Burnin' daylight

Six days since the last post (hm, really?), and less than twelve hours to February. Uh-huh, really.

I think January has passed so quickly (at least in my mind it has) because the month has been extremely forgiving in the weather department (for most of Michigan). If we'd had the horrible January snow storms and harsh low temps day after day that we are used to, it would have dragged and worn on us all. But the weather has been mild all the way 'round, and I have no complaints in this department.

I have also been pre-occupied with that beast of a quilting project I've been teasing you with, so time has flown by.

There are never enough hours in the day when you want and need them, are there?

Today is gloriously sunny, and the temperature is hovering in the low fifties. Yes...LOW 50s!!!! All that snow we had special delivered is melting like nobody's business.

With the beautiful sunshine I have been stitching, stitching, stitching, and have managed to finish out the red portion!!! There's a bit of orange to get through; then the matter of some amount of questionable work I am thinking of adding to a few large open areas (which could remain unquilted, but I really feel those areas need the quilting). Oh, I hate this sort of decision.

Tonight will find me beginning a new chapter in my search for permanent, full time work, but I will have to let you know more about that in a day or two...for now I must get back to my machine. John Wayne is sitting on my shoulder, whispering into my ear - "You're burnin' daylight, pilgrim."

Only 11 pounds away

Eleven pounds away from dropping out of the two-hundreds!

Wahoo!

Disgusted with the day

Spent far too much time reorganizing and filtering the booklistings in my halfdotcom bookstore, and now I'll never get those hours back.

OMWord!!!! Eight hours!

Yes, it sort of needed doing, but could I have waited another week to get it done? M-m-m-a-a-a-y-b-e, but that sort of lost time (and revenue) would have been another whole yarn of regret, so-o-o-o-o-o-o..... six of one and half-dozen of the other

I feel (a little) more secure with everything there in order, but awful about having squandered all of that time not working on the quilting project at hand.

Argh!

Uh-oh

The boy may have a car problem = $$.

Dear Lord, please let it be minor and as painle$$ as possible.

What's the point?

Is there a point?

If I could sell the house, it would be done.

No. There is no point.

People, people, people

Don't know if I have expounded on this before (but most certainly it has been mentioned at least once) - I am a very nasal-oriented person. Scent-wise. Proboscis proficient. That is to say, I have a nose.

"We all have noses," you cheer in unison.

No. What I mean is: there are people in this world who have noses that can sniff out scant molecules of something - trace evidence, if you will - of some smell hidden within a melange of other aromas. This is most helpful in perfume development, cooking (if you are a well-paid, sought after chef), chemical warfare, suspect identification (most usually if you are a dog), wine evaluation (which also requires a brilliant palette), etc.

Well, I have one of these sensitive units. I love my nose and it's capabilities. However, there are times when it can be a nuisance as well.

For example:

When I am out for a walk I can always tell when laundry is tumbling in a drier somewhere. Sometimes this is apparent blocks before I actually pass the home (not) in question...and you people know who you are!

Hint: if you must add three or four dryer sheets to each load in order to sufficiently cover the smell of your laundry (or more accurately, cover the smell of YOU in your 'clean' laundry), might I suggest other alternatives to your own bathing and grooming habits? Dryer sheets are to soften your clothes, not to mask an odor issue.

Conversely, I do tend to revel (mentally) when I am online somewhere, and I find myself standing near a person who understands the concept of the adage "less is more," and subscribes to the application method in this rule of conduct. MOST especially when the fragrance they have chosen to use is pleasant to one's olfactory senses.

A good smell can bring a smile to my face. An excellent cologne, a lovely oh-what-is-that-smell-and-where-is-it-coming-from freshness that somebody is wearing....which doesn't knock you over the head with its presence and choke you with lingering stank. Why can't everyone observe the smell rules?

It's like driving. There are lines painted on the roadways for a purpose. Once you climb into YOUR lane, you stay there - keeping your crappy music and your papers inside that space WITH YOU. Your smell should stay in your own 'lane'. I don't wanna smell it!

Older people and cheap men are guilty of hanging on to a bottle of something-or-other they received for a birthday or Christmas - back in 1973! - and then liberally dousing themselves with it before they walk out of their homes. Those folks should be told immediately they are offending everyone within a half mile radius, and then dragged through a hog pen until their own aroma no longer remains.

Of course, I would feel badly for the swine, but they'll get over it.

Then again: old older people - and I mean those old folks who have begun to rot from the inside out - those folks are a bit of a conundrum. I mean, of course they need to be out and let themselves air out somewhat...and maybe they can't reach those areas now leaching smell as they could have once upon a time - but caregivers need to be a little more diligent. Get a hose (for rinsing, not for beatings) or install a bidet. Have mercy!

Truly, it's a real tosser with that problem. The needle could go either way on that one, but I tend to be a bit more forgiving for the stinky wrinklies than for those mid-old age funkmeisters who use too much Channel No. 1965.

Hello! If it smells like effusive baby powder and sickeningly sweet unidentifiable things, throw it in the garbage and head to the store for something new! I'm begging you.

Along those lines, if you think that "natural body odor" is a turn on, or a statement about your purist attitude and lifestyle - get a clue. You stink! Buy some Suave and use some soap. Sheesh!

[pant pant pant]

Anyway, I think you get the drift of where I am heading. I believe you've caught a whiff of my objective. You know what I am saying.

Don't make me sniff you out and make rude comments, it won't be pretty when you begin crying.

Deep breath.

!#$%!&*!

I'm going to bed!!

This day is not going well and just keeps heading steadily downhill, at lightening speed.

Wake me when it's over - if it ever ends. But before you do, find my clear packaging tape...otherwise DON'T bother me.

Seriously.

Stop the insanity!

Karl's Christmas snow finally turned up.

It's snowing like mad out there, and I can't tell if it is also somewhat foggy, or if the snow is just so dense it is appearing foggy. It's close to a whiteout at present! The odd thing seems to be the snow is constantly switching up; first falling fast and heavy, then light and snow globe-y, then hard and straight to the ground - as if someone were throwing it from the roofs and tree tops. So strange.

But, it's not all about the weather, is it? No, it never is. ;^]

I washed a goodly amount of laundry yesterday, and sorted through some old papers - applying my new "merciless standard." After having donated a pile of clothes to the Purple Heart I became a little fixated on cleaning out and cleaning up a bit further.

In fact, it all actually became quite a distraction to the quilting process. Consequently, I am very dissatisfied with the results of my hours spent at the machine yesterday, and am giving serious thought to pulling out a huge portion of the poorly quilted area and quilting it all again! Yikes!

It's all just too much craziness for my liking right now. Too much.

Stop the insanity!

Letting go

Why is it we have such a hard time letting go of things?

I won't go all philosophical on you right now, but it's odd that we have such a need to possess stuff.

For example: I sorted through a bunch of clothes that are still serviceable, and are intended for a Purple Heart pick-up today. I have had this bag stuffed and ready for almost two weeks, and when it came time to place the bag on the porch for the driver to see and stop for, I just couldn't help reaching back in and taking out two sweaters I was having a really hard time letting go of.

?

Now I am going to have to find a place to store them until I either realize they aren't going to fit whether I am larger or smaller, or; until I realize they just really don't look that good on (me). Pretty - YES, functional - NO.

The challenge is on and the clock is ticking.

The time limit is this coming fall.

Go!

Literally blew in

The storm front our local weather weenies have said would arrive some time today literally just blew in and knocked at the door with a gust of about 25 to 32 MPH (depending upon which weather station and e-site you drop into to check). The rain that quickly followed is currently smacking at the windows and front door with a stinging sound...making me think it is more like ice (sleet) than rain.

The temperature in my neck of the woods was at 50*F about twenty minutes ago, but has since fallen to 44*F, and by the looks of it will continue to plummet the remainder of the afternoon. Not hard to imagine for a Michigan January, the temps falling, but the spate of lovely inclement forties and fifties we have been enjoying looks to be rapidly disappearing for the next few days.

Ah well, easy come, easy go.

The mighty winter wind which galloped in moments ago has abated and the reported breezes are now at a leisurely 3-6 MPH. The rain has also given way to a finer mist, which is appreciated since I now think would be a great time to head to the bank before old Mr. Winter and crotchety Ma Nature begin another ruckus to take notice of. Besides, it is now 41.7*F (at 2:12PM EST), and I don't want to be chilled going between the house and car and bank and car, etc. Call me soft, but I am pleasantly toasty (core body temp-wise), and the thought of having to re-warm is not appealing.

Besides, while I was out gathering the mail, I had the strangest compulsion to begin weeding the flowerbed along the front of the house - that's how spring-like and lovely it has been here this winter!

Oh geez! 39.7*F at 2:21PM. OK, time to go.

UPDATE: 3:15 PM EST and the temperature is now 34*F. That's quite enough - over a fifteen degree drop in less than an hour and one half!

What happens

If Betty Crocker and Robert Heinlein had a love child, this is what it would look like.

When there's not enough time in your day (or flat space in your cooking area), you get creative. I think this is how Legos were born.

My kitchen counter is a monument to Heinlein futuristic high rise living. Eat your heart out - literally.

Taking a quick break

Ah, routines. We all have them - many or few, but every living creature has them.

You can try and deny it, but you and I both know you have at least one.

My cats and I have one (several, actually), but the specific routine I am on about here is the ritualistic feeding of the felines. And, is my fashion, when I rise and drift into the start of [our] day, I will head to the loo first, take care of business and then head out to the kitchen for the fooding period.

Yes, the "fooding" of the girls has been discussed here before, so don't make me repeat things.

This morning, as I washed up and prepared for the kitty choir I knew was awaiting me in the hallway, I was surprised at the lack of pawing I was (not) hearing at the bottom of the door.

See, normally Cleo follows my path to the bathroom and parks her keester in the hall at the edge of the doorway, and proceeds to paw at the door while I am 'busy.' When she perceives too little movement and/or sound from my side of the door she paws - gently but urgently - until I acknowledge her in some way.

This morning was a little more silent than usual, and I hastened to open the door to see where my 'dog' had gotten to. Rarely does she not shadow me when she isn't engaged in her daily nap.

As the door flew open I was met by the faces of Hobbes and Flop directly next to the door jam (in Cleo's traditional spot). I think the alarm on their faces said it all as the door opened too quickly. Poor Cleo.

She had been leaning on the door with all of her weight, perhaps trying to impress upon her sisters there is a bond (and a routine) between the two of us that they were interfering with. Perhaps she had been nudged out of position by her hungry compatriots - who knows?

All I do know is that as I opened the door it whooshed in my direction a lot faster than I was used to and in tumbled Cleo.... just as surprised, and somewhat embarrassed by the indelicate way she landed in front of witnesses.

It took everything I had to not laugh out loud, and the three furry folks scurried around the corner and into the kitchen at lightening speed.

Silly bunch of girls.

Well, my break is over. I've finished my sandwich and my story for the day, so I'm heading back to my activities. Have a good day all.

Friday the thirteenth!

WHAT!?! ? !! ! !!! !! !

Guess what I just realized.

Here's one answer

I had a good conversation with my NY aunt yesterday, and she was curious about a lot of the goings-on in my life at present.

In particular, we chatted about my online book "store" (my listings online at halfdotcom) and she wondered why I wasn't selling my stock through Amazon instead. It was a good question, and while I would liked to have utilized the Amazonian customer base (because goodness knows, they really do have a good portion of the online selling power for a one-stop site), the truth....is they gouge quite a bit.

With a claw hammer.

And a pick axe.

And for good measure they follow all that up with a backhoe.

Whereas, HDC charges 15% of the item price for courtesy fee for listing with them (less if the item is priced over $50). Of course, they also take a sneaky (varying) portion of the S/H costs they charge the customers, but it is still much less than Amazon runs off with.

For example:

There is the 99-cent item sale charge right off the bat. Then there is the $1.35 handling fee, per book (this fee varies depending upon the type of item) - oh, and bear in mind they aren't handling my items....I am. Add to those amounts the 15% charge for transactions (this fee also varies depending upon the item being sold), and you end up making a lot less for your efforts than you would hope.

I imagine they also keep a portion of the S/H charges collected from the buyers, but that isn't listed in their "how we do this" descriptions.

So there you have it, Aunt Jude, the reasons I sell online at HDC.

Oh, and yes, I did take a photo of the mod quilting I told you about for the background, but was too tired last night to wait for my laptop to fire back up in order to download the pic from my camera and then send it on. But, you will have a photo tonight, and there will be so much more to see, too. Plus my production CV. So glad to hear the cat was adopted...made my day. What did your neighbors end up calling him?

It was nice speaking with you yesterday! Stay well, happy and active! Hello, New York!!

Good morning to the Netherlands!

I have been quilting my britches off in an attempt to finish a submission piece....and I am still working at it. Needless to say, I have taken little time to do much else with a tight deadline looming, but I have looked for work, checked email and quickly wandered through a few sites here and there to clear out the cobwebs and re-energize before sitting back at the machine and my mountain of material.

Alliteration fun! ;^)

One thing I do look at from time to time is the stats here for the ol' blog, and I noticed someone (or several someones?) in the Netherlands have been reading through very recently.

Hello and welcome!

Please don't think I am the typical American woman - although there are many like me (similar situations, hobbies, interests, family types, etc), I am unique and atypical in many more ways than not.

Let me know if something doesn't make sense to you, as I am familiar with the miscommunication that can happen with translation. Not that you can't read English, but phrasing and humor are not always the easiest to pick up on when migrated from the English language to another.

And for Heaven's sake, don't let me scare you off.

Have a good day, everyone, and I will try to give a rough report of the happenings for the past few days sometime tonight.

So far, so good

Cat box is changed, Karl is doing his laundry, I am getting the wreath past the halfway point (don't ask), music is playing, dinner is planned (and will be easy so that I can keep on working), skies are blue and SUNNY, the light is great and the temps are remaining in the forties for another three days.

Tonight is the premiere of the second season for the PBS series Downton Abbey - and I can't wait!

Oh boy, life is good today.

:^)

Not the strangest search links I've seen - but close

I'm scratching my head in wonder, trying to figure out how one would get to my humble blog from searches online for "dental implants" and "sexy Dubai call girls."

You people are an enigma to me. Truly.

By the way, you won't find any call girls here of any type. I'm just sayin'.

Sorry. Better luck next blog.

Getting my Christmas on

Yes, it's true.

I am sitting here, quilting my left brain out, listening to Christmas music!

"Why are you listening to Christmas music in January?" you ask.

Well, let's just say I didn't get enough of it throughout the holiday season...which I didn't. And Brian had had way too much of it. I was trying to be an understanding mom so I stayed away from playing anything remotely holiday-oriented when he was around.

With Brian working retail, he heard it sprinkled in starting late in October (following the horrible onslaught of Halloween musical mixed tapes), which I think is cruel, cruel punishment for those poor retail folks. By Thanksgiving those Christmas tunes were full time and, as Bud explained it, they weren't even the good versions of most songs.

We all know the corporate reasoning behind putting Christmas tunes on, it's to get shoppers in that holiday mood; buying stuff, thinking about gift-giving (which requires gift-purchasing), planning for the big Xmas package and the whole 'Christmas enchilada' experience - cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-ching.

Not truly subliminal, but very $ubver$ive.

Anyhow, as I said, by November Bud had already had too much of the holiday tunes, and here we are in January and I still haven't met my festive quota.

Besides, I am choosing my favorite collections to rock out with - the Ray Coniff Singers, Ella Fitzgerald, Dean Martin, Nat King Cole....the whole childhood memory lane thing. Not only are there Christmas tunes on my Dean Martin CD, but there is a wonderful smattering of winter tunes....not even the least bit Christmas-oriented! Of course, some of them have been used throughout the holiday season, so that is how folks think of them, but I could listen to him sing the dictionary - so I don't care. It's great music and it keeps me smiling.

Maybe by Valentines day I will have had enough. We'll see. For now, I'm gonna keep getting my Christmas on (once Brian is out the door to work).

I miss -

Working on a regular basis.

A paycheck and benefits.

Short hair.

Spring, summer and fall.

My twenties (age-wise I mean, although paper money is also missed).

Jimmy Stewart, Katherine Hepburn, John Wayne, Audrey Hepburn, James Cagney. This part could take a while.

Good new films.

Big band music.

New tunes from Dean Martin and crooners like him - although he was tops.

Freddie Mercury.

Freddie Prinze - the comedian. (The original FP, not his whiny son.)

New episodes of Law and Order: CI (with Goren and Eames).

Thursday night TV.

TV without the "reality" crap. News (and life in general) is enough reality!

My misspent youth - when there was more than enough time in each day.

Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire.

Having a job to go to every day (yes, I am aware I repeated this one).

My grandfather, Grandpa Schaffer. <3

Being tougher.

Whatever I missed out on in my thirties.

Greece.

Playing volleyball four nights a week and tournaments on the weekends.

Gas at $1.30 per gallon.

Having a purpose in life.

Having a clue.

Having an oven.

The boys being small enough to sit on my lap and read to.

Full-sized pages of Sunday comics, with the insert page - 6 pages worth.

The chance at a fifty year relationship.

Not knowing that all men cheat.

Having faith in more things than I do now.

The boys believing in Santa Claus.

Being content.

Really wanted popcorn

And when I really want popcorn I usually just make some.

So, last night I made popcorn; and surprisingly, when I asked the boys if they wanted any, I was met with two "yes, please" responses.

They never want popcorn, and last night they both did!

This was the first sign of the Popcorn Apocalypse that I did not pay any attention to.

I'd made a decent amount in a recycled Jimmy Johns bag, but by the time I had parsed out a bowl for each of the boys there wasn't enough left for me to have any, so I set about as I always do, pouring an appropriate amount of kernels (again) into the paper sack and placing the sack back into the microwave.

Over the past year and one-half of this procedure, I have learned that you can actually use a bag around three or four times before it should be 'retired' - unless it is a heavier brown paper bag....those you can use until they rip. However, I hadn't yet learned that one mustn't disregard even minor defects (or weak points) in one's cooking materials.

See, this was the second sign of the Popcorn Apocalypse, and while I did give a cursory once-over to the small (seemingly insignificant) split in the bag, I didn't think the resulting (possible) escape of kernels would be all that great - or horrifying.

Wrong!!!

If you see a seam in your JJs bag where the glue has given up the ghost and left even a small hole - throw the bag away!!!

I implore you - throw it out. Place it in your recycle bag and forget about it.

Also, Popcorn Apocalypse sign number three (incidentally): don't ignore the z-z-z-zot-zotty-z-zot noises that come from your microwave when it is turned on. NEVER ignore z-z-z-zot-zotty-z-zot noises. Those are probably (most usually) accompanied by sparks and/or flames.

Those things in a microwave are never a good thing.

Long story short - never throw a flaming bag of popcorn kernels (and popcorn, if any got that far) into your kitchen sink unless you are certain there isn't a dry sponge or dishcloth with which it may come in contact.

Yup.

'Nuff said.

*I really wanted popcorn.*

Sometimes we go visiting

Forget a "nice" photo at a time like this. I was lucky to get this one! Ah, proof.

Every so often I get lucky - let's say once every two months or so - and can manage to get my sons out of the house at the same time, and into my car (again, at the same time).

Heck! We may even manage a pleasant time the entire duration of the ordeal, err....I meant 'outing.'

The evening of December 30th was one of those times, and while it was a wet - amazingly crowded affair - it was actually fun for all of us.

For several weeks we had tried to sync up Brian's time not at work with available hours at the Detroit Institute of Arts and plan a trip to the DIA, and it just never seemed to work in our favor. But on the last possible evening of the year (and before my three free passes expired) we climbed into the car and traveled to the city for a pleasant evening of traversing most of the DIA.

Yes, even Karl. His autism makes leaving the house a dreaded fight, and a very infrequent happening (which is why I try so hard to get him into a class at least once a semester).

Once we got our bearings (coordinating with the map provided) Karl navigated our way through the building, and Brian chose most of the stops once we left the lower floor.

Sure there were things we wanted to see and just couldn't, but all in all we did see a good deal of exhibits of interest to us - and I really think it whetted Karl's appetite to return another time and take a better look at things when there is no loud concert in the Rivera Court or holiday crowds to scoot around.

Dean Martin is in my head

And he can stay there, too! All day (and night) if'n he wants to. ;^)

Funny thing. I had a Freudian slip as I typed the headline. I wrote: "Dream" instead of 'Dean' - no wonder there, though, I do adore the man and his music.

Yesterday, I was in a retro sort of mood while I quilted and I guess I must still be in the zone, for after I came in from running Karl's thank you notes out to the mailbox, I can't stop humming "...baby, it's cold outside."

It is finally nippy and more winter-like out there. Bright and sunny, but c-o-l-d! I've made myself a bracing cup of tea and am heading back to the quilting in a heartbeat, just wanted to pop in and say "hello."

Hello! :^)

Beatles said it best (they always do)

It's just another day.

Still have a mammoth proportion of background quilting to get done, so I will not be making the January second deadline for this latest competition. Onward to the 14th!

I have already reasoned and mentally futzed with the odds and the numbers, and have consoled myself with the reality of it all; I am resigned to having this quilt to enter into next year's Paducah show (or maybe this year's GR show, with a new entry I will make over the next 11 months for Paducah 2013). Ah well, right?

Ah well.

[heavy sigh]

As I look around the room I realize, I need to pick up a new calendar or two for the walls (one for the kitchen and one for the library). Maybe another for the lower level wouldn't be a bad idea.

I must have my reference points.

The colorful little lizards from 2011 are still smiling at me from the bookshelf, reminding me it's time to move forward! Much as I hate to replace their sweet little faces, I really must get into 2012 - even if it all seems pretty pointless.

Goo goo ga-joob!

The Santa Anna Winds have arrived!

I don't know whether to expect the wind to blow the front door open or if I should prepare for the beautiful old maple to come crashing through the roof!

To say it's windy would be a gross understatement. And the wind goes from the quiet swaying variety to knock-you-over sustained gusts in the blink of an eye!

Batten down the hatches and hang on, Dorothy, we're in for a wild ride!

SOooooooooooo....

...2012, eh?

Same as it ever was.

Say, who was the evil genius who figured out a way to squirk an extra day onto the calendar every four years? And just how did he get the rest of society to go along with it?