Friday, July 14, 2006

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream...

Okay, if I don't get some good sleep soon bad things are going to happen. Bad bad things. My legs have been doing a number on me, and that always effects my sleep. Motrin does help, but I try to restrict it for only the worst because if I use it too much it stops working, and it always gives me pains. Too many years of over the counter and prescription NSAID's, I know. Last night was a Motrin night. If I can take it and get to bed, and let it work so I can fall asleep BEFORE the pain starts then I sleep well and all is right with the world. If that does not happen, it makes it worse because now my legs are doing the Rhumba and my stomach is doing a tap-dance. How is a person supposed to sleep when their body thinks it's on "So you think you can dance"? At about 2:00am, I was sleeping blessedly like a baby (and the spirits breathed a sigh of relief and the planets aligned and the plants sighed and went back to growing and cows stopped giving curdled milk) when suddenly Xena landed on top of me like a tonne of bricks. Legs splayed, a little dazed. She was tracking a fly and had done some sort of gymnastic leap from the windowsill onto the bed, landing on the dog that was sleeping under the covers near my feet. Ruby got startled and barked, which scared the ever skittish Xena and she went straight up into the air. So concerned about her fear, she did not plan a landing which clearly came sooner than she expected. Winded herself, upset the dog, and woke ME. The awakening was quite sudden and disturbing. My legs went back to doing their jive and I spent the rest of the dark hours alternating between writhing and fitful drowse. I imagine that if you were to watch the insane sleep, it would be much like this (but with less expensive bedding). DD has started on a shower binge. Every morning when she hears one of us get up, she bounds out of her room and says "SHOWER PLEASE" while stripping. Even washes her own hair in there. I would sob that my baby is growing up, but last night I spent THREE HOURS cleaning her toy room. I am ready for her to grow up and clean it herself next time. Although I have been told that growing up and cleaning toy rooms is not always connected. In my little world where the sky is purple, pugs don't smell funny and love when you touch their feet, and cats don't wake you at 2:00am doing aerial gymnastics, I can hope that person is wrong and little girls eventually clean up their own crayons. And there IS hope. She has been making her bed every morning as well. My husband is sulking. But he is sulking and cutting the lawn, so I am in no rush to stop him from sulking. We had more words this morning. He knows the morning routine. He knows what needs to be done. Standing and tapping his foot waiting for ME to do it all because we are running late does not sit well with me. There is no reason he can't pack DD's daycamp bag while I am making her lunch and feeding the zoo. Or help her with her hair, or whatever else he is tapping his foot about while I am running around like a chicken with an adrenal problem. He says I make him feel useless. I said if you act useless then you are useless, if and you want to be USEFUL then do something instead of standing around acting useless - don't blame it on me. He countered with "When was I acting useless". And I quick-fire rattled off seven instances from last night and this morning but he stopped me before I could finish. The real problem is his shutdown is ending, he goes back to work next week, and he hasn't done any of the things he planned to do. Sitting and watching TV shows all morning then DVD's for the rest of the day is not very productive, what was he expecting? He did chores at MIL's house, and absolutely nothing here. So much for finishing the rest of the basement. He keeps talking about a work-out room, but he has all these things in his mind that have to be done first. And let's face it, if you don't start you can't finish, right? I asked about the stuff he was supposed to be bringing from MIL's and he hemmed and hawed, said he might go over tomorrow. THE SALE IS TOMORROW. The whole purpose of this frigging garage sale was she had things to sell but felt yard sales make your house look trashy. Unacceptable for her, but apparently fine to send her garbage here to sell. Fine, we have things that can go. I have arranged tables. I made signs, took an ad out in the paper. Organized and priced things. She has nothing ready because she is waiting for him to help her, and he is waiting for her to be ready before he goes to get the stuff. He still has to move the stuff he has on the patio to the shed, but he can't do that until he cleans out the shed, and he can't clean out the shed until he mows the lawn, and he can't mow the lawn until he finishes watching his DVD blah blah blah give me a rock to bash his head in. Between the two of them I don't know if I am going to have an aneurysm or what. So we had a fight and I flung his DVD and he went outside because he is mad and now he is mowing the lawn in anger. Which is not such a bad thing - he is doing a better job than he normally does. See anything you wanna buy?

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Kill me. Please.

What does it mean when I can't do something for more than five minutes, without becoming mind-numbingly and dangerously bored. Now force me to do that same thing for much much longer (like, oh say five more feet of cording using a spool knitter), and bad bad things. AARGH! I only have two feet to go. Two feet. But the thought of picking one more stitch and untangling the yarn yet again makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a popcicle stick. Why not something pointy like a knitting needle? Because the stick would be more painful and take longer, thus delaying the inevitable recontinue of making fricking cord. My cord is striped, the same variable stripe pattern as the bag. And usually that colour change is enough to keep me from having self-harming thoughts. But in a piece that is only four stitches around, that colour change happens so quickly. So it seems too long is not good for my mental health, nor is too short. Perhaps I should invest in finding out exactly what rythm and timing is best for me? Sounds tedious. Maybe I better not. This morning, on the way home from dropping off DD at daycamp, we stopped to pick up breakfast. I was starving, tired, and needed a real coffee really bad. You know you need the caffeine when suddenly McDonald's coffee qualifies as "real coffee". I can always manage to grub up breakfast for DD, but when it comes to myself some days I need that coffee before I can do anything more involved than eating dry cereal out of the box. We got a coupon for a payday lottery ticket. Basically, if you win, you get $1000 a week for life or something (maybe 20 years? I don't know how long). I hugged it and said "My coupon. I will win and then I can quit my job and stay home and get a maid". DH said we wouldn't be able to afford it, since I clearly can't afford it on my salary now. That made me blink. Since when do I make a grand a week? This is more than what I make now. And more is MORE. What you can't afford now, you can afford when you have MORE. Then we got into the discussion of paychecks and whatnot, and ended up having a fight. Not over money, not over me quitting my job. But over the fact that he splits hairs with me and will poo-poo whatever I say as wrong, to take something literal when I am being figurative. I said something was "about a grand" and he got all huffy and said I was wrong. It turned out it was 996 dollars. WTF?!?! Oh, I am sorry for not doing the math to the penny, pardon me for being an idiot. DAMN it ticks me off when he does that. I will say "a couple" and he will say I am wrong, because it three. But if I say a few, that is still wrong because it is not an exact number. When we talked about painting and trying to explain a paint treatment, I said "you just take the roller with the second colour and go over top lightly". He called me downstairs to basically call me stupid because I neglected to mention removing the plastic cover on the roller, pouring the second colour into a tray, and so on. I didn't realize he needed an itemized list. The tireder I get from not sleeping well, the less patience I have for his bullshit when he pulls these stunts. Today he was supposed to finish cleaning the basement and getting the yard sale stuff organized so I can price it. Still hasn't touched it, and informed me is his going to "hit some golf balls" then taking his mother on errands for the afternoon. I told him I will be very busy today so he will have to make dinner and pick up DD. "I can't. I don't know exactly when I will be home". Then PLAN to be home in time to retrieve and feed your child, you ass. Could you imagine, if I went about my day not worrying about things like meals and laundry and cleaning and shopping and picking up and dropping off the darling child? Ah, it would be so nice one day to just say "I don't know what time I will be finishing my blog and the stack of data entry I have to do, so the rest of the world will just have to accomodate me". Gee, when I am grumpy I get a potty mouth ROFL. Sorry about that. Ruby has a bump on her leg, just above the paw. Yesterday after dinner she was "panty". She pants when she is excited, concerned, or in pain. Sometimes it's hard to tell which, sometimes it is all three. After an hour and it hadn't stopped (I mean, she also pants when she is warm and she had a long "business trip" outside inspecting every blade of grass) I looked her over. And sure enough, a bump. Her paw doesn't seem sore, and only the underside of the bump seems to evoke a reaction when touched. It's a little lower today, but still makes her concerned when I look at it so that warrants a trip to the vet. I suspect it is a bumble-bee sting, because the grass had been wet and when the grass is wet she takes a shortcut through the flower bed. And the salvia is blooming, covered in bumbles from sun up to past sun down. Her shortcut takes a path right through the middle of the clump. And more than once she has taken a notice of one of those fuzzy little bees and pawed at it, or put her nose on it for a good sniff. Bumble bees do come out in the rain, and they get grumpy when they do. But still, I can't find a stinger (or a stinger hole) and I want to make sure everything is alright. Pardon me while I sob for a bit, over the anticipated bill. I love my animals and care for them well and am not afraid to drop some bills if they need it. But DAMN. As soon as I get a couple of dollars in my account, the karma gods suck it right back out again with a straw. Let me in mommy, there are bumble bees out here!

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Come weed my garden, dammit!

Boy, this is the month for fed-uppedness. I have a "Yard Guy". I hired him last year to mow and trim and weed and keep the yard looking nice in general. He did an EXCELLENT job, his rates were fine, he was punctual and we never had to wait or anything. This year? His rates have doubled and it is like pulling teeth to get him here. He misses appointments and keeps me waiting for weeks. It is not a money problem, it's not like I dicker with him over prices. I pay whatever he says and sometimes I even tip. But still, I have a garden that looks like this. I simply cannot do it myself at this point, DH refuses (and he can't tell a weed from a plant anyhow). Money is not the object, I just wish he would GET HERE or show up when he says he will. Today it is drizzling so he most likely won't be here. Sure, I don't expect a gardener to work when the conditions are dangerous with thunder and lightning. But it's just intermittent showers. I think there is something else going on with this guy, and he shows up here when he needs money desperately. This is his last chance, though. He has two more days, and I am calling in somebody else. In happier news, the main part of the purse is done. It is not perfect, I made no attempt to keep the stripe from "jogging" where the rounds join. I did a few cross-overs in the corners at the bottom to sort of shore them up, not sure what will happen when it is felted. At the edge I did a round of increases in each stitch, which will hopefully result in a bit of a ruffled edge after the shrinking. I wove a piece of sparkly pink yarn near the top row. It is not wool, and will not shrink or felt. I hope it makes an interesting effect when the purse is done. Just a bit of pink sparkle is always a good thing. The piece I had was only a few feet long. I haven't been knitting long enough to know if I had enough to double it with the natural colour and make it all the way around. So I chose to just weave it in and out instead and I really really like how it looks. Almost like little rosettes. So now I just have to make about 5-6 feet of I-cord for the handle and we can start the felting! I have knitted I cord once or twice. No way am I going to survive 5-6 feet of it using DPN's. There would be casualties for sure. Too easy to damage myself. First there are the pointy things about the right length to hit brain matter or the heart (depending on where you do the piercing). Then add a few feet of a rope like substance......I see a rudimentary garrot in the making. Nope, not taking any chances. I have a "bobbin knitter"...a thing that kind of looks like an old thread spool with tiny nails around the top. It is cute and fun and much less dangerous than DPNs. Then again, it does have that little pokey thing to flip the yarn around.....

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Come sing me to sleep

Back to not sleeping well again. Can't get comfortable enough to fall asleep, and it seems as soon as I do, it is time to get up. My eyeballs felt all dried out like little raisins this morning. One of those days when I wish I could take them out and rinse them, or soak them for a while LOL. As you can see in the picture, I am the only one here having trouble sleeping. Scooby has no problem at all. In fact, he is sleeping on a fancy pillow, covered by a lovely napkin that was supposed to be a gift for me, and has an armadillo for company and protection. I wonder if Ruby would wear an armadillo costume? DH is going through his stuff and dividing and pricing it - we hope to have a yard sale this week-end. We HAVE to have it, as I have taken out an ad in the paper and around here, if you take out an ad then don't have the sale it can get pretty ugly. Our neighbours had one and said it would start at 8:00. At 7:15 garage-salers were lined up outside their door and pretty heated that the stuff wasn't out yet. I am a little afraid. I don't think DH has been to many yard sales. Some of the prices he is putting on things are outrageous. "It's a collectors item". Yeah, maybe for Sanford and Son. And it's broken. Ten dollars on DD's viedoes, which are single episodes of shows like Blue's Clues and Teletubbies, and are five years old. Nope, they can buy brand new ones for that....one dollar each. He nearly hit the roof! One dollar? It's not worth carting them up and out for one dollar, blah blah blah. Look babe, I am not trying to get rich. I am trying to make room in the basement for the crap that belongs down there and is currently crapping up the rest of the house. ONE DOLLAR. And nobody is going to pay 25.00 for our old chandelier. It was 19.99 brand new, and it no longer even looks as bad as it did when we bought the house. Five dollars is more like it, only because it works and I hand beaded the shades. He is in for a big let down and possibly a stroke when somebody offers him a dollar for the broken clock radio with a 10.00 sticker on it. This guy needs to get out more! *Cripes! His screen saver just came on, a bubbling aquarium, and scared the doodles out of me. I thought the wall behind me sprung a leak. I think DD turned the volume up to play one of her games last night.* DD is none to happy about selling any of her stuff, but I told her she could have her own table, and use any money to start a "hamster fund". You see, when she was like four, she asked for a hamster. And instead of just saying no and facing the tirade, DH said "When you are older. When you are eight". He figured she would forget about it. Silly silly man. She has NOT forgotten about it. In fact, she has brought it up at least once per day since then, and she is six now. I've explained that hamsters cost money, and you have to buy a cage and toys and food and all sorts of things, and this way it will be 100% HER VERY OWN HAMSTER if she buys it with her own money. So far, it is working. We'll keep an eye on her though, to make sure she doesn't try to sell her good jewelry or my silverware or anything. Plus I figure, who is going to pass by a little girl with the face of an angel, selling her worldly goods for a hamster? And I already have stuff to go in the place where her vidoes were stored so they gotta be OUTTA here. I have to go through my books. I have books I collect (Steven King, Ray Bradbury, Isaac Assimov) and I have books that I just have. They need to be separated. Whatever I am keeping goes back into storage until I get the bookshelves I want. The ones I can part with will go out, and whatever is left over at the end of the day goes to the used book store for credit. Which we will use to buy books for DD. I also have cookbooks that I love to sit and read, though I rarely ever actually follow a recipe. But I love love love to read cookbooks. Give me a good cookbook and a cup of coffee and some knitting, and I can waste an entire day. But don't startle me, because when I get like that I forget to take bathroom breaks, and snapping me out of my trance causes an instant and urgent need to pee. Don't say I didn't warn you! Some craft supplies that we won't use (a few silk flowers, other odds and ends). Baby items (a car seat, a carrier, that sort of thing). Some kitchen items that we don't use and don't have room for or have been replaced but are too good to throw out. The usual stuff, I guess. Heck, I haven't been to a yard sale in ages myself. DH asked if I am going to sell any yarn or any pattern books. I dare say the look of shock and horror I gave him might suffice, but just in case I am keeping an eye on him as well. One move for the yarn, and he gets it. Speaking of yarn. I know I said I was going to stick to christmas gifts. But I need a purse and can't find what I want. I lucked into some 100% wool at a good price (and actual wool is very very hard to find here) and decided that it was time to try felting. No real pattern, although I started it using the Booga bag for inspiration. I just wish I could have found a bit of wool in lipstick pink, to add a bit. I might add some frou frou something on the top edge in that respect. So a few more rows, and I have a date with a zippered pillow case and the washing machine. If something goes horribly wrong, and the washer breaks, remember...I was with you and we went yard sale-ing as research for Saturday. Got it?

Monday, July 10, 2006

Lovely and Hot Hot HOT!

It was a beautiful, if steaming, week-end. I did something yesterday I have not done in years. I really enjoyed it. It was exciting and exhilerating. I really worked up a sweat, and can't wait to do it again except my butt hurts. I went for a bike ride! (What did you think I was talking about?). Of course, from now on I will refer to bike rides as a "whore tour". You see, DH has inherited the two bikes from his parents trailer (which MIL is trying to sell). Not cool, speedy, and streamlined bikes. Old people comfort bikes that are rusty and well used. And seeing that is just our speed, we have no problems with that LOL. DH was happy to get his dad's old bike. He has wanted for a while to start riding again but didn't want to buy a new bike or anything. The bike he got is gigantic, red, and gleamingly shiny. The other bike, the women's bike, not so much. Very dirty and rusty, but still in good stable condition. All it needs is a wash and some air in the tires (and we've already taken care of the air part). When they drove to the trailer park to pick them up, DH fully expected to give his mom HER bike, and he would take his dad's bike. But that turned out not to be, as she wanted NOTHING to do with it. "What am I going to do with it?". Um, ride it around the block maybe? "Oh sure. I should ride this bike out where people can see me? On display like a common whore? No thank you. Give it to your wife, she will get use out of it". Now, I know I am ultra sensitive when it comes to MIL. And I know that DH is pretty dead when it comes to those same senses. But there are corpses 20 years in the ground that gasped at that offensive, insulting sentence. DH of course, has no idea what I am talking about and says I always take things the wrong way. Yeah, well that's the problem with us whores....we are thin skinned. My first reaction was to have nothing to do with the bike. But DD did me in. She has a new bike and is dying to ride it but just can't learn how. I can't do the "hold the bike and run" thing, and DH doesn't have the patience to teach something like this. "Now that you have a bike, we can go riding together, can't we mommy?" she said, voice quivering, gorgeous eyes filling with tears. How the hell am I going to resist THAT? Of course, darling. Mommy will keep the bike and we can go riding together. Then we hopped in the car and got her some training wheels. I don't care if people think she is too old for them. She's only six for goodness sake. I have never seen a teenager yet with training wheels, a year or two more isn't going to damage her. And besides, once she gets confidence with the new bike she will be more willing to try without them, methinks. There is a bike/walking path near our house, so that is where we headed. Each of us on bikes. DH in the lead, DD in the middle, and me trailing to make sure she didn't disappear or get into trouble LOL. My one leg was a bit of a nuisance, but not as bad as I had feared and it didn't slow me down too much. My back was fine. My rear, however, needs work. I think I have to get one of those freaky gel seats. Since the back surgery and nerve damage, certain areas have atrophied. No, my butt itself has not shrunk. In fact, some parts have gotten larger as smaller, less used muscles grew to replace the function of bigger muscles that were no longer functioning. So now it is bigger on top, and flatter underneath. And all my padding that used to keep me comfy as I sat has disappeared. I need a wedge cushion to sit on an easy chair for more than a few minutes, is that sad or what? And now that you know more about my patoot than you were ever meant to know......tee hee! And I also have to get a helmet, as the by-laws in our city demand it. I don't mind. DH hates the idea of wearing one because it will make him look like a dork and flatten his hair. I have succumbed so far into melvin-ness, that a helmet and helmet hair can do NOTHING to me my friend. Come on, I am 34, knit in public, and wear a pair of pants with "Canada" across my big wide flat backside out of the house. A helmet is nothing. Just a note for those who are wondering, our "spa day" turned out very well. DD was well behaved and just glowed the whole time. They did her toes and fingers, black polish with sparkles on top. Hey, she chose the colour and I DID tell her she could pick whatever she wanted LOL. Of course, she has been swimming since, and most of it is gone already. But it was the EXPERIENCE that is important, right? I enjoyed my pedicure, and I like the look of my polished toes. So I guess I am going back. Not sure I enjoyed all parts of it though, she seemed a little rough. But I do have strange feet. Some parts I can't feel and other parts seem ultra-sensitive because my skin is paper thin. But you know us whores..............