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Need To Relax

Been pretty crazy week fo rme
Enjoy my insanity

I complete my portion of my first ever Traveling Scarf


Isn't it odd looking?
Pink and Green and Red and Cream?????
Gotta love crafters

Clumsy Meditation

I don’t like downward facing dog

I know, it seems absurd

Everyone likes Adho Mukha Svanasana

It’s a really great stretch and my butt is in the air where I can fart in peace

There is a lot of farting in yoga

My body does not move easily into all the poses. Especially the easy ones. This week the instructor guided us to rock on our bottoms into a head stand. I failed miserably. At 37 and over 150 pounds, easy stuff isn’t so easy. Child’s pose hurts my arms. Downward facing dog makes my nose run. Right now I have too much head congestion to practice mountain pose without falling.

I bought a book with yoga poses for weight loss. The bulk of the routine is Sun Salutation completed ten times. By the time I complete the routine I am drenched in sweat and a little bruised from tipping over so many times attempting the lunge prayer side twist pose.

Can you believe I joined yoga to gain better balance?

I really enjoy yoga and it gives me a good work-out. It is really relaxing during this time of year when my allergies are at their worst.

I hired a student to cover my manager’s office sits at her chair to answer the phone. Whenever I pass the office door, I smell my childhood. I get a whiff of bouncy freshness, but just a whiff because my allergies will not permit me to enjoy the smell of fabric softener for long. When the scent reaches my nose my head recalls memories of laundry day at my mother’s house. I was feeling so nostalgic one I went out and bought a laundry detergent with one of those strong scents. I had been getting weekly allergy shots for the past four years. By now I should be able wear perfume and wash with those fancy detergents. I continued to think this as I tucked and pulled at my newly laundered sheets. A few hours later, I wondered why my 300 thread count sheets felt rough and scraped against my skin causing it to crack and itch. I wondered and scratched until the morning when I cursed the nurse that administers my shots. It was worse than trying sleep with a mosquito in the room.

Imagine standing still while a wasp targets your fleshy upper-arm. Don’t watch it. Just wait for the sting because the prick of the stinger is nothing compared to the burning and irritation of the venom entering your bloodstream. Or the swollen warm sting site on your arm. Or the nagging itchy reminder for the next 12 hours at the shot site. My arm used to swell so large that I referred to it as my hamburger bum arm.

Yes, it is just like that .

I should probably mention that sometimes I think I am allergic to my yarn. I have some woolblend yarn from Turkey that makes me sneeze when I sniff it. I stopped sniffing it. I am using an Italian woolblend yarn and it works up lovely.

I have a question for you readers. I am making a baby jumper using this yarn

Don't you love the animal print bedspread. I have matching curtains.

Anywhoo, it is a self-stripping yarn that is white, pink, lt blue, blue and then white. I say that the jumper will be unisexual. My friends are insisting that even a splash of pink makes it a girl's outfit. What do you think?

Well next time I will tell you about my Kung Fu Panda adventures.

Polite Outrage

So, I had an interesting visit from my neighbor last night. I was on the phone with my satellite dish company. If you have read my blogs you know that I have a hate-hate relationship with my communication services. I endure their outages, and they gouge me with late payments for being short three dollars. I try to call them when I am relaxed but it never fails, I lose my temper. My neighbor, Anarchy calls it “Polite Outrage.” According to her, I do not really raise my voice and I say things like “ridiculous” and “unacceptable” when other people scream and curse. I guess i am known for having a low voice. So when I think I am raising it, I am not really raising it at all. She knows all of this because she overheard me yesterday.

She had come to the house while I was in the midst of being curtly informed that I ‘would have to wait until Tuesday for a service appointment for the malfunctioning replacement DVR for which he will gladly waive the fee, even though he would be delighted to schedule an appointment sooner, but other customers have already set-up service calls meaning that I would be without dish service for five days that will be credited to my account and I should be sure to return the original defective DVR as soon as possible despite that I will not be able to watch any programming until my service call because I do not want to have any more problems.’ Arghhh. I was not able to finish my girlfriend's shawl because I was so angry about the malfunctioning DVR. I needed it ready for my Friday night shows.

Yeah, all of that. Once I ended my call on a high note. If you can call waiting five days for a service appointment and trying to live like it is 2003 and I do not have a DVR, a high note.

I asked Anarchy “ What’s up”

She told me that there were no lights on at her home, all the cars were gone, the children (her cousins) were missing, and she heard noises. She appeared quite frightened. She had entered the dark house and was unable to turn on the lights because the switches had been moved. The TV looked as if someone had tried to move it by placing a blanket under it and she heard sounds from the second floor. No one was home.

I could not tell if she were more frightened about the missing children or the darkened house. It was her job to watch the children and make their dinner. She and I began calling members of her family. No one answered but messages were left for the parents. She asked me when was the last time I “saw anyone at the house?” I saw the kids playing around the house when I arrived home from the gym at 7 p.m. It was not almost 10 p.m.

As we spoke in whispers while nervously glancing at the house, the children emerged, slowly one by one. The eldest asked, “Why did you leave?”

Anarchy asked, “Where the hell were you?” The kids said, “We were playing Hide And Seek.”

That was when she absolutely lost her mind…..

And I had front row seats.

I can’t tell anymore because I still have to live there.

She had left a message with the mother who, in turn, had called the kids. The kids told her that Anarchy had entered the house during their game, tried to turn on the lights, looked at the TV and then rushed out while leaving the door wide open. The mother told them to go to my house and gather their older cousin who was going nuts looking for them.

They watched Anarchy the entire time and said nothing to her. The kids had been sitting on the couch in the dark, very quietly to avoid detection from the Seeker.

She was so angry with the kids she stayed at my house until she calmed down.

I don’t blame her, if that had been me someone would have had to hold me down and forget about Polite Outrage.

Nature

Yellow Birds and Yellow Flowers

A yellow finch has been hanging around in my backyard. It is looking for sunflower seeds. I have a bird feeder back there but it is empty. I haven’t filled it in about a month. It is on my garage. I placed it there so that the birds would poop on Stray Cat neighbor’s car. She deserved it. When she got rid of the stray cat’s living in her garage I stopped filling the feeder and planted the seeds along the patch of dirt near the fence that separated our back yards. The sunflowers have bloomed but no seeds as yet. Despite this, every day I see that yellow finch inspecting the sunflowers. This morning I finally filled the feeder for it. I want it to keep coming around. It is a lovely sight to see such a pretty bird in my yard. This blog has some lovely pictures of finches and sunflowers Basset Knitter. I guess that I am not the only one who has yellow finches and sunflowers.

During those times of quiet contemplation looking at the wonders of nature, I find myself reflecting on the silliness of our modern lives.

I was thinking today about the last time I visited my allergist office. The doctor really unnerved me that day. The room is like any other patient room with the bed thingy, a sink, cabinets, computer, desk and chair. He sits at the chair and types almost everything that I say. In between keystrokes he pauses to pump the antibacterial gel into his hand. He does this several times in the span of ten minutes. Keep in mind, he is my allergist. He doesn’t really touch me.

I meet with the nurse first who inputs general updated information into the computer. After he examines me, he washes his hands and sits at the desk. At the desk he only touches the computer keys. Even so, he methodically pumps the bottle and massages his hands with the gel while talking to me.

Finally, I asked him if his hands were finally free from bacteria. He laughed and then pumped another dollop into his palm. The doctor rubbed his hands together and said, “I do this all of the time.” I asked him to stop doing it in front of me. I mentioned that I do not like the smell of most of those antibacterial gels and I find them to be misleading. He seemed shocked and moved his praying hands towards me like some yoga gesture. I backed up as if HE had cooties.
It is just not natural to sanitize one's hands that often.

Next time I visit him, I will suggest that he keep alcohol pads near the keyboard and just clean it before he uses it and I will stay clear of his nurses. I wonder if he uses the gel after he types in his PIN at that ATM or the grocery store? Those keys must be full of people germs. I will ask him next visit.

Going Against My Nature

A friend is having another birthday. Last year, I convinced myself that I would knit for her a wrap that she could wear on fancy evenings. Too bad that I could not convince the WIP that it was a wrap. I am really a hooker and sometimes these knitted projects hurt my feelings when they go wrong.

I remember finishing it up while visiting friends. I held it up and the 11 year old daughter asks, “ What is it?” I said a wrap. Then she said, “What kind of wrap.” I turned the garment around to figure out what had her so confused. The wrap was not rectangular in shape as would be expected. It was more…. Trapezoid.

I frogged it to the point where I had lost its shape and started again. The finished product resembled a warped rectangle. I completely frogged it and made it too wide. While it maintained its shape, I could not imagine it functioning as anything other than a blanket.

I ripped it again and began a mobius shawl. I am crossing my fingers that it works. At least with the mobius I can’t tell if it isn’t a rectangle. And it has been an entire year, actually longer that this project has been a work in progress. I jsut want it completed and out of my house her birthday or not.

Because of this adventure, I have found that sometimes it is better to just change a knitted project into a crochet project.

Another boring Summer

Long Hot Summer

The past few weeks have been torture for me. First there is the escalating humidity and heat. Then the mosquitoes continue to keep me from weeding my garden or generally enjoying the outside. I have banana peppers that need to be picked. Carrots that need to be thinned. Collards that need attention. You should see the weeds. Of course, my lawn needs to be mowed. Anarchy complained about it yesterday. I suggested that she find someone to mow it. I could care less. I think lawn is stupid. It doesn't attract butterflies. I asked the young lady staying with me to get one of her male suitors to mow the lawn. She laughed at me. I still say a man isn't worth the price of salt if he is unwilling to mow your lawn.

I planted Cannas and cucumbers along the fence between our homes. The cannas will act as a natural fence and the cucumbers will keep both families happy. I am bribing my neighbor into shoveling my sidewalk next winter with summer vegetables. Do you think it will work?

I have been working on a plan to rid myself of these extra pounds all summer. I have lost nothing. nothing at all.

1. There is yoga on Mondays - with this new instructor I am finally enjoying yoga.
2. a minimum of two days a week at the gym weightlifting and elliptical machine - with a good vampire book and mp3 player
3. on cool days I attend dance lessons - there is no air in the building
4. I garden, and of course- when I am not be sucked dry
5. I craft - for God's sake, stop me from buying more yarn.

I joined the campus gym. After work, I shed my career clothes for lycra and cotton. I usually run into students that I know. It used to bother me that they could make out my body type in my athletic clothes. As if they had additional personal information. I call the college students at the campus gym, the "Beautiful People." The slim 20 somethings and their lackadaisical attitude towards sweating. Or the slender athletes that are grooming their perfect muscles. I can deal with all of that because I am not the only frumpy looking person there. I do not mind using the machine between to former cross-country runners with abs of steel and legs of iron if behind me there is another out of shape 30 something professional employee. I like seeing the 40 year old alum playing pick-up basketball with the fraternity boys. I enjoy taking yoga with retirees. What I do not like is the smells. I am convinced that some of students work-out even if they haven't showered in a few days. I have been sent off the machines more than once because of just plain STINK. Neither music playing from my ear buds nor a good book can distract me from smells that emit from the unbathed.

This summer I have been pretty busy with craft projects. My birthday passed. It was fun. I asked for $7 to buy yarn from those who insisted on bringing gifts. Hey, my needs are simple. After six years, my favorite local yarn store is closing. I had been shopping there since 2005. I thought that it had beat my bad luck. I was afraid to patron the store because in my history all of my favorite yarn stores close soon after I shop there. It happened to me in Detroit, in Stow, in Akron and finally in Toledo. What is the Frizzy Hooker supposed to do about a local yarn store?

Not to Belabor the Topic of " Doo doo on my Balcony"

I finally heard back from my other neighbor. She, too, has found inexplicable piles of dog poo in her back yard and on the driveway. Neither of us own a dog or can explain why the poo appears to have been dropped on the driveway or in my case thrown onto the balcony. She does not have a balcony which probably saved her from the irritation. The mystery continues.

Kharma Let Me Be

I can't explain it. Tuesday, I found dried animal poo on my driveway as I headed toward the garage. I was angry but I ignored it. I could not imagine how it got there. Even if a dog had pooed in my driveway it would not have walked a few yards and pooed a second time. And the poo would not have dried out overnight. It was not that hot.
Wednesday it rained and the dried animal poo was not. It had flies buzzing around it and I shouted "Who is throwing poop in my driveway?" No one answered.
Thursday I went to check my balcony for the source of the leak and found a mound of poo that looked as if it had been shaped into a ball. It was on the edge of the balcony as if it had been thrown there. I asked the neighbor kids if they were throwing poo at my balcony.

They suggested that it was squirrel poo. Considering the size of the average squirrel, if it had been squirrel poo that would mean it extruded about 1/3 its body mass.
They suggested rabbit poo. It was 500% the size of on rabbit turd. Finally Junior says that his sister is really a monkey and she is always throwing her poo around. He apologized for her.
So much for asking the children.
I called my neighbor and sent an email to the other one to ask if they had noticed anything odd.
The going theory is that I have bad karma

What Time Is It

Okay the last few days I have been awaking with frozen limbs. Sometimes it is my right arm sometimes it is the left. I have no idea what I am doing in my sleep but I am definitely not lying in the same position or even on the same diagonal on the bed. My cat does not sleep with me anymore. When I wake she is no where to be found. I am kicking her out. I guess it does not help that my alarm clock hates me. I probably should not crochet an hour before going to bed. I am sure it is somehow the reason for my zombie limbs. I have been trying to complete my altered Geisha Wrap.

This morning it read 7:50 am. I turned on the TV, because by now I suspected that the clock had lost its objectivity. It was 5:17 am. Sugarbear!!!!

The alarm had been running for about 20 minutes before I awoke to cancel it. It all made sense to me. I never look at that clock during the day. I keep it on a side of the bed that requires me to reach for it. I use the TV to for time. There had been some days when I could not recall the alarm at all. I had set up a second alarm – as a late alarm. Thank goodness that I did. I do not think that there is any clock in my house that is correct except the Oven’s clock. Due to daylight savings time, for some clocks I just do not bother.

Even so, it is time for a new clock.

I do wish that other upcoming deadlines would push back. Due to an oversight, I will not be paid for 24 hours next paycheck. So much for more yarn. Fortunately, I will get the lost hours later in July around my birthday with the new raise included. Yeah!

The Adventures of Lil'T and Trey

You would think after years of watching minors that I would know all of their tricks. The popular mantra, “you can’t out trick the trickster” has only applied to me under very limited circumstances.  Certainly, not during my adventures in watching minors. 

Lil’T passed kindergarten with flying colors. She knew how to tie her shoes and could write her own name.  I missed the graduation ceremony but I wanted to spend some time with Lil’T and her brother.  I needed some entertainment.    I had the pleasure of baby-sitting her while her parents celebrated Father’s Day.  It seemed odd to me that they would select Fathers’ Day as an excuse to visit a four star hotel and not their anniversary.  That is, until I realized that their anniversary fell on my birthday and I am generally unavailable to baby-sit on that day.  I have learned that not too many of their friends and relatives agree to baby-sit for both children at the same time.  I was happy to oblige. Due to the heat, I demanded that the event take place in their air conditioned home.  My instructions were to pick them up from their grandmothers and take them to the house.  My cousin arranges this hand-off scenario all of the time.  By taking shifts they can maximize the amount of time of their vacations or trips without overburdening any one relative. 

As a single woman with no children, I am always amazed at that state of their house.  Each time I visit, I check the white furniture in the living room. I still cannot believe that the set has not be replaced by something darker.  The kitchen never looks the same twice.   It reminds me of a kitchen in a group home.  Everything cabinet and cupboard had a lock including those above the counter.  I stared at the lock on the refrigerator for a few minutes.  There are, of course, the tell-tale signs of a family with children which consist of school lunch menus and pictures held by color magnets on the fridge.  I pull the door handle and find it tethered by some kind of lock.  It resembled one of those locking ties that SWAT teams use to subdue  prisoners.  Seeing it on the door handles of the refrigerator prompted me to call my cousins during their romantic getaway.  He explained to me that Trey did not permit himself to be hungry for long. It was his habit shout, “I am hungry” just once.  If there was not response to his within the next few moments he would take matters into his own little hands.  I was warned to leave any food sitting on the counters, to confirm that the pantry was closed and to reattach the tie on the fridge.  I thought that the arrangements seemed extreme for a 3 year old. 

I learned a very important lesson that babysitting adventure. I should not attempt to watch minors when I am learning  a new knitting or crochet technique. I often take my needlework with me when I sit for my cousin.  Usually, I am working on something simple and mindless. Something that I do not have to mind every few stitches.  On this occasion, I brought an intricate pattern to the house to practice.  I regret to admit that I watched the project develop more than I watched the children.  Instead of cooking dinner, I bought a pizza and set the table. I instructed the Kindergartner graduate and the preschooler to eat the pizza while I continued to knit in the adjoining room. After about five rows, I checked on the children.

The pizza box had one slice remaining.  I looked at the children and their little stomachs, briefly wondering – just for a moment – if they really ate 9 slices of cheese pizza.  The trash can had at least three half eaten slices in it. I should off my confusion and cleaned the food mess that they made for me.  All night long Lil’T kept asking me about my knitting project.  But not in the manner in which one would expect.  She would simultaneously ask me what I was making and guess at the same time.

“Are you making a blanket.“

“No,” I would respond without looking at her. 

“Are you making a hat?”

“No,” I would answer.

Finally she asked, “What are you making?”

“I am making a sweater,” I looked at her and waited for a response.  This seemed to satisfy her curiosity until the next time she asked.  It took me a few times but I soon learned that it was a game.  The series of three questions and two random garment guesses went on all night long until she complained of a stomach to avoid going to bed.  I had not noticed her pattern of questions while I studied the instructions for the sweater pattern.  Despite this, I would not be tricked into delaying her bedtime.  I have her a glass of warm milk and sent her to her room. 

The next morning,  I laid in bed waiting for the children to collect me to make their breakfast.  I know that this is an unconventional practice. Most parents make breakfast for the children before they awaken.  Being a baby-sitter, I waited for the children to rise before I would.  When I opened my eyes and checked the clock on my cell phone, I read 10:30 am.  I was shocked that the children had not wanted breakfast. Then I remember my cousin’s warning. 

I leapt up the stairs and headed for the kitchen.  Nothing was out of place. The refrigerator had not been toppled over.  The trash though it needed to be emptied looked the same as it had the night before.  I imagined that the children were starving.  I asked Lil’T, “are you hungry?” She answered in the negative.  I searched for her brother.  I found Trey chewing on something in his mouth.  I asked him about the contents of his mouth and he laughed at me.  The mischievous Lil’T matter of fact informed me that they had eaten pizza.  Since I had not put away any leftover pizza, I asked her to explain.  She shared with me that they had saved several pieces of pizza for their parents.  When I pressed to know where the pizza had been saved both children smiled at me silently.  Apparently the resourceful children has chosen to eat their stashed pizza rather than wake me to make breakfast.  I really did not want to know where the hiding place had been. 

Had I not been so preoccupied by my own kitting affairs, I would have accounted for the horded sliced.  I vowed never to baby-sit while tackling a new needlework project again. When my cousin arrived home and I explained to him the shenanigans that had occurred in this absence, I referred to me as the “Substitute” while he checked his home for damages.  He felt that we should not have agreed to baby-sit at his home since the children were on familiar territory and would use their tricks to avoid their regular routine.  Instead of accusing me of not bathing the children properly, he smelled them and then checked the moisture level of their wash cloths.  Trey passed the inspection.  Lil’T on the other hand proved to be an adept trickster.  I had observed Trey bathing himself, his competency in handling the soap and wash cloth led me to believe that his older sister would be able to bath herself alone.  I was wrong.  We determined that she merely splashed water around for 20 minutes using neither a wash cloth nor soap. At the time of her bath, I had asked her about the dry washcloth.  For some reason, I accepted her explanation of  “I didn’t need a wash cloth, I used the soap.” I attribute my failure to recognize the antics of a trickster to my preoccupation with the sweater that I was knitting.  Once again, I had failed another of God’s lessons.  

I loved My Childhood

Remember these old songs? 
down down baby rocking by the rollercoaster
Sweet Sweet baby I'll never let you go
Shimmy shimmy cocoa pop, shimmy shimmy swirl Shimmy shimmy cocoa pop, shimmy shimmy swirl
I like coffee, I like tea, I like a boy and he likes me
Little boy, little boy, don't you cry
I've got another boy on my mind
Step back Jack your hands are too black
Looking like a monkey on a railroad track
To the front , to the back to the side, side, side
To the front, to the back to the side, side, side

Now those songs seem sexual and self-loathing......

The Adventures of Lil'T and Trey

You would think after years of watching minors that I would know all of their tricks. The popular mantra, “you can’t out trick the trickster” has only applied to me under very limited circumstances. Certainly, not during my adventures in watching minors.

Lil’T passed kindergarten with flying colors. She knew how to tie her shoes and could write her own name. I missed the graduation ceremony but I wanted to spend some time with Lil’T and her brother. I needed some entertainment. I had the pleasure of baby-sitting her while her parents celebrated Father’s Day. It seemed odd to me that they would select Fathers’ Day as an excuse to visit a four star hotel and not their anniversary. That is, until I realized that their anniversary fell on my birthday and I am generally unavailable to baby-sit on that day. I have learned that not too many of their friends and relatives agree to baby-sit for both children at the same time. Besides their wedding date is a popular time of year for showers, weddings, reunions, etc. I was happy to oblige. Due to the heat, I demanded that the event take place in their air conditioned home. My instructions were to pick them up from their grandmothers and take them to the house. My cousin arranges this hand-off scenario all of the time. By taking shifts they can maximize the amount of time of their vacations or trips without overburdening any one relative.

As a single woman with no children, I am always amazed at that state of their house. Each time I visit, I check the white furniture in the living room. I still cannot believe that the set has not be replaced by something darker. The kitchen never looks the same twice. It reminds me of a kitchen in a group home. Everything cabinet and cupboard had a lock including those above the counter. I stared at the lock on the refrigerator for a few minutes. There are, of course, the tell-tale signs of a family with children which consist of school lunch menus and pictures held by color magnets on the fridge. I pull the door handle and find it tethered by some kind of lock. It resembled one of those locking ties that SWAT teams use to subdue prisoners. Seeing it on the door handles of the refrigerator prompted me to call my cousins during their romantic getaway. He explained to me that Trey did not permit himself to be hungry for long. It was his habit shout, “I am hungry” just once. If there was not response to his within the next few moments he would take matters into his own little hands. I was warned not to leave any food sitting on the counters, to confirm that the pantry was closed and to reattach the tie on the fridge. I thought that the arrangements seemed extreme for a 3 year old.

I learned a very important lesson that babysitting adventure. I should not attempt to watch minors when I am learning a new knitting or crochet technique. I often take my needlework with me when I sit for my cousin. Usually, I am working on something simple and mindless. Something that I do not have to mind every few stitches. On this occasion, I brought an intricate pattern to the house to practice. I regret to admit that I watched the project develop more than I watched the children. Instead of cooking dinner, I bought a pizza and set the table. I instructed the Kindergartner graduate and the preschooler to eat the pizza while I continued to knit in the adjoining room. After about five rows, I checked on the children.

The pizza box had one slice remaining. I looked at the children and their little stomachs, briefly wondering – just for a moment – if they really ate 9 slices of cheese pizza. The trash can had at least three half eaten slices in it. I shook off my confusion and cleaned the food mess that they made for me. All night long Lil’T kept asking me about my knitting project. But not in the manner in which one would expect. She would simultaneously ask me what I was making and guess at the same time.

“Are you making a blanket.“

“No,” I would respond without looking at her.

“Are you making a hat?”

“No,” I would answer.

Finally she asked, “What are you making?”

“I am making a sweater,” I looked at her and waited for a response. This seemed to satisfy her curiosity until the next time she asked. It took me a few times but I soon learned that it was a game. The series of three questions and two random garment guesses went on all night long until she complained of a stomach to avoid going to bed. I had not noticed her pattern of questions while I studied the instructions for the sweater pattern. Despite this, I would not be tricked into delaying her bedtime. I have her a glass of warm milk and sent her to her room.

The next morning, I laid in bed waiting for the children to collect me to make their breakfast. I know that this is an unconventional practice. Most parents make breakfast for the children before they awaken. Being a baby-sitter, I waited for the children to rise before I would. When I opened my eyes and checked the clock on my cell phone, I read 10:30 am. I was shocked that the children had not wanted breakfast. Then I remember my cousin’s warning.

I leapt up the stairs and headed for the kitchen. Nothing was out of place. The refrigerator had not been toppled over. The trash though it needed to be emptied looked the same as it had the night before. I imagined that the children were starving. I asked Lil’T, “are you hungry?” She answered in the negative. I searched for her brother. I found Trey chewing on something in his mouth. I asked him about the contents of his mouth and he laughed at me. The mischievous Lil’T matter of fact informed me that they had eaten pizza. Since I had not put away any leftover pizza, I asked her to explain. She shared with me that they had saved several pieces of pizza for their parents. When I pressed to know where the pizza had been saved both children smiled at me silently. Apparently the resourceful children has chosen to eat their stashed pizza rather than wake me to make breakfast. I really did not want to know where the hiding place had been.

Had I not been so preoccupied by my own kitting affairs, I would have accounted for the horded sliced. I vowed never to baby-sit while tackling a new needlework project again. When my cousin arrived home and I explained to him the shenanigans that had occurred in this absence, I referred to me as the “Substitute” while he checked his home for damages. He felt that we should not have agreed to baby-sit at his home since the children were on familiar territory and would use their tricks to avoid their regular routine. Instead of accusing me of not bathing the children properly, he smelled them and then checked the moisture level of their wash cloths. Trey passed the inspection. Lil’T on the other hand proved to be an adept trickster. I had observed Trey bathing himself, his competency in handling the soap and wash cloth led me to believe that his older sister would be able to bath herself alone. I was wrong. We determined that she merely splashed water around for 20 minutes using neither a wash cloth nor soap. At the time of her bath, I had asked her about the dry washcloth. For some reason, I accepted her explanation of “I didn’t need a wash cloth, I used the soap.” I attribute my failure to recognize the antics of a trickster to my preoccupation with the sweater that I was knitting. Once again, I had failed another of God’s lessons.

I loved My Childhood

Remember these old songs?
down down baby rocking by the rollercoaster
Sweet Sweet baby I'll never let you go
Shimmy shimmy cocoa pop, shimmy shimmy swirl Shimmy shimmy cocoa pop, shimmy shimmy swirl
I like coffee, I like tea, I like a boy and he likes me
Little boy, little boy, don't you cry
I've got another boy on my mind
Step back Jack your hands are too black
Looking like a monkey on a railroad track
To the front , to the back to the side, side, side
To the front, to the back to the side, side, side
I raise my skirt above my knees
I raise it little higher so the boys can see
To the front , to the back to the side, side, side
To the front, to the back to the side, side, side

Now those songs seem sexual and self-loathing......

Yet another day in my life

This stuff only happens to me.  My doctor prescribed Metformin for me to combat my prediabetes condition.  The side effects have made me dizzy, nauseous and left me with feelings of butterflies in my tummy. 

I have endured it for the past three days at work. Think that I was experiencing anxiety from the diagnosis and my grandmother’s recent hospitalization.  I had no rum or vodka so I had used exercise to make the strange feeling go away.  Thursday I had had a pretty rough day.  I went to the gas station and to the library after work and I felt horrible.  When the alarm sounded this morning I felt that I needed to stay home while I adjusted to the medicine.  I glanced at the clock which read 8:49 am.  I panicked. Not only did I have a terrible sleep but I had overslept.  I called the office to notify them that I would not join them and that I would have called earlier but I overslept.  The workday begins at 8:15 am.  I felt terrible in having called in sick so late. I leapt out of bed to the kitchen for a glass of water.  The oven clock read 6:37 am.  I felt like a dork.  I have no explanation for my clock jovial nature.  I still went back to bed.

I have two books to review to learn how to manage my health without the assistance of diabetes medication. 

Wish me luck or give me some suggestions before I eat another delicious cookie.

Yet another day in my life

This stuff only happens to me. My doctor prescribed Metformin for me to combat my prediabetes condition. The side effects have made me dizzy, nauseous and left me with feelings of butterflies in my tummy.

I have endured it for the past three days at work. Think that I was experiencing anxiety from the diagnosis and my grandmother’s recent hospitalization. I had no rum or vodka so I had used exercise to make the strange feeling go away. Thursday I had had a pretty rough day. I went to the gas station and to the library after work and I felt horrible. When the alarm sounded this morning I felt that I needed to stay home while I adjusted to the medicine. I glanced at the clock which read 8:49 am. I panicked. Not only did I have a terrible sleep but I had overslept. I called the office to notify them that I would not join them and that I would have called earlier but I overslept. The workday begins at 8:15 am. I felt terrible in having called in sick so late. I leapt out of bed to the kitchen for a glass of water. The oven clock read 6:37 am. I felt like a dork. I have no explanation for my clock jovial nature. I still went back to bed.

I have two books to review to learn how to manage my health without the assistance of diabetes medication.

Wish me luck or give me some suggestions before I eat another delicious cookie.

I am not addicted at all

Me at the Toledo Mud Hens Stitch and Pitch night. 

This has been one difficult blog entry. That is me  in the back. To the right of the lady in blue and behind the lady in orange. yes, the brown face.

I was working on the Geisha Wrap pattern that I found lying on the table at Fiberworks. I didn't care for the Colinette yarn prices so I created my own assortment. I changed the pattern into tunisian crochet for my own sanity. it is quite nice. I switched seed stitch to moss stitch. I will post a picture.

I am participating in a magic ball yarn swap. It is so much fun. I have been gathering items from all over using the LYS, Ebay and Etsy to pull it together. I can not wait until the yarn ball is complete.
67%

I am not addicted at all

67%

I attended the Toledo Mud Hens Stitch and Pitch

This has been one difficult blog entry. That is mean in the back. To the right of the lady in blue and behind the lady in orange. yes, the brown face.

I was working on the Geisha Wrap pattern that I found lying on the table at Fiberworks. I didn't care for the Colinette yarn prices so I created my own assortment. I changed the pattern into tunisian crochet for my own sanity. it is quite nice. I switched seed stitch to moss stitch. I will post a picture.

I am participating in a magic ball yarn swap. It is so much fun. I have been gathering items from all over using the LYS, Ebay and Etsy to pull it together. I can not wait until the yarn ball is complete.

Indestructible

Stray Cats are Indestructible

My South neighbor (the one that feeds and houses stray cats in her garage) finally hired an exterminator to get rid of them

To recap, what began as a one cat found living in her tree with three tiny kittens has evolved into a stray cat nightmare.  She tried to catch them and take them to the animal shelter.  She would catch the nursing female but none of the kittens which were too small to trigger the trap.  She would let the female out in order to maintain the cat family unit. 

Of course, that female slut has had two more broods since first taking up house in that tree. Why should she or ANY of her kittens leave?  She had housing, fresh water and food.  I think there were at least 5 cats living in her garage and pooping in my yard.  They are very considerate not to poop in her yard but have no reservations regarding befouling my garden.   I was afraid to use my herbs last year.  I was afraid to dry them out.  I just let them die.

 
This year, I am terrified for my lettuce.  I had been stealing my roomies used coffee grounds for a week before I told them what I was doing.  I am creating a cat repellent.  I spread the grounds around the lettuce.

After months of dropping hints to my neighbor she is finally hiring a professional to catch the cats and remove them from her garage.

Wednesday the exterminator placed the critter trap near her garage.  Good idea.  That is where they live after all.  ‘Cept, all he caught was a possum.

I saw it on my way to my garage and laughed my tail off.  No pun intended. 

One of the stray cats was lying in her bird bath (which is in stalking distance of my bird feeder) watching the possum struggle. 

 

Another neighbor on the North side of my house asked the exterminator about family cats that are permitted outside.  He informed her that all cats in Toledo require a collar and a license.   She, like me, hates the stray cats.  They are a huge nuisance to everyone. New neighbors always remark about the large number of strays in the neighborhood.  I should mention the stray cats did not begin with the Southside neighbor but a neighbor across the street.  The house had been empty for a month and the new owners unceremoniously removed three kittens from the garage.  One of those kittens found herself in my neighbor’s tree. 

She called four pet stores only to be laughed at four times. No one really sells cat collars and the region does not require a license. She did find a collar and her extremely well-fed cat wears it proudly.  I can not imagine how anyone could confuse a pampered stray and a pampered pet.  I would describe her cat as dwarf panther.    

If you are an animal lover and are finding yourself becoming very uncomfortable reading this blog visit this link and spay or neuter your own pets before they become someone else’s problem.

   

Thursday the exterminator had placed the trap under the garage door and used old closet doors to block off the space forcing the cats to enter the trap.  When I got home from work, I noticed the trap empty but the garage was missing a window.  The Northside neighbor and I laughed ourselves silly over a glass of rum and coke on her porch while her house cat lazily watched us. 

I would have taken a picture this morning but I think she decided to cut her losses.  Two animal traps looked as if they had been thrown into a corner where she keeps her cutting. 

I hope she gets is right before I do something drastic.

Indestructible

Stray Cats are Indestructible

My South neighbor (the one that feeds and houses stray cats in her garage) finally hired an exterminator to get rid of them

To recap, what began as a one cat found living in her tree with three tiny kittens has evolved into a stray cat nightmare. She tried to catch them and take them to the animal shelter. She would catch the nursing female but none of the kittens which were too small to trigger the trap. She would let the female out in order to maintain the cat family unit.

Of course, that female slut has had two more broods since first taking up house in that tree. Why should she or ANY of her kittens leave? She had housing, fresh water and food. I think there were at least 5 cats living in her garage and pooping in my yard. They are very considerate not to poop in her yard but have no reservations regarding befouling my garden. I was afraid to use my herbs last year. I was afraid to dry them out. I just let them die.

This year, I am terrified for my lettuce. I had been stealing my roomies used coffee grounds for a week before I told them what I was doing. I am creating a cat repellent. I spread the grounds around the lettuce.

After months of dropping hints to my neighbor she is finally hiring a professional to catch the cats and remove them from her garage.

Wednesday the exterminator placed the critter trap near her garage. Good idea. That is where they live after all. ‘Cept, all he caught was a possum.

I saw it on my way to my garage and laughed my tail off. No pun intended.

One of the stray cats was lying in her bird bath (which is in stalking distance of my bird feeder) watching the possum struggle.

Another neighbor on the North side of my house asked the exterminator about family cats that are permitted outside. He informed her that all cats in Toledo require a collar and a license. She, like me, hates the stray cats. They are a huge nuisance to everyone. New neighbors always remark about the large number of strays in the neighborhood. I should mention the stray cats did not begin with the Southside neighbor but a neighbor across the street. The house had been empty for a month and the new owners unceremoniously removed three kittens from the garage. One of those kittens found herself in my neighbor’s tree.

She called four pet stores only to be laughed at four times. No one really sells cat collars and the region does not require a license. She did find a collar and her extremely well-fed cat wears it proudly. I can not imagine how anyone could confuse a pampered stray and a pampered pet. I would describe her cat as dwarf panther.

If you are an animal lover and are finding yourself becoming very uncomfortable reading this blog visit this link and spay or neuter your own pets before they become someone else’s problem.

Thursday the exterminator had placed the trap under the garage door and used old closet doors to block off the space forcing the cats to enter the trap. When I got home from work, I noticed the trap empty but the garage was missing a window. The Northside neighbor and I laughed ourselves silly over a glass of rum and coke on her porch while her house cat lazily watched us.

I would have taken a picture this morning but I think she decided to cut her losses. Two animal traps looked as if they had been thrown into a corner where she keeps her cutting.

I hope she gets is right before I do something drastic.

I also wanted to say "hi" to my Crabby Swap Partner

Been A Long Diet

Well

It has been forever since I have written a proper blog.  The creative writing class that I took during the spring  made me less likely to blog.

In the class, I had to write small autobiographical stories based on techniques and memory tricks.  I would post them to the online forum and my classmates would add commas.  I am terrible with commas, proper nouns and balancing metaphors.  I had to enlist the aid of an editor.   At first I thought that writing a blog and an autobiographical short story would be vastly different.  I wrote poorly and bored my reader.

Here is an excerpt of my fairy tale.

 

            Once a upon a time, a young family called Hooker with two little girls moved to a modern  castle in the Land of Toledo.  The two little girls fought and argued, disappointing their mother whose relationship with her own sister was stronger than any in the world.  One day the mother called the little girls outside to wave goodbye to their father. The dutiful girls said their goodbyes and continued to live with their mother in the castle.  They had no reason to miss him as he visited regularly. 

 

Awful. I know. 

In this story I wrote about my work experiences.

 

When I began my job, 4 and ½ years ago, there was nothing but an outline of responsibilities and forms.  I had sought training, learned new techniques, adopted curriculum and consulted with experts to improve outcomes.  While I was indulged, my position was ultimately a support function for an essential position in the program.  I felt powerless the day I was overruled during a staff meeting because my suggestion while logical and valid was not time efficient.  At this meeting, I finally understood that my position was the undesired portion of a pivotal function within the program.  There were other occasions where my advice or recommendations were discounted because of tradition or expediency despite it being the best response for the students that we served.  This began a conflict.  The program functioned as a 30 year old machine maintained by mechanics who ignored 30 years of innovation.  Who patronized the new mechanics with their fancy tools and resources by offering to them a doughnut, cup of coffee, and a pat on the head.

 

After my editor helped me with this she suggested that I try humor: 

 

That was when I began to perform well in the course. 

I wrote about my grandfather and his dementia. I wrote about trying to train cats. I wrote about tormenting my little sister with a tub of butter.  I wrote about creating handmade masterpieces that were hidden in basements by their recipients.  I wrote about  roommates, sex and, … well, you read some of it in a previous post.    

I got an A in that course.

 

Since I have written on this wall. Many things have occurred.  I have gained 15 pounds.  That means two dress sizes.  I love it when people pretend not to notice don’t you? I mention that I am overweight and how it is driving me crazy and I get responses like “you are not fat. You are fine” Sometimes my revelation is met with surprise.   I have stated that my weight gain is out of control and I can not figure out its source and I am matter-of-factly told that I am probably just eating too much. 

I want you to think about that for just a moment.  Wouldn’t you have ALREADY RULED THAT OUT. I am 5 4” and I am tipping almost 200 lbs.  I am not obese.  I can get away with saying “thick” with my Black peers but I am not happy.

I am being successfully treating for narcolepsy, SADS, hypothyroidism and allergic rhinitis.  Each of my doctors say that I should not be gaining weight with the treatments.  They are concerned. 

In the 21st Century, we members of what might be the fattest country in the world have access to gazillions of datum related to calories, fat content, carbs and fiber.  There is a new diet on the best seller list each quarter.  Our celebrities are hounded for their diet secrets and ridiculed for the weight gain.  I am a moderately intelligent woman who has taken advantage of my job’s wellness program, which for me includes a coach and an exercise program.  I would freaking just admit it if I were simply overeating………………

 

So

I have had to alter something in my life with my extra baggage.  I got over being completely upset over my belly touching my thighs when I use the bathroom.  I use objects to scratch my back.  I have discovered body shapers. I eat healthy snacks.  I wear more jewelry and make-up.  I look longingly at my size 7 shoe collection.  I can only wear 7 ½’s now. 

I taught myself to knit and walk at the same time.

Okay, you probably read that sentence twice. 

 I found that I can get a moderate exercise routine in while completing some of my craft projects.  No, I do not knit and walk in public although, I might…..

I am determined to get my work-out where ever and when ever I can. 

I wear a pedometer to track my steps each day.  I attend line dancing classes (which is a guaranteed 5000 steps each session.)  I use Calorie Count and a diet journal to track my food and weight.  I measure myself each week. 

I am blowing up.

I have tried reducing wheat and that only seemed to help my heartburn.  I am reducing corn products and I have discovered that corn is in everything.  It is quite sickening how much corn we eat.  I have never been a regular at fast food restaurants but I do watch how much I eat when I eat at sit-down eateries. 

I am on top of this.  But when I climb on that scale it just gives in…….

I am determined to get healthy again.

Besides, I want to try online dating and I don’t want to check “overweight” under the body type category. 

More to come. 

Been A Long Diet

Well

It has been forever since I have written a proper blog. The creative writing class that I took during the spring made me less likely to blog.

In the class, I had to write small autobiographical stories based on techniques and memory tricks. I would post them to the online forum and my classmates would add commas. I am terrible with commas, proper nouns and balancing metaphors. I had to enlist the aid of an editor. At first I thought that writing a blog and an autobiographical short story would be vastly different. I wrote poorly and bored my reader.

Here is an excerpt of my fairy tale.

Once a upon a time, a young family called Hooker with two little girls moved to a modern castle in the Land of Toledo. The two little girls fought and argued, disappointing their mother whose relationship with her own sister was stronger than any in the world. One day the mother called the little girls outside to wave goodbye to their father. The dutiful girls said their goodbyes and continued to live with their mother in the castle. They had no reason to miss him as he visited regularly.

Awful. I know.

In this story I wrote about my work experiences.

When I began my job, 4 and ½ years ago, there was nothing but an outline of responsibilities and forms. I had sought training, learned new techniques, adopted curriculum and consulted with experts to improve outcomes. While I was indulged, my position was ultimately a support function for an essential position in the program. I felt powerless the day I was overruled during a staff meeting because my suggestion while logical and valid was not time efficient. At this meeting, I finally understood that my position was the undesired portion of a pivotal function within the program. There were other occasions where my advice or recommendations were discounted because of tradition or expediency despite it being the best response for the students that we served. This began a conflict. The program functioned as a 30 year old machine maintained by mechanics who ignored 30 years of innovation. Who patronized the new mechanics with their fancy tools and resources by offering to them a doughnut, cup of coffee, and a pat on the head.

After my editor helped me with this she suggested that I try humor:

That was when I began to perform well in the course.

I wrote about my grandfather and his dementia. I wrote about trying to train cats. I wrote about tormenting my little sister with a tub of butter. I wrote about creating handmade masterpieces that were hidden in basements by their recipients. I wrote about roommates, sex and, … well, you read some of it in a previous post.

I got an A in that course.

Since I have written on this wall. Many things have occurred. I have gained 15 pounds. That means two dress sizes. I love it when people pretend not to notice don’t you? I mention that I am overweight and how it is driving me crazy and I get responses like “you are not fat. You are fine” Sometimes my revelation is met with surprise. I have stated that my weight gain is out of control and I can not figure out its source and I am matter-of-factly told that I am probably just eating too much.

I want you to think about that for just a moment. Wouldn’t you have ALREADY RULED THAT OUT. I am 5 4” and I am tipping almost 200 lbs. I am not obese. I can get away with saying “thick” with my Black peers but I am not happy.

I am being successfully treating for narcolepsy, SADS, hypothyroidism and allergic rhinitis. Each of my doctors say that I should not be gaining weight with the treatments. They are concerned.

In the 21st Century, we members of what might be the fattest country in the world have access to gazillions of datum related to calories, fat content, carbs and fiber. There is a new diet on the best seller list each quarter. Our celebrities are hounded for their diet secrets and ridiculed for the weight gain. I am a moderately intelligent woman who has taken advantage of my job’s wellness program, which for me includes a coach and an exercise program. I would freaking just admit it if I were simply overeating………………

So

I have had to alter something in my life with my extra baggage. I got over being completely upset over my belly touching my thighs when I use the bathroom. I use objects to scratch my back. I have discovered body shapers. I eat healthy snacks. I wear more jewelry and make-up. I look longingly at my size 7 shoe collection. I can only wear 7 ½’s now.

I taught myself to knit and walk at the same time.

Okay, you probably read that sentence twice.

I found that I can get a moderate exercise routine in while completing some of my craft projects. No, I do not knit and walk in public although, I might…..

I am determined to get my work-out where ever and when ever I can.

I wear a pedometer to track my steps each day. I attend line dancing classes (which is a guaranteed 5000 steps each session.) I use Calorie Count and a diet journal to track my food and weight. I measure myself each week.

I am blowing up.

I have tried reducing wheat and that only seemed to help my heartburn. I am reducing corn products and I have discovered that corn is in everything. It is quite sickening how much corn we eat. I have never been a regular at fast food restaurants but I do watch how much I eat when I eat at sit-down eateries.

I am on top of this. But when I climb on that scale it just gives in…….

I am determined to get healthy again.

Besides, I want to try online dating and I don’t want to check “overweight” under the body type category.

More to come.