Porphyrogene!

I wish I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. 
All I really know is I want to be happy, which isn’t necessarily the best decision.
 A study I read the other day said that extreme happiness, statistically, leads to a shorter life span, less resources, and a lack of occupation, etc.   Am I willing to die younger in exchange for "extreme happiness"? I think so.  So long as I go before my husband, I’m good I think.

 I am terrible at keeping up with journals.  I guess even my ability to type 90+ wpm isn’t all that useful in actually committing (more often than not) to signing onto a website and writing down my thoughts and experiences.

I don’t consider myself a feminist… I sort of don’t see the point of it.  If you’ve ever seen the West Wing (Tv Show), I agree with (and I’m going to butcher the spelling of her name) Ainsley Hays.  She’s a young, beautiful republican working for a democratic whitehouse.  I consider myself democratic, personally… so my agreement with her well-worded (THANK YOU TV WRITERS - I SUPPORT THE STRIKE!!!) thoughts don’t have to do with blindly agreeing because of the name of a politcal party.  She basically says why fight for women’s rights?  Women HAVE rights. We have just as many rights as men.  Legislature that grants rights for men, grants it also to women in the U.S.A.  By forcing through legislature that spells out, in redundant and clear-to-any-half-wit terms, that WOMEN HAVE certain inalienable RIGHTS just makes us come across as whiny and insecure. 

I’m also personally pro-life, but you can make whatever choice you want. It’s your body.
I also hate driving.
I also can’t wait to be a stay at home mom - I don’t have ANY aspiration to have a high-flying, long-winded career out of the home.

 Sometimes I feel embarrassed to admit these points.  I’m college educated. I’m actually quite intelligent (or so say the tests). I’m well-read.  I like a good debate. I’m just not anywhere near being the sort of "militant" feminist that I feel I maybe should be as a result of a liberal arts college education.

*shrug*

 I’m addicted to blogs, but only certain blogs.  I get no thrill from personal blogs detailing rumor or intrigue.  I get my kicks from humorous women writing about their lives and their families. I love seeing craft-centered blogs.  I love factoid blogs.  I love blogs with interesting articles.

 I LOVE online comics.  

I hate stupid movies. Dodge ball? The Big Lebowski? I don’t even get a whole lot of pleasure from Big Daddy.  Pretty much all of Adam Sandler’s movies annoy me.  But he’s hip - he’s cool - so it puts me in the "whacko" box to say anything negative about him. 

 I love sci-fi books.  Orson Scott Card? Isaac Asimov? Anne McCaffrey? … They’re my favorite kind.  I have a hard time reading other types of books.

 I make fun of teen and tween girls that I seen in public that either A) are dressed inappropriately or B) say ‘like’ every like other like word.  I do it by raising my voice in pitch and lilting my sentances to say "Like… OMG! I can’t like believe that that like… happened… omg… it totally could have like died!!!"  Or I repeat what I heard them say.  I get one of three reactions from my husband based on physical proximity to the individuals I’m mocking. 1) A dirty look (less than 4 feet) 2) Rolling of the eyes, small hint of exasperation mixed with amusement (between 4 and 8 feet away) 3) a small chuckle, quickly stifled. (8 or more feet).  

 I get the same reactions from him (with a vast increase in the distance ratio) when I yell "THE STEELERS SUCK" in our travels around Pittsburgh. But they do. And the Giants rule. And I’ve been a Giants fan since I was old enough to eat an oreo cookie.

 I like unusual names and there’s a sliver of a possibility that my kids will hate me because of it.

 I like cats.  I like that they’re fluid.  Dogs are SOOO much less flexible and cuddly.

I don’t really like doing new things. I don’t like the phone. I dont’ like calling new places. I hate the bus.

I am my most outgoing and gregarious when presented with a social situation in which I will be surrounded by strangers.

Sometimes I make random noises just to hear them. Meep.

There are times when a statement by a friend or teacher will stay with me or sink deeper than I think they meant for it too. For example, I am terrified of tampons and toxic shock syndrome.  I am also scared to even TOUCH my guitar anymore because I didn’t get around to restringing it after one of the strings broke and now it’s probably been over a year and you have to slowly tighten it because if you just restring it and tune it right up you might SNAP THE NECK OF THE GUITAR. AGGGHH

I am attracted to the boy in the newest version of "Peter Pan".
I have never been attracted to George Clooney.

Whenever I get in the elevator, I imagine it crashing.

I have discovered that, surprisingly, I am downright unfriendly in the morning.  

I have gotten new glasses and dyed my hair in the last 3 weeks - and no one has noticed (other than my husband - who was with me for each one of those things).

I have some serious/not-so-serious leg/feet problems that are not my fault. They are not anyone’s fault.  I don’t really feel like I can talk to my mom about them because she makes me feel like it IS my fault for having this pain whenever I do mention it.  I think she makes me feel like it’s my fault so that she won’t feel like it’s her fault somehow.  It’s not her fault. I wish she’d stop making both of us feel guilty.

 The sound of styrofoam creeps me out.

I have the most amazing dreams and I almost always remember them.

 I have a mean-streak. I have a temper.

I surprised myself the other day by leaping into action when I heard that one of my … sort-of-friends… from high school needed help.  He sounds like he’s doing okay now. I’m glad. And I’m proud of myself for doing something about it.

I’m okay with who I am.  I could be better, I could be worse. I wish I was skinnier.  I wish I didn’t feel the way I do about my job.  I wish I could make somebody’s day better, once, everyday.

that’s all for today folks. 

Here is what has made my Holiday great:

What Sweeter Sound - John Rutter
Shadyside Presbyterian Candlelight Christmas Eve Service
Souffle
Pillsbury Biscuits
Michelle Pfeiffer
The Knowledge that Absinthe is now Legal in the US of A
Piper, Phoebe and Paige Halliwell
Dollar Mason Jars from Generic-Craft-Emporium
70% off Christmas Sparklies.
Eevee and Delilah
Coffee
!!!Kyle

What has threatened to sully my holiday cheer?:
Packing
Having only one phone on which to call family
Leaving the cell phone charger at work
Having Santa’s arrival accompanied by Aunt Flo
Hypochondriac-ing myself into taking half a box of Pepto Bismol in two days.
Dropping my wedding rings off to be re-sized
Sometimes…Kyle.

So I’m really not much of a writer.  I’m really much more of a consumer.

I can be a voracious reader, a glutton for the written word.  However, I’m not just talking books.  I’m talking about blogs, news articles, weird bulletins, interesting factoids, and art.  I don’t need everything I consume to be spooned up with some sugar - I have a dark side.  I can take my coffee black and savour the bitterness.

I was trying describe my rampant (non-material) consumerism to my husband the other day and I think I feel like a farmer.  I have all this land (the internet) to cultivate and devour.  It is not so easy to always find the best patches with the best soil and the tastiest crops, but when I do find them… I remember them, I keep track of them.  However - the glutton in me is driven to devour everything they have to offer till I suck them dry.  Then I move on and I try desperately to forget about that patch for as long as possible so it has time to grow back before I go back.

I’ve done this Borg-like pillaging to all of the following websites (and more):
http://www.damninteresting.com/
http://www.daringyoungmom.com/
http://www.cuteoverload.com/
http://outofcharacter.blogspot.com/
http://www.wouldashoulda.com/
http://haha.nu/
http://www.neatorama.com/
http://www.craftzine.com/
http://www.instructables.com/
http://www.notcot.com/
http://www.notcot.org/
http://www.questionablecontent.net/
http://www.phdcomics.com/comics.php
http://www.xkcd.com/

A few days ago, I ran out.  I went back to each of them, read the most recent entries/comics/creations until I arrived at entries I’d already read and by the time I was done, it was only 10:00 am.  When I can’t keep myself stimulated… I start panicking.  Then I get tired and bored.  And then I start going insane. 

The insanity had almost taken over when I found a new high.  It’s called postsecret. 

Have you heard of it? Obviously I’m one of a few avid internet readers who hasn’t because it was voted best Blog of 2007 by over 20,000 people.   It might not be your cup of tea, but it certainly is  mine. 

The premise is that you can home make a 4x6 postcard and snail mail it, anonymously, to their address.  They scan it in, and post it on their website.  People write their secrets on the post card.

"My father is a catholic priest.  I have been his secret for 21 years". 

or

"Dear Mom and Dad: I was going to commit suicide the day that you put me in rehab. You saved my life. I love you both."

Not all of the secrets are nice.  Not all of the secrets are kind.  Not all of the secrets are happy or sad.  Some of them disgust me… some of them make me reach out with my heart through time and space with as much will power and love as possible so maybe my compassion can ease one second of that person’s pain. I don’t like hearing about suicide or violence.  I don’t like hearing about people who hurt themselves with razors.  But these are things that exist - and if sending in a post card, and knowing that people will read it, eases their pain, how can I look away? It’s as though by reading it, I’m taking on a little of their burden… a speck of it… so that they can breathe easier.

Does it actually help others for me to read these?  Probably not in the way I wistfully think.  But perhaps it helps insofaras I can better understand other people.  With each postcard I read, a chink of my own emotional armor erodes and suddenly I am freer.  Maybe it is a completely selfish thing, me reading these postcards.  In fact, it definitely is.  But I also care. 

I love those people.  I love them for being able to articulate their pain.  I love them because of their foibles.  I wish I could laugh with the ones who supply decaf instead of caf, I wish I could hug the ones who need hugs.  I wish I could give strength to the ones who want to tell someone they love them, I wish I could call in help for those who don’t have the voice to do so for themselves.

Maybe someday I’ll send in a secret of my own. 

Now, as previously admitted, I Like my husband Very Much and would squish him all day if I could.  But there are times when he is clueless.  One of those times occurred on/about my 23rd birthday. 

I could tell he was cooking up something because either he is very bad at hiding things from me or I am a crafty mind reader.  I believe it is the latter.  Regardless, he was being sneaky and I wheedled from him the fact that my Mom and Brother were coming to visit for the weekend directly before my birthday.  I was Oh So Excited.  Then somehow I got (read: water tortured) out of him that his Grandparents were going to "stop by" on their way to somewhere.  His Grandparents live 4 hours away.  The idea that they would "stop by" is somewhat ridiculous.  Even though I’m a particularly gifted mind reader, I do enjoy surprises.  I just so happen to have a disease wherein I cannot restrain myself from asking probing questions/snooping around/trying-my-hardest-ever to figure out what’s going on… It’s like Tourrette’s.

My Mom and Brother picked me up from work and insisted that instead of going home we go to the nearby Botanical Gardens… Immediately.  Okay, so that wasn’t fishy.  Neither was it fishy when, after telling them that it would be closed, driving there, and finding out it was closed, they decided the best idea would be to Sit. And Stay. And do… Nothing. For a while. Ahem.

*sniff* Herring? Salmon? 3-day-old Tuna?*sniff* DEEEFinitely Feeeshy.

Then after some terribly un-covert cell phone conversating, they decided quite suddenly that it was Time to Go Home.

We walked in the door to my house and there were Kyle’s Parents, Grandparents, Brother, Sister-in-Law, and our Nephews, with my Mom and Brother bringing up the rear.  Quite the gathering really.  It was very touching.  Love surged… Tears welled up…

And then my brother-in-law, mid-hug, told me "YEA! So we’re here to tear apart your bathroom! Excited?"

Yes. That’s right folks. My husband had coordinated a Birthday Surprise for me wherein our closest relatives trek to Pittsburgh from 4+ hours away and then demolish our ONLY BATHROOM.  Without warning me.  Without talking to me about it.  And Me without the ability to say no because after all… they all came… for MY birthday… to do us this FAVOR… from HOURS away… And I am left feeling as though I am screaming as the camera backs away from planet earth at light speed and leaves it a tiny speck of nothing admist a swirling shrinking galaxy in a swirling empty universe.

His parents and grandparents bought me a porch swing for my birthday though.  So I spent most of that weekend trying to become One with the Swing.

My most relaxing moment was when I had a cup of coffee in one hand, an Amish Donut in the other, my brand spankin’ new pink ipod nestled in my lap playing some Guilty-Pleasure pop while I sat on the Porch swing in the wee morning hours… as in 7:00 am on a saturday.

I understand 7:00 am is not that early…. If you have kids… or a job… or, I don’t know, a purpose on saturday morning.  But My saturday morning "purpose" was to get out of the bedroom because they were going to tape sheets of plastic up a la Outbreak, to "confine the dust" (HAHAHAHA) and they were going to start ripping down walls… and ceilings… and fixtures… and anything else that you might need to roughly define an amorphous space as "a bathroom".

Now… The men in Kyle’s family are infamous in their slow deliberations on What To Do Next.  They stand… all heads tilted to the right, debating what the course of action should be.  There is much rubbing of chins and scratching of foreheads.  Then there will be a flurry of action.  Do Not Be Fooled.  The Flurry of action is NOT the same as Action.  The Flurry occurs when one of them gets excited about what he thinks should happen but is soon quelled by the others bringing up a million other options and ideas… S.l.o.w.l.y.  

This deliberation period will re-occur many times through their workings. Often it occurs just before they’re about to do something Important such as… Build supports for a load-bearing wall.  Often when it occurs, it occurs just before they find something Wrong that they missed before and now must debate for the next 20 minutes. 

Despite this predeliction for un-lively debate, they did manage to rip apart my entire bathroom, rendering the sink useless, the Tub/shower-area useless, disappearing the walls, and sugar-coating the house in dust before they left.  De-WICIOUS as my nephew would say.

Oh… did I mention that we do, in fact, have a second shower? It’s in our basement.  If you are unfamiliar with what a Pittsburgh Basement Toilet/Bathroom is… be glad.  For the following 2 months I showered in our unfinished basement, out in the open, from an exposed pipe on the wall while I got the eerie feeling that not only were Kyle’s power tools watching me (saws, hammers, drills and all), but the mildew and toxic mold on the walls were also ogling.  I swear… sometime in those last couple of weeks, the left wall mold winked at me.  I’m pretty sure the bottle of tilex I dumped on it just made it stronger.  I now avoid the basement whenever I can due to the fact that I believe human attention just makes it cheekier… and I could honestly live happily-ever-after without cheeky mold. Yea. Ignoring it is the way to go.

So, I consider myself fairly well-read.  Sometimes I have a bit of a big head about it - I’m proud of being a connoisseur of the written word - but I will also admit that I still haven’t read enough. 

 Another thing I’m really proud of is my dad.  He has read thousands of books, and he’s still going.  All while I was growing up he devoured books.  He wasn’t ever particularly openly passionate about it, but I could always tell it was something he deeply enjoyed.  As I grew up, there would be times when he would, all of a sudden, hand me a book and say "You’re ready. You’ll like this." And I would drink it down and beg for more.  That’s probably how I ended up reading all his Charles Shultz comic books about 15 times, I decimated Piers Anthony, I tore my way through Anne McCaffrey, and I sank into J.R.R. Tolkien and Morgan Llewellyn and many others.

His genre of choice is Sci-Fi/Fantasy, and the fact that he owns hundreds of Science Fiction books has probably fated me from my commencement of literacy to appreciate the Sci-Fi/Fantasy genre in particular.  My dad also has a strong reverence for myths and legends.  He has paintings of wizards and fairies, he loves stone faces of "The green man" made of leaves and feathers and he hangs them in the house and outside.  This passion of his is not overtly obvious and it doesn’t rule him or his living space - but it is infectious.  And so, I’ve grown up with a particularly keen appetite for the ‘magical’, the ‘mystical’, and the ‘mysterious’. 

There are so many things that I’m good at, so many things that I value and can better appreciate in others that are as a direct or indirect result of voracious reading habits.  My parents never forced me to read.  They read to me and my brother at bedtime - and that was very special.  But come the time when it was no longer cool to read to us at bed time… you would still find me reading till the wee morning hours.  I hope my parents know they did that right.  I’m not sure they always saw my and my brother’s reading as a blessing.  After all, I would get yelled at for sneaking a little flashlight into bed and reading until 3 am and my brother would get yelled at for spending his entire allowance on books every week.  Despite the frustrations at the time, I hope they know that it was a very good thing.

I was not the ‘most popular kid on the block’.  I had a lot of confidence issues that have thankfully worked themselves out as I grew up, but for a while there - books were a miraculous escape and adventure.  I didn’t see them quite so romantically as I was reading them - but I know now that not only were they a great pastime, but now I am a fast reader, I can read out loud very well, I have a very solid vocabulary, I can type at 90 wpm+ and it’s ALL because of reading.  I wish I knew what sparked it for me.  I wish I could remember if there was one particular gateway book that lead me to be a reading junky or if there were several. 

I’ll tell you what - I’ll share with you some books that are fuel for my fire, if you share some of yours.

Time-Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
Alanna by Tamora Pierce
Dragonsinger by Anne McCaffrey
Question Quest by Piers Anthony
Songmaster by Orson Scott Card
God-shaped Hole by Tiffanie DeBartolo
Druids by Morgan Llewellyn
The Witching Hour by Anne Rice
Time Enough for Love by Robert Heinlein
Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card

These 10 books are somewhat off the beaten path.  These are books I love.
If you’re reading this, don’t take this lightly.  These are not mere words I share, these are indelible experiences. These books will change you. 

Okay. I think it’s about time that I try to be brutally honest with myself for a minute.  I guarantee it will slip away from me and I’ll go back to being my witty, evading self - but till then, here it goes:

As a couple - My husband and I mesh extraordinarily well.  We are best friends and would share pretty much every minute of every day with each other if given the chance.   This perhaps is because we are NOT given the chance to spend every minute of every day with each other - but I prefer to believe it is because I Like Him A Lot. 

There are thousands of things that he does perfectly well.  He offers footrubs of his own accord.  He loves to play with my hair.  He is constantly solicitous of my needs.  He cooks for me.  He loves to kiss me.  He tells me I’m beautiful.  He cleans out the litter boxes.  He kills the stray bugs.  He lets me choose the movie.  He let’s me play car D.J.  It does not seem to bother him that my art stuff is littered all over the first floor as though there had been a nuclear craft explosion.  In fact, he enables my craft habits by holding my hand as we walk the aisles of the nearest Craft Mecca.  He always (%99.9 of the time) lets me know where he is and when he’s coming home. 

There are thousands of things that I’ve heard other spouses actively complaining about that don’t bother me or him.  We BOTH leave our socks out.  We don’t make the bed.  Unless we’re particularly motivated at beating them back, our clothes tend to creep out of our closet and take over any available horizontal space (floor, bureau, dresser, loveseat, bed, etc.).  Our car is messy.  Our house has been in the middle of rennovations for 1.5 years now and going - we’re doing okay.  I like to listen to the same song over and over and over again sometimes and he hasn’t eaten me yet.  He insists that our car is a GREAT car - even though it has over 240,000 miles and it’s over 12… maybe 13 years old - and I still smile when he says it. I don’t drive stick and our car is a stick shift, and he drives me everywhere I need to go or I take the bus and the bus, as previously noted, makes me crazy and we still get by just fine.  We chug along as roommates, best friends, lovers, and companions.

And I could leave it at that and just say - Life is sweet (because it is).  But that wouldn’t be the whole picture.

 The whole picture includes the fact that I am a hard ass.  I am demanding and I can be a Royal Bitch.  I am quick and witty! But I am also sharp-tongued and fast to "defend" myself by attacking.  If there is a whit of an inkling of a suggestion of negativity in his demeanor and his comment/question/action could perhaps, in an alternate universe, on another planet, in a different timezone, be interpreted as a minor rejection then I am quite suddenly Upset.  My brain short circuits and I am left feeling as though there is no longer any ground to stand on or gravity to keep me there.  I Freak Out.  Sometimes it is a lesser freak out, but to say that it doesn’t happen would be like walking into a HUGE brick wall and then earnestly asking if anyone else noticed that overly strong wind that just knocked me over.

My gut reaction is to push.  Perhaps I am an emotional bully.  I push him to react to things I say that grow progressively more awful.  I push him away from me because if he gave me a hug, because he thinks I’m upset and I accepted that hug - it would be like saying "Everything’s Okay! I need you! I will now proceed to fall apart in your arms!"; when, in fact, everything is Not Okay, and although I desperately need him - God forbid HE know that.  And although I am falling apart - there’s a small part of me that keeps running around with a staple gun and stapling the pieces into a bigger, scarier, less stable, less real, ready-to-fall-apart-if-only-seriously-confronted-with-a-true-calling-out-of-all-the-ridiculousness me - therefore he’s too intimidated to really confront me, and his "weakness" (which isn’t weakness at all) just drives me to further insanity:

Him: So… then we can go up and take a shower and you can try that new conditioner I picked out for you that will "Smooth and Condition" dry hair!
Me: Are you saying my hair looks dry?
Him: No… No no no nonono.  Your hair looks great! I just thought you would want to go upstairs.
Me: So you paused my show to interupt me to tell me you think my hair looks like shit?
Him: No! I’m sorry *Presses play*
Me: So you don’t want to talk to me at all? 

I nit pick, say things that sting, and complain.  I interpret his questions/queries/comments as insults and tell him so, even if they are of the most gentle nature and I watch as he is dizzied by my ability to spin things around.

And then my head spins around 360 degrees and I walk down the stairs backwards as in The Exorcist.

Yes. I know i’m ridiculous.  The ridiculousness echoes in my head and I hear the bile pour out of my mouth and there are those rare moments when I stop it all by myself.  But most of the time… I don’t.

 I continue this until I tire myself out and the storm dissipates, and either we fix it, or I’m crying, or he’s crying, or we’re both crying, and I crawl into his arms after his 500th plea to hold me.  And then everything’s fine.

You see.  I am fragile.  I fancy myself wonderwoman, strongest of the strong.  Dude, I could totally fight off an attacker on the subway - they could NEVER take me.  I am intelligent. I am well-read. I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING DAMMIT.  Except when I don’t.

 And when I don’t, my world is turned upside down a la David Bowie’s Labyrinth and I no longer know which way is up. The smallest potentially-negatively-interpreted comment from Kyle makes can bring my world crashing down and he hasn’t figured out how not to do that or how to make it all better in a fairly short time-frame.  He’s figured out that food sometimes works - chocolate chip pancakes, or donuts, or souffle and now that I weigh a bunch more than I did a year ago I’ve (mostly) stopped accepting that kind of apology.

But the thing is that I know that at LEAST half of the time - he really shouldn’t even have to apologize because he didn’t do anything deserving even half the explosive reaction that it got.  It’s also not his job to figure out how to snuff the explosion after it happens - but rather it should be MY job to figure out why I explode in the first place.

 But on the explosion goes.

It’s me battling my own demons.  Now, he is NOT without fault, and there are times when he is genuinely hurtful or offensive and we work through those times.  I would even venture to say that those times are easier to work through because there is something concrete for us to tackle with our combined reasoning powers.  But I share the fault for these freak outs. You would think that after a year and a half of marriage to this man who pretty much consistently treats me like the Best Thing That’s Ever Happened to him.  You would think that I wouldn’t be so terrified that I’ll lose him - I mean, for goodness sake, WE’RE MARRIED.  NEITHER of us believe divorce is an option for us - personally.  How am I going to lose him?  And even as I type those words, a million dark swimming things start moving in my stomach and my mind imagines a million ways he could abandon me… emotionally, physically… when I reach my hand out for his and he doesnt take it IMMEDIATELY (even if he literally happened to be looking in a different direction at the time of my plea for hand holding…) , does that mean he doesn’t want me anymore?  It must, right? That’s what it means?

This is not the prettiest part of my psyche, but it is a significant part.  And Kyle continues to struggle in the Gail force winds of my emotions.  And I continue to let the gusts fly. 

There’s a line in a counting crow’s song… American girls are weather and noise.

That’s me. Weather and noise.
And all I can do is keep praying that each day he’ll see through it a little better.

And maybe one day, he’ll stroll right through the storm as though it were a beautiful day, pick me up, slide his hand up through my hair at the nape of my neck and tell me to quit being ridiculous.

He’ll always love me.  

Despite having a father who is extremely allergic to any/all pets - I feel as though I am fairly well-rounded when it comes to pet owner experiences.  Here’s a fairly accurrate recounting of the pets I’ve had.  Some other time I’ll share my Cat experiences with you - but I have two little kittehs now and I have a hard time not eating them.  I should be given a medal for exercising so much restraint in the face of such cuteness.

I’ve had my fair share of fish - the only pet my dad was not allergic to - and their deaths have all been colorfully different.  When I was little I used to have an undeniable compulsion to stick my hand in the fish tank and grab the fish.  I’m not sure if this was because I was not allowed, at the time, to have a pet that I could actually, oh… I don’t know… pet? cuddle? squeeze and kiss and loooooooove forEVer? Yea, I’m pretty sure I killed at least two fish that way.  I never actually caught and squeezed them - I just think their little hearts couldn’t take the fear and stress of constantly being chased by a giant toddler hand.  My mom told me that one of my beloved fish (Angel - RIP) went on vacation when we went on vacation and wouldn’t be home when we got back.  A couple of them developed some interesting looking spots on their bodies, one Betta fish’s eyes blew up to 4 times their normal size.  I did keep one Betta fish (Dylan) alive for 2.5 years and we developed a special bond - however he died after developing some weird looking fuzz and it took me two more Bettas in quick (dead) succession (Alby and Mnementh) for me to figure out I was actively (unknowingly) poisoning them with food pellets gone bad.  It’s taken me 4 years to be at peace with their deaths and to know them as Not My Fault.

At one point. my sixth grade teacher decided it would be a BRILLIANT idea if we each went out and purchased some sort of reptile or amphibian to contribute to the class room terrarium.  I wanted a cute little baby lizard-thing, but the pet store owner literally refused to sell it to me.  I settled for Cosmo, a white frog. He was a normal frog… just white.  I loved him immediately.  He stayed in my house for one night in a bowl with some wet paper towels, and then I took him into school, released him into the giant glass tank terrarium and never saw him again.  In fact, every single thing that was given a lush beautiful glass-encased home in that classroom - escaped or was absorbed into the foliage.  We did recover one gecko that was sunning itself behind a poster that was taped up on a window and we found a little green lizard that had been warming itself in the heater.  Suffice to say the heater got a little warmer than the green lizard may have expected.  The sight of that crispy brown lizard-ish-ness haunts me to this day.

 I had a couple of very Shakespearian hamsters in college with my roommates.  First we had Mo and Jo, then Mo attacked Jo, (or defended herself from Jo - we couldn’t tell) so we separated them and returned Mo and then we had Angel and Jo and they got along fine until one day we found Angel dying of a gash in her stomach.  Then we were all afraid to touch Jo because she was obviously psycho and it all culminated in one of my roommates dropping Jo off on the petstore counter [in her tank] and bolting.  That’s right folks, she just ran in, put down the psycho hamster and ran out.

When I was 13 I finally convinced my parents that it was Time To Get A Dog because a dog would ‘Help me through adolescence’.  To be quite honest, she did help me through adolescence and I’m sure in a later entry I’ll address the angel that is the forever-puppy Pippin who is now 10 years old and still kicking. 

I’ve baby sat for bunnies (Shadow - third grade), and ferrets (Scooter - first grade).  My mom had a turtle (for 50 years… yea), Snappy.  Snappy, under my grandmother’s care, was bathed every day in Ivory soap.  She was fed dog food and lettuce.  How do I know she was a she you ask? Because she laid 3 eggs over the course of her life time that my grandmother saved in mason jars… as proof I guess…

The point to this whole entry?
None.

Except for maybe that hamsters are evil.  

Big Company Incorp. decided to cancel mandatory overtime hours for Kyle and *gasp* let everyone go home at 2:00!!! So he was home by 3:00 and we were out the door and chuggin’ away towards New Jersey.

We got there late. Soon after, I fell upon the queen sized air mattress and passed out.         … Because watching someone else drive for seven hours is tiring, man.

Thanksgiving day was fairly uneventful.  Drink coffee. Eat. Drink coffee. Walk around in a daze. Eat. Drink coffee. Play video games. Eat. Reluctantly allow Kyle to take the coffee away from me… but really only because my hands were twitching so much I couldn’t keep a good hold on it.  I suppose no American Thanksgiving (Because there is a Canadian Thanksgiving, did you know?) wouldn’t be complete without 4 extra pounds of food [= food that can NOT - even if you had an equal number of stomachs as that of a cow - be consumed in one sitting] per person that the meal was prepared for.  My personal allotted extra food was measured in Stuffing, some Yams, and these delectable seasoned oyster crackers… I’m pretty sure "seasoning" is a loose term for "crack".

One of the highlights was watching my family casually enjoy a couple of the games on the Wii.  They liked it, it was chill and fun - they were generally cool (as in not hip but rather cooly indifferent) about it.

On our 6 hour drive to Kyle’s family the day after Thanksgiving, we saw Kyle’s Grammy and caught up with her after not having seen her for a year.   No, no. I’m just ignoring that nagging voice that’s telling me the difference between Kyle seeing his Grammy 6+ times a year and not seeing her at all — is me. It’s not me. It’s just that he’s married now… to me. And he’s living in Pittsburgh… with me.  And YES FINE, I’M AN EVIL TEMPTRESS THAT KEEPS HIM IMPRISONED IN PITTSBURGH WITH MY FEMININE WILES.  Wow, felt good to get THAT off my chest.

Kyle’s Family’s Thanksgiving was up at the Cabin so this was our third time there in one month.  This trip was particularly interesting because of the Wii.  My family treated it all "this is fun - but I’ve seen better".  Kyle’s family has hardly ever been exposed to such technologically enhanced fun.  They’re more the "Kick-the-can" types, or "let’s go outside and play soccer", or "Board games are fun!" types.  So you can see why the wii took them by storm.  You can see why it isn’t surprising that Kyle’s Father and Uncle played Wii Golf for little over 2 hours.  You can see why Kyle’s mom and my Sister-in-law had an out and out battle for Tennis champion.  Although, I must admit that the highlight of the evening was, in fact, watching Grandma play wii boxing.  To get the whole picture, she’s probably shorter than 5 feet, and she’s a pacifist.  She held the wiimote and the nunchuk like her life depended on it, and with her torso leaning towards the TV at a 45 degree angle, punching till her arms were fully extended, her fists were 2 inches from the TV screen and we feared that at any moment she would actually take OUT the TV, she kept up a streaming commentary of "PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH, GO DOWN, DOWN, DOWN, ARRR, PUNCH, PUNCH," *insert unintelligible scream of blood lust* "PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH…" etc.   When it was over she reverted to her normal self, being all "Oh, that was nice dearies.  My, my, I think I’m going to go to bed now.  Good night loves!"

The video we now have of it is spectacular.

I’m now all driven out, all Thanksgiving-ed out, and I need a nap.
Yell "GRANDMA LOVES THE WII" if you’re with me.

SO… Christmas has come early in our household this year, and it will remain for about… 2 months.

There are justifiable reasons as to why it has done so, not only including impatience.

First of all… I am an adult. I can decide when Christmas is coming and how long it will stay.  I no longer have to patiently wait until mid-December to set up decorations and a be-decked tree.  I no longer have to wait till Christmas morn to give or receive gifts.  Also, as an adult, I make money and can decide when and on what I will spend it. Santa more closely obeys the wishes of adults and he will deliver sooner if you pay expedited shipping. 

I think waiting to set up decorations until a week before thanksgiving shows great restraint on my behalf considering how susceptible to sparkly things I am.  Do you know how dangerous big craft stores are to people who have a racoon-like fascination with shiny objects?  They are dangerous, my friend - very, very dangerous. Iridescence is on the rise.  Last year I searched high and low for iridescent Christmas decor with a small amount of success: some glass balls, a tiny dollar store tree, etc.  This year iridescent decorations are EVERYWHERE, and of course I now include Green/Gold ornaments in my Christmas decor hunting repetoire. But I get off topic — The sparkliness is everywhere… and especially dangerous is its overwhelming presence in the form of sparkly sprigs of plastic flora in dollar bins.  I am unable to suppress the instinctual motions that accompany spotting sparkliness.
1) Freeze.
2) Identify Source.
3) Move in to examine.
4) Touch.
Try as I might, I cannot stop.  Must. Touch. Sparkly.

When said sparkly is for sale - I must examine the price.  When the price is less than a Dollar, I black out.  Hopefully before reaching the cash register (yes. that’s where I head. my credit card tells me so.) a well-meaning shopping companion of mine will pry the sparkly from my white knuckled grip, escort me out of the building, and maintain a close watch till I come-to.  This battle will continue till late February when the craft stores have pretty much cleared out their holiday sparkles.

Back to the point… I have officially decorated a small, fake tree in our living room and dragged out 80% of our other decorations.  Yes, our Halloween decorations are still up.  Yes, our foyer has been 1/4 painted for the last 2 months.  What about the quilt I’m making and the paper mache ship I’m working on? The cape for my nephew? The Apron for my sister-in-law? The tutus I have material for? The wood carving for above the mantle? Shut up. I can stop anytime I want to, okay?

On our trip this past weekend, my husband and I decided to get up at 4:30 in the a.m., leave our hotel room, drive to Target, and stand outside in line for 3 hours in order to buy a Wii.  It was to be a mutual Christmas Gift to each other - our only gift to each other.  Now, I’ll end the suspense early and tell you that we were successful and nabbed one of the 56 Wii’s that were in store that day (they opened at 8:00 a.m. and were sold out of them by 8:05 a.m.), however I’d like to share with you some thoughts on the process.  I am constantly being reminded that you "live and learn" and I resent it.

Notes for future reference:
1) When leaving the house in the late fall/beginning of winter, do not accept it when your husband observes that he left his coat behind while you are getting into the car to leave.  Go back for it.
2) When deciding to buy the most popular "toy" in the marketplace, and you accept, in theory, that you will need to stand outdoors and wait till a store opens for said item - PLAN ACCORDINGLY.  Chairs, heavy quilts, portable space heaters, outdoor fireplaces, torches, disposable handwarmers, and furnaces are all appropriate.
3) Bring coffee.
4) Three hours is not a short amount of time and patty cake will not suffice.  Bring a board game. Bonus points for successfully involving the other 8 crazies who showed up at 5:30 a.m. in a game of Twister.
5) Bring coffee. And donuts.

Just some pointers from me to you.
And if you have it in the budget - The wii is a good time AND a work out. My right arm is very sore.  Another tip? LISTEN TO THE WII WHEN IT TELLS YOU TO CLEAR A SPACE AROUND YOU BEFORE BEGINNING TO PLAY. IT MEANS IT. 

Why do I so vehemently reccommend this?  Because I punched a full-of-water pub glass with my thumb while ‘bowling’.  The pub glass was fine.  My thumb became unconcsious for a while and when it woke up, it decided to demonstrate what it might feel like if I slammed it in an oven hot car door.  Yea.

It glowed for a good hour. I can’t say as much for the little fake tree that I decorated because although I have a string or two of multicolored lights and a bunch (read 20+ strings) of white lights… the decorations on it are green and gold… so I need gold/yellow lights. Yes, I do. 

I’ve been living in Pittsburgh for about 1.5 years now.  3 days ago… we got the Internet.

That’s right folks - for 1.5 years I have been living without the internet in my place of residence.

Crazy? Deprived? Pitiful?
Yes. All of those things.

But ‘Weaned’, ‘Independent’, and ‘Saving Money’ also come to mind.

 You see…  I had the internet at my parents’ house till college… and then I had the internet for 4 years through college;  Any time the internet and I would be separated I would be jonesing within a half a day.  How would I know what was going on in the world? How would I communicate with friends and family? How was I going to know what the weather was like?

I know you feel my pain, don’t try to deny it.

However, after getting married and moving to P-burgh, Kyle and I tentatively decided (mainly out of sheer laziness) that we would NOT have the internet… or phone… or cable.  Our house would exist in a veritable timewarp (is anyone else hearing "let’s do the timewarp again" in their heads, or is it just me?). 

After a few months it became painfully obvious that lack of internet - though loss of Gilmore girls and a consistently charged phone didn’t help - was wearing on our relationship.  You would think that at some point we would come to the conclusion that it might be better for our well-being if we just invested in the nebulous beauty that is INTERNET, rather than trying to resist the riptide.  But resist we did - we resisted until we didn’t really think about it anymore… and then a couple of weeks ago,  Kyle came across an ad for Internet and phone service for about $70 cheaper than anywhere else offerred.   It was too much for him.  He ran the phone lines/installed the phone jacks himself and last night, I officially surfed for the first time in a long time.

What seriously bugs me is that I’m not that excited about this.  I mean, the internet and I had some good times - some GREAT times - way back: www.addictinggames.com, www.cuteoverload.com, www.craftzine.com, www.makezine.com… But, at the risk of causing emotional damage to our current relationship (the internet and mine), I’ve learned to live without it.   Last night I spent at least 3 hours browsing around, playing various games and catching up on some communication… but I have to tell you - I feel as though I faked most of it.  I was using it because it was there and it hadn’t been for a while and not because I needed it or really wanted it. 

This is not to say I didn’t have a great time discovering some new stuff - particularly the bloons game on www.addictinggames.com  - but, I could have lived without it. 

Maybe the real truth is that I feel somewhat selfish or wasteful for having it.  Obviously we can live without it and be just fine… obviously we don’t need to spend this $40 a month on it.  We could be doing something else with the money either self-serving (saving/paying off loans) or not (charity!).  But a year and a half ago I wouldn’t have had this attitude, I would have been grateful and happy, and tumbling head-over-heels for the 14 billionth time because my hunk of a husband can install phone line all by his onesy. 

Maybe the REAL truth is that I find the internet to be a poor substitute for Kyle while he works 12 hour days, 5 days a week and I’m left at home to my own devices for 3-4 hours every night.  

I would rather have my companion at home than the nebulous ghosty internet.

Hmm… Anybody ever read "The Mayfair Witches" by Anne McCaffrey?