002-06:00

I think over my break maybe I was tagged for the seven random things meme, and I think I have done it before, and I reeeeeally don't think I am ready to go digging through my clogged reader to find out who tagged me (forgive me!). But! I will do it again! And whoever tagged me: I'm sorry! Blame the reader!

1. I like the television to be turned down low. Waaaaay low. (And music, unless I am working on art or am feeling especially rocking-out-ish in the car. Then I like it to be inappropriately loud.) I'm constantly turning my husband's music down when I know it is at a perfectly acceptable volume. It just seems so loud. The tv seems so loud. Deafening! When he is not home and I watch tv, I turn it down, way down. Just at a notch where I can barely hear it, just barely. And it is a relief.

This makes no sense, considering how loudly I talk.

2. I love love love to press buttons in elevators, and I am always jealous when someone else beats me to it.

3. But, it feels lazy to take an elevator for less than five or six floors, and nothing feels lazier than the mall escalator. I prefer to take the stairs.

4. I actually have quite a strong avoidance to mall escalators. I hate how they only go in one direction, so there has to be TWO, and inevitably I find the wrong one. And I hate that people on escalators are so quietly staring at each other, and feel so self conscious about it all. So much creepy escalator observation! And I'm always unsure if I am supposed to walk up them, to speed up the awful process, or just stay still. Which is better? Which is less rude? Which is less awful?

I think I hate escalators.

5. I have a slow walk. It's true. I'm a pokey walker. And I shuffle a bit, although I'm always trying not to shuffle. The shuffling is usually only noticeable because all of my pants are too long, and the bottoms of the hems drag. This is annoying when the ground is wet.

"Just get your pants hemmed!" OR, I could make lame attempts to roll them up in rain or snow, and then complain a lot when they invariably unroll and the hems get wet/cold. Obviously the latter is a better option.

6. I associate colors with people. Last night I told my husband he is always Crayola grass green or royal blue, and he told me that I am red. Swistle is yellow. My sister is peach. My father is navy. My best friend growing up was a rosy brown. And so on.

7. I have a strong love for blankets and quilts and throws, and I believe I own way too many. And yet: there could always be more.

I have to go to work, and am not going to tag anyone else. But do it, if you want!

Love,
black sheeped

Lion

2008-03-03T05:26:00.000-06:00

Hey, so, I guess I'm back from my blogging hiatus. I'll pretend that you missed me, if you pretend that I spent the two weeks 'being ultra-productive and getting super relaxed.' Oh, and also pretend that I did not lose my blogging break to-do list (I will surely drown soon in a lake of dorkiness of my own creation) after the second or third day. We'll also ALL pretend that there are not around 300 unread posts in my reader, and that I have been diligently commenting on all of them.

But! Hey! I did, um...work a lot, at work. Last week was something around 48-50 hours of work, which is a lot to me, because that cuts into the time I spend herding pets. Lots of work stuff. And my hands aren't in quite as much pain, since I avoided many computery activities. AND I finished a stupid short book I've been trying to finish for months. And I turned 27, which is irritating to me because I like even numbers. And 27 is the product of two odd numbers that I absolutely despise. (Again=dork.) I started a paper journal. Also, we rearranged a ton of furniture, and it basically came down to this: every single item in the house that I arranged so carefully needed to be put where he had suggested back in August, in the FIRST place, in order for our house not to feel so horribly tiny. So now it feels bigger! And I was wrong!

So, I'm back, and this is the first thing on my "list of things to share that I thought of while on my blogging break." Don't worry--the list also includes things like "the pets" and "things the pets did" and "oh, man, have I mentioned the PETS lately?" Now I'll go ahead and use quotation marks to death: I'm not much of one for "sharing quotes" or "paying attention to life coaches in magazines" or "any of that other sissy trash, lame!" But I get Real Simple, (which I like because it taught me that you can use foil instead of a brillo pad) and although I mentally rolled my eyes at most of the article (as I tend to do at ALL of that sissy trash!), this jumped out at me. Just sort of peeled itself off the page, slapped me in the face, and loudly reminded me of something that I frequently need to be reminded of:

"Remember — people don’t spend a lot of time thinking about you. They spend most of their time thinking about themselves. You can change your hair, your voice, your whole style, or your whole act, and they might pause for a moment and say, “Hmm” or “Wait a second — is that good old what’s-her-face? She seems different” or simply “Wow.” That’s about it."

I liked it, because I forget that people are so busy worrying about what others think about THEM, that they devote very little time thinking about you. So it doesn't matter! Isn't that good? Surely there's a wadded up ball of truth in that. And so it is okay that I wore mismatched socks yesterday. Etcetera.

Another glorious return,
black sheeped

Love

2008-02-29T07:40:00.002-06:00

--Last Saturday for my birthday J drove me to an art museum to see some dog paintings.

--A few weeks ago he yelled from the shower, "Hey, do you want to see a unicorn?" I warily looked into the bathroom, and he poked his head out from behind the shower curtain. He had used shampoo foam to form all of his hair into a giant pointed spike that rose soapily from the top of his head.

--I was on the phone one night last week, having a conversation that was stressing me out. My husband heard me respond to something that he knew would result in infuriation, and merrily hurried into the room with a bottle of rum and a smile.

I am married to a really good man.

This week! Tell me some nice things about the favorite people in your lives.

Love,
blacksheeped

Gray

2008-02-25T07:22:00.005-06:00

I meant to post this earlier, too.

Different

2008-02-22T07:04:00.003-06:00

I wouldn't leave you hanging on a Friday, even with a blog-break. Today's question!

I can't stop looking at this:

It makes me feel uncomfortable and squirmy, but also hopeful. And it feels very familiar.

What does it make you think of?

Love,
black sheeped

Recharge

2008-02-17T21:13:00.003-06:00

For a smattering of reasons ranging from being busy to feeling burnt out to having a bit of a carpal tunnel flare up to being waaaaaaay behind on painting, I'm going to take a vacation from words here. I have a backlog of photos that I might post sporadically, but for a week (or probably two) I think I'll camp out in my studio at night and avoid the computer in the morning. Force my brain to produce more visually and less verbally. Try to finish a few paintings, try to get some things worked out in my mind. I need some centering time.

Plus, next weekend we are going to do Something Fun. We are not sure what that will involve, but I have the dogs scheduled to board Saturday and Sunday so things might get wild. Wild, I say! Maybe we'll go somewhere and visit a museum! Maybe we'll go to a city and have a nice dinner and see a movie at a leisurely pace, and not have Dog Bladder Worries nagging at us.

(Let's pretend I won't miss them horribly! I'm weird.)

So, um.

For now, here are a couple of tiny silly videos (they are terrible, and one was accidental) (also: inside look at how infuriating it must be to have a conversation with me in real life). I don't know what you like to do after work on your work Saturdays when you are exhausted and crampy, but! You could recharge by changing clothes, going to a farm, and feeding a new born lamb a bottle. (So awkward, because the weak little lamb hadn't figured it out yet. And because I hadn't either. )

After feeding a lamb, if you really want to perk yourself up, you should see a cat and a ewe being best friends, and rubbing faces, and playing. You will die of happiness.

And THEN, to top it off, if you hug the fattest, orange-iest barn cat ever, you will be ready for Monday.

When you come home, your husband will tell you that you smell like a barn (hello, sheep poop) and you should take a shower and then a nap. If you continue to think of tiny black scampering lambs and fat squeakily purring orange cats, everything will surely be okay.

Another

2008-02-15T07:10:00.002-06:00

Let's skip directly to the questions this week. After, of course, I ask you for tips on getting rid of pet poop. Tell me if these a) work b) are gross and c) are safe for the ground and d) if it would be better than letting dog poop fester in a trash bag when it is 95 degrees in August.

Now, on to the non-dog-poop-questions, yes? Friday!

How long, in the evening, do you make yourself wait before you put pajamas on? What's the last movie you saw? If they are pierced, how old were you when you got your ears pierced? Did you cry this week?

My answers! I usually get home between 5:20 and 6:00. If we're going somewhere, or if I'm planning on painting, I put on my regular clothes (by regular clothes, I mean one of my two pairs of ridiculously too big cargo pants and shirt(s) I don't get to wear at work--usually this involves paint stains or 80's cartoon characters). Also, clean socks. Because I really like to have clean socks on. I don't know. BUT. If I'm just planning on having a normal evening of staying mainly in the house/on the couch, after I get home and we take out the dogs, I get directly into a pair of sweat/yoga/pajama type pants and some sort of tank top/tshirt/hoodie combination. We call them "comfortable clothes" at our house, as in "I think it's time to get into comfortable clothes" or "why aren't we wearing comfortable clothes yet?" I've heard people use "soft pants" and other terms, so I'd ALSO like to hear YOUR term.

Last night we watched the The Triplets of Belleville, and it was good. And beautiful. I liked it, a ton, and I suspect my mouth sort of hung open for much of it. Also, there was a dog in it.

For my fifth birthday, I got to have my ears pierced. I think I got them pierced at a Venture store, and I think it was a Big Deal to pick out the piercing pair and an earring tree. I was one of those annoying kids who wore two different earrings/cat earrings, and later I would get several more ear piercings. But the first time felt so special, and scary, and I remember being surprised that it didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. But it was still scary.

And I cried last night, because of a viscious combination of intense PMS, some Super Annoying Things that had been stressing me out all day, and because I am a big dork.

It's amazing what a bag of incredibly dark chocolate, a Snickers brownie ice cream sandwich, and a husband on a couch with a super good movie can do for that, though.

Your turn!
Kisses,
black sheeped

Heart

2008-02-14T07:31:00.004-06:00

This morning Cab's living room floor "hiding spot" collection includes:

1) A pair of my favorite (clean) socks
2) Another band aid wrapper
3) A wadded up grocery store receipt
4) My two burgundy boots (I caught him sucking on the heel of one when I got out of the shower, which is weird on so many levels)
5) One of my dirty socks
6) A large piece of red lint he keeps trying to eat and then spitting out
7) Alligator dog toy (after he carefully nibbled off the tip of it's tail a few months ago, of course)
8) Dog bed stuffing, left over from when he destroyed the dog bed
9) A yellow sock cap

And now, for a quick photo montage of pet photos with a Valentine's Day theme:

Monk is the snuggle-culprit every time,
black sheeped

Magical

2008-02-12T19:54:00.004-06:00

Photos, because...it's almost Wednesday. I have already lost my phone five times this week, it is the first day in a week I haven't had a fever (just weariness! yay!), I didn't sleep last night because of dog mouth noises and fever-sweating, tonight I had to declare an All Dogs Must Go In A Crate While We Eat Dinner Because I Have Had It rule, someone asked me today if I am joining Weight Watchers (this is after I let the nurse on Friday weigh me while I wore my boots and heavy winter coat, because I have been feeling so comfortable/happy with my body/appearance), I'm tired of tripping on snow/ice when I walk to my car after work, and Monk ate the wrapper from a package of raw chicken today.

So! A brief photo essay a few of the things I love most.

Dogs:

The Roll, getting situated in the sun.

Monk has a pointed skull and Cab has one limp ear. They also bite each other's teeth. It is weird. And clicky.

Oh no! Where is Monk's head? Monk!

Also: my husband is handsome.

This is my side of the couch. It is where I sit and write these terrible, terrible posts. Tonight The Roll laid on my arm, while I was wearing sweat pants, my husband's Ramones shirt, and a hoodie with hearts. Also: a cat hair covered fleece blanket. The best part of my day is when I put on pajamas, get settled in my corner of the couch, and am pinned down by a large purring moron.

I made my husband take a picture of us, because I declared the moment to be "magical" and "perfect." Please note we are in the blue glow of Swistle's blog post about her kitties. I think I need a kitty intervention.

Also, isn't The Roll's head sort of huge?

See? Fuzzy head, couch, pajamas. It is magical.

And, no. He's not at all creepy and enormous.

Two huge, thick-skulled, whiney jerks. That let me hug them, hard, whenever I want.

Also, sometimes I find pet hair inside my purse.

I have a good husband,
black sheeped

EDIT, EDIT. VERY IMPORTANT EDIT. I can't believe I almost didn't notice this horror:

Whoops

2008-02-10T08:30:00.000-06:00

Sunday morning, 5 degrees, windy. Cab is guarding the house, as usual, lying in his normal House Guarding Spot (the corner of the living room, where he can see the front door, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and out two windows). His eyes dart around, he observes my face every few minutes. Monk is sleeping in, as usual, snug at the foot of the bed where my husband is also sleeping. Jelly Roll is snoring behind me, his nose tucked under his paws and tail. Coltrane is downstairs, I can hear her scampering around clumsily.

I love when the house is quiet enough that I can hear ticking clocks, cat snores, soft thumps of cat paws jumping down from furniture. I am happy that though the wind is fierce and cold today, I am inside with the family I love.

Weekends are wonderful things.

Guess what! I have a medical adventure to share with you.

Friday, at my boss's pleadings/urgings (and after a week of people telling me how pale/sick I looked), I went to a doctor. Colds, strep throat, two strains of flu immune to the flu shot, bronchitis, and pneumonia have been hitting the town hard. Unsurprisingly, I was told I have a sinus infection. I was given some nasal spray, a prescription for five megadoses of antibiotics, and some literature on IUDs (I don't know, either). I went to the pharmacy, got the antibiotics, and got back to work around three. I looked mournfully at the gigantic first dose, noted that it was, in fact, truly GIGANTIC, and took it.

Then I sat quietly in an office and worked on pricing a job. Thirty or forty minutes later, my body decided to freak out entirely. I started sweating, retching a bit, my arms felt like they were on fire. I was dizzy, confused, and I don't remember much except that I know I stumbled to the work bathroom and laid on the floor. My throat got tight and it was hard to breathe. A while later, a co-worker came in, and helped me up, but I fell back down. I don't remember much from that pleasant half hour, except that I felt very very sick, and that someone talked about calling an ambulance and I shrieked "NO NO NO NO," and I couldn't remember my husband's phone number, but then he was there and he looked so bright. He got me to the car, and we went to the emergency room (the only thing I clearly remember is that when he lifted me up, I saw where I had been laying, and there was a big wet place where the sweat had soaked through my sweater and tanktop, damp and gross on the dirty work bathroom floor).

Then I was in a wheelchair, and some nurses gave me a plastic cup of Benadryl, and observed me for 45 minutes or so. I felt better, just tired and shaky. I was instructed to take Benadryl for 24 hours, and to not take anything from that family of antibiotics again. Even better, I was told I shouldn't take any antibiotics for at least a few days, in case my body flipped out and started developing allergies to more.

So, still have sinuses full of doom, still look "white and sick," still have a low-grade fever, BUT! Now I have something to say when asked if I am allergic to any medications. "YES," I can declare, and feel smug about it.

Or not, but let's look on the bright side.

Also, everyone I work with who was there Friday afternoon called yesterday to see how I was doing, and I thought that was very nice. I feel vaguely embarrassed that they saw me disoriented and sweaty on the bathroom floor, but that is just me being weird and not wanting to show vulnerability, and also not wanting to leave sweat puddles in public spaces.

I really know how to wrap up a work week! That is what I am trying to say. Kara = Queen of Work Week Termination Drama. Thank goodness it was casual Friday, because can you imagine sweating on a public restroom floor in dress slacks and heels?

The horror!

And because I have only mentioned it five billion times: sweat on a bathroom floor.

Love,
black sheeped

Edit: Awww.

El-e-e gave me this:

Pixel gave me this:

Up next: Ruler of Everything Award!

But first, I think I am supposed to pass these on? Is that how this goes? How about...Blog Buddies to Miss Scenic Overlook, because she is buddy-riffic, and Spreader of Love to Marie Green. Because a lot of her comments are just so ridiculously nice. (In a good way, obviously.)

Bloggy love to everyone!

Three

2008-02-08T07:36:00.000-06:00

1. I don't really mind taking the dogs out several times a day. I don't mind getting them to sit, I don't mind herding them into the garage and putting on their leashes, I don't mind making them wait while I put on my coat and boots and hat. It stopped being a pain long ago and started being a habit that is just sometimes mildly annoying. Like flossing. I like that it is something my husband and I do together--it is probably strange/gross that I look forward to taking the dogs out to poop, but it is true. We put on our coats and shoes and walk through the garage to the backyard at the same times every day. We call across the yard to each other, we see the rabbits, we comment on levels of snow, we make mental notes of which lights are on in the elderly neighbor's house, because we worry about her.

I always take Cab, he always takes Monk. Cab is stronger and has even pulled me down while wearing a training collar (not lately, because he is Slowly Learning and so are my arms), while Monk is more difficult to lure into the snow to pee and/or poop. They don't go as promptly if we mix it up. If we pair the wrong human to the wrong dog, we will probably regret it.

Cab and Monk each have a side of the yard they prefer. Monk goes to the right, close to the big bush by the shed, while Cab prefers the left of the yard with the big tree.

Rituals, no matter how basic, are rituals. Even I need a few, to give shape to the day and familiarity to the passing of time.

I like seeing the same piece of sky, the same tree, the same grass, every day at the same times. 6:15, 12:10, 3:00 or 4:00 or 5:00, 7:00, 10:00. On weekends, 12:00. Give or take.

I think my favorite times are the first and last ones. I enjoy seeing how the day is starting, and I enjoy going out when the neighborhood is dark. I love how smooth the undisturbed snow rolls before us in our neighbors' yards. I want to stretch out my palm and press it into the dips and swells that rest quietly yards away. I love looking up at the dark sky and seeing where the stars have moved. I always find Orion first. I note his position, and how he is angled. I think, every night, of a trapeze. I think of forever tumbling, tumbling, tumbling; falling through that sky, never hitting bottom.

When we first moved here in the summer, the night trips out were loud. Insects and birds hummed wildly, the air was thick and warm. I hated how the grass was wet and sharp against my ankles. I hated how I wasn't familiar with the trees and sheds. One of the very first nights here I had a vivid dream about my husband and I being shot to death upon bringing in the dog. The memory of that dream haunted me everytime I stepped off the patio into the dewy, itchy yard for weeks. I would feel my breath catching in my throat. I would spin around over and over, convinced something was lurking just behind my shoulder. Monk would feel my fear, and press up against me, or lunge at the darkness with his hackles raised.

Nothing was ever there.

The fear passed.

Now I enjoy stepping outside, the familiar routine, the brief escape from ceilings and walls. Even when it is ten below, I enjoy stepping outside to stand and wait and be quiet. I think that is what, at first, I missed most about smoking. Every once in a while, I had a reason to stand outside, to connect with where I stood, to just be quiet and observe, outside of where I had been.

2.

Dear Sister,

You are getting married today, and I hope that it is beautiful and everything you wanted. I
hope you realize I will be thinking about you all day, wanting everything good and
happy for you. I hope you guys will always grow together, and laugh together, and challenge each other, and learn together. I hope that your lives combined will be rich and full. I hope you
know how much I miss you and think about you. I will always be here for you, because I can
never stop being your big sister.

I love you so fucking much,

Sister

3. It's Friday. Should we do questions? I think we should. This week, well, is about over. And sometimes that is about as good as it gets, right? If it were socially acceptable (and safe, and weather was always good, and there were no outside reasons NOT to, etc, etc,), would you choose to go forever without a bra, or go forever without shoes? How often do you wash your hair? Are you reading a book right now, and if you are, how long have you been reading it?

I think I would opt to go forever bra-less. And I wash my hair every other day, as it gets dried out if I washed it every day. I sort of look forward to no-wash days, because the hair is easier to fix (usually) and I don't have to have wet cold drippy hair.

I'm currently reading Willa Cather's The Professor's House, and it's a short easy read. Except I have been working on it for three months now, because, well. I don't sit down to read often, lately. And I'm a fast reader.

So that's pretty ridiculous, to have to admit.

Go,
black sheeped

Brief

2008-02-07T07:10:00.000-06:00

Yesterday at work it was just two of us; everyone else stayed home because of The Contagious Illness of Doom and/or The Big Dump of Blowing Snow. I suspect I have a version of The Doom (not so much "suspect" as "am in denial that"), but I am hardcore. I did, however, make a doctor's appointment for Friday because my boss told me to (something about "you've been hacking and coughing all DAY" and "you LOOK SICK"). (I think perhaps 80 percent of this town has bronchitis right now.) Also, I refused to drive to the pharmacy because when I left work for lunch, in three seconds I saw about ten million cars slide haphazardly all over the road/into curbs/out of parking lots. And I nearly fell in the middle of the street because of the treacherous hills of snow. The snow was strange--it was fine, but thick; powdery, but dense. Silky and slick, but grainy.

Um. The point of that paragraph was to say: I am hardcore, but also a sissy.

Sometimes I get jealous when my husband gets to have snow days. This is because I am hardcore, but also a sissy, and also, an excuse-needing shirker: I would occasionally like to wear pajamas all day because of icy road conditions.

To doubly make sure this is the most pointless post, ever, how about some pleas for Blogger help? When I click on my spellcheck or add-a-photo buttons, nothing is happening. Any tips? "Curse the name of Google" is apparently not working.

Kisses,
black sheeped

Petty

2008-02-05T07:09:00.000-06:00

I don't know why they're forecasting twelve inches of snow for today, because I really would like to wear flip flops.

Yesterday was the sort of day where:

a) I was the passenger during a minor car hitting accident (it wasn't my husband, either, because he has sonar abilities when he drives)
b) I lost my cell phone, and so drove to job sites after work to muck about in snow/mud puddles while muttering angrily "Why do I even have a cell phone? Why do I even have a cell phone?", only to find out later it was in a co-worker's car
c) Monk got all wimpy about having to stand on Wet Ground to Pee, which prolonged bed-time by about eighteen million years
d) nearly everyone I work with has some sort of disgusting throwing up/sore throat/chest congestion/fever/diarrhea illness
e) I came home for lunch to eat leftover lo mein. Delicious, delicious lo mein. I looked forward to it all morning, because I lead the sort of exciting life you are jealous of. Obviously. But I dropped the bowl of steaming lo mein, upside down, on the kitchen floor, while pulling it out of the microwave. Also, the dogs descended, which just was adding insult to injury.

Also, my sinuses are out of control. Also, helpful tip:

When you can't sleep at 3:30 a.m. because you can't breathe from snot, it is best not to focus on the horrible, horrible noises the dogs are making with their mouths, lips, and/or toenails. It will gross you out (with the bonus of infuriating you, just a little). You will sigh and get up at 4:30. You will sit on the couch, mouth breathing grouchily, while the dogs and cats stare at you, all tense and weird and unblinking, wondering where the hell breakfast is, and also, hey! WHERE THE HELL IS BREAKFAST, WOMAN?

IT IS FOUR THIRTY.

GET ON IT.

And now that I have some complaining out of my system, I will go to work. I hope you are voting, if it is your voting day. And I hope those dogs have a nice morning sleeping soundly, with their disgusting, disgusting lips and toenails.

Get on it,
black sheeped

One

2008-02-04T07:02:00.000-06:00

In answer to your questions:

Yes, I love my haircut. It feels awesome. I have had really long hair chopped off three times now (look at my overachieving hair growth! fancy!) and every time I have kicked myself for not doing it sooner. Also, my husband said I look hot. Also, I am no longer getting tangled up in seatbelts (this is more painful than you would expect), shutting my hair in cardoors (this is not so much because of the length, but because I am an idiot), and getting it snagged in purse straps.

A month ago, I was detangling my hair with a heavy duty wide toothed comb after using massive amounts of conditioner. And the comb snapped in half.

That is how annoying my hair was.

I just barely chopped off ten inches, which is the requirement for Locks of Love. However, because of the gray streaks, I don't know if they'll use it. I'm sending in it, though, because even if you have gray/less than ten inches, they will sell your hair to other places to offset manufacturing costs.

Who gets the job of opening envelopes of hair? Because that job sounds scary.

My weekend was full, and very nice, and very relaxing. The dogs were bad, as usual, it snowed a ton, as usual. Also, some ice, as usual. I fell asleep before the Super Bowl was over, and had a nice two-hour-pre-bedtime nap. And, of course, I watched Puppy Bowl, with the glorious Kitten Half Time Show, AND before that watched a dog show.

Best television programming, ever.

So, back to work, and I need to go clear the car of ice. My husband is asleep, because his school is having a two hour late start, the dogs are asleep, the cats are asleep.

I, however, have some Mt. Dew Code Red.

Saturday Night Dog Dance Party 2008:

(Oh, Monk. Your belly is so bald. And...weird. Please note I lifted Cab last week to weigh him, and he is a whopping 81 pounds and growing. I lifted with my legs. I swear.)

Love,
black sheeped

P.S. Swistle wins for having the strangest, yet most efficient, leg shaving method.

P.S. Two. Sometimes, when I write posts about my mental crazies, I am wishy-washy about hitting publish. And then I get an email or several from readers saying nice things, or saying, hey, I feel that too, what do you think of such and such? And that makes posting about uncomfortable things very, very okay.

P.S. Three. Blogger, what is GOING ON with the spell check? I can't be bothered to go back and check myself! I don't even know where my shoes are, and I have to scrape the car! GEEZ.

Ten

2008-02-02T14:33:00.001-06:00

Edit:

Obvious

2008-02-01T07:08:00.000-06:00

1) This week I lost my cell phone, while it was on silent mode. I looked for it a lot, and this morning I found it.

IN MY PURSE.

2) I've got some sort of glass splinter or something working it's way out of my finger, probably from the frame shop days, and this morning I put a bandaid over it. Cab was watching closely when one of the little plastic bandaid wrappers fluttered to the ground. He leaned in silently (and yet oh-so-obviously), gingerly picked it up, and slunk out of the room. I followed him to the living room, where he puts his collection of my socks, paper towels, and ponytail holders. He deposits most of his treasures on the floor, right in the center of the room.

He is not very good at hiding things, and he is not very sneaky.

3) IT IS FINALLY FRIDAY.

Question time?

Okay! When was the last time you went to a salon/actual hair professional to get your hair cut/colored/styled? How many times were you given detention in school? And here's a very special one I thought of on Sunday, and have been saving, since Sunday: how often do you shave your legs?

I went to a salon to get a trim at the beginning of August, if I remember correctly. Or mid-August. I scheduled one for this Saturday, because my ends are starting to get ratty (correction: they started to get ratty about two months ago). I sort of dislike the salon experience, because I sort of dislike being touched/having a stranger close to my head. (Danger! Danger! Someone with pointy objects near the neck!) But also, it is sort of a luxury, to sit down and have someone just do something that makes you feel/look better.

I was a Big Fat Nerd in school, and I only got detention one time. In sixth grade. I forgot an assignment that was due in an English class, and the teacher gave me the option of taking a zero or letting me go to my locker to get it, and taking a detention. I didn't even think about it: detention was obviously way better than risking not having a 100 percent in sixth grade English. Nerd! Nerd!

I suspect sometimes I should have, you know, loosened up a bit. In school.

I thought of the last question because last Sunday, when J and I were feeling a bit frisky. I'll spare you details, but when saw/felt my legs he started laughing, because they were so hairy. And I wondered, as I have many times, how often do women really bother? Especially when it snows every day? I've never asked, but I think I can ask you guys anything. Which is awesome. I shave my legs in the winter once a week, sometimes longer. Like two weeks. In the summer, I shave every other day. I dislike the whole process a ton, and think it is a big waste of time. But I still do it.

Go!
black sheeped

2008-01-31T07:24:00.001-06:00

Lately I've been feeling sad/anxious again (I had a bit there when I wasn't). Blah, blah, blah, I think, but it is there and it is enough to make the days long and exhausting.

My husband and I had a good talk, Saturday night, and the talk got around to how I've been feeling lately, how I need to tell him when I feel crappy. I am a represser, about a lot of things. I will be feeling crazy, literally thinking I want to tear skin off my chest, rip my body open to let it all out, let the crazy flood away from me. My fingertips itch. There will be times I will be in the bathroom, staring blankly in the mirror, wondering why more people don't just end it all, everything is fucked, why should I even bother trying anymore? I'll start to panic, and instead of telling anyone, I leave the room and hide out for a bit--maybe only casually mentioning it when it's all over.

I think this partly stems from my built in guilt overload system, but partly because I hear on a regular basis about how selfish depression is. "It's a selfish disease," I read, and I worry about bothering the people in my life with it. I see people who are clearly depressed, who are struggling with it, who can't cope with the overwhelming anxiety and sadness. And I see their friends and loved ones snarling to each other, "They just need to shake it off. Why don't they just snap out of it? Get over it and move on!"

And this makes me reluctant to talk about it, to mention that I'm almost unbearably sad for no reason, that there are times I think it would be easier not to live, that there are times I feel so edgy and afraid of the blackness inside of me I could scream, that there are times I see Wolfdog sneak up behind someone at work and laugh over their shoulder at me.

I stay fairly quiet. I don't want to stress others out, I don't want to bother people with my own problems, I don't want to be a burden.

I don't want to be selfish.

I don't want to be selfish.

And so I just don't tell the people I love most how I am feeling, for fear of making their lives worse. Because I love them, I don't want to bring them anguish or pain. I don't want them to be angry, I don't want to know they are hissing, "Why doesn't she just snap out of it?"

But J and I talked Saturday about how I should tell him, because he cares and genuinely wants to know. We talked about how I should write the scariest darkest stuff down, when I think it, because it makes me feel better. That I should carry a journal or something for this purpose, and that even if I just write, "I feel sad. I feel crazy." it will be a relief and tangible, and that going about my day might be a little easier.

So I think I'll try that.

In pet-related news, this morning while I was putting on make-up I heard loud, loud purring behind me. Smiling, I turned around, and saw that Coltrane had made a nest out of the clothes I was prepared to wear today. Fresh from the dryer, wrinkle and pet hair free, she had pulled them into a pile and curled droolingly up in them, purring/depositing hair madly.

They bring joy to my life,
black sheeped

Tired

2008-01-30T07:32:00.001-06:00

Tuesday nights are studio nights, whether I like it or not. The cats usually help. By "help," I mean, "tear things up," "knock things over," and "beg for an early dinner."

Just some photos, because I need a weekend.

Wednesday,
black sheeped

Rattle

2008-01-28T21:33:00.000-06:00

Monday night

1. I worked fifty hours last week, which made me feel sort of tired and grumpy. I tried to remind myself of the semester I took 18 credit hours and worked three jobs, and how I used to work 12 hour shifts at another job, no problem, but.

I was obviously insane.

2. After I got off work Saturday, due to my need to get out of town for a bit and enjoy some sunshine, J and I drove to a nearby town for no other reason than we like to go to Pamida, because Pamida is sort of awesome, in a weird way.

There! I said it!

We like Pamida!

It was nice to be out in the open, with sunshine and cows and melting snow. We drove home in the dark, with the stars bright over the empty fields. J and I had a very excellent talk when we got home, which made me feel pretty good.

3. Sunday, because I am crazy (see above, for insane: obviously), I got up early to go to the store, and to wash J's car, and to vacuum out his car, and to clean out the inside of his car. I crapped it up pretty badly over the last several months, ever since I drove it when we moved here, in JULY. With the pets. (P-r-o-c-r-a-s-t-i-n-a-t-i-o-n.) I mean, I am dangerous to a car's cleanliness on a normal daily basis, let alone on 16 hour drives whole seasons ago. I like to eat candy, and I like to drink soda, and I like to pack dogs in with me whenever I go anywhere, and all of these activities can be disastrous in a car when spill/drop 30% of food and beverage items never make it to your mouth, and you have dogs roughly the size of two small elephants.

The car is sparkling now (also, no longer contains enough Cab hair to make a parka), because it was warm enough to wash it (24!), and it makes me happy.

4. I did a lot of messing with curtains on Sunday, and cleaned the house (mostly), and coerced J into helping me replace our creepily glued on, too large, ancient toilet seat and disgusting bathroom faucet handles. This is after I got him to help me install a new tub faucet (with a diverter, fancy) and hand shower with a long hose Friday night.

This means that he will no longer have to squat to wash his hair, and it means we will no longer be using a $2.57 hand shower that was so terrible I had to use multiple neon zip ties and rubber bands to keep it from popping off the tub faucet in the middle of a shower. (So many houses here do not have showers, and it is strange. Also, neon zip ties in the bathtub=classy.) This is also after I replaced the hardware on the bathroom vanity, a week ago, and after I got him to help me put down adhesive vinyl tiles on the floor. (Cheap, I know, but still: so much better than it was before. So. Much. Better. Old rotted orange vinyl floor, RIP.) I don't know when or if we'll ever get around to pulling off the pink and white plastic tiles that cover the walls (one fell off during the tub faucet replacement, and there were Unspeakable Horrors underneath), and I don't know when I'll get around to painting the vanity.

But! The bathroom feels much better. Again: my husband will be able to wash his hair without squatting, and this is very good. It feels strangely luxurious to shower and have water hit me from above, instead of right in the face.

Oh, crappy $2.57 hand shower. I'll miss you so much.

5. So! Sunday was busy. And today was super crazy busy, so busy that I didn't get to take my lunch break until 3:45 (and then it was more of a wolf-a-sandwich-down-in-fifteen-minutes sort of thing). And then, because it was freakishly warm today and all the snow melted, revealing hidden dog poop, when I got home for roughly an hour I picked up dog poop while my husband raked up branches and sticks from the ice storm (we have had snow on the ground for a long time, I swear). Tonight/tomorrow it is supposed to dip back down to zero (I love temperatures that drop 55 degrees in five hours, because I love how much it makes our sinuses scream in pain, or excitement) and snow again, and it will be nice to know there is not a lurking graveyard of poop below.

6. Do you like how this post is all about caring for a home/poop? And is not at all interesting?

7. Do you want to know what else we did this weekend? I put in a new door stop, since the other one broke. And we bought bicycle hooks for the garage. At PAMIDA.

8. Speaking of, um, our bathroom, at Christmas I was given a shower-loofah-sponge type thing, with the head of a dog and feet of a dog. Because I am a label reader, I read the label one morning in the shower (so far I have not used it, just stared at it while cursing my long, long hair that takes six years to rinse), and do want to know what the tag says? It says, "MAY CONTAIN RABBIT HAIR." I guess the manufacturers could not commit, one way or another, and had to use that little "may" disclaimer.

9. Speaking of rabbits (my transitions are smoooooth tonight), I've been feeding squirrel corn to some young rabbits that made a burrow under our shed. One morning last week, when I went out to scrape the car, I saw a dead rabbit in the road, smashed and frozen, and I started crying, and went in and told my husband my baby bunny was dead. However, in addition to probably being too emotional, I was wrong, and my bunny is still alive. He is still eating the squirrel corn I put inside his burrow when it gets so cold I don't think even bunnies should have to come out, and he still pushes the empty cob out when he's done with it. It was a some lost stranger bunny that was dead, and it's too bad he didn't make it over to eat some of the corn.

I think it is interesting there was always so much bunny poop on the snow, right by the dog poop. I don't think they are very scared of the dogs. Or maybe just not of dog poop.

But I am.

10. Did you guys know that Cab's paw tracks look just like a wolf's? Monk's look like dog prints. But Mr. Cab's tracks surprised us, the other morning, in the snow that was finally melting enough to leave tracks. His toes splay sort of to the side, how wolf toes splay, and his tracks aren't round at all, and the toes are so pointy and the claws dig in deep.

He also sneaks into cottages, puts on nightgowns and nightcaps, and waits hungrily for little girls in capes to come by with baskets of goodies.

Thank goodness for lumberjacks,
black sheeped

Monday

2008-01-28T07:26:00.001-06:00

Ears

2008-01-25T06:56:00.000-06:00

I sat down to write a post, but then Cab--who went out an hour ago and refused to potty, even choosing to sit in the snow from sheer boredom--decided he needed to potty. Urgently. And it was snowing again.

He's pretty lucky he has those damn ears.

Questions! Let's do questions!

What kind of soap do you use? Do you have a fear of answering your house phone line, if you have one? What are you doing this weekend?

We use Pure and Natural, because a) it is really gentle, and b) it is really cheap. We used to be Irish Spring people, but it was too harsh and drying for my delicate lily white skin, so we made the switch. Lately I've been sometimes using Burt's Bees Citrus Spice Exfoliating Shower Soap--I had several samples, from gift packs. I was saving them. For what, I'm not sure. A special occasion? A need for major exfoliation? A soap shortage?

At any rate, I really like it. It's abrasive and smells clean and good. I like how lotion feels after using it. MMMMM.

Also, I hate our house line. Any time it rings, it is almost guaranteed to be a sales person or a poll. EVERY TIME. We didn't have a house line in Wyoming, and it was beautiful. One more call for a magazine subscription, and I am cancelling it.

WE ARE ON THE NO CALL LIST.

This weekend I have to work. And vacuum. And paint.

Go!
black sheeped

Yellow

2008-01-23T20:18:00.001-06:00

Today was one of those days where work was super busy, I had a throbbing headache, it snowed even more, I accidentally got oil wood stain tinting pigment in my eye (red iron oxide, baby) (read that all again, slowly, and think about the pigment that is used to dye the stain you put on your DECK), work was crazy busy, and I had the looming knowledge all day that tomorrow? Tomorrow is annoying work-12-hours-day.

So.

Here's something I've been working on, when I'm not at work/not taking care of animals/not losing track of a million things/not getting annoyed because I can not find curtains I like, anywhere, ever. I thought it would be interesting to record the layers of a piece. Maybe it's not, but...maybe it is. Pretend it's a montage or something, I don't know. Listen to some Coldplay in your head.

Coldplay!

Still has a long way to go.

Wednesday-ed,
black sheeped

Dauber

2008-01-22T07:08:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I sort of just felt pissy/sad/anxious all day. There are things that have been bothering lately, and I was feeling very Riled Up. Also, the weather decided to be completely crappy, and when I got out of work it was sleeting/freezing rain/snowing. Because Artemisia and I are responsible adults (this doesn't surprise me in her, but in myself, I am always shocked when I display some sort of "practicality" or "common sense") we decided to cancel our plans. The plans involved driving a distance in the dark on ice/snow covered roads in freezing rain, you see, and neither one of us wanted to risk the harm of the other person. Dorky, but cute, right? Right? Sort of anxious-but-endearing? The roads were nasty, but it sucked. Suck.

I was starting to feel very close to her, in Wyoming, and I think we were both excited to see each other again, and also to talk a lot. But! Now I have a crafty plan that involves pestering her until she agrees to come out again over her spring break, and making myself such a nuisance that she has to give in and spend a few days with us and the many, many pets. This is a good plan, because a) we would get to talk a lot more and b) we both like dogs. Let's all annoy her until she agrees. I told her we have lakes! Many lakes! Because her wilderness-loving man surely likes, um, bodies of water? Who doesn't like bodies of water?

I'm very sneaky and persuasive, you see.

In other news you don't care about, work is starting to get busier. Yesterday I got to go to a house and see a completed project that I worked on from start to finish, and it was exciting. In other news, is it really only Tuesday? In other news, the current ranking of pets, from worst to best behaved, is currently: Cab, Coltrane, Monk, Jelly Roll. For the first time ever, Jelly Roll has taken the lead, because Monk is being a jerk about trying to steal Cab's food, and also acting as if OH MY GOSH IS IT TOO COLD OUT HERE TO POOP, I WILL JUST STAND HERE WITH TWO FEET IN THE AIR AND LOOK AT YOU AS IF I AM DYING, INSTEAD. Also, we're watching episodes of Coach on DVD, and I you you, Netflix! You and Coach. Craig T. Nelson = cutie.

Here are a few silly things I've been thinking about about lately: How about some highlights? Maybe some highlights? I want a change that does not involve chopping off my hair. Also, do we like these? Specifically, the smaller pull-down Roman shade version. Also, um, does anybody want a...pen pal? Sometimes I just want to sit down and write letters, and not emails, but actual letters. And I don't know anyone who would find this an acceptable means of communications, but geez, I hate my cell phone and text messages. And I really like stamps. And I really like getting mail that doesn't just piss me off, because it is junk or a waste of paper. Keep in mind I have terrible handwriting, and you'd have to decipher it, and also, I am capable of writing/talking way too much.

Again: I'm so persuasive!

Let's all go have a Tuesday, shall we?

Love,
black sheeped

In

2008-01-21T07:27:00.000-06:00

This weekend was busy, and I was going to write a bunch of stuff about how my husband and I went to the holiday (?) bash for his work, and how no one was dancing, and how we went out to the dance floor, alone, and GOT THE PARTY STARTED. We only fast dance, we dance as if we are idiots, and for some reason this gets us applause. Then other people start dancing. I am ashamed to admit I don't know how many times we have gone to a dance floor, alone, and danced as if we are 14 years old in front of a bedroom mirror, and I am ashamed to admit this has gotten us applause and shouts more than once.

Then people told us we are cool and begged us to stay, and we were hits, for some reason, but we went home because we had to take the dogs out. And sit on the couch.

This is because we are not, in fact, cool, but comfortable with who we are.

Or lazy.

Either way, today I get to see this lady, and that is good.

So here are some photos, from the weekend, and I need to get to work, because...it's time for work. Oh, work! Making me have to be places on time! You break my heart.

A week ago I picked out the ugliest one I could find, and named him Ginger after Gilligan's Island, and he's still alive. Still ugly, too:

Love,
me

Connie

2008-01-18T07:19:00.000-06:00

I feel a little better today. And it's Friday. And snowy. And I am only behind on blog reading by, you know, 200 or so posts.

Because I need to go de-snow the car and get to work, let's cut right to the Friday questions. Yes? Okay! How do you get yourself to sleep at night? How many times a night, on average, do you wake up? What name did you really want to have, when you were a kid? You know, the name you would give yourself every time you played anything with the kids next door, like beauty pageant or train or store or wild wolf people in the woods. Which is cuter, a basket of puppies or a basket of kittens? OR A BASKET OF DINOSAURS?

I usually get myself sleepy by doing something quiet like working on a crossword puzzle. When I feel ready, I turn off the light, get situated (this might take a while), and then I must quiet my brain. My husband thinks this is strange, as he just "thinks about darkness and goes to sleep." I, however, have little luck with this trick. I usually try to think about something happy, because I can't just turn everything off and go to darkness. My favorite drift-off-to-sleep brain scenes are: kittens, sunny spring meadows, and kittens playing in sunny spring meadows.

I wish I was making this crap up.

I wake up, on average, 6-10 times a night. Fully awake. Then I go back to sleep. I have always done this, except when I was on sleeping medication, and then it was only 2-3 times a night. But that medication gave me killer headaches.

When I was little, I always wanted my name to be Connie. I have no idea why Connie was the Chosen Name of Beauty, but it was. I had glorious imaginings of being in high school, with the name Connie on my high school jacket.

And finally, I think I'm going to have to go with the basket full of kittens, because kittens are so weird and jumpy.

Go!
black sheeped

Quiet

2008-01-17T10:32:00.001-06:00

Just a quick post to say, my mom is fine, and it wasn't a return of cancer. Thank goodness.

This was very welcome news.

I got sent home early yesterday from work, for looking like I was on my "death-bed," (also one person pointed out that my face looked all swollen--awesome) and I stayed home today, to try to get rid of this bug I've been fighting. It doesn't seem serious, just a fever, feeling dizzy/shaky/tired/sinusy. No big deal. Plus it's always fun to stop, startled, when you catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror and realize you look AWFUL. Everyone at work (and everyone in this town, I think) has been passing a flu-type illness around, and it is my turn.

I wish I didn't feel guilty for not doing laundry on a sick day.

Anyway!

I am home, we got five or seven inches of snow last night, none of my pajama pants are clean, my blogging has been terrible, and the dogs and cats? I witnessed what the dogs and cats do all morning. This is what they do, all four of them: sleep. Because that night of sleep they just got, combined with the evening of napping, combined with the previous morning of napping? It's all just too exhausting.

Sometimes Monk opens one eye. He glares at me for coughing, breathing, or maybe disturbing his sleep with my brain waves. He then groans, hides his eyes under his paws, and goes back to sleep.

They have it so bad,
black sheeped

Stinky

2008-01-16T07:14:00.000-06:00

I really enjoyed your comments from yesterday--they made me laugh, and gosh, people are silly. Right? I would never see someone in a line at a grocery store and say, "Wow, you have really crooked posture!" or "Your hair is so THIN!" Commentary, on all levels, should be nonexistent. Unless someone is complimenting your purse or your socks, of course.

Today is Wednesday, I'm now having my real period (yes, I know I need to go to the doctor, yes, I am looking into it, you guys), I crawled into bed at eight o'clock last night and only got up to help take out the dogs, today my mom gets her test results, and I have to leave for work early now because I am dropping off Monk at the vet's office because he needs a bath. And I am not going to wrestle all of Monk into our tiny, ridiculous tub, and risk Hair Clog Emergency 2008.

When I call, if I say, "Hi, this is Kara so-and-so, I need to make an appointment for such and such" they won't know who I am. But, when I call and say, "Hi, it's Monk and Cab's mom, Monk needs a bath," they know who I am immediately.

I love our vet's office.

Here goes Wednesday,
black sheeped

Duh

2008-01-15T07:32:00.000-06:00

Do you guys have things that people say to you all the time? Things that you wish people would stop saying? For me, it's "You have long hair!" or "I can't believe how thick your hair is!" or maybe "Kara, is that dog hair on your sweater?" For my husband, it's "You're so tall!" or "How tall are you?" I confess, even I say this now and then, because I normally forget that he is at least a foot taller than me, and sometimes am startled when I see a photo of us or our reflection together in a mirror.

(I should also confess, I have weird um, personal height perception. Even though I am not really even 5'4" I was convinced for years I was at least 5'6". Or 5'8". And it said on my driver's license that was 5'6" for years, before a sceptical license employee measured me.)

What do you have, that people always say to you? Does it drive you crazy?

Monday

2008-01-14T06:55:00.000-06:00

Pets decide it's time to sleep in + it's cold + you have a cold + you have a six o'clock meeting tonight out of town, plus many things due before that + it's Monday morning + your husband has to go back to teaching today, poor guy + HOW IS IT SIX O'CLOCK, ALREADY = the bed feels more soft, warm, comfortable, and cozy than it ever has in your life. It feels better than it will ever feel again, probably. The comfort is indescribable, in fact, and it is a shame, a real crying shame of epic proportions, that you have to get up.

I'd also like to share with you that I got desperate enough last night to try to find a bra at Assmart so I could wear a bra to work today, and the only three bras I could find in a 34D (I found none in 32D, and about eight million in 40D) had the following patterns, because they were in the preteen section:

A) Butterflies, turtles, palm trees, stars, and flowers, in hot pink
B) Hot pink cherries on a lime green background
C) CUPCAKES on a hot pink background

I sucked it up and bought the first.

Sigh,
black sheeped

Syrup

2008-01-13T08:31:00.000-06:00

Because of my last post, and your comments, I have developed an uncontrollable urge to eat pancakes. Therefore I am going to make some. As soon as I finish writing this.

Last week is now that: last week. Yesterday was busy at work, so it went fast--I sort of like my Saturdays at work (not in that I am missing SATURDAY, of course) because when it's busy, the time goes fast. When it's not busy, it is very very quiet, and it is possible to get a lot done in a very quiet and non-interrupted environment.

When I got home from work, I started painting a bedroom wall bright blue. Then we went to the store where my husband bought beer and I bought stuff to make pigs in blankets (nothing says Sunday like, um, little smokies). I felt disgustingly gross and nauseous and dizzy on the way home from the store. I put on pajamas, laid down on the couch under a) a quilt and b) a cat; I rested for a while. I took a long shower, then my uterus started being an idiot again (hence the dizziness and bleeeh feeling).

I had all these plans to do! A lot! A lot of things! Like put on a second coat of paint! And clean the filthy, filthy house! And brush the dogs! And put away laundry! Rearrange the furniture in the bedroom! Try once again to work on the evil, evil tub faucet! Paint my toenails! Catch up on blog reading! Catch up on emails! Sand the bathroom vanity! Fix the spot on my dresser that has varnish rubbed off! Cut the dogs' toenails!

Fortunately, I remembered that when I am exhausted and stressed, I tend to make matters worse by being so c-r-a-z-y. I told myself that it was okay to just not do anything else. Therefore, my husband and I ate a frozen pizza, played with the pets, and drank beer. I read a magazine, which always feels like a luxury. We listened to music, and I shopped online for some layering tanks and unsuccessfully for bras (I have one bra that fits now, and I can't find it). We watched Beerfest, and I talked to a friend online. My mom called and we talked about how it would be if on Wednesday the tests reveal that it is cancer again, which is a strong possibility. We talked about her surgery, and her anxiety, and the dogs, and attitudes. It was a good talk. My husband and I laughed a lot, and we sang, and then we talked to a friend who is far away, for a long time. At 2:30 a.m. we pushed the bed back up against the wall, moved the painting stuff out of the way, and crawled in.

It was a much better night than the night I had planned.

I don't know why I have to make things worse for myself--I suppose when I am feeling anxious and stressed and depressed, I feel guilty about things. And that makes me push myself, to ease the guilt. It's pretty pointless, and pretty exhausting. Who picks a) a very busy work week and b) a week full of worrying about loved ones, to re-do a bathroom floor? Who? How is that reasonable?

Perhaps it is more frustrating because I know, on some level, that it IS unreasonable. And yet it is hard to stop. I feel very very lucky that last night I did stop (even if it was partly the pain/cramps/exhaustion brought on by the uterus that did it). I feel sort of proud, that I was able to step back and have a fun evening with my husband. I feel that it is good I did not dig out my sandpaper. I feel it is good that I was able to ignore the to-do list, and just focus on relaxing.

That is how I feel.

Now it is a new week, and I am going to do some cleaning.

But first, I am going to make banana pancakes, and smother them in strawberry syrup.

Love,
black sheeped

Suck

2008-01-11T07:33:00.000-06:00

This week has really sort of been the Suckiest of All Things Suck, and I'm not going to go into it. Just send my mom good vibes today, and me good work vibes today so that I can handle some worky things Gracefully and Efficiently. Especially the part about my mom. I wish I could be there for her today.

How about we think about this?

And how about we answer some questions, for it is Friday! And although I have to work tomorrow, it is still Friday!

What is your favorite way to eat pancakes? (Mmmmm, pancakes.) Also, do you wear socks to bed? How many remote controls do you have? And finally, if there were no limits, what do you wish you could do this afternoon (a repeat, but a good one)?

My favorite way to eat pancakes is with strawberry syrup, strawberries, and whipped cream. So they are not so much like pancakes, but more like "dessert." I also love pancakes wrapped around sausages and drenched in a ridiculous amount of maple syrup, but the strawberry way is my favorite of all time. I think we have four or five or six remotes. I really don't know what they all are for, and usually if I am home alone I don't even turn the tv on, because: I haven't really bothered to figure out the elaborate remote system.

I am lazy.

I can not wear socks to bed--if I start with them, they will be kicked off angrily within an hour.

And, if I could do anything/be anywhere this afternoon, I would be with my mom.

Your turn,
black sheeped

Sandwich

2008-01-09T20:00:00.000-06:00

When things just seem sort of awful, sometimes a random Google image search can really, um, perk me up. Because:

NEWS FLASH.

Love,
black sheeped

Wednesday

2008-01-08T22:04:00.001-06:00

It seems inappropriate when a group of pharmacists get into a loud (involving shouting across rooms to each other) discussion of whether or not the remainder of your prescription will arrive on Wednesday or Friday or next week (after being given a bottle that says "owes 40"), because Adderall is a controlled substance that requires a different order form/shipment. However, it only seems inappropriate when someone says, "I think it'll come with the others tomorrow," and another pharmacist snorts/exclaims loudly in reply, "A narcotic?! I don't think so."

This would have felt less inappropriate, also, if I didn't live in a tiny town, and if the pharmacy wasn't completely packed with waiting customers. And if the whole place wasn't open and tiny, and if the whole place hadn't heard this conversation because how could they help it?

I trudged to my car feeling irritated and glum, partially because I remembered the sort of negatively surprised face my dad had when he learned of my prescription at Christmas, and I remembered how he then asked my mom something like, "Isn't that the addictive stuff all those kids are getting into trouble for selling?"

In other, non-medication-stimagtized news, last night I did some stuff to the bathroom floor. And then I had scheduled Painting Time, due to my New Year's Resolution of Painting Intensity, and that was good. Also, this morning the dogs are sleeping in (I don't blame them, because the bed? the bed was so soft and warm, and leaving it was a tragedy, a veritable tragedy), and it is 7:03 and they are still refusing to budge. This is a magical occurance.

One that would never, ever, EVER happen on a Saturday morning.

Kisses,
black sheeped

Three

2008-01-07T22:10:00.000-06:00

1.

Dear uterus,

After several months of behaving, thank you for bringing back the mid-cycle period. I really appreciate DAY FOURTEEN menstruation. Thank goodness you had the generosity and thoughtfulness to bring that back, because I was too embarrassed to ask.

I hate you,
black sheeped

2.

Dear everyone,

I think my husband has trained the cat to throw up in the utility room. Is that possible? Tonight she was laying on the couch, snoozing, when suddenly she started to hork. Instead of projectile vomiting all over a) the couch and b) me, she galloped off to the utility room and did her throw up business where she does her pottying business. Is this weird? Or wonderful? Or just her trying to trick me, because this is the cat who, just a few months ago, puked into J's new shoes? She's just trying to lull us into a false sense of security, before she barfs in some more shoes. Or in my new (Target clearance) purse that I love beyond all reason. She can be all, "Surprise!"

"Surprise!"
black sheeped

3.

Dear 80-pound dogs,

The baby bunny that lives under the shed is not out to murder you. Also, it is not necessary drink gallons of water as if it is a RACE, because this invariably leads to you throwing up water. And your aim is not as good as the cat's. IT IS NOT A RACE. IT IS NOT A COMPETITION.

I promise,
black sheeped

PS. I can hear the water sloshing in your stomach when you walk past me, and that is unacceptable. And disgusting.

Toasty

2008-01-06T15:47:00.001-06:00

The dogs wrestle around a lot (basically, anytime they are awake but not eating or pooping, they are screwing around), and Monk's fur is short and thin. His chest/belly have been rubbed bald from the carpet. Feeling bad about his baldness and the weirdness of his chest stubble (also, if you pat his belly it makes the same sound as PATTING A HUMAN BELLY BECAUSE OF THE SKIN), and also feeling bad that he is always cold, I stopped by the thrift store.

Boys x-large hoodie + dog = true love forever.

Blissful! And sleepy. Sleepy and warm.

So sleepy he can't believe his eyes are even open:

Meanwhile, Cab has been busy eating the tags off of every blanket/pillow he can reach.

Love,
black sheeped

Edit: I had to add this one, because, look! Look at that paw!

Cadence

2008-01-03T21:30:00.000-06:00

Quick note to say caucuses: weird. Also, crowded. Also, spectacularly disorganized. It was a lot of shuffling around, getting sent to wrong places, people yelling in a gymnasium. Then our precinct, all 110 of us, were shoved into a tiny classroom and listened to someone read letters from various party so and so's. Then we split into our candidate's groups, which was chaotic. Imagine a completely full room of sweaty people of a vast array of ages and health (oh, the coughing) and in a vast array of bulky winter dress (I am so glad I left my coat in the car). Imagine too many tables in the room, many of the people unable to hear well or walk well. And then imagine all those people yelling and confused and trying to count each other. And then imagine a lot of those people being jerks to each other because they didn't approve of this candidate or that candidate. Then the groups with not enough people had to choose a different candidate, then after the groups were the appropriate size, representatives were chosen to go to a county thing in March.

Whoo!

It was all very sweaty and confusing, and a man touched me on the back a lot. Which was weird.

So! We caucused, which is one of the main two or three main reasons we were excited to move here (shut up!), and my husband and I are now c-o-u-n-t-y d-e-l-e-g-a-t-e-s for our guy, and it's pretty interesting that we get to do that (I think our group was excited we were y-o-u-n-g).
Also, today I was evaluated at work, and it went well, and I got a bit of a raise.

Also, we took down the tree, and my husband made pre-caucus bacon wrapped steak. This is why my husband is awesome.

And since I probably won't post tomorrow, how about some Friday questions? Eh? What is your New Year's resolution this year? Have you taken down holiday decorations yet? Do you wear contacts or glasses?

My answers! I resolved to do two paintings a month this year (this will involve setting aside a few evenings a week to paint, and I think it will be very very good). I normally don't make resolutions that amount to much, if anything, but this is one I'm excited about. And, as I said, we took down many decorations this evening. All that's left is boxing a couple more odds and ends up and then deciding where to put the boxes (for some reason, I was given a lot, a LOT, of penguin Christmas decor this year). Tonight we decided we had to do something, because after a month of no incidents, Monk knocked the tree over when he saw me pull into the driveway after work.

Broken glass balls in the carpet!

Tree sideways on the floor!

Cats and dogs living together, mass hysteria!

Coltrane, the bitchy cat, really liked the tree that way and did a lot of jumpy-but-pleased investigating.

Also, I do wear contacts and glasses. I got glasses in third grade, and started wearing soft disposable contacts in eighth grade. My contact prescription is now one eye -9.00 and one eye -8.50, which I think is sort of bad. My first pair of glasses ever were blue metal frames, with darker blue splotches. Yes. Yes, they were ridiculous. Currently I have a pair of dark red plastic frames (sort of small, rectangular). I only wear them right before bed and for about two seconds in the morning, normally, because I see much much better with my contacts. Also, I don't feel Alive and Awake until my contacts are in. Once, an eye doctor told me I would go blind one day, and that being an art student wasn't a very smart decision for someone who would go blind.

He really said that.

And then I worried quietly about that for five years, until I got brave enough to ask another doctor, who acted shocked and horrified and assured me that I was not, in fact, going blind.

Okay! Your turn!

Kisses,
black sheeped

New

2008-01-02T18:14:00.000-06:00

250th post on this blog. Is that worth something? A fanfare?

Trophy?

Basket of kittens?

No?

In other news, we survived the holidays. The last week or two has (have) been full. Two Christmases (or three if you count the one we had here, on Christmas day), 21 hours of driving, ice storms, busy work schedules, general emotional chaos. We spent the last hour of the year home, alone with our pets, and it was pretty darn good. I went back to work today, I think J is sick, I'm getting evaluted tomorrow, and I really don't want to deal with the pathetically tired Christmas tree.

I feel a huge sense of relief that 2007 is over. Finally over. I feel a bit befuddled by how stressful it was, and now we are here, in the Midwest again. Surrounded by pets and elderly lady neighbors in a dead man's house, a man who moved in over fifty years ago when the house was built.

I'm immersed in a new profession, my husband is finished with school and also professionally immersed. The house in Wyoming still has not sold, my little sister is getting married, my twin brother is going to be a father come May. J's oldest sister got married, his other sister's seven year relationship has ended, his parents are dealing with family estates because of the passing on/aging of their parents. I had weird uterus issues. J and I got married. We went to Hawaii. We went to L.A. We went to Sheridan, Wyoming. We said goodbye to Wyoming. We were both bitten by a basset hound. I got more gray hair. My father had a heart incident and I'm worried he's not going to quit smoking. Another's mother died of lung cancer a few weeks ago and I don't think he's going to quit smoking. J's oldest sister needs to quit smoking. I learned a few days ago that my mother, who had breast cancer a while back, is getting some new growths checked out in a few weeks.

This was a year when my worrying grew bigger, and the worries stopped being vague and nameless. Instead, much of my anxiety sprouted labels and faces. I worried about the wedding, worried about J's thesis, worried when I was strangely fired, I worried about moving, worried about jobs, worried about money, worried about finding a home, worried about family members, worried about many people I love.

I said goodbye to a lot of people, and but have so many new names and faces to learn. And some of my goodbyes were not really goodbyes, which is always nice to remember.

I got way worse at telephone communication, and added a dog to our family.

I didn't read as much as I wanted to, and I didn't paint as much as I should have.

I think 2007 was a year of learning things about myself, and sometimes a year of bravery. I got in touch with a counseling center, and then made the decision to see a psychiatrist again. I was diagnosed with ADD for the first time and the medication has changed my life. I decided, when I was feeling scared and knew I was depressed, that it was okay to try antidepressants again. I learned that I can trust myself a bit more, and I re-learned that it is okay to ask for help. I learned that discussing symptoms of other disorders, that I have always been afraid to discuss with psychiatrists, will not automatically reserve a straight jacket in my name. I'm still struggling, but I'm struggling with help from others and I'm struggling toward something positive. I'm less crazy now.

I think I also, finally, learned to accept my body and appearance for what they are. Being a healthy, happy, attractive person does not involve guilt, hatred of my body, and feeling ugly. I feel neutral most days now, about my body, and some days I even feel good. It's nice not to worry about it constantly. It's nice to get dressed in the morning without spending 30 extra minutes changing clothes and agonizing over whether or not my thighs look too thick. I'm okay with my hips.

So those things were good.

Also, I married the best man in the whole world.

Sometimes I think our years are in cycles, that we have some bad years and then we have some good years. I feel as if I am coming out of a cycle, that my pattern is going to change. I desperately hope that everyone's pattern is going to change, because everything everywhere seems so terrible and filthy and clouded. I hope a good cycle is starting, I hope things will change for the better. I'm carrying around that hope, but I sometimes feel suspicious that I am just being a crazy hippie and nothing will change for the better for any of us. Sometimes I'm suspicious that I'm right, and the cycle is going to change, but it will be even worse.

But I'm carrying around a hope that the first option is right.

Happy New Year,
black sheeped

Whoops

2007-12-30T21:35:00.000-06:00

Got back tonight from the other Christmas, after a busy work week (I worked late on Saturday! I'm so dedicated!).

1) I forgot to do the Friday quiz!

2) I got a little Christmas money, which means I am going to spend the next several days agonizing while visiting various online stores, because I want to find the Perfect Work Bag, which must be like a messenger bag (to hold my graph paper, notebooks, tape measure, etc) (and with a shoulder strap so my hands can be free on construction sites). But dressy, so no canvas. And not in black or brown, because those colors are too limiting. And not metallic, because I am not a metallic bag kind of girl. Also, not very expensive, because I do not want to spend all of the Christmas money on one bag. I also need a wallet. I currently have a filthy kitty wallet, and it is falling apart, and the BUTTON EYES are falling off. Filthy + cat + falling off button eyes = not exactly professional.

3) We are going to caucus. We are living the dream.

I am not even kidding about that living the dream part.

4) I should rename this blog All Bad Pets All The Time. Cab completely destroyed the huge bed I hand sewed a month ago. Shredded it to bits, and Monk was so sad. Sooooo sad. And sigh-y. And Cab was not remorseful, only disappointed that he got caught.

5) Tonight I stood on an arm of the armchair to fix the curtains, which were all tangled and stuck. And then I fell, and hurt my ankle just a little bit, not seriously. I have fallen down about three or four times in the last week, and all of the times were stupid. All of the times my husband has witnessed the fall, and all of the times involved me wearing boots with heels.

More tomorrow, because I am exhausted, Christmas-ed out, and the bed is calling my name so nicely.

Love,
black sheeped

Grease

2007-12-27T20:21:00.000-06:00

Hey, you guys know Jelly Roll?

Resident overweight whiny jerk/fire hazard? You know, The Roll?

This morning, due to some unfortunate circumstances involving me washing all the dishes last night except for the pan we used to make bacon (bacon and pancakes is a perfectly balanced dinner, didn't you know?) (but cleaning out the bacon pan is my least favorite household duty, EVER, of all time), Jelly Roll ate what I approximate to be at least two tablespoons of cold bacon grease.

Proving once again that a) he has an eating problem and b) he is an idiot.

And: c) he is disgusting beyond all measure.

He's now pinning me to the couch, obese-ly purring, and he sort of smells like bacon. He also may sort of smell like "smug" but I can't be sure. Maybe that's just what bacon scent morphs into after wafting up from fairly dirty cat fur.

I went to the doctor today, and she said the weight loss was likely due to stress and the meds, and to just watch for another month. And we doubled the Prozac. Soooooo. Here we go again.

Love,
black sheeped

Options

2007-12-26T20:22:00.001-06:00

Lately all I want to do is take photos and be next to my husband.

On this blog, all I want to do is post photos and talk about feeling sad.

Neither of those things is very interesting, I understand. You don't need to hear about the creepy things, like how I feel sometimes that my skin will crawl right off if I don't crawl right off and sob for a while. You don't need to hear about the silly things, like when I put on an Iron and Wine disc in the car today, and the line "God give us love in the time that we have" nearly made me lose it.

I'm seeing the doctor tomorrow. THANK GOODNESS.

So. Enough of that.

The other option is sharing some photos.

We went to see my family, and then drove back here and had a very nice happy mashed potato filled holiday. We also took some cookies to each of our elderly lady neighbors, and it took two hours to drop off three plates because they all made us come inside and visit. It was a good day.

I didn't want it to end.

This morning I got up and went back to work, and it was Difficult. But things at work are busy, so it was not Unacceptable.

Now you're caught up.

Christmas Eve at our house:

We left at 4:45 a.m. Christmas Eve to make sure we got back to town in time to get our dogs out of dog jail. They were so exhausted, they did not even care when we put ugly boot socks on them:

Hey, look, it's my husband:

To confuse the timeline, these are from our drive Friday afternoon. My boss made me leave at noon, because of patchy icy fog. We dropped south on weird roads, trying to avoid the fog. We mostly avoided it.

We went through some towns we'd never seen before.

Here is some fog, which was not as thick as some other fog we drove through:

Geese:

Again, with some geese:

Here is a library.

Okay, these are from Sunday. My family had our Christmas on Sunday. We went to church.

This is my sister, proving that weirdness does not, at all, under any circumstances, run in our family.

My parents' pond:

Merry Christmas, say the glass of sherry and the fancy new jacket:

Church window:

Here is the first photo ever taken of my first niece or nephew. He/she is due in May, and he/she will reveal his/her gender tomorrow at an ultrasound. I felt him/her kick, and I hope it is not because he/she already hates that we plan on giving books for every birthday and graduation.

Here is a hat at church:

This is my really handsome husband. I don't know why this photo turned out this way, but I love it.

This is the moon, as seen from my parents' field.

This is me, telling my sister to take a photo of me in the swingy jacket, saying, "HEY DO I LOOK MOD? DO I LOOK MOD? TAKE A PHOTO OF ME THAT LOOKS MOD."

I didn't look mod, at all.

That's all for now. This weekend we have J's family Christmas thing, which we will leave for after I get off work on Saturday afternoon, because it is my Saturday. Work is busy, I feel crazy, the pets are gassy.

I like the moon, do you?

black sheeped

A Very Special Christmas Message

2007-12-24T21:43:00.000-06:00

My husband and I have safely returned, leaving my parents' at 4:45 this morning and arriving to pick up the dogs from jail at one or two.

Tonight we spent some time drinking hot cocoa and riling them up (our first Christmas Eve alone=magical!). We were making noises because Cab is something of a vocalist. This is Cab singing, and then at the end he has a very special Christmas message for you. I was so lucky to be taping this enchanting holiday moment. (Please ignore a) me weirdly petting Monk with my foot, and b) the ugly socks on the floor the dogs had been playing with earlier. I swear I wasn't wearing them. And I swear we didn't make Monk wear them for a while.)

So!

Just for you!

Dogs are gross!

Merry merry,
black sheeped

Jail

2007-12-21T07:00:00.000-06:00

We are not taking the dogs on this road trip (for some reason my parents think the dogs are "chaotic," I believe) so they are going to doggie jail for the weekend. They (Monk, anyway, I don't know about Cab) seem to have have an awesome time at jail, because of all! the! stimulation!

We've been threatening all week, every time they are bad (every two minutes or so), that we are going to send this to jail. Step on my foot? Stick your head in the trash? THIS IS WHY YOU ARE GOING TO JAIL. This morning, after the alarm went off and we were staring at the ceiling in horror that it was time to get up, GEEZ, I said, "It's DOG JAIL DAY."

Dog jail must be fun because of a) barking b) seeing other dogs c) barking. And now there will be the added fun of Monk getting to share a pen with his young boyfriend. Cab.

They seriously lick each other's mouths SO MUCH, you guys.

As much as we threaten to skin them alive constantly, and gloat that they are going to jail, take THAT, dogs! Jail! I feel sad to leave them. I will miss them, even for two or three days, and will be happy to get them back.

I hope we get back before the vet closes on Christmas Eve so that the dogs don't have to spend Christmas in jail.

You heard that right.

I will miss the cats, too, but they will barely notice we are gone. They will be stuffing themselves on dry food, oh glorious day, until they puke, a ton (I WONDER WHY WE SWITCHED TO FEEDING WET MEALS). They will get into scuffles by the litter pans, and they will sleep while pressed up against the heat vents, and they will get on the counter because no one is there to threaten their lives.

Did I mention the part about the gorging? The binging, and the puking?

Oh, cats.

You are shit heads.

Quiz day!

Tell me about your favorite ornament, if you have one. And tell me what you eat on Christmas day.

I think my favorite ornament...is a toss up between the sparkly antique bird one my mom and sister gave me, and a My Little Pony ornament my husband gave me. Both are awesome in their own ways, and unsurprisingly, I have a fondness for ornaments that are animals.

And ridiculous.

And weirdly colored.

This year will be our first Christmas day alone. My husband and I plan on laying around, watching Christmas specials on DVD, drinking spiked eggnog, eating candy, and probably making out a lot. I think we have decided our traditional Christmas day meal is going to be steak, preferably wrapped in bacon.

Your turn!
black sheeped

Thursday

2007-12-20T07:31:00.001-06:00

Yesterday was a strange day. Like when I stood in the street and watched a bulldozer-type city truck accidentally back over a co-worker's vehicle. And then some other things, which aren't very happy, but as usual, I'm staying vague.

And then there are the little silly things, like I haven't finished wrapping presents, we're not sure if we're leaving tomorrow night or Saturday to drive eight hours to see my family (hooray for pending ice storms), my husband's gift hasn't arrived yet, the stairs are covered in a thick coating of dog hair, I have a cold, I have hurt my back and it's making me want to scream every time I breathe which means I did not sleep last night, I feel bad that my husband has to grade about fifty billion portfolios and turn in grades by tomorrow, the day we are not sure if we are driving eight hours (starting at five pm).

So tonight I plan on cleaning and wrapping gifts and packing and possibly baking and maybe doing some laundry and maybe strangling four bad pets.

I have to go to work!

Love,
me

Godzilla

2007-12-18T21:14:00.000-06:00

Is it just me, or is this incredibly creepy?

Discuss,
black sheeped

Hip

2007-12-17T19:52:00.000-06:00

I decided to post some embarrassing things about myself now, specifically regarding pop culture. Or:

I Say Some Humiliating Things, and Then Rant, Because Maybe This Blog Is Sadly Lacking In Angry Rants About Our Culture

1) Tonight I asked my husband if he could make me a Faithful Dead CD. He looked at me and said, "Grateful Dead?"

Yes.

2) Tonight I remembered that I liked Dispatch.

3) I am finally comfortable enough with who I am to admit that I don't really like movies very much. Isn't that lame? I mean, I like some movies very much. But I rarely think, "I want to watch a movie." I rarely feel as if I am in a movie-watching mood. I rarely want to watch movies, at all. And I usually dislike movies that have:

violence, suspense, death, anything getting hurt, bad plots, bad acting, pretension, horror, bad guys, knives, guns, explosions, cars, sequels, long over dramatic trailers, shitty symbolism, action, stupid love scenes, bad jokes, fart jokes, sex jokes, penis jokes, testicle jokes, guys in bars hitting on women jokes, fast forwarded brain scenes, narration, plot holes, hype, Keanu Reeves, Sean Connery, scary robots, scary aliens, detectives, the future, history if it has a lot of really stupid over done special effects, chase scenes, strip club scenes, bachelor party scenes, rain scenes, yelling in rain scenes, Leonardo DeCapprio (who my husband says is single-handedly destroying Martin Scorsese's career, morally), recreations of other movies, recreations of Broadway plays, recreations of anything, basis on true stories, pot humor, plots geared toward drug users, Rachel McAdams, Zach Braff, movies that are designed to be "events" or "blockbusters," Julia Stiles, a lack of realistic female characters (which is every movie ever), a plot based on technology, a plot based on comic books, a serious plot about sports, Dakota Fanning, cannibalism, a plot based on video games, vampires, rave scenes, high school party scenes, freshmen college characters who look like they are forty, most computer animation, plots based on great works of literature, plots based on terrible works of literature, asteroids, disasters, a lot of yelling, tire screeching, excessive technology beeping noises, outer space, unrealistic dialogue, stupid soundtracks, or animals with voiceovers by humans.

Of course, there are exceptions to these rules, such as Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, and Snakes on a Plane.

The one exception is that I hate zombies, and refuse to watch zombie movies, ever, even if it is supposed to be funny. It is not funny, because it has ZOMBIES.

This means I pretty much only want to watch The Royal Tenenbaums, Things to Do, or Black Balled.

Over and over.

I am lame, but so is the movie industry.

4. I really have found very few bands I like since my third year of college, and tonight my very nice friend's (I miss you) music blog reminded me that, oh yeah, I like Iron and Wine, and hey! I could get a new CD sometime, and listen to music, and...like it! And oh, hey, I like music! I just never listen to it because...I don't know why.

So much of the old music I have reminds me of things. Some good, some bad. At any rate, listening to it is almost always exhausting, and I always think I'd like some new music that has no associations. And then I don't buy any, and instead make my husband listen to the Velvet Underground CD a billion times on long road trips, sometimes offering to play a Badly Drawn Boy CD or Crooked Fingers CD, and then I am shot down. So Velvet Underground it is.

I like music that is very acoustic and very folksy, and lately I have a pretty low tolerance for very thin men singing. Especially if they are wearing skinny legged jeans.

I like folk music and beards.

It's true.

5. I hate when people talk about celebrities. I hate magazines about celebrities. I hate when a celebrity screwing up makes the news. I hate that there are whole shows, whole channels, dedicated to the doings of celebrities. I hate that we blog about celebrities. I hate when people make jokes with references to celebrities in them, such as "off like Britney Spears' panties." I HATE THAT.

Because: what the hell is wrong with our society anyway?

Idiocracy counts as a movie I do like,
black sheeped

Fulfilled

2007-12-16T17:25:00.001-06:00

I can not believe I will be celebrating Christmas with my family a mere week from now.

A week!

I feel like I am just a big huge mess, and like I haven't been blogging, and whooo, has it ever been busy for us and for everybody and how is it almost Christmas, again?

Work has been pretty busy, and at the end of this month I'll hit the end of my three month probationary period. This week I will be evaluated, and thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach for a variety of reasons, most of which involve me being a) paranoid and b) hard on myself. I assume the evaluation will be fine, FINE, but it's still making me feel all wonky and uptight. I don't know when I will be evaluated, but I was to prepare a list of professional goals for 2008 over the weekend, so hopefully it'll be over tomorrow.

I did not include "continue not dressing like a dirty hippie" as a professional goal, in case you were wondering.

Friday night we had our holiday work party, which was actually very enjoyable. It was snowing (lots of snow on top of the ice now, which is not at all slick), the booze was plentiful, and I think we all had a pretty good time. I did, at any rate, and I felt happy that my husband got to have fun with my co-workers. Warm and fuzzy!

I made fudge for the party on Thursday night, along with cookies. I posted the recipe at the holiday blog. Unfortunately, because I am really detail oriented, I lost count of how many CUPS OF SUGAR I put into the fudge, and so, I totally added a whole extra cup. The fudge wasn't very chocolaty, was grainy, and was sickeningly sweet. It also had way too stiff of a texture, and it took me FOREVER just to spread it out in the pan. Cutting it was a nightmare.

A nightmare!

It is important to note that I still took it to the party, and people still ate multiple pieces of it, and that is crazy.

Because: gross.

Yesterday morning we discovered that my faithful betta, Old Drippy, who traveled here with us from across the plains, had passed away in the night. I assume the cold from the power outage was too much for his system to handle, as he became even more lethargic than normal (which is mind-blowing, because that fish? that fish was the king of lethargic, and house guests were always whispering to me that they thought "maybe your fish is dead?") over the course of the week.

Poor Old Drippy.

I felt pretty bad about it, and I wouldn't watch my husband flush his little creepy corpse.

We ventured out into the snow to get a new fish, but I decided I wasn't ready for another betta. Old Drippy's memory was too fresh. We came home with a goldfish and a black moor goldfish, and we named them Cockroach and Kimmy Gibbler.

The goldfish, Cockroach, died this afternoon in a truly terrifying display of spazzing out followed by side swimming and then paralysis. Kimmy Gibbler is still alive, and if he dies I assume I'll get another betta at some point.

Or not.

Fish are so emotionally exhausting.

What else?

I've been slowly wrapping Christmas presents, one or two at a time, in our dining room. I've been exceptionally slow at it this year, and have been painstakingly curling each ribbon and using way too much tape. We're talking, multiple pieces of tape, and we all know each gift really only needs three small pieces of tape. Three! We all know it! There is no reason for me to use ten on each gift!

But I have!

I really am enjoying the gift wrapping this year, for some reason, and feel happy each time I sit down to wrap something up. J selected the wrapping paper this year, and he picked Charlie Brown paper and a really cluttered but awesome Christmas Story paper. I didn't even get a big bag of stick on bows, instead using multiple color-coordinated ribbons on each gift, snipping and tying and curling and getting confused and frustrated by how slippery each ribbon is.

It is a ridiculous process, and I like it.

Hi!

I've been feeling really really crazy lately!

I lost a few more pounds, and I'm wondering if it's because lately the only thing I want to eat for lunch are Cheez-its and handfuls of peanuts, or if the opposite should be true. At any rate, if I lose one more pound, I will officially be thinner than my husband has ever seen me (still not "skinny" and still at an "above average BMI") and my bras are too big now and so are my pants and I know I am sooo not allowed to do this, but can I briefly complain because I can not afford clothing right now, I liked how I was just fine, and was not wanting to lose anything because HELLO, after years of working at it I HAD ACCEPTED MY BODY. Plus eating fistfuls of nuts and cookies at work and cheesy crackers for lunch and frequent bowls of ice cream at night should not equal weight loss. It seems more concerning than anything else, because, what? Maybe it's stress (although normally I gain weight when I'm stressed) or maybe it's just a fluke, that'll correct itself, or maybe Cheez-its actually are like celery. Unexplained weight loss makes me nervous, because isn't that a symptom of something? Or is it not?

Do I need to shut up, or do I need a check up? That is what I am asking. (Please don't be grumpy at me. I'm pretty sure I'm still above healthy BMI levels. I am!)

Also, I've been wondering if I've been sleepwalking again, because I keep waking up with unexplained cuts and bruises. Sleepwalking seems unlikely, because sleepwalking would involve a) crawling through the treacherous hallway of sleeping dogs (who would surely wake up and make a big racket) b) getting over the dog gate and c) not tripping on cats who would probably run around under my feet because they would be all "OH MY GOSH IS SHE GOING TO FEED US IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT THIS IS GREAT OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH GEEZ AAAAAAAAAAGGGH."

The only other explanation for the bruises and cuts (including a really deep and painful one on my right breast, by the way) would be that Coltrane is trying to murder me in my sleep.

This explanation is much more likely.

That cat is so creepy. I swear she knows where the human bladder is, if her early morning dances on mine are any indication. She is way too good at getting me up to feed her, and it is mostly based on her ability to locate my bladder, jump on it enough to get me up to pee, and then when I am up she is all, "WELL? YOU ARE UP, YOU MIGHT AS WELL FEED ME. I'LL JUST MOVE ON TO FACE-TROMPING IF YOU DON'T."

I think I have never told you, Coltrane and Jelly Roll both do that weird little quivering cat tail thing. Have you seen a cat do it? I hadn't, until they started doing it several months ago. It started when one of us would get home, they'd come up and stomp their feet and their tails would quiver madly, just twitch and shake and shiver. I looked it up, because it seemed weird, and read that it is the Ultimate of Cat Greetings, that it means the cat is at the utmost level of thrilled-to-see-you-ness, that the cat loves you a ton and that not many cats will express such a deep level of happiness and affection.

Well! I thought. Well! These cats just love us so much! We are awesome!

It has become painfully obvious that now the cats only do this to us when they REALLY want to be fed. That's the only time they do it to me, when they just need to coax-beyond-all-coaxing.

Also.

ALSO.

THEY NOW DO IT TO THE DOGS.

THE QUIVER HAPPINESS TO THE DAMN DOGS WHEN THEY SEE THE DOGS AFTER IT HAS BEEN A WHOLE TWO HOURS SINCE THEY SAW THE DOGS.

I didn't even think they liked the dogs, since they both mostly ignore the dogs and sometimes scratch up the dogs' noses if we have been too lax about the Soft Paws and the dogs have been too insistent upon sniffing the cats.

But it's true: they quiver happily at the dogs, before scratching them and galloping away.

Cats are horrible animals.

So are dogs, however.

Hey, how about I talk about some dogs?

I tried to get a holiday photo of the dogs. This is the best one:

Most of the dog holiday photos were blurry, or had one dog running out of the frame, or showed one or both of the dogs acting like complete morons/jerks.

Like this one, where Cab is making a weird face and Monk has just run out of the shot:

Check this one out. Monk didn't realize I was watching him, as he is not allowed on the furniture, except for one chair. This is him being tricky and sitting on the couch without actually sitting on the couch; however, he knows this is not allowed, either. I felt very skillful to get a photo of such sneaky badness being displayed:

I've also been trying to get a photo of Cab and me. A cute photo, where we both are looking at the camera and are calm.

It is not working.

Cab has been going through a growth spurt, and he's all gangly. He's as tall as Monk now, and probably weighs about the same. His legs seem strangely long, and his feet? His feet are getting huge.

Look at this foot:

FEEEEEEEEEEEET:

I took one of his paw next to my foot, for comparison. I have small feet, but still. Still!

A fun game is to ask your husband, after walking the dogs, if he can lift their eighty pound squirmy bodies into the air. Of course he can, but it looked hilarious:

Okay, I know.

Enough, right?

Enough of the zoo that is our house.

The only other thing that now seems important to get down, to blog, is that boy, oh boy. This time of year is hard, right? Because everything is so busy, and there's so much pressure to feel happy, and to really experience EVERYTHING. Add that to work stress and financial stress and emotional disorders and magically everything JUST FEELS AS IF IT IS ALL IN CAPS LOCK. I feel so squirmy inside--my chest and belly feel squirmy.

Rest in peace, Old Drippy. You were a good fish, and I hope you get to nap even more in the afterlife.

black sheeped

Edit, two minutes later: Kimmy Gibbler the fish has also now passed on. I'm blaming Coltrane, because I've caught her with her paw in that bowl about five times today.

Whoops

2007-12-15T23:55:00.000-06:00

Do you want to see the list I made of things I want to write about, but haven't yet?

Okay:

coltrane twitchy tail

dogs happy dream about guy=cab

losing weight

i had to get that santa photo taken

weather

holidays

every single person at every single store is just pissed off

photos

feeling down

sleepwalking

i keep missing things

dog hair is on everything

i like wrapping presents

i completely messed up the fudge but multiple servings were eaten anyway

first evaluation this week

first evaluation this week=nervous

old drippy the fish died

coltrane wants to eat me

Love,
black sheeped

And

2007-12-14T07:16:00.001-06:00

a) HOW IS IT FRIDAY ALREADY?

b) THIS WEEK WAS SO LONG, FRIDAY WAS NEVER GOING TO ARRIVE EVER.

Nothing like a big ice storm, holiday stress loooooming, losing power, being cold, listening to everyone complain about the power, having horrible PMS, getting three big zits in a weird triangle of doom on your face, having to come to work early to dry your hair/put on makeup, having to bang open your frozen shut car doors every morning, feeling worried about members of your family, having stressy work situations, excess guilt, excess sick/nervous tummy (I will never be able to express my gratitude properly to this lady for giving us all that term), household sinus problems, being behind on many things, constantly welling up because the depression is stupid, having some panic attacks, and other things I'm surely forgetting, to really, um, make you glad Friday is here. Even though you have a holiday work party tonight and you're missing another holiday work event of your husband's and OH CRAP I HAVE TO LEAVE EARLY TO BUY A PRESENT FOR THE PARTY.

Hey, so, it's Friday question time!

Here's something a little different. What do you really regret about the last week? What do you wish you had not done/you had done? And then, what do you feel really good about doing this week?

Mine are: I regret that I spent a lot of the week feeling guilty. Guilty for everything; guilty about the cold, guilty about the pets, guilty about feeling stressed, guilty about wanting to move here and therefore exposing us to ice storms, guilty about anything and everything. It made me miserable much of the week, and I wish I would not have done that. There's always next week, right?

The thing I feel good about is that I think I remained pretty positive about the storm/lack of power, and while everyone around me was complaining and pissy and angry and impatient, I felt okay. I mean, I wasn't thrilled, but I stayed positive at work, at least, and stayed pretty calm about it.

Calm for me.

Your turn,

black sheeped

Decked

2007-12-13T20:49:00.000-06:00

I've taken a lot of photos lately, and since I haven't been able to post much, have a backlog of things I want to show you. This is from last Friday night, when we went to a local park that has been Decorated Creepily:

Brittle

2007-12-12T20:22:00.000-06:00

We got some ice.

We were only without electricity for around 36 hours, which is pretty good considering many people will be without it for five days. Last night we wore lots of clothing and went to bed early with our flashlights, all camping style, trying to ignore the fact that there were power lines on the ground in our neighbor's back yard and that we had heard people actually complaining that their CABLE had gone out, when THE NURSING HOME'S GENERATORS WERE GOING OUT. I also felt confused by people who complained because their wood stoves did not keep them warm enough, when many people have no wood stoves at all.

It was an inch or so of ice, all in all, after some snow. Tree branches fell on power lines and ripped them down. I went to work, because work was a) heated and b) one of the few open businesses. The dogs skittered on the ice and fell while trying to squat to poop. My husband spent much of yesterday morning helping out our elderly lady neighbors.

The ice is sharp.

I've got a few photos, mostly of our neighbor's tree. The branches that fell ripped power lines down, bending the poles and tearing some siding off her house.

Our front yard tree:

Deck:

The reason we didn't have power (if you look closely you can see the lines pulled down):

This is me tonight, standing on four or five inches of snow, not sinking because of the ice crust:

So, I'm back now and am feeling very happy/grateful because a) I am warm and b) I am not cold. Last night the cats failed to help keep us warm because they were too busy secretly snuggling on a couch (they fight by day and cuddle by night, apparently). We let the dogs sleep on our bedroom floor to help keep the room warmer with their doggy-heat. They thanked us by making disgusting mouth sounds all night, licking and chewing and smacking their horrible dog lips, for hours, HOURS, even though we kept yelling "SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP." They were not scared; they are not scared when we tell them we are going to cook them into a stew. Cab got up at midnight and barked/howled a lot, while taking a chewy slobbery mouth sound break.

Also, we had to take them out at two.

The pets were worthless at keeping us warm/sane, is what I am trying to tell you.

Love,
black sheeped

Sunday

2007-12-09T21:24:00.000-06:00

Sunday night

I worked all week, and then it was my first Saturday to work, during some more drizzly ice/snow, and then I felt sort of crazy and edgy. I still felt crazy and edgy when I got up today. We mostly finished our Christmas shopping, and I mostly finished Christmas cards, and I got the house mostly clean, and the laundry mostly done. It snowed more, and then this afternoon my sister called to say my dad was in the hospital because of chest pain and arm pain. They did an angiogram, and found a blockage, and are calling it some sort of "heart incident" and recommending he change his lifestyle, etc, and sent him home. They said his heart is strong, but he should change what he's putting into his body.

I felt pretty awful while waiting for the results of the angiogram, and am pretty damn glad he's okay. It was sort of horrible being too far away to get down there, and even if I had jumped in my car there was an ice storm, and it all made me feel icky and I am so, so glad he is okay.

So that's on my mind tonight, and I feel not very post-y. I had things I wanted to write about, but I feel very sober and grateful.

Plus, my husband is nice.

I finally got my power cord but am behind on things, especially on non-computery things, and I thought I'd share a tiny video from Saturday night of our two eighty pound dogs, or "the reasons we can not have nice things." Also, warning, I am in it. If you want to pretend that I a) am not slovenly on Friday night after working all day and then trying to clean a house or b) my hair does not normally really need brushing, then don't watch it. Also: please be prepared for a) me wearing super huge men's sweatpants I got on clearance at Old Navy b) me looking disgusting and c) my hair in even more need of brushing than it normally is.

The dogs only really have one trick that is consistent, and that is sitting. Only Monk lays down instead of sitting, and he also knows "get your head down" as chronicled here. Lately I have been teaching him to wait before he can eat a treat, and Cab is learning "down" and "wait" as well. It's not easy, because Cab is a snatcher, and he freaks out and WANTS THE DAMN TREAT NOW and gets all twitchy.

So, um. Here is their only stupid trick:

In short: I'm hoping to be feeling better in the next few days, and to not feel as crazy. I'm hoping I'm being all hormonally insane, because, as my husband put it, lately all I have been doing is "either yelling or crying." He was right; I don't like myself like this. We're supposed to get more ice this week, and today we have icy fog, which is interesting. I'm feeling tired and all bllllllllleeeeeeeeergh, and I wish I could stop crying, but Christmas is coming and I'm pretty excited about some of the gifts we found for people. The Xanax is helping a ton. So is my husband.

And I'm glad my dad is okay. Did I mention that part? I'm really glad.

Love,
black sheeped

Thanks

2007-12-07T07:29:00.000-06:00

I know I rarely have time right now to go to your blogs and comment, or respond to each of your comments on mine, but I want each and every one of you to know that your nice comments, like yesterday's, always mean so much to me. They really brighten my days, and I'm appreciative and grateful for every kind word you leave. I mean it. Thank you.

Enough of that mushy stuff, because I'm getting all emotional now. Damn you and your niceness!

Hey, it's Friday! It doesn't feel like Friday, since this is my six day work week, but the calendar tells me it is Friday and I'm wearing jeans for jeans-Friday, so it must be...Friday. You know what that means! Tell me about the socks you are wearing right now, and about the worst bike wreck you ever had as a kid, if you rode bikes. Also, tell me what you do with paper napkins when you are sitting at a table at a social event.

I'll go first: I am wearing clearance Kmart socks. They are black and blue with red toes, and have white snowflakes, and around the ankle there are snowmen with sparkly red hats. My worst bike wreck involved me sliding down a large hill, with my bike on top of me, when I was around 7 or 8. I'm not sure what caused the wipe out, or how I slid down the hot asphalt, but it left huge bleeding cuts and scrapes up and down my entire leg and arm. Also, the always delightful implanted gravel in the knee. It was weird, and I remember having to walk my bike back home, likely snivelling like a little baby the whole way.

And I always end up tearing napkins into tiny little pieces, and then arranging the torn up bits into piles on the table, if the social event is really going long. I also rip off beer labels and tear them up into tiny shreds.

Love,
black sheeped

Plan

2007-12-06T07:15:00.001-06:00

I feel so tired today. It's pretty cool outside, supposed to snow or sleet again, I may or may not have out of town meetings, the car is super frosted over, my husband is sick, my husband is in the middle of end of semester annoyingness, I've been sick, I have a monster pimple emerging, PMS is kicking my ass this month, we're behind on Christmas shopping, my laptop cords have been lasting roughly 2-3 months, Cab was carrying around my favorite bra this morning, Cab destroyed the box of ornament boxes/wrappings that we really really really really thought we had out of his reach, Cab ate a hole in one of my boots, that I really really really thought he couldn't get to, I don't feel Christmasy, I miss some people, Monk has been throwing up, we never get enough sleep, I work my first Saturday this weekend and feel woefully under-prepared, I've had a headache for two weeks straight, etc.

(I love listing my woes, and looking at them, and realizing they are really No Big Deal, and that I am Such a Big Baby.)

I had a few days where I felt very very good, and now I am back to feeling very very low. I'd been crying again, a little, last night something tiny set me off and I went upstairs and sobbed, hard, for several minutes. I feel on edge; I feel frustrated; I feel gross. I feel I'd like to be in bed, but I feel that that would also drive me insane. I'm chalking it up to PMS, the holiday season, stress, and my ever struggling brain. I think the worst part of depression, at least how I experience it, is that when I am in a low period I take everything personally. My husband can be stressed out from something at his job, and I assume I've done something wrong to anger him. Someone at work might have a mistake they are dealing with, and I assume it was somehow my fault. The cat throws up a hairball, and I feel bad about it because I adopted her 2.5 years ago, so it is my fault. After work last night I went and got photos printed to put in some Christmas cards, and bought a crate because it is time to crate train the destroying machine Cab, and didn't get home until almost seven because the store was clogged, service was agonizingly slow, and I had to wait in several lines. When I got home, my husband had made dinner and did the dishes. As I was later than I expected he was worried that dinner was cold, and I felt as if I would explode into a million pieces because I felt so irresponsible and guilty.

I think that is the worst thing I deal with. I can take the sadness, the anger, the overwhelmed feelings, even the wanting to hurt myself feelings. But the constantly feeling as if I am screwing up everything and that I am angering those I care about? It's horrible, and I hate it, and I'm sure it drives the people in my life crazy. I know it does--I know it, and I try to stop, and I do better for a while.

And then, like last night, I hit rock bottom and it starts all over again.

So here we go again, it is Thursday morning and there are three more days to my work week, and I will start Cab's crate training in 30 seconds. I will put on my coat and scarf and gloves and hat. The cold will fill my lungs, and I will scrape the car while my nose runs. I will drive to work and listen to the radio station that plays Christmas music, and I will work hard all day, I'll take all my pills and drink tea and then I will come home and cook chicken and potatoes, and maybe work on Christmas cards, and if my laptop cord comes I will do blog stuff. I will do some laundry and take out dogs, each time with cold air hurting my throat, and hope that I won't cry for no good reason, that I won't lose it, that my husband and I will have a good night and watch some cartoons and go to bed at a reasonable hour.

First, I think I will put on my brown boots. They are the sturdiest.

Love,
black sheeped

Gray

2007-12-03T22:47:00.001-06:00

I've got some photos from the weekend.

Backyard and ice:

The carpet and carpet pad I ripped out Friday night (the carpet pad is now in the trash, in hundreds of tiny pieces, thanks to Cab the Shit pulling it down and having a Fantastic Time with it while we ran an errand):

I haven't posted photos of our town yet.

This is on my drive to work.

My husband's grandmother who passed away last summer lived on a farm in Kansas for many years, and his family has had a big job cleaning out the house. They gave us some old soda bottles that were very dirty (one had an ancient wasps' nest in it, complete with ancient wasp corpses). I've been trying to clean them up.

Also up/downtown, right by where I work--the trains run right by my office window.

Tree in our backyard:

More train yard:

Our basement, where the utility rooms/studio, bar, and den are located, is not heated. It's not bad because the water heater/etc are down there, but when we're hanging out down there we sometimes use a little space heater on cold days. We're constantly shooing away pets, who become Instant Fire Hazards.

More downtown:

I got these in Wyoming (my sister also bought a strand), and I've posted them before. I believe my husband thinks they are ugly. I think they are hilarious and awesome. They have bells. Bells, you guys! Bells!

Disorganization! More of the town:

Bottles:

Ice on our back patio:

I'm a "throw the lights in a big box and worry about the tangled mess next year" kind of girl.

Cat:

My sister mailed me an ornament, which is old and sparkly:

My father made me this spice rack:

Structures at the train yard that I don't understand:

Fire hazard:

Melting ice on our siding:

Fire hazard! Fire hazard!

Do you see that face he is making? That is his "I will continue to do this bad thing I am doing because you are not feeding me" face. Also his "I hear you yelling at me and am freaked out by it but will continue to be bad because you are not feeding me" face. And a little bit of his "I'm deciding whether or not to stop because you are yelling at me--oh wait, no, you're still not feeding me" face.

(Safety disclaimer: we always shoo them away, and we never leave the space heater plugged in without being RIGHT THERE. I just thought I'd share some photographic evidence that they are, in fact, complete idiots who are trying to kill us all.)

Happy Tuesday,
black sheeped

Bits

2007-12-03T07:15:00.000-06:00

Last week was a blur and the weekend is quickly becoming one. I had about a billion things I wanted to write about, all weekend, and then I got distracted with car batteries and pets and cleaning and blah blah blah. And now I'm going to get as much of it as I can (a little, anyway), in handy! list! format! Because I know you all love my lists. And lists mean I don't have to connect things.

1. I have been feeling busy and overwhelmed, a tad, and probably one of my top five favorite activities is blogging. And I like the holiday blog, but it is more of a time eater than this blog. Which makes me feel lame, because I feel like it's not very good, but that it COULD be. And the people who like it, really like it, and that I shouldn't be so lame at it. But I now have a lovely volunteer, and then this morning this lady posted a call for help, and I feel so grateful and happy. Thank you, again, to both of you and anyone who has participated and anyone who will.

2. Friday was a long day, and then Friday night we went to the grocery store, and then I cleaned the house, and then I decided around 9 or 10 that hey, I just going to rip up this bathroom carpeting. So I did, and there are horrors underneath, and the carpet was full of horrors. I stepped on a rusty nail that had been under the toilet (otherwise known as Bacteria Funville) and pried up tack bars and dug out carpet staples and then Lysoled everything thoroughly. Underneath was an ugly vinyl tile, sort of orange, which I would actually love except for the part that it is all decayed and rotten around the toilet and tub. Sometime I'll get a flooring compound, and fill in, and sometime I'll find a new tiling...system to put on top. Not today, but sometime soon, I hope. And I am happy that the disgusting rotten moldy carpet is gone, gone forever (or gone to the garage, at least, and now partially eaten by a very stupid dog who pulled it down because he is an idiot and also obviously is starving).

I like doing stuff to this house, and I like taking care of this house. It gives me a feeling of pride and security, which is interesting.

3. We had an ice storm. We were fortunate, and didn't lose power (except for yesterday afternoon, when our ancient fuse box freaked out and we had to go buy fuses-fuses!). Saturday was nasty, though, and the dogs hated walking on the ice encrusted grass. (Photos later.) As we stood in the windy freezing rain Saturday morning, shivering and wet and pelted by ice, waiting while the dogs sniffed and sniffed and sniffed, their feet crunching, with tree branches groaning under the weight of ice, threatening to fall, my husband yelled over to me across the yard, "AND YOU WANTED TO MOVE BACK TO THE MIDWEST!"

He had a point.

4. Our dogs are so bad sometimes.

5. We have not really started Christmas shopping, at all.

Have a good Monday!
black sheeped

Quickie

2007-11-30T07:43:00.000-06:00

I spent so much time at the other blog that I only have a few minutes this morning.

So I will tell you this: the parade was ridiculous but fun. Cab had some intestinal issues last night and I had to get up and take him out at 1:48 a.m. and 5:06 a.m. It was 14 degrees, and I stood in my boots and pajamas and coat and watched him poop a lot in the dark. Also, we are supposed to get some sort of mega ice storm this weekend, and I am REALLY GLAD this week is over.

Tell me a) what did you have for breakfast this morning? b) what are you listening to in your car today, if you drive? c) what are you doing this weekend?

My answers will have to come later!
Love,
me

Edit, 7:39 p.m.

This was a busy long day.

But! I must answer my own questions!

a) This morning before work I drank half a diet cola, and then while I was at work I had my normal two cups of unsweetened black cinnamon tea. Also, at 8:45, I had a low calorie granola bar, which is normally more than I eat in the morning. It seems I normally survive purely on Prozac and caffeine until lunchtime. I feel this is "unhealthy." But it is "how it is."

b) My husband and I have a narrow driveway and our street has a snow ordinance, so this means we are frequently switching cars, depending on who leaves first/who gets home last. In my car, I normally listen to either 1) nothing 2) a Bob Dylan tape or 3) a Blondie tape. In J's car, which I drove today, I go back and forth between listening to 1) nothing or b) a mix CD of The Velvet Underground. Lately I keep putting "Pale Blue Eyes" and "I'm Stickin' with You" on repeat. I normally hate the radio; I loathe morning radio, and lately I even get annoyed with my beloved NPR. Today I listened to "Pale Blue Eyes" a few times.

c) Tonight we went to the grocery store, which was chaotic as the weather people are predicting an ice storm. I will also clean a bit tonight, to get it over with, and if I feel particularly crazy I might rip up carpeting in the bathroom because I HAVE HAD ENOUGH. Since it's already nearly eight and I haven't even changed out of work clothes, however, that might not happen. Tomorrow, if there is ice I might have to go to work (the person scheduled for tomorrow lives out of town). If not, I want to lay around, do bloggy things, work on art, play with pets, and make a couple of cat beds. (I'm a pet bed making fool, I tell you!) On Sunday, I plan on doing more of the same. At some point potato soup will be eaten, and some laundry will be done, and I reeeeeeeally need to organize some tiny closets.

Also, I have been just itching to watch Elf.

Also, we are the worst crew of breakfast eaters EVER.

Three

2007-11-29T12:54:00.000-06:00

1) I'm really annoyed about the campaigning calls I keep getting on my cell phone. Especially because my phone won't let me delete a voicemail until the WHOLE THING plays, and so I have to wait for a robot to repeat a survey six times or listen to a recording of Carol Paul babbling about their grandchildren in its ENTIRETY. I'm seriously getting angry.

2) Tonight at the parade I might have to wear a light-up coiled Santa hat while I walk next to the float and hand out candy.

3) I just LOVE when the dogs run up to me, cuddle in close, and then burp loudly in my face.

Love,
black sheeped

Letters

2007-11-28T07:22:00.000-06:00

A) I think the float is done. And the parade is tomorrow night.

B) The work Christmas tree is done. The float and tree have been planned and worked on since the begging of October, so you can imagine that this is a slight relief. The work tree is huge.

C) There is a seasonal show (I don't like to give specifics about my j-o-b) in our workplace from Thursday-Saturday, and the items take up the entire showroom. Today they are setting up. It should be sort of nutty.

D) Work holiday photo on Friday, possibly requiring coordinated clothing.

E) Sometimes I think about this, and something inside of me hurts so much:

F) Monk likes it when I blow dry my hair--he comes and shoves my hand with his nose until I blow dry him for a while, too. Cab, however, cringes when I pull it out of the closet and sneaks away.

G) Will the weekend ever get here?

H) Now I'm tearing up because I'm thinking about that wind and sky, and the cat is snoring next to me, and I don't know what the hell my problem is.

I) Do you prefer designed, themed trees, or trees with a bunch of family-tradition ornaments?

J) Cinnamon tea at work has saved my life.

K) Cab ate one of my shoes yesterday.

L) He's doing better, I swear.

M) I've been feeling very tragic about the presidential election.

N) I still have those acorns.

O) My mom called last night to tell me how much they enjoyed Thanksgiving, and my cooking, which was sweet.

P) I keep getting Republican party survey calls on my cell phone. This is very confusing, for a variety of reasons.

Q) I've been wanting to sew something else. Making the dog bed was really fun.

R) Maybe a cat bed!

S) I need to not be so pet-crazy.

T) I can't make it to Z without being late to work, so this will have to do.

U) I tried!

V) Has anyone else felt incredibly sad and tense this week?

Love,
black sheeped

Sunday

2007-11-25T19:51:00.001-06:00

Basically the cutest dog in the whole world:

Dining room:

My husband's grandmother's vases:

Thanksgiving flowers:

Who can't get enough of these ears?

Wine glasses:

Since I've been doing a bit better emotionally, I've been losing some weight again. You can't tell, of course, but I can and I feel good about it. Also, how do we feel about the straightened hair? Also, do we think my facial structure can support several more inches of hair? Like six more inches? Do people do that? Is that weird? Maybe it's a bad idea. I feel like if I'm going long, I should go long. Not be wishy washy about it.

Monk really wanted a dog cookie. Reeeeally bad. It is why he is posing so prettily.

I painted some birds on the kitchen cabinets.

Dog cookies.

Cab is a food snatcher, and we've been working on that. This is what pure agony looks like:

This is what pure lazy bitchiness looks like:

The four days went fast,
black sheeped

Edit: Nilbog IS goblin spelled backwards, correct! But you all obviously need to go watch Troll 2 right now. Right. Now. And laugh at the awfulness. You will love how bad it is. Looooove it.

Full

2007-11-23T23:38:00.000-06:00

Wednesday it snowed and snowed, and I had a meeting go late at work, and my parents had to drive on icy roads to get here, but they did. Thursday we ate turkey, took naps, watched Christmas specials, and talked a lot. My mom told me it was probably the best Thanksgiving dinner she'd ever had, and I think we had a fun day. She also helped me pull up a bit of carpet in the living room, and it turns out there is a beautiful hardwood floor underneath. (Which is annoying, because now I will want to rip out carpet.) Friday morning my sister left with my parents, and then my husband and I had to jump my car in the snow because it was dead.

We spent the day eating leftovers, having quality couple time, etc. We went to the grocery store and didn't buy much; we went to another store to buy foam and polyfill. We went to the farm store because I like going there. I took a nap on the living room floor in front of a space heater, while the dogs snoozed behind me. We made a list of what to buy people for Christmas. We worked on dehumidifying the upstairs, because the house has been freaking out and the old oil paint in the bedroom has been separating and bleeding brown down the walls. We've now got it fixed until the electrician can come and help us vent everything out properly. We brushed the dogs, and trimmed their claws. I made a dog bed. We put up the Christmas tree, took photos, drank cocoa, did laundry, watched a lot of Curb Your Enthusiasm (as usual), and went to bed.

This morning the dogs slept late (7:40) and I got to lay in bed and cradle Jelly Roll in my arms (he's such a fat lazy loser; also, cuddly) and be sleepy and wish I didn't have to pee, because if you get up to pee the dogs wake up and go crazy. I put away laundry and J made breakfast and now I need to re-clean because his parents and sister will be here this evening. I also want to do yoga, shower, and mess on the Internet a lot. I'd also like to give Jelly Roll a bath because he is gross, and put new claw covers on the cat's claws.

Photos?

Monk's life is horrible:

Ornaments:

Ten points if you know what J's shirt is referring to, without Googling it, of course:

Cab's old flea bite scars on his head are finally starting to get covered with fur. We made the weird discovery last night that his previous name might have been "Motherf*cker." At any rate, someone called him that enough so that he thought it was his name. But he also knows Cab is his name, so we're sticking with that one.

His life is also horrible, obviously:

Putting up the Christmas tree is SO EXHAUSTING:

Coltrane, being creepy (also, yes, in response to the question from last time--she is just as bitchy and weird as every other tortoise shell I have met):

I've been worried about Monk's leg/hip a lot the last few weeks, and have been trying to find a good deal on an orthopedic bed for him for several months. Because he is big (80 pounds), I'd need an extra large one, and they range in price from 99 to 259 dollars, which is a lot of money. Plus I wasn't thrilled about any of them, and didn't want to spend a lot of money on something that might be total crap.

So Thursday night I started and by Friday night I had made a dog bed. It took a while to sew because I don't have a sewing machine, and also I suck at sewing, but this is functional. It's the size of a twin mattress, so both dogs fit comfortably on it. Dog beds are rarely so large, and they seem to really love being able to stretch out completely on it. We stuffed it with foam, like the orthopedic beds I was looking at, plus an old comforter, polyfill, old towels, etc. I like knowing what's in it, and knowing that there's enough foam in it to really cushion his joints. It's quite cushy, and Monk is in love with it.

In love!

The best part is, I made it for under 30 dollars.

This is Monk testing it out before I was finished sewing it:

This is after it was done. The dogs are doing a cuddle test. This was a highly scientific test, very rigorous:

I think it met their very high standards. In fact, just now Monk started growling insistently (not mean growling, the other kind of growling where he is telling us he wants something--usually it means he needs to poop NOW) at us, and it turned out he wanted us to put the new bed in the den where we were sitting. He wouldn't even lay in his chair last night. He's too happy about the new bed.

Totally unaware that he reeks and needs a bath:

Nothing else to report, except that it's a full moon and the dogs are bad today. Perfect for visiting relatives.

How was your Thanksgiving?

Love,
black sheeped

Thankful

2007-11-21T07:24:00.001-06:00

It's important to remember that when they all four come busting into the bedroom at 5:59 a.m. and there is hissing and growling and swatting and clicking toenails and thumping and leaping and panting and the toenails are DEFINITELY scratching the wood floor that they can't really help their stupidity. When an obese cat bites my hand repeatedly, just a little bit harder each time, at 4:18, to tell me that he is actually waiflike and starving and must be fed, it is important to remember that his brain is tiny and he is likely not possessed by a demon. When they succeed in getting us up, and then immediately all four fall asleep cozily draped on furniture or snuggled up in their beds, it is important to remember that they are all just shit heads by nature, and it's not personal.

And it is important for them to remember that when we threaten to cut off their skin and feed it to each other, or threaten to throw them all into the streets and laugh, or threaten to make them all sleep in the garage while we have a big party inside, or threaten to cook them all into a pet stew, that we are not serious. We are really saying, "You are horrible creatures but we love you anyway."

Two big dumb dogs asleep on my feet, two soft fat kitties curled up beside me purring and warm. It is gray and windy, the first snowflakes of the season are falling, house guests will get here this evening, the cranberry sauce and a pumpkin cheesecake are in the fridge, finished at midnight. In one minute I have to drive to work, but I would like to stay here, on the couch, with these fat furry lovely pets, and sleep under a quilt, but I will put on my yellow coat and go.

Happy Thanksgiving,
black sheeped

Pockets

2007-11-20T07:14:00.000-06:00

This morning I got up at five because I had my annual Thanksgiving panic stricken wake-up.

I feel lately as if my blogging has been terrible, both here and at the holiday blog. It feels as if there is little time, and when I am online in the evening, I find myself doing other things, like messing around on Etsy or reading articles, trying to find out this or that. I feel unfocused, I feel vaguely worried about everything, I feel stressed out by holidays and by work. I feel incredibly anxious about Monk's bad leg/hip, and how he doesn't really touch that foot to the ground at all anymore. I feel stressed out that our old vet is so far away. I wonder why I have only purchased one (1) Christmas present so far. I worry that the pets I love so much make my husband's life stressful, and I feel guilty about it.

I feel irritated by little things around the house I want to do but either don't have time for or don't want to deal with, such as putting up a towel bar in the bathroom or getting the fencing materials off the deck. I hate myself for being so avoidant and lazy and not just putting up the damn towel bar already, because it would take about five minutes and what the hell is my problem?

I wonder if my meds aren't right, because when I am on meds and things seem off I immediately wonder if the meds aren't right.

I wonder if the meds are a crutch.

I wonder how people are that I haven't talked to lately. I worry that they hate me because I haven't talked to them lately; worse, I assume that they have forgotten all about me and that it doesn't even matter. I hope they don't think I have forgotten them, because I haven't, and I love them all just as fiercely as ever. I think about them all the time.

I wish I could list you all by name, right now, all of you who read this blog and I need to call or email. I wish I could say yes, I am thinking about you and I miss you and I hope you are happy, and I'd like to know about what you did last night and how you are feeling about the last movie you saw. But I shouldn't, because it is a blog, but if you are reading it you should know that that is how it is. I love you and miss you and don't know what the hell my problem is.

I don't know why I collect people and then worry about them and wonder about them. I worry about a friend from first grade, who I have not seen since first grade. I feel that I collect them inside of me, and then they slip away, but the pieces of who they were and who they might become are still shoved in my pockets, and I pull them out and wonder about them and love them all the same.

I guess, what it comes down to, is that I feel sort of crazy, lately. Possibly it is just the holidays and possibly it is just my brain and possibly it is something else entirely that I don't understand. I have things that I cling to, and they are my husband, my husband I love, my best friend husband. I cling to my animals, I cling to old faces and the people I keep in my pockets and hope that they all know how it is.

Love,
black sheeped

Jolly

2007-11-19T07:37:00.000-06:00

You guys are awesome. Interestingly, I've always found myself surrounded by a whole lot of INTJ's, ENTJ's, ENFJ's, and INFJ's. Even though they aren't common types. And I married an ENFJ/ENTJ. So those of you who are those types, you are here because of a creepy cosmic MEYERS BRIGGS SCHEME, and the rest of you...perhaps I am finally starting to ingratiate myself with the other types, too.

The master plan is coming together!

I can not believe I have to go to work now, and the weekend is gone, and I spent too much time working on the stupid Christmas float, and suddenly we have in-laws coming and staying the night on Saturday night, which was the opposite of what we were told, and I'm defrosting a turkey and I'm pretty sure the dogs stress my family out a lot, even though we will put them in holiday doggie jail. Work is busy, the float causes float drama, Burt's Bees discontinued ALL MY MAKE UP AND FAVORITE TONER, and I threw up twice yesterday and had death cramps all weekend, complete with a super heavy period. But my sister gets to come to Thanksgiving now!

I'm going to work!

Kisses,
black sheeped

Sloppy

2007-11-16T07:11:00.000-06:00

How do you guys see this?

Also, have I made you take this lately? No? Because I really like reading about people's results.

I'm tired today and the week has been busy, of course, and I have under eye circles and I can't believe Clorox bought Burt's Bees, and why doesn't Burt's Bees have cosmetics anymore now on their new corporate looking website? GEEZ. Also, I've been trying to cut back on caffeine (I realized I was going nearly whole weeks of drinking only caffeinated beverages, whoops) and have been sort of cranky and headachey, and my uterus is being fitful, and I'm sick of thinking about the Christmas float at work.

My life is horrible, obviously!

I'm pretty pumped that a) it's Friday b) next week is a short week c) next week I get to shove butter under the cold dead skin of a large bird d) next week I get to eat CRANBERRIES and YAMS, and MASHED POTATOES.

Do you want to answer some questions? Yes? No? How about you tell me which Thanksgiving food would win in a battle on your plate: cranberries, yams, or mashed potatoes. OR stuffing, if you eat stuffing. And tell me what results you got, up there at the top of this post. And tell me if you keep all your Thanksgiving food separate on your plate, or if you like to let it get all nice and sloppy and sort of mashed together. Because I do.

My answers are: I could only see it clockwise. My husband saw it counterclockwise, and also told me that "basically, if you get it right, you'll see it counterclockwise." He explained the logic of it, and then taught his brain to see it both ways, and then patiently tried to explain to me how to see it both ways. I got more of a headache, and can still only see it clockwise. Also, I'm an ENFP.

Also, I think possibly yams would win out, but it would be a long horrible battle where cranberries would be angry and violent, and the mashed potatoes would aaaaaaaaaalmost win, but just at the end the underdog yams would come through and beat everyone. But only if they were very, very buttery.

You guys would not BELIEVE how much butter I use when I cook Thanksgiving dinner.

Mmmm, buttery,
black sheeped

PS. This reminds me that my little sister used to eat margarine straight, when she was around four. Just would dip a finger into the tub of Country Crock and would EAT IT. Hi, sister! That still grosses me out!

Rules

2007-11-15T07:21:00.000-06:00

Things Cab has eaten/chewed to a drooly pulp since we got him:

1) 100 watermelon flavored Tootsie Rolls
2) a considerable amount of birdseed
3) cat poop
4) leaves
5) one of my skirts
6) several of my socks
7) various unknown objects when destroying the contents of various trash cans
8) eggshells
9) a cardboard pop box
10) large amounts of old carpeting (we put it in the garage after tearing it out of the basement and proceeded to pretend it didn't exist) (we disposed of it last night)
11) chunks of a sofa slipcover
12) chunks of a blanket
13) chunks of the sofa itself
14) the corner of a sofa cushion
15) two Tupperware containers (they were actually Monk's favorite water dishes, because he is trashy like that)
16) a couple of grocery store bags
17) one of my sweaters
18) two electric cords

We've used the bitter spray, we bought a lot of dog puzzle toys, which he likes. He just likes gnawing on the sofa more. We were confused, because the majority of these gnawings happened while we were home with him. He disappears for a few minutes, it gets too quiet, and then we find he has destroyed something. We've dog proofed and re-dog proofed, but he keeps finding delightful! items! to! eat! The other night, when we discovered our upstairs red couch had been mauled, we sat down and talked, and remembered (my husband already remembered, but I had forgotten) that when we got Monk we were Total Hardasses.

For two years, he had to always be with us, through the use of baby gates. We kept him by our sides. When we were gone or doing something that he needed to not be involved in, we'd shut him into an empty room with his bed, water, and a few toys. (He outgrew his crate.) He was always monitored, we worked on his behavior constantly. Monk was not always easy--he was a bad jumper, he chewed, it took a year to leash train him (even with a training collar), he loved cat poop, he loved cat food even more. He was really, really excitable. Monk had been returned to the animal shelter twice (both times within a day) because he was so craaaazy hyper. But because we were Always On His Ass, and he was essentially crate trained (or room trained, I guess) he got it and now he's a trustworthy dog. Now we can let him have the run of the house when we're gone, and he knows he has one chair he can lay on, and he knows all the rules, and we're all happy because of it. He likes the rules, and he likes knowing how things are, and he likes knowing we're in charge.

But that took two years!

I forget that Cab is a puppy, and will take a loooooong time to get it, and that he must be constantly monitored. Last night we cleaned out the garage (it's attached to the house, so it's warm), put down an area rug, his bed, his bowl, some puzzle toys. And when we're not home, that is where he must go. We've started shutting him in rooms with us so we can always be watching him. It's doggie boot camp around here, is what I am saying, and Monk is relieved. And Cab is as happy as ever. Just within eyesight.

Let's all have a moment of silence for the demise of our red couch, for which I feel responsible.

Love,
black sheeped

Visit

2007-11-13T07:44:00.001-06:00

Yesterday afternoon at work I was feeling downright irritable/sad/cry-y/angry/headachey//full of rage, and as usual when the PMS hits and I don't have immediate access to a) Pamprin or b) wine, I reigned in the rage and dealt with it by not talking as much. I've found that to prevent myself from being stupid when I'm In A Lame Snit, I just go about my tasks more quietly than normal (or "Not While Bouncing Off The Walls Loudly"). A coworker even asked if I was okay, even, because I was not chattering or whistling or, I assume, making a general nuisance of myself. Also, she said I looked too tired, and to make sure to get some rest! Etc.

(Hey! Did you know in kindergarten I got moved around the room a lot for talking, in a plan to find someone who might curb my babbling, but the teacher couldn't find ANYone I wouldn't talk to? I'm annoying!)

Anyway, I went home feeling pissy and lame, because woe is me with my uterus and my normal hormones. I saw my 94 year old neighbor going into her house, and determined that I should give her some cookies I made on Sunday. So I put some in a baggie, went over, knocked on the door, and gave her the cookies. She immediately insisted I come inside, so I went in and stood inside her living room, which was filled with framed photos of faces, photos on every surface. When the furniture surface ran out, she had framed displayed on the floor. The carpet was brown and thick, her couch was the style that had brown quail on it (everyone has had that couch), her armchair was a yellow tufted piece from probaby the sixties. The seat was worn, and there was a napkin on the table beside it with a mug on it, and I had a feeling the napkin had been there, reused and reused, for a long time. She said she'd take the cookies out and return my baggie, and I laughed and told her to not worry about it. She said no no, it's no trouble, and I said, "No, really, keep it." She told me she'd put it in our mailbox when she was done with it.

She gives us all her newspapers after she reads them (she gets a few different ones), and shoves them behind our mailbox up against the wall of the house so we'll be sure to see them. On the first one, it said, "From Your North Neighbor" in shaky pencil cursive, but since then they have been blank of any explanation. One or two day old papers, arriving while we are at work, which we read.

As I stood awkwardly in her living room, she said, "I hope you don't mind that I give you the papers! I hope you don't mind." I assured her that we always read them, and she said, "I'm so glad you get some use out of them. I'm just glad you do. My grandkids never want them, but I always sit here and read them when I drink my hot cocoa or when I eat my breakfast in the kitchen, and I'm glad you use them. Plus then I don't have to bundle them up and take them to the bins, because I know you do." I thanked her again.

She asked if we liked our house, and I told her we did. Her living room was stuffy, and her the front of her short hair was pinned up. Her hands moved as she talked, and her blue sweater was worn on the left elbow. She talked about how glad all the neighbors were to have young people around, because they saw us busy and it made them feel good. It made them want to do things, she said. I told her I like to make cookies and my husband didn't eat sweets, so if she liked sweets I could always bring some cookies over. She assured me that she loves sweets, and then asked if my husband was enjoying teaching. We talked about how teaching is important, and how if you are excited about what you are teaching the students will learn more.

She told me about our neighbors, again, although this time she told me when all of the ladies' husbands had died. (Hers, twenty years ago, another neighbor, one or two, another, her "friend" had died before they were married.)

Suddenly she stopped, looked at me, and said, "You have just got the prettiest eyes and hair!" and I said, thank you, thank you. Her hands fumbled to the pins in hers, and she said apologetically, "Well, I need mine cut, but I didn't get around to calling my lady today. That's why it's in pins." I laughed and said I didn't care, and she said she admired people with long hair because it takes such a long time to wash and dry. She said she couldn't do much with hers anymore, but she always notices my hair and thinks it looks pretty.

We talked about dogs and more about the neighbors and how she grew up on a farm. We talked about houses and how the man who owned our house was a good man, and how it was always such a warm little house.

She asked me to write down our phone number, and said she thought maybe she tried to call us once but maybe she had the wrong number, but of course she was in the book.

I finally said, "Well, I'll let you get back to your supper, I need to go," because I did, and she said, "Wait, before you go, let me show you my cat." She walked over to the corner of the living room and picked up a toy cat that was nestled in a bed. She said her grandkids gave it to her, and she had no idea why, but she turned it over slowly and found the switch slowly and flipped it on. The little toy cat started purring and breathing, a mechanism in its side moving up and down. I laughed and said it was cute and funny, and she said she didn't know why they gave it to her but it was her cat now. She told me a story about a great granddaughter seeing if it was really breahing, and she told me, "Now you can tell your husband you saw my cat!" I told her we had two cats, and she asked what colors, and she talked about cats. Then she flipped the toy over, turned it off, and said, "I don't want to run his battery down." He stopped purring creakily. She slowly put him back in his chair. She was very gentle.

I told her I'd be by again soon, and she told me she'd better turn the porch light on for me, and she watched me go. "Goodnight!" I called, and she called, "Goodnight!"

And I felt a lot better. And maybe a little ashamed, because I really am pretty selfish sometimes.

Love,
black sheeped

Fickle

2007-11-11T15:53:00.001-06:00

As I said last week, I didn't bring up this to talk about what makes a story a story (although it is, I think, because it is a complete narrative of an event) or whether or not I like the short-short format (like any other work of art, I like some and don't like others--that is just how it is when it comes to the arts). What happened was, a month ago (or not...I think there were acorns on the windowsill but we weren't wearing jackets yet) my husband handed me a packet of stories to read that he was using in his literature class. Sometimes he does this, and I like it. I was flipping through them, reading quickly, when that story stopped me dead in my tracks. That one careful sentence made me feel like I was being strangled. Or maybe more like I had been slowly suffocated for a long time, and suddenly got to take a huge scary breath of air. Yes, that is sort of how it was when I read it.

In once sentence, Lydia Davis had summed up something so succinctly that I have secretly agonized over at various points. She expressed my secret shameful fear boldly. It screamed out at me, simple and plain on an empty white sheet. And it made me feel better, and I sort of wanted to cry, but also I wanted to yell "I KNOW!" When a crux I have puzzled over is finally expressed clearly, I feel wild and excited.

I know I've talked about this before, but I wonder sometimes about my waxing and waning desire to have children. Currently, the desire has all but disappeared. A few months ago, I was baby craaaazy. I wanted a child, so much, and the craving consumed me. It did, it consumed me, it was almost all I thought about. I even read avidly about slings and cloth diapers, even though we had no plans of trying. But now the baby crazy is gone. I'm feeling very busy and fulfilled. I like painting on the weekend, I like thinking about selling art and going places. I love hanging out with my husband when we are not at work. I love how the pets make me happy and annoyed. I also enjoy going to work again--as much as I hate to admit it, I think I am a happier person when I have a job that keeps me just a little too busy. I don't know if it is just how I am, that I like having lots of things going on. (ADD? What?) And as much as I complain that I am stressed and tired, it's okay because I'm doing what is right for how I am. You know? I'm not sure if the disappearance of the baby want is because I am feeling less sad and lonely, if I wanted to fill all the gaping holes created by depression/moving with a child. Now the depression is lifting. I am building a niche. I feel like J and I have a lot going on, and we have plenty of time.

I also feel concerned because it is so opposite of how I felt just a few short months ago.

And maybe that is why this bothers me so much: "it is not so much that she wants to have a child as that she does not want not to have a child." (I had to read it out loud a few times to really grasp it.) I fear that is how I am, that it's not so much that I want a child as that I don't want to ever admit that I possibly would not want a child. I feel like there's such a shameful association with saying, "I don't want kids," that people think it is a selfish sentiment. Then, of course, sometimes the decision to have children seems selfish, because of all the want on this planet, and the way things are being destroyed. And then I think I maybe shouldn't use the word "selfish" at all, because it seems like a terrible way to describe things. It's just that the reasoning in the story is so real to me. And, to me, they sound like ridiculous reasons to bring more people into the world.

I'm pretty sure I'm not saying anything new about this, as my thoughts are just as foggy as ever and the words are coming out in stumbling bursts of cliche. I've already written about it before, and thought I was done, but this story gripped me and shook me around. Perhaps, even deeper than my worry that I fit the story description, is the worry that I change my mind so much about it. That I can go from "babybabybabybaby" to a shrugging "eh" very quickly. I worry that my ever-changing desires are huge red DANGER DANGER DANGER signs, and that I should proceed with caution. A ton of caution. I feel as if my fickleness is a clear indicator that I could possibly be a terrible, terrible parent.

I'm not announcing I don't want kids ever. Twice on Friday I was mistaken for a mother by a kid, and it was sort of bittersweet and reminded me briefly that I have a uterus. I know the craving will return, and I know one day we'll likely make that scary leap. And I'll probably be horribly embarrassed by what I've written in this blog about it because I was so! stupid!

But I can't help that today.

For now I'll keep on being busy and trying to learn things and make things, and I'll keep trying to do my best at work, and I'll keep on enjoying the life we are making together.

It's like I didn't say anything at all and I'm right back where I started, which is why Lydia Davis is so damned smart,
black sheeped

2007-11-09T07:17:00.000-06:00

I really want to talk more about yesterday's post, because I have Things To Say, probably. But that will be a Major Blogging Time Committment, best left for Sunday afternoon. It's not good to attempt such posts when you have to leave for work in twenty minutes and you aren't wearing shoes yet and the dog still needs his medicine and you don't know where your keys are.

So!

More on that later!

In other news:

1. Where the hell did this week go, but also, why does it take Friday SO LOOOOONG to get here?

2. Is it lame to buy your winter coat at Target? Because I really like this color. But also, I'm sort of afraid to buy my winter coat at Target. Also, I don't know if I like that style. But maybe I do.

3. Coltrane has made a triumphant return to sleeping with us at night. She's decided Cab will not eat her, so for two nights she has made the dangerous journey up the stairs, through the hall of sleeping dogs, and onto the bed where she must hiss and growl at the already fat/snoozing Jelly Roll. After this wakes the dogs up and Jelly Roll gets confused, while remaining fat, she must walk all over us for a long time, and then plant herself either between my legs or between J's legs (whichever would be most uncomfortable for us). Then she has to radiate temperatures of roughly 600 degrees, and if whoever she is laying on moves or shift, she must bitch a lot, growl, possibly bite us, or swat at Jelly Roll a few times. Meanwhile, Jelly Roll plants himself up against my shoulder/face or my stomach, purrs squeakily, snores, and radiates temperatures of only 400 degrees.

4. Everything is busy!

5. I think they like me at work, as they told me "you can never leave!" and I am not even through my probationary period yet. Also, I have clients and things, and apparently I am way ahead of schedule in that whole training area. So things seem to be going well, and I think I like it, and it pretty much consumes my brain. Well, the following items consume my brain: loving my husband, the pets, art, my job, how to get the pets to behave, blogs, caffeine, and searching for the perfect cat necklace. But I think it is good, to be okay with my job and to be challenged by it, and also to be liked by the coworkers. I have never had a job before where I wasn't bored or antsy. I have never had a job where I realized it was after five, and thought I should stay for ten more minutes to finish what I was doing. Normally I have been of the "OH GEEZ IT IS FIVE I MUST GET OUT OF HERE RUN RUN RUN." So it's interesting, and I really and honestly like having a job and working hard. And I like learning things. And hopefully things will stay good and pleasant.

Hey, so, here are some questions! Do you paint your toenails or fingernails? What is on your nightstand, assuming you have one? What are you doing this weekend? I'll go first!

I had my toenails painted pretty much all through high school and college and after college. Two or three years ago I stopped, and only paint them every great now and then. Like...twice since then. I like how they look natural, for some reason, but maybe that's from years of painted toes. My fingernails I don't paint anymore either, unless you count "clear" which I have done two or three times in as many years. I mostly cut them off as soon as they annoy me, which is pretty much anytime they grow longer than the tips of my finger. On my nightstand is a lamp, a ceramic bowl I made with chapstick and some loose change, a box my brother bought for me in the middle east, a season of King of the Hill on DVD, a season of News Radio, my glasses, a hair elastic, and a book of Kafka stories. This weekend, we are going shopping, and I am working on the Christmas float at work, and I will blog and clean the house and oh GEEZ I have got to get to work!

Your turn,
black sheeped

Conundrum

2007-11-08T07:43:00.000-06:00

Go read the short story in the article here (the story is in the first paragraph, it is only one sentence) (I didn't want to republish without permission), and discuss. I'm interested in what you have to say.

Return

2007-11-04T18:23:00.000-06:00

Blogging breaks are sort of refreshing.

It's true! I said it! At first I felt like an addict that would never, ever make it. But then I got some things done, and I felt a little freer, and I was all like, "WHOOO BLOGGING SPRING BREAK 2007!!!!"

But of course I can't stay away. How could I stay away?

On my weekend off, I decided randomly it was time to paint my studio floor. It was painted a dark blue gray color, and was very stained and dingy. I also decided to retouch up the white wall, and get rid of clutter. This is before:

Because I am awesome (weird) I decided to go with bright yellow. It was that, or orange, or a truly toxic green. (I get too excited about colors.) This is after:

Monday night I decided to tackle the other utility room. This room was disgusting. This room has been disgusting since we moved in, and had disgusting plumbing problems. It is where all the disgusting flood water had to go down the disgusting drain. It was dark, and sort of dungeon like, and it is obviously where we had to put the litter pans. I hated going in there, and my husband rarely goes in there because the door way tops out at about five feet four, which is about half an inch taller than me and about a foot and an inch or so shorter than him. It was pitch black and it was where I had to kill a lot of mold. And I think I saw a brown recluse in there. And the sink has never not been clogged since we moved in.

So! Friday night, because I know how to have a good time, I snaked the plumbing, and had the satisfaction of getting out a huge nasty clump of something black and tarry. I cleaned out under the sink (the previous residents left various items, including two old dirty bed pans.) (Just think about that for a minute: I found bed pans.) I've been trying to the sink white again, and painted some of the panelling. I have some before photos from before and shortly after we moved in.

Gross:

Please note the classy cardboard blocking out all natural light, making this room more dungeon like and hiding NESTS of spiders (I had fun sucking up about eighteen million spider egg balls with the vacuum this weekend, as well):

What you are about to see may scar you for life. Just remember that, um, we had some flooding. And this is not so much "dirt" as "rusting dingy grossness" and in NO WAY reflects how we live. Our whole house is not this encrusted in squalor. Just this room was. And this was after I had mopped it more than once.

I SWEAR.

I totally regret that I am going to show you this:

Okay, forget what you just saw. GROSS. Take a deep breath. We're going to move on. Let's focus on the fact that there was a window under the cardboard:

The disgusting drain now:

Things are still messy, but you get the point that it is a ton better, and after I am done in there it will be MAGICAL and SUPER RAD AWESOMELY better.

Last weekend we also played with some dogs. Please note that Cab is rooting through the trash while Monk is cuddling. Hmmmmm.

Idiots:

Tired idiots:

These ears are pretty ridiculous, right?

Ears from the back, anyone?

I realized the cats have not been featured much lately. They are pretty much the same. The evil one is still evil, and lately she has taken to crankily sleeping on top of J's computer monitor so that her tail perfectly blocks whatever he is working on. Also, recently she projectile vomited into (and ruined) a pair of his shoes. It was very confusing, and displayed a lot of a) skill and b) sheer spite. She's evil, and will always be evil.

The dangling paw says it all:

The other cat has been the same as well--cuddling all night in a hot furry deadweight sort of way, biting us to wake us up ridiculously early, yowling constantly because obviously he is starving to death (his obesity proves it!). Also, I caught him this afternoon doing this:

The rest of the weekend was spent answering emails, messing on Etsy, grocery shopping, doing laundry, and lots of quality husband/wife time. And cleaning. And sometimes worrying that I should go blog it up, and then sighing in relief because I remembered I was on a break. And then I would feel guilty because I wanted to blog, even though I was on a break and sort of enjoying it. Complicated and stupid! And now I am irritated it's only Wednesday, yet again, and the bed was so soft and warm this morning, and everything still feels busy and chaotic.

Even with a blogging break, things stayed busy and chaotic. Things are still messy, the pets are still pretty bad, I still would like to be in bed all day, I still freaked out and took a Xanax last night, work is still busy. But! Also, the tiny rusty wheels in Cab's brain are starting to creak and turn: he has learned sit and is starting to learn the magical command "go on." He is also learning "no lick" and our daily routines. (Seriously, the best thing we ever taught Monk was GO ON. And it works. And it is wonderful.) I'm getting actual projects at work to do, I sold something on Etsy, last night I made potato soup.

And so on.

I missed you,
black sheeped

Quiz

2007-11-02T07:22:00.000-05:00

Last weekend we were eating dinner while listening to our painstakingly created Halloween mix CD, and "Gone Daddy Gone" started to play. Because my husband likes to torture me by displaying my music ignorance, obviously, he asked if I knew who was singing the song.

"...Eddie Izzard?"

He laughed. "That's not even a musician! He's a comedian."

"Oh."

"Violent Femmes. Do you know what else they sing?" I paused, thinking hard, and because I am awesome, could only come up with something vague and cloudy in my mind about hands and maybe a beach or sand or wearing flip flops. So I just shook my head. He prompted, "Blister in the Sun?"

And then I felt relieved, because at least I thought of hands.

It's Friday! I'm exhausted! At six this morning I argued that it couldn't possibly be six, and it MUST actually be four, but I was wrong! Also, somewhere in the basement we have a frog. A frog! Also, Cab wasn't actually vasectomied, he was neutered, but wherever he was, they never took his stitches out and they got all grown in and infected and swollen, so it looked like he still had his stuff, and also, poor dog. That was probably pretty awful. So yesterday they got them out and cleaned him up and gave him a bath and a heartworm test and he gets to take huge antibiotics for ten days, I assume to help with his junk and some old flea bites that are infected and maybe with the kennel cough. (I really know how to pick out pets, right?) Last night he chewed through a power cord and this morning he ran out the front door and he's really very bad. But I worried about him all day yesterday while he was at the vet.

And! Even though I'm taking my mini-blogging break, I told you I would come ask you some questions, because I think it is f-u-n. How tidy, exactly, is your linen closet? Also, do you wash your hair first or last in the shower? What are you doing tonight? And what position do you sleep in?

Our linen closet is pretty much a huge mess, because it is tiny and I am lazy. Things are mostly delegated to shelves, but I'm a notorious sheet wadder instead of sheet folder, and I keep the towels separated by "towels that I like to use" and "towels that I don't want to touch me, ever." Things are shoved in too tightly, and it is hard to deal with, and I want to clean it. When I get in the shower, I wash my hair first (and it takes a long time to rinse it all out), then I condition, then let the conditioner hang out while I do the rest of my washing/shaving/standing in the water and wishing I didn't have to get out, ever, routine. This order can not be changed, for any reason. Tonight I think we will probably sit on the couch a lot, and maybe watch a movie, and hopefully go to bed early. Because I=cool. I think I sleep mostly on my right side, but also a lot on my left. Also a lot on my back, and sometimes I wake up sprawled out on my stomach, and sometimes I sleep in a tiny ball in the middle of the bed so that my husband is falling off. What I am trying to say is that I am a thrasher in bed, and sleeping is exhausting.

Now, go!

Mend

2007-10-31T19:46:00.000-05:00

Last night I had one of those nights when I realized it would be easier to reorganize all the kitchen cabinets, and also a closet, and also a lot of drawers, than to try to deal with them one. more. day. So I did. And things are still chaotic, but I don't want to sob when I open a cabinet to get out a glass anymore.

I'm feeling very tired, and very bewildered by where the time is going. I felt much happier after I got some painting done on Saturday, and getting my Etsy shop up and going again was a huge relief to me. I felt like less of a slacker, which is nice. Days are rushing by, and each time I finish something I feel as if it is a special accomplishment, because time slips through my fingers. Hours are oily and I can't cling to them.

I saw my psychiatrist on Monday, which was brief and uneventful. Most of the visit was spent with her laughing at my story about Cab throwing up watermelon tootsie roll wrappers, and then she re-prescribed all my medications and sent me, still chuckling, on my merry way. I don't have to go back until after Christmas, and I think she could tell I was doing better. And I am doing better. I've been reluctant to talk about it much, because whenever I write about this stuff I feel like I need to be all thoughtful and eloquent. And I haven't had much time to be either, it seems, and so instead I write about the dogs and...yeah, mostly just about the dogs.

But it's true. I am feeling better. I think the Prozac is starting to really help me, a lot, and the Adderall dosage seems to finally be correct. I rarely take the Xanax now, because I don't feel panicked often now. ( I'm not taking the sleeping meds because I never have eight or nine whole hours to sleep. If I did, I might take them, and I might sleep beautifully. But as it is, I usually have 5 or 6 hours to sleep, and that is just enough sleep to be really screwed up the next day if I've taken a sleeping med the night before. So I haven't been, but I'm sleeping better when I do sleep. )

I'm pretty much in love with the Prozac. It has (for me) fewer side effects than any other antidepressant that I've taken. The yawning was the major one, and that seems to slowly be tapering off. Things are less overwhelming, and more than once in the last few days I've actually felt happy and/or relaxed. Saturday night, while carving the pumpkin with my husband, I laughed and laughed and laughed until my eyes were watering. I can't remember the last time I really laughed, for real, like that. I feel more capable. I'm more interested in painting. I make to-do lists and check things off of them. I'm not crying much at all anymore, and the panic attacks have subsided.

The biggest thing I've noticed is that I feel much better about myself. I don't feel as stupid, or as guilty, or as ugly. This means I am not super afraid to try new things at work. This means I get up and shower and put on make up and fix my hair and wear earrings and heels and remember to reapply my lip gloss through out the day (as opposed to me being a wreck and forgetting to wash my hair). This means things don't phase me as I learn my new job, and that I'm not worrying constantly if I fit in or if they like me. It means I can focus on learning things. When I started taking the Prozac, I was worried about the typical loss-of-sexual-desire side effect, since when I'm depressed I don't really feel very touchy anyway. I was worried about weight gain, because I know antidepressants can make you crave carbs (Halloween candy, anyone?) like crazy. This has not been the case--I feel more in control of my body, and I have not gained weight. I'm noticing that as I feel healthier mentally, I feel healthier physically. And also, I feel healthier sexually. Feeling good about myself only does good things for our relationship, and lately I feel that J and I have been truly reconnecting after the crazy summer and the darkness of my depression. Depression is hard for loved ones to witness, and he's had to see me at my worst. He's my best friend, and has been there for me through all this, patient and supportive, and I have this wild feeling of falling in love with him all over again. The reconnection has been amazing.

I don't mean that things are suddenly perfect, because they are not. I still have down times. I still have moments and sometimes hours of feeling awful, just truly awful, about everything. I still have moments where I want to smash something against a wall, or claw my skin off. I will look up suddenly at a train passing by my office window, and I will hear my inner self screaming over and over, "WHERE AM I? WHERE AM I? WHERE AM I?" But these moments are passing, and happen less and less. The feelings of hope and confidence are starting to overcome the feelings of anxiety and sadness. I'm feeling like myself again. I'm feeling excited about things again. I get giddy, I look forward to things, and I feel my lows as more normal, less plummeting into utter despair. I think J can tell I'm turning into myself again. He seems relieved that I am getting excited again. That is how I am meant to be: excited. I am, at my best, an excitable, humor-loving story teller. And this is what I am becoming again.

I feel like myself. I haven't felt like this in ages.

Aaaages.

So things are very very busy, but they are getting better. Things are progressing as they should. It's a relief, and I'm happy for myself, and for the people around me.

I think I'm going to take a little blogging break, maybe for two or three or four or five days, maybe less. I've felt a bit overextended by home responsibilities lately, and by my job, and by training a new (very very bad) dog. I like blogging to be fun--why blog if it isn't fun? I've felt so busy and overwhelmed, that I haven't had time to read blogs much lately, let alone comment or catch up with people. I hate that people read and comment on my stuff, when I don't have time to do the same for them. My google reader screams at me, when I get brave enough to see how behind I am. I don't want blogging to feel like a chore, and I certainly don't want to feel guilty about it. It's supposed to be FUN, because it is AWESOME. I think I want to regroup, a bit, take a little break and not feel bad about it. So I'll do a Friday thing tomorrow, because the quizzes ARE fun, and then next week I'll just take a brief blogging break. Maybe that'll give me time to catch up on everyone else, and/or catch up on some of the disorganization in my email inboxes and in our closets and in our yard.

Etc!

Love,
black sheeped

Halloween

2007-10-31T07:29:00.001-05:00

Last night was our town's trick or treating, and my husband and I sat upstairs close to the front door, our Halloween decorations all lit up, our porch light on, our front door open so that trick or treaters would see the storm door and lights inside, anxiously waiting with a big bowl of candy. We waited and waited, for three hours, and got one (1) trick or treater. Which: lame! Of course, I know we don't live on a street that has "sidewalks" or "other houses that were participating" and I know we are new in town and many parents only approve houses of people they know. I understand all that. But I thought we'd still get the too-old-teenager trick or treaters, and a handful of regular trick or treaters. It was disappointing, a little. After it was over we opened a beer and watched Beetlejuice and went to bed.

Now we have all this candy. I guess we should have dumped the whole bowl into that little girl's sack, yes?

The dogs seem to be okay. I talked to our vet on the phone for a long time, and I think everything is going okay, as seeds have stopped exiting Monk's body in a gross intestinal seed exorcism. J wanted me to point out that in yesterday's post I used the word "sprinkling" to describe the seed pooping, but I should have used the word "spraying"or perhaps even "violent spraying." And I didn't get to take a lunch yesterday, either, and due to trick or treating time, it was dark by the time I got out last night, so I can't tell you whether or not the birds ate the seed poop. Hopefully I will get home for lunch today, and I'll check out the seed situation. I know you are all waiting anxiously to hear about that.

Happy Halloween!
black sheeped

Seeds

2007-10-30T07:09:00.000-05:00

Those DOGS.

Yesterday morning, I had to get up super super early to drive 1.5 hours to the psychiatrist, and for about an hour put the dogs in the garage because I had only slept for 3.75 hours and they were wrestling and being all DOG LIKE and so I made them go play in the garage. Apparently, in that hour, they ripped open a new five (or ten, I'm not sure) pound bag of bird seed, and ate it. They wolfed it down it like they are a pair of stupid damned GOATS. By the time I ran home at 1:05, my husband was already in the yard with them and they were shitting seed everywhere. I mean, there were sunflower and millet seeds actually sprinkling out of their disgusting dog buttholes, and Cab was pooping out seeds AND watermelon flavored tootsie rolls AND some tootsie roll wrappers. I only had about five minutes for lunch due to a meeting, but my husband told me last night Monk pooped out seeds about every half an hour (sometimes more frequently) for the rest of the afternoon. Last night he still had piles of seeds plopping out of him, and we were pretty worried/horrified. It wasn't funny, so much as disturbing and shocking, and I just kept saying, "I can't believe it's so much." Every time Monk pooped, I would say, "I can't believe it's so much." and I still can't believe how much it was. Cab hadn't eaten as many, apparently, and was just busy passing the remaining Halloween candy he consumed Sunday. We made sure Monk drank water and got to go out as often as he wanted, and this morning he pooped some solid poop that was just sort of mildly sprinkled with bird seed, so I assume he's feeling a bit better. No more pure seed poop, so, that's got to be better, right?

This morning I went downstairs and Cab was looking suspicious and twitchy and I asked J what was up. He looked up from the computer and told me Cab was trying to hide the fact that he had a feather from a cat toy. (And was doing a bad job of it.) I looked at Cab and he put his head over the feather, then shifted nervously and put his paw over it. SMOOTH, CAB. Good job on TRICKING us. I called him to me and J picked up the soggy feather and we acted all surprised and he seemed pleased.

The moral of these stories is that DOGS ARE REALLY REALLY STUPID. And I had to have TWO. I wouldn't give up until I had TWO.

But I still love them.

Joy! They bring me joy! Pets bring joy to my life!

Do you guys think birds will eat that seed crap in the yard? We really don't want to pick it up. It's um...pretty much just pure seed, in piles around the yard. If birds would come today and flutter around all Disney-like and clean it up cheerfully, I'd really appreciate it.

Also, GROSS, I'm so mean to the birds!

Love,
black sheeped