Crafting Attempt, Part Four and final for now.

It was a late night, and a long night, with coughing fits for Chris and really, really bad, unfair dreams for me. But this... this came out really pretty, actually. It looks how I wanted it to look.



So, this candle was a fuss. Most things were going wrong. The seal didn't work--it wasn't quite a flat tube. I had to tie wax paper to it with a hair band, and keep messing with it after the first couple pours to make sure the wax paper stuck up against the 'mold,' instead of continuing to creep up the sides of the paper. And the green wax was a pain; it filmed densely over the top while it was still completely liquid underneath, so when I'd try to pour on a new layer, it just.. kinda'.. fell through the one below it, most of the time. I really didn't match my waxes well, this time.

I scraped so much spilled wax off of the stove, and re-melted hunks of wax way too many times... aaagh...

But, I think the sides must have kept their layers, pretty well, even while the center was getting muddy. If I was mixing smells, this could have been really gross, but since only the green wax was scented (and was too strong, at that), maybe it'll just be diluted and mild. This may have accidentally gone ideally well. I *did* want blurry layers--I wanted this one to look really organic.

I'm... that's just... yeah. <3 I needed that.

VICTORY!! (Crafting Attempt, Part 3)

Crafting Attempts, Part Two

Sorry for the rapid update, but a few other notes:

This may be a pretty obvious step, but I kind of picked debris out of the melted wax with a toothpick (bits of singed wax or paper, bits of wick, whatever might have been stuck to it). And rather than pouring messily from the bowls I'm using (which are metal, btw), I'm using a little plastic thing I got out of the recycle bin as a pour scoop. It's working okay, not melting, not burning my fingers, etc. Wax tends to have a pretty low melting point, so the temperature it's at hasn't been harmful to anything else, so far (the cardboard tube isn't catching fire, the box top isn't getting melted onto anything, I can move them comfortably, etc.).

I'm trading the bowls while they're still hot from the top of the double boiler with one of those oven gloves, so no steam scalding.

I poured my first little layer of wax (probably not more than a cm thick) while just pressing the tube down against the box top, since it wouldn't stay stuck all the way around from just my wax dipping, and this pouring sealed it down fine--it didn't leak. I just made sure to kind of brace it a little while it cooled a bit. I also trimmed the tube so that it was a little shorter than my wick, and I draped my wicky guy over a pencil that I sat across the center of the mouth of the tube, so it would stay pretty straight upright in the wax.

And finally, if you're interested, here are some of the sites I looked at, which all had different bits of usefulness, and all assumed different levels of preparedness:

http://candleandsoap.about.com/od/candlemakingbasics/ht/htrecycle1.htm

http://www.onestopcandle.com/candle/waxrecyugly.php

http://work-at-home-mom.20m.com/

http://www.ehow.com/how_2190614_make-candle-mold.html

http://video.about.com/candleandsoap/How-to-Make-Votive-Candles.htm

Presumably more to come, when candling has ceased! My first one is about as tall as it ought to be, and I think I should probably wait on doing any more until I see how it behaves, but... but.... I have more coated box lid, that might be more like the inside of a milk carton, and that could probably be wrapped into a thicker, pillar-y shape... And.. and I've got all this white and creamy unscented or vanilla scented wax.. and I go through sooo many of those..... And, and, I've got things I could roll a finished candle in, and... . .

Crafting Attempts, Part One

I love being crafty. I love repurposing things, making things, out of any material at all.

Unfortunately, I hate buying supplies. Even, um, necessary supplies. Like, say, molds, for candles. So, I go around doing everything I can think of to avoid getting these essentials. Usually, I try and fail--or try, and achieve utter mediocrity--with whatever I have lying around or can dig out of the trash or recycle bin.

("I can't help it," said the snake, "it is my nature.")

Anyway. Occasionally I do get pretty good results, or at least results I can work with, or learn from.

As mentioned above, candles. (Hopefully.)

I save all wax, because in addition to wanting to be crafty and not buy anything new, I also hate to throw anything away. I LOVE candles, burn a TON of candles, and occasionally feel guilty--as a replacement for fossil-fuel-fueled electricity, they're not so hot. Disproportionate carbon emissions, etc, but they're also frequently made of paraffin--which is (tada!) a petroleum product.

Plus, they're often dyed. And scented. Preeeetty. Smell goooood.

In short, there's no way I'm throwing this shit away.

So, I stock up big bags full of wax--pillars that have burned their wicks down. Chunks that have dripped free of votives. Occasionally even the little ring of wax left inside the edges of tealights. And then, when I get tapers from Trader Joe's, which come in pairs connected by a long piece of wick, I save the wick I cut from the middle.

I did a little internet research, and hmm'd and hah'd. "Hah," I thought, "I will melt all of these reddish ones together. Alas, I have no mold, and no wick long enough for making dip tapers--I will stick a wick inside of a glass tealight holder, and then pour the wax in around it, and it will make a kind of jar candle. Genius!"

This did not work. The wick floated up immediately. The wax sank hard in the middle. And if I could get the wick to stay down a little, when I lit them, they became gooey pools, and they swallowed their own wicks, and then I couldn't even light them again to get their wicks to float back up for me to light. Or else, they melted all the way down, and the wick floated up from the bottom again, before (yes) getting sealed in the wax and beyond fishing back up.

So I tried attaching the wicks to the little metal things that come in tealights (which I also could fish out of the trash can). I did a little more minimal research, and tried to find ways to keep the tip of the wick up. Then I melted all the bluish wax I had, and tried again.

The little metal things float, too, when a bucket of wax hits them. And they still sink into the still-present pit while burning.

Sadness and woe!

About this point in any project (i.e., utter failure), I take one of two routes: admit defeat, and put it away, or return to research. Or I combine the two: put it away for many months and sulk, before being prompted back into wanting to do it again (once the sting of shame has worn off), and then start researching properly. (This was the candle route; last night we did the Earth Hour thing, and had a candlelit cocktail hour or three, and I started Hmming and Hahing about candle efficiency, again.)

This brings on the Googling. And this mighty Googling inevitably leads me back to the need for Supplies. Which I still won't buy.

However, it gives me better ideas for improvisation.

I look up recycling wax. This works approximately how I thought; save it up, melt it down in a double boiler when you're going to use it. Try to use similar kinds of wax--wax from the same kind of candle, etc. Don't mix smells that won't go together or colors that'll look muddy. Then (these sites say casually), pour it in your mold.

Screw your mold, websites, I'm not waiting on a trip to the Michael's and the inevitable ensuing moment of weakness. I want instant gratification.

So I look up alternate molds.

"Milk carton candles?" I say. "This is promising. But they're too big. I'm not spending all that wax, when I'm not even sure I'll get my wick to stick. Plus, nowhere to put a candle so thick." So I'm going with a toilet paper tube, gently stuck down to part of a cereal-box-style lid with a little wax. I have no idea if this will come off of the cooled candle, in the end, but I can hope. I stuck one of the little metal wick holders down with wax, too, thinking this might help.

I read about layered votives, too. Using up multiple kinds of leftover or recycled wax, with different smells and different colors. THIS is where the genius tips came in.

Pour a little at a time, they say, and let it cool partway, so the layer remains distinct, and so it has a chance to get a little structural integrity. And so far, this has stopped the wick from floating all over (at least if I don't pour so much that it completely melts all the wax below it). But don't let it cool completely, they say--it'll shrink in, and then you'll get the next layer poured all over, between the lower layer and the mold, and then you have no pretty striations. Poke holes occasionally in the cooling wax near the wick--then when you pour your next layer, it'll fill in a bit where the shrinking is happening, and it won't just dissolve from lack of density. When the candle has cooled some, they say, it'll still have a pit (which I knew from experience); pour a tiny bit more wax into the center, or run a hair dryer over the top to melt in the edges, before letting it cool again and before unmolding. Repeat as necessary.

Yes! Yes! A thousand times, yes!

So now I've got my old Pumpkin Spice candle remains (earthy browny orange). And my old Mexican Pumpkin candle remains (brighter orange). And my Cinnamon votive remains. All melting in different bowls, traded on and off of the hot pot of water

And I am layering. Oh, yes. And occasionally poking holes. And making different widthed layers. And I am hoping very hard that the toilet paper tube will tear away, when all is said and done, and that the candle will lift off of the box lid.

There may still be incredible Fail. But I will keep you Posted.

Life is a Cabaret...

"It was the end of the world. And I was dancing with Sally Bowles--and we were both fast asleep." (from "Willkommen (Reprise)", Cabaret)

Spent the morning listening to the New Broadway Cast recordings of /Cabaret/, which I love much. If any of you are interested, someone's posted video of Natasha Richardson as Sally Bowles from said Broadway run, singing 'Maybe This Time.' It's quite lovely.


Maybe this time, I'll be lucky
Maybe this time, he'll stay
Maybe this time,
For the first time,
Love won't hurry away

He will hold me, fast
I'll be home at last
Not a loser anymore
Like the last time
And the time before

Everybody loves a winner
So nobody loved me
'Lady Peaceful,' 'Lady Happy,'
That's what I long to be!
All the odds are in my favor
Something's bound to begin!
It's got to happen, happen sometime,
Maybe this time, I'll win
....
It's got to happen, happen sometime...
Maybe this time--maybe this time--I'll win.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Happy St. Patrick's Day, everybody!

Still sick, but getting occasional flashes of a voice, so that's an improvement--just trying not to overdo it. But cooking and partying's still on, damnit. I'm cooking this, as usual, only this year I'm ALSO baking my OWN sour caraway rye. Cross your fingers for that one, eh?

And remember: whether or not you're Irish, you gotta' respect a people who tried (and mostly managed) to hang onto their language, dance, music, and (of course) national colors in the face of being hanged for doing so. So put on a little green and have a toast and feel the love. Slainte!



The Wearin' of the Green

O Paddy dear, and did ye hear the news that's goin' round?
The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground!
Saint Patrick's Day no more we'll keep, his colour can't be seen
For there's a cruel law ag'in the Wearin' o' the Green."
I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand
And says, "How's poor ould Ireland, and how does she stand?"
"She's the most distressful country that ever yet was seen
They're hanging men and women there for Wearin' o' the Green."

But if the colour we must wear is England's cruel red
Let it remind us of the blood that Ireland has shed!
Pull the shamrock from your hat, and throw it on the sod
But fear not, for 'twill take root there, though underfoot 'tis trod.
When laws can stop the blades of grass from growin' as they grow,
And when the leaves in summertime their colour dare not show
Then I will change my colour, too, to wear in my caubeen
And till that day, praise God, I'll stick to Wearin' o' the Green.

Wherein you all suffer for my not being able to speak out loud.

Update: This is not going to be my third bad week at choir, after all. This is going to be my not-at-choir-at-all week, for the first time... um... ever.

(The general rule is, if you can get out of bed, even if you can't sing, you should at least come and sit and listen, so you don't fall behind. You can get notes, get a feel for the music, etc. Especially useful right now while we're doing German text and Poulenc, and would be able to hear correct pronunciation and crazy ass intervals, respectively.)

But, by Doc's* orders, I'm not leaving the house, today. This is probably my fault. Let me explain: Since, um, I got myself sick of TV by overuse the first week (perhaps a tale of police procedural obsession for another day), and didn't feel like I had the concentration or eye strength for reading or knitting, and couldn't speak, and was too tired to do anything else, and was becoming bored to tears? I spent yesterday with tea, Google, and youtube. Looking up BSL (British Sign Language)**, BSL (Breed-Specific Legislation)†, Girl Scout Cookies††, and things like bronchitis, croup, and pneumonia, just because. All of which I shared with my Love, in a combination of charades, scribbled notes, and occasional ill-advised whispering.

And Love is now exceedingly worried about me getting/having The Pneumonia and death, and is even threatening to make me go to the doctor, which is almost unspeakable, in this house. (I am actually not showing any signs that aren't just more likely to be bronchitis or a really bad cold, so no worries pls.) But the whole... me not being able to speak thing (TRAUMA), and not breathing well/getting really snorty while sleeping is freaking him out some. It's very sweet. But I Do Not want to go to the doctor. PLEASE no. Please?


*Disclaimer: Doc Nagel is a PhD in Philosophy, and is not licensed to dispense medical advice. This does not stop him, especially when he can tell me to do something "by Doctor's orders." He's got a "Trust me, I'm a Doctor" mug, and we frequently make the "Mother always wanted me to marry a doctor" cracks (which isn't true, actually, but necessary). I love this. <3

**This is because I watched Four Weddings and a Funeral for the first time, and was really curious about the signing. It looked nooothing like ASL or SEE***--especially the fingerspelling--so I wanted to see if it was just really that different, or if they were making it up. Verdict: it's just that different. So I taught myself the BSL alphabet, as well as some basic greetings and questions. ...I think of funny things to do, sometimes. (OMG BORED.) I also brushed up on my ASL colors and the few fiddly letters I mix up (X and Q), and read about the advent of SEE, which seems to be what they were teaching at my elementary school, and is consequently what I learned a lot of as a kid. This has caused a certain amount of Fuss when I've talked about signing with hearing ASL learners.

† Breed-specific legislation is a special kind of evil I wouldn't have even known about if not for the acronym accidentally being the same as for (tada!) British Sign Language. So: In some places, if a city council or state legislature has decided some breed or other is "dangerous," they can 'impound' and 'destroy' any member of that breed--or sometimes even mixed breeds that look more like that breed. Or, they can impose radical confinement, large fines, forced spay/neuter for JUST that breed (not others), not allow that breed to be adopted from shelters, not insure people with those animals, etc etc etc. So let me be clear: in some places, because some people have raised rottweilers or American pit bull terriers or Doberman pincers badly in the past, your well-raised, well-trained, no-signs-of-aggression baby who is even just *part* pitbull and *looks* like one can legally be taken away from you and killed, just for existing. (None of which does anything to stop someone's maladjusted weimereiner from killing someone, or an inbred cocker spaniel from taking a kid's finger. I thought we got over eugenics in the 20's? Nature-v-nurture, anybody?) Stop BSL--good website. You can look up whether this kind of thing is going on in your area.

††Did you know there are 2 different bakers for the Girl Scout Cookies? One is ABC Bakers and one is the Little Brownie Bakers. Individual Girl Scout councils negotiate with one or the other for their cookies, and neither baker makes the full complement of cookies. In the area I'm in now, because the local councils made the MISTAKE of going with ABC Bakers (instead of the Little Brownie Bakers--who we had in LA), you can't get the Lemon Creme Chalets at all up here--but you can get a new flat, creamless lemon cookie. You can't get the brand new Dulce de Leche--but that's okay, you can get a reduced fat, "pre-packaged in 100 calorie snack packs" mini cookie. ABC has also renamed most of the cookies: Samoas are called "Caramel deLites" (which are not, by any means, "Lite," so I don't know why they went with the silly health food spelling). Tagalongs are Peanut Butter Patties. Do-Si-Do's are Peanut Butter Sandwiches. Trefoils are Shortbread. OH MY GOD ABC do you have NO IMAGINATION??? ::....pointlessly furious:: ...I feel like I've unfairly maligned Turlock; all this time, I thought that maybe in some areas, they just assumed no one would know what Samoa was, or Tagalog, and thought it was best not to reference it at all. But it's actually a whole big cookie divide. (Then again, maybe the local council made the decision for the same reason, I can't say.) Anyway, this all came about because I was trying to figure out why the local Scouts have crapped out so early. I've been walking around with $14 in quarters, trying to score another heap of Thin Mints and Samoas (and, I thought, maybe some Lemon Creme Chalet's, but it ain't gonna' happen, apparently) before the season's out, but there is not a Girl Scout in sight. WOE.

***SEE is "Signed Exact English"--it's a kind of modified ASL that has 1) added letter shapes to signs, to distinguish similar concepts with different names (e.g. happy -vs- merry; instead of having one sign for the basic concept, as in ASL, you'd use an "h" shape with that sign to denote "happy" and an "m" shape to denote "merry," in SEE), and 2) imposed English grammar/syntax--codifying more pronouns, tenses, prepositions, etc, so that every word in an English sentence would be represented by a sign (e.g. to say you had two cats, you would sign out exactly: "I have two cats," in SEE, instead of something like "two cats, me.") It was invented in the '70's with the idea of making it easier to learn to write in English, so it got popular in schools, but it's an imposed structure and the deaf community seems pretty divided.



....Um. Maybe y'all know it, since we haven't met many times, and I was probably on ...fairly good behavior? But this (see above) is how I talk. There is a certain sprinkling of ADD and unbridled Chatty-Cathy-ism that I've slowly calmed, over the years (I was actually even very quiet, for a long time), but which is currently bubbling back up violently towards the surface. I am a fount of useless information always, but I can usually keep it in my pants when I'm not specifically prompted. (For instance, on a normal day, if I had seen one of you had mentioned Girl Scout Cookies, you might have got the Cookie Battle information, and so spared the rest of the world this fate, and I wouldn't have felt the need to go on and on. But no. Not today.)

On car rides, as a little kid, my aunts actually offered me money to shut up for Five Whole Minutes. And I never, ever made it. Because I could be quiet for a few minutes, but by then my brain had worked out so much that needed sharing, I couldn't wait. ....They still tease me about this.

Chris is going through this.

You are going through this.

I am going batshit.

The quick version:

Went to Arlington/DC for the better part of a week for a conference with Chris, had a good time. Picked up or developed something particularly virulent, probably en route home. Two Mondays ago, it turned into the nastiest cold I've had since mono, replete with a bad fever, hacking cough, etc. Spent the next week on the couch, useless and miserable and devouring tapioca and jello.

That weekend, felt much much better, so much so that we managed a little carousing. I only had a little cough/stuffy head, and we'd planned to for weeks and weeks in advance, and we'd already had to shift plans back to accommodate the Sick. So, we got to spend the night out with four--FOUR--of Chris's best friends from grad school, all of whom I love and haven't been able to spend much time with. It was a lot of fun. I was even able to sing most of the choir rehearsal the next night.

And then I started getting sicker, again. Still, we pushed on; shit to do, and I was getting a little cabin fever. This week--or, actually, weekend, I guess--we acquired and assembled storage benches we've been needing for, oh, a year, and have been pretty busy with cleanup and rearranging, etc etc.

So now, a week after I was doing so well, it's devolved completely again; I have no voice whatsoever (TRAUMA!!! D: ), breathing is iffy, swallowing's a treat, and the substances coming out of my lungs are unwholesome at best. I'm still not as sick as I was to begin with, thank goodness, but this is going to be my third choir rehearsal in a row in bad condition, and I've missed my knitting group three times. And I've got plans, damnit. Tuesday is My Day. I cook and sing and carouse, and there's no negotiating that. I was planning to be all better by then. We're having people in; I'm cooking for 5, this time, which I've never done.

Come on, body... Please....


--Anyway. I don't have any energy for doing the catchup dance. So, please! Tell me something nice or interesting that's happened to you in the last three weeks, and send some love my way. I'll send it right back to you. <3

Cake or death?

Hope everybody's Friday the 13th is going as happily and productively and (dare I say) luckily as mine. I've been baking up a storm, since, for once, I'm cooking for Valentine's Day (Chris being obligated to chocolate and flowers--our place is now delightfully decorated with carnations <3 <3 <3 <3 <3). It's been a day of sneakiness and goodness.

And in addition to being Valentine's, tomorrow is also our declared birthdate for our babies!

So we're having our buddies over for a little kitty party tonight (Chris is not much for sweets, so I figured we ought to spread out cat-party sweets from V.D. sweets)--I've made tiny little layer cakes, with pastry cream between the layers and buttercream frosting on the outsides. All homemade, from scratch, thank you. One of them has orange vanilla frosting and cream, with a little spiral of lemon zest, and one of them has mocha frosting with chocolate decoration.

To match, see???? :D

I know, I know. But I was already making the world's tiniest almond-pomegranate* pink layer cake for tomorrow (*the pomegranate is from a syrup, so it's just close)--what else could I do?)

Leverage?

Has anyone else out there been watching Leverage?

Just curious. I don't watch much TV, and I had had no interest, because I saw the commercials on mute on a plane like 800 times over on a couple flights in December, and it looked insufferable after that? Until I realized: (1) Christian Kane (Lindsey on Angel), and, (2) it is essentially Robin Hood.

I found upon actually watching it that it is also Ocean's Eleven (and other "let's put together a crazy mixed-up group that doesn't fit together because they have the diverse skills we need to get this job done and hilarity and badassery ensue" premises--see Sneakers, Armageddon, The Replacements, etc, as you like). I am a sucker for that formula, but I don't feel too bad about that. It's fun. But even the kinds of humor and kinds of camera shots and kinds of music are very Ocean's Eleven.

I am also a sucker for anything with a Robin Hood vibe. They're arranging economic vigilante justice, which... well, probably doesn't sound so thrilling as I type it? But it's like.... it's the bank heist, elaborate grift, ass-kicking, computer-hacking, badass version of that.

It's incredibly satisfying and essentially guiltless brain candy.

(Also, Christian Kane. Looking shaggy and literate and butch all at once. <3 What more could we ask for?)

Death to Nickleby!

I'm going to be a fangirl. Seriously. I have every intention of becoming the press conference and policy junkie that I've always wanted to be, but didn't have the stomach for. I have been fascinated by politics for a long time; maybe I can be that without crying as much. (Or at least without bad-crying instead of good-crying.)

So I was curious how things would be looking for higher ed, in the new Administration (on account of how budgets at the CSU are currently crippled and we're THIS CLOSE to falling apart), so I went to the whitehouse.gov page. You should try this; it is very different from how it was. There are actual bios of everyone involved in the administration. There are detailed agendas. At the bottom of the page? You can skim down the list of topics on the agenda and find anything you want. They're actually telling us what they're up to. Really.

Well, my other pet education dream, in addition to getting higher ed funding and thus not winding up on the street when the lecturers are all purged, is the death and dismemberment of Nickleby (NCLB, No Child Left Behind). Or, if not the death in name and drawing and quartering of its effigy, then death in content: the reform of it until it no longer resembles the bubble-filling, teaching-to-the-testing, running out good teachersing, killing public schoolsing, taking money from schools that can't afford books because they couldn't afford the books to teach their students well enough that they could pass the testsing self... into something that actually doesn't harm the children who're being "left behind" more than help them.

(....I was going to go into elementary school teaching; virtually all of my family are K-12 teachers. I Believe In Public Schools. So Nickleby is a very, very sore spot. Of all the things Bush has done, I actually may find Nickleby the most insulting, and I know that's saying a lot.)

Ahem.

Well! What do I see when I open up the page for the education agenda?

Reform No Child Left Behind: Obama and Biden will reform NCLB, which starts by funding the law. Obama and Biden believe teachers should not be forced to spend the academic year preparing students to fill in bubbles on standardized tests. They will improve the assessments used to track student progress to measure readiness for college and the workplace and improve student learning in a timely, individualized manner. Obama and Biden will also improve NCLB's accountability system so that we are supporting schools that need improvement, rather than punishing them.

!!!!!!!

....!!!!!!!!!

And a !!!!!!!!!!!!! for good measure!

(Also? Supporting Head Start and transitional bilingual ed. Dude.)

::sings and does a little dance right back to the kitchen.::

Unrelatedly, for my Love and possibly others: I am baking. This makes me a ginger baker.

"At laaaaaast..."

I have been a ball of fuzzy lumpy crying for most of the last day and a half. We actually went to watch the inauguration on campus, expecting four TVless dorm students, but the room wound up packed with people. There were probably 50 students and a dozen faculty. A woman made a Context kind of speech before hand that was very nice.

We all clapped and cheered, so many times. My god, I cheered. There were other people in Turlock--dozens and dozens--watching with us, happy. I feel less alone here, now.

I also couldn't stop crying. It's taking nothing to set me off, right now. And not just a little tearing up. I mean serious waterworks. (I'll chalk some of it up to hormones, but it really can't account for the quantity.)

I could gush, but I won't too much. Most of what I would want to point out probably everyone else noticed. But there are a couple more things I want to note about yesterday:

First of all, in the obligatory list of faiths of people living together and sharing and so on, Obama actually mentioned unbelievers. He did. I don't think this has ever happened. It's kosher for public figures to talk about tolerance and respect and mutual interest while listing Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Jewish, but no one--no one--includes Oh We Of Little Faith. (Did you know that in the surveys about "who you don't want moving in next door or marrying your daughter," atheists beat out Muslims, Blacks, and gays? Beat out, in fact, Everyone, for the number one stay-away spot? And our new president actually acknowledged the existence of the unreligious in a non-negative context. I am impressed. I feel Validated. I feel Loved.)

Second of all (despite the presence of tall buildings with lots of windows lining the route), Barack and Michelle actually got out and walked. Twice. They walked quite a lot of the route, some of it unannounced. They held hands with each other and waved and occasionally talked to people on the route. (I cried and cried and cried and cried.)

Third of all: First dance between the First Couple. "At Last." Do I have to say anything more about that? (Maybe a little: Why am I so invested in their Love? They literally fill me with love. I feel so much affection for them. I can't.. really parse it out, but they make me so, so happy. I bawled.)

...I don't think I really believed it was happening--that he'd really get to take office, start work as president--until this morning when the first executive orders started getting drafted. I was all a little surreal. Every time I realize we have a new president, I'm stunned. And usually I cry.

Anyway, y'all: LOVE.


(PS. I so went out and got duck breast to cook for dinner. I made it with a delicious sweet glaze (but no chutney), and it was very good. ....If that seems like a non-sequitur, that's probably for the best. )

Come on, people, now, smile on your brother--everybody get together, try to love one another, right now.

Have y'all seen this?

National Day of Service.

There's nothing going on near us, of course. Well, no, the NEA student group on campus is serving coffee to homeless people (which... seems like a strange choice of a thing to do, to me, but whatever you like). I was already planning on going Sat. to give blood with my gal pal Christina, because it happens to be our standing bimonthly date, but that's not really an organized event. I'm not sure what could be gotten going, around here, what would be a good idea to do, other than get the word out to go down to the bloodbank.

...

....Let me just reiterate what's going on here: our president elect, the weekend and holiday (MLK Jr Day) before his inauguration, as a method of honoring people we want to honor, and as something that is just good to do, is calling for a national day of service. For people in this country to just go out and do something that helps their communities. All together.

I'm so in tears, right now.

(Should I ask the local bloodbank group about doing something official with this? I know the Red Cross is doing some drives. God, I'm not a start-the-ball-rolling-er. I'm a good volunteer, but...)

Hey nonny no...

I am feeling totally and completely enamored of Morris dancing, right now. That is all.

...No, not all at all. Goodies for you:

Here is a video.

Here is a great Froud drawing of a Coblynau doing what is essentially a Morris dance--this was my first introduction to it (and I was probably, like, 8 when I saw it), and I've had a love for it divorced from any actual practice, since.

Terry Pratchett was responsible for most of the rest, with the Morris and the complementary Dark Morris in Reaper Man (which I just finished reading) and Lords and Ladies (which is on my shortlist of favorites, of his). And then Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me! talked this morning about the Morris dance dying, and I got very sad. And realized I'd never seen it done. So I looked it up and youtubed myself into submission. And I'm in love.

There are flowers and bells on. And ribbons and folk music and I am in love.

Amateur Night

Really, Turlock? It's a little early, isn't it?

So it's a quarter to six, and we're already hearing sirens. Seriously, guys: be careful out there and watch out for the amateurs.

...Aaaand it's just occurred to me that not everybody calls this Amateur Night, so a little explanation, if you haven't come across that one: for a lot of people, this is the One Night a year they drink themselves into stupors, and they do not know how to take care of themselves when they do, because they have no real prior experience (amateurs). Seasoned drinkers hopefully know better than to drive around or decide to fire off a celebratory gunshot after a couple bottles of champagne or many a cocktail, and plan ahead to avoid dangerous behaviors, but some of the people who save it all up for one or two nights a year, all the underaged kids mooching at parties, etc, are unprepared for their own potential assholery and ineptitude and don't make those kinds of plans.

Chris and I and our best friend neighbors planned way ahead, and moved into the same townhouse complex, so we live within staggering distance of one another. We're having a domestic pub crawl between our places (which will probably involve a lot of games--planning for Scattergories, Apples to Apples, and Legos VS Lincoln Logs, because we are so still 4 years old), because it doesn't involve crossing a street or getting in cars, just driveways. If we run out of something, we just walk 30 yards in a safe space to the other's place. If anyone decides they need to get naked before wandering home, it's not even on a main drag, and they'll only be out in the open exposed to the elements for a minute. If anyone passes out, they're already in a safe place. Plus, no cab fare required.

Hoping everyone else's plans are as exciting and safe, LOVE

Fred's New Look

Oh! Thought I'd posted this!

I'll eventually upload/link to the pictures of Fred's roots, week by week, but I didn't remember to get one last one of his long, happy roots, before I potted him up, last week.

But after starting as a trodden-upon, wilty, rotty vine in the kinko's dirty parking lot, Fred has now finally graduated to Houseplant, and Mascot extraordinaire, in a pretty Talavera pot, braced upright by his own strength (+ physics of dirt and leverage), instead of a bathroom wall. Yes, he's got a couple scars. Yes, he's small. But he is Strong and he is Beautiful. See him, and be inspired! Take heart! Feel the love! You, too, are Strong and Beautiful.

Chleben in the mail! Chleben in the mail! WOO!!

Okay, am I the only person in the world who is really happy to get a fruitcake for Christmas? Really?

Or is Polish Christmas chleben from Chris's Aunt Mary Jo just not representative of the creature known as fruitcake? It is the only kind I've had. It looks like fruitcake looks. It has tiny, chewy bright bits of bitter candied orange peel and sweet raisins in it. It is in dense loaf form. It is sweet and strange and delicious.

Come on, what's so bad about fruitcake?

(Hope y'all are having nice holidays and are being safe for New Year's Eve. Have a great new year, everybody.)

...and there's reason to believe, maybe this year will be better than the last...

So, 2008. I've been trying to put it into perspective, but I keep just coming up shocked with, "Wait, that was this year, too?" This year has felt about eight years long. And yet I keep being surprised it's almost over. Maybe I've lost the sense that years do, eventually, end.

It's been a hard year. A really, really hard year.

So, the necessary retrospective follows. This year...

We had to put our Lancelot to sleep. Starting a cycle of panic attacks rooted in "But--but what if..."s and me having to hash through the entire decision making process again, every single time, to shut down the more traitorous and inventive parts of my brain. Frequently. Still. And an occasionally crippling depression.
Relatedly, since then, I have not been able to deal with the concept of, mentions of, fictional portrayals of, euthanasia, or any (attempted) killing of an animal or person out of a sense of it being the right thing or the only thing to do (especially, of course, if it isn't actually as good an idea as it sounded--the horrible murder of Caesar or the suicide of Marc Antony in Rome, Desdemona in Othello, the We3 in We3--but even when there are no choices, like Max in I Am Legend, etc) ...and I seem to be seeing a lot of it, this year, as witnessed here. Even little things... I'm too frayed. Arthur lies like roadkill, a lot (boneless and twisted at odd angles), and being prone to irreverent and macabre humor generally, every time I see that I automatically tease, "Aw, roadkill kitty!" and then feel sick. ("So cold... so cold...." is also common currency in our house, and every time I do it, I have to fight off panic and imagining Lancelot in my arms and probably feeling cold.)
...This has been the hardest thing in my life I've ever had to experience. I've lost my father, two grandparents, and plenty other family and friends to death, and many more friends to every other kind of separation, I've seen so much sickness and wasting, peaceful and not, but I've never been responsible for euthanasia and the impossible guilt of it, and this has come very close to ruining me. I am not built to be in that position. I am incapable.

...We lost a fishy, too.
A friend from the choir passed away.
I didn't get to sing in one of the concerts for said choir, this year, due to my own bad planning.
My uncle was arrested--again--and kicked out for good, and I haven't seen him since before *last* Thanksgiving. I haven't heard from him either, except for when...
...Great Uncle Dick died, and it was proved that there's not even enough civility or communication between branches of my family to really spread the word, or share commemoration plans.
There were root canals and crowns.
..and noticeable worsening of TMJ, weight gain and lack-of-loss, depression, anxiety, paranoia, grief, hopelessness, lethargy.
My 84 year old grandmother was robbed and has been very seriously rocked by it.
Collapse of the housing market, the stock market, the car industry, American industry in general. Also a budget crisis and other moves at the university that are putting Chris's (and a ton of other people's) job at risk, and has meant he's had to fight almost non-stop the entire semester, and most of the semester before, without any real sense of reprieve or rest. His anxiety and exhaustion have become critical, a few times.
Two friends from the CSU system have come up dangerously (potentially terminally) sick.
California caught fire, several times, including once sufficient to force my cousin and her family to evacuate, and coat everyone else I know here in ash.
Countless problems for many, many people in my family, and for friends.
Family politics (and community politics) have come to a few crescendos of the kind that I'm apparently no longer able to cope with or distance myself from enough to not spiral into despair when even something as innocuous as an email about disowning so-and-so, or a political or social fwd. or op-ed or letter to the editor comes up. See: Global Warming, Prop 8, presidential and local elections, and Family Fun.
I frequently just actively ache, related to any or all of the points above.

However...

This was a year of good travel. We went to Puebla, my first time to Mexico, and fell in love. Even after losing Lancelot and friends and family, I felt whole for a while, and ate well, and saw beautiful things, and met beautiful philosophers, and had a good time. We got 300 Pinochle (the rarest combination of cards in Pinochle, suffice it to say) 5 times in 6 games sitting at a little table in our hotel, over two nights of playing.
We went to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, and saw fantastic plays (though Othello killing Desdemona just before bedtime did traumatize) and I got to meet Chris's wonderful friend Nancy, and stand in the ocean and wash my face with the Pacific, and there's nothing more healing than the ocean.
We went to San Francisco for my birthday, and saw Cabaret, and it was amazing (though also traumatizing).
We went to Pittsburgh, and I got to meet and absolutely fall for Chris's oldest friend Bob, and re-meet and absolutely fall for his best friend from grad school, Dave.
We got to go to Ohio for a pre-Christmas, and it snowed--my first White 'Christmas' ever--and got to meet my nephews, their wives, and their babies (!!!!!). I also got to see three picture albums full, including some dangerously hot pictures of teenage and college Chris (maybe more on this, later).
This has been a good year for new friends.

I finished my first year at work, and was liked well enough that they kept me, and gave me a raise, and told me they loved me.
Presidential election--'nuff said. Barely perceptible loosening of the shoulders and soothing of the nerves.
We've got few friends here, but we've grown closer to them.
Christina goes with me to give blood, now, and they've streamlined the process (except I still have to explain to them every time how Puebla is not a malaria area, and show them on the map where it is). This actually does make a noticeable difference in my life.
I had choir, and it was good.
I learned to knit, knit in the round, and knit cables, and have been wailing on it (although the carpal tunnel is forcing a stop, at the moment).
I've written 57k of a novel, and I did 53k of it in one month. I also wrote a ton of fic, and plenty on several other writing projects.
I've gotten a little better at the guitar, and have been playing piano a little more, and even the flute.
We've written songs.
I've read a lot--a lot--of books, and enjoyed them. (Did I mention I've almost finished writing one of my own? Yes? Well, let's mention that again.)
I'm actively working on how I eat and how I play and work to try to jump-start the thyroid and serotonin and mental habits generally, and I do feel like I'm feeling a little better.
My grandmother has recovered very, very well from last year's stroke, if not from the burglary.
We're saving money to eventually buy a house. The option to do it this summer (or next) is probably gone, but we'll be stabler in two and a half years than we would be in one half of one, and we'll get to live staggering distance from our best friends for two years more than we would have, which is important.

And we got these kittens. These beautiful, wonderful, 13-pounds-each 10-month-old monsters, who love constantly, and love hard, and love wonderfully, and are trying very hard to save the world (or at least us) with that amazing love.

So.. Well...

I guess what I'm getting at is this. All my life I've believed myself to be an optimist, but I can't, even in the face of all of this, get myself to think this year has been a good one, even on balance. I can't manage it. But.. I couldn't get rid of it, either. Everything that happens is by definition reliant on everything else that happened before it to be that way--situations come out of other situations, and no matter how horrible or traumatic something is, you can't have anything else that came after it without it, even if it's not a trade-off you'd have orchestrated. (Chris had to be married miserably and come out to California and be in a tough position for us to meet, for instance. You've got your own examples to work with, I know.) I would not have made these arrangements. Ever. But there's a new year coming, with these loves and these opportunities and these joys, and there's hope.

I guess I can't ask for more than that.

No on 8 Protests!

Hey, guys, I'm a half hour late for most of you (our area is being silly and not starting 'til noon PST), but...

Go protest! If you've got a little time, get out there--there are national (actually, INTERNATIONAL) protests today starting 10:30 am, PST, against Prop 8 and the repeal of gay rights, and they're in every state. 300 cities.

You can look for your nearest protest location here:

http://jointheimpact.wetpaint.com/

Show the love! Love to all of you!

Yay!

Meme time!

If you saw ME in a police car, what would you think I got arrested for?

Answer me, then post to your own blog and see how many crimes you get accused of.