Friday, October 19, 2007
We found a costume for DD last night. We weren't there for one, in fact we were picking up jogging pants. But she liked it and that is all that counts. It is a blue dress with a hoop skirt and a few ribbon roses on it. She also got a green wig, and a pink feather boa. She is a queen, or princess, or something. Well, whatever she is she is going to look fabulous, darling! ROFL. DD no longer asks what I will wear on halloween. I am always a witch. Always. I have not even been tempted to be something else for years and years. Other notable costumes were Diana from V (from the scene where her craft gets hit and she has fake skin hanging and lizard skin showing and one yellow eye. Those effect contact lenses HURT), Marilyn Monroe (complete with decomp, I mean she has been dead a long time), and I am sure I was a black cat a few times as a child (my mom could make a mean tail from black pantyhose). Other than that? A witch. And considering that I have a beautiful witches hat that cost a lot of money, I don't see that changing much. A black outfit, the hat, sometimes I wear outrageous striped long socks. Sometimes I do evil make-up (green face anyone?). Sometimes I do what we call "model make-up". It all depends on my mood. Well, this year I have an addition! I could not resist it. A green and black fluffy feather boa. My family says it looks very nice on me. Now, considering how dramatic I am it is a wonder I don't already own a collection of various boas, doesn't it? They certainly do bring out the inner diva. But I have to confess, that hard part in the middle where the feathers are tied into the rope makes me gag. It reminds me of the thick hide under a fur pelt. That is the reason I hate fur and fur items, believe it or not. Now don't get me wrong. I don't believe in raising animals for the sake of their fur (and I don't believe there is ANY humane way of killing something even if we are going to eat it) unless it is a matter of survival. But I do eat meat. And I am not so much against using ALL the parts of the animal, including the hides. It seems more respectful that way in my mind. I do believe we are meant to be hunters and gatherers and we were supposed to use the hides and the bones etc. Waste not, want not. But that feeling of the hide under the fur makes me want to heave. It all stems from an encounter with dead puppies in a sack, which we will not delve into at this moment, but suffice it to say that they were quite dead and stiff as boards, and that is what their skin felt like under their soft fur. Trauma trauma trauma. Barf. ANYHOW. I think this will add a nice theatrical touch to my costume. DH is dressing up as what he normally dresses up as (unless I make him do something else). "Some guy". Tee hee! I haven't decided what Ruby will be this year. If only she could choose her own costume like DD ;). I was thinking I might make a black skirt with ragged edges and snip a bit off my boa for a collar, and we can match. I won't be able to keep a witch hat on her though. Maybe a headband? We'll have to see. Now if you will excuse me, I have some work to finish then I will spend my lunch packing DD's thinks - she is going camping this weekend. DH and I are going out to dinner at the art gallery, but I don't know if we will go tonight or tomorrow. Today is our anniversary, but it might be too late for that sort of thing once we get back from dropping her off. Plus DH has to work tomorrow and I plan on getting some more computer work done. Sigh, fitting in culture is SUCH hard work. Perhaps I will wear my boa to dinner.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
My hip is killing me. Every time I stand up I get muscle spasms down the right side of my body and I feel like I am all crooked. It started after I got back from my last trip, and I thought it was from getting in and out of the Caliber. The height was fine, but the bucket seats were kind of form fitting and there was a good distance between the edge of the seat and the doorway. I had to sort of heave myself over the higher edge of the seat and stretch my leg way out so I could slide down and place it on the ground (avoiding that middle doorway area completely). To get back in, it involved stretching my other leg way over then making a jump for it, hoping I wouldn't get a car-seat-edge up the kaboodle. Getting in was more physically demanding. And though the seat was adjusted perfectly, I would bump my knee each and every time on this odd bump-out in the dashboard under the steering wheel. I think I started doing an odd thing with my leg as I was hurling myself into the vehicle to try and avoid that and over-stretched something. Or it could have just been the combo of the long drive two days in a row and the fact that it rained right after. Damp weather does me in. It has been a week and it is still bothering me. Today it is raining and it is that much worse. The heated rice pack works wonders while it is on, but as soon as it cools off and I try to stand, whammo. I have too much work to do to take any pain meds (which always make me sleep) and muscle relaxants make me loopy AND sleepy plus the added benefit of turning me into the meanest person alive the next day. I have NO idea why, but it is a fact. I guess I will just keep reheating the rice pad, but I am in danger of cooking my innards at this point. I think I know what a slow roasted joint of beef feels like. *Did I just call myself a cow?* Last night was DH's birthday. And I felt bad, but he had to make dinner for us all because I couldn't stand to stand, as they say. He made fettucini alfredo, and those two had "seafood medley" on top and I had some reheated veggies with mine. It was pretty darn tasty too. However, I did find a lonely and disembodied squid tentacle in the kitchen sink drain this morning. Must have escaped the colander, but it kind of looked like something was coming UP from the pipes *shudder*. I got him 36 dollars worth of lottery tickets LOL (mostly scratch tickets). He was thrilled. I haven't seen him smile like that in a long time. Simple pleasures, eh? He had a fun time scratching them too. Kept him busy for a while anyway. Then he went and browsed at Best Buy for movies. I know it sounds low-key and boring for a birthday, but this was a perfect date with him at this point LOL. Our anniversary is tomorrow and DD is going on a camping trip for the weekend so we plan on going to the art gallery and for dinner Friday (if we get back soon enough from dropping her off) or Saturday. Other than that I have a lot of work to do to finish up the last few things for my last day next week. I think I will be spending a lot of time on the computer this week-end. But then again, what else is new? Off to reheat the rice pad again.........
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
I believe that the universe gives us important messages. These messages are advice, in a way. Things to do or changes to make or activities to avoid if we know what is good for us. Ignore these messages and be smote. That is not to say that I always realize what is going on or instantly take these hints. Of course not. That would be too easy. And less blogworthy, yes? The recent messages are kind of obscure. I know they have to do with good clothes and splattery substances, but I am not yet sure of the full meaning. Should I stop wearing my good clothes, or avoid any possible substance that might splatter, stain, drip, splash, slop, or plop? Hard to say since the two seem to be intertwined at the moment. First Case in point: Dinner meeting. White blouse that cost a mortgage payment in another life when I spent mortgage equivalent money on white blouses. This piece is a holdover that has timeless styling and thus is always in fashion. Plus a magical cut that always seems to fit no matter how big or small I get. The magical hanky of expensive white blouses, if you will. I wear this blouse when it REALLY matters. Or I should say WORE. How on earth I got a splotch of burgundy sauce on MY blouse when the sauce was not even part of MY dinner I will never understand. And I didn't even notice until I got home and my darling husband asked me who shot me during dinner. Ugh. I practically ran to the cleaners and they did all they could. Think the clothing equivalent of shock carts and CPR. But all the chest pounding and fabric scrubbing and liquid chemicals could do nothing to save it. Almost forgivable, it could have been if I had gotten the job. I chalked it up to bad luck. Second case in point: Lunch with the boss last week. Thank goodness I was wearing a black blouse, but the meal was chinese and each forkful managed to land on my "shelf". Having a manager point to your chest several times to indicate how messy you really eat is a bit humbling. I was starting to worry a bit at that point. Third case in point: Darling piece of angel food cake daughter is painting at the table. She shows me her picture, I ooh and aah appropriately as I put the final touches in dinner. I wash my hands, wipe them on the towel, and continue on. Suddenly I realize my hands feel a bit sticky. They are covered in a pewter gray mess. And it is all over my favourite silk shell (which granted I should have changed out of before starting dinner but still), my dress pants, and the towel I used to wipe my hands. My daughter heard me exclaim, saw the mess, and disappeared like a cartoon cat. She had spilled the paint and used the towel to wipe it up, then hung it back on the stove like nothing happened. Which is a hoot because every other single time she has used a towel she drops it on the floor, never hangs it back up. Between her doing that, Ruby pulling them down to show discontent, and DH knocking them off a large portion of my exercise routine is the rigamarole I have to go through to bend down, pick up the towels, and hang them back up again. When they make towel hanging an olympic event I am SO there. Once again, my cleaner sends his condolences to both pants and top. Fourth case in point (are you starting to see a trend now?): Last night eating crackers and cheese while watching "Top Chef" I decided to try a tube of olive paste that was part of a gift basket a while back. It was a very good addition to my nibblies, except the texture was not as smooth as I expected. The nozzle clogged. I did the worst thing you could possible do - I squeezed harder. SPLAT! The box of crackers, the table, me, the couch pillow, the dog, my pants, my top, absolutely covered in splatters of BLACK OILY olive paste. I was so shocked all I could do was laugh my arse off in shock. Ruby tasted a bit to see if it might be a good idea to clean it for me, but it seems she is not into olive paste. She emitted a very snoopy like "bleah" and moved to a cleaner location. Last case (for the moment): Had an appointment today and by the time I got home I was so hungry I was shaking. Searching for something to give me a quick punch of sugar, I grabbed the pomegranite. I opened it pretty hastily, and of course splattered my top in the process but on the upside it worked every bit as well as orange juice to stop the shakes. Better, I think even. Bah! I exclaimed as I tossed another good shirt into a water soak, hopefully it works (I have had some success with it in the past). A few hours later, wearing a simple t-shirt I ran to get a few things (dog food, lottery tickets for DH's birthday, picked up rain boots for DD we are borrowing for a camping trip). Now, I noticed I was getting odd looks. But I figured it was because it was overcast and I was wearing my sunglasses. I spent most of my day in the basement, natural light seems very bright to my sensitive vampire eyes so if it is daylight I usually need my shades. After I got home and unpacked I decided to put my hair up in a pony tail (some days I have too much hair. Which is odd because I have, like, none - it is so thin and fine). One look in the mirror and I hit the floor laughing. My entire face was covered in red freckles. No, not freckles really. It looked like blood spatter. No wonder everybody gave me the eye, I look like a murder suspect. Now, I haven't included the more trivial episodes. The coffee drips. The pug wiping her face on my shirt. The daughter wiping her hands on my pants (I swear my gravestone will read "I am not a napkin" along with "Be Careful" and "Why don't you TRY to pee before we go?"), the cat coughing up a hairball on my lap, and more. So. What message can the universe be trying to convey? If I don't figure it out soon I may run out of clothes.