Wednesday, August 31, 2011

maybe working in a thrift store is not the best thing...

In case I haven't shared or you hadn't noticed but I am now an employed lobster-girl. Three jobs, I have (as Yoda would say or maybe not but I like saying it in Yoda's voice) and so my weeks are now really wonky.
I have my craft writing which is what I would LOVE to do full-time but haven't figured out how just yet, my part-time preschool gig and the thrift store. Now, the thrift store job is a mixed bag. It's hard work, exhausting really and even a tad bit boring at times. I enjoy most of my co-workers and there is that added bonus of scoping out all that thrifty goodness. But, before you get too excited and envious, note that there are rules, STRICT rules for working at this thrift and one of them is that you are not allowed to shop on a day you work. Hiding items as well, it goes without saying, is a major no-no so imagine my crafty-dorky heart when on my very first day I spied a cluster of crocheted hangers. SWOON!
And, dork that I am, I seriously pined for them and somewhat manically checked up on them throughout the day as I passed by their temporary home. I'd cringe every time another person wandered their way and thought oh-me, oh-my I do so hope I can make them mine. I mean really, I was WAY TOO OCCUPIED with their yarny-goodness. By the end of the shift, my very first shift (after which I had managed to create a display using only paperclips to anchor the goods down but that is another story) I was beyond pooped and tired and walking all crooked as I longingly passed by the hangers one last time. That night, as I crashed into sleep, I imagined how I would use those darn hangers.
The rest of the week however was nutty and full and then we had the goose for another week and so, two weeks passed before I had another shift and imagine my surprise and utter excitement to see all nine hangers STILL in their temporary home as if not one person had bothered to bother with them. Being that I would be working for the next two days, I once again anxiously imagined an invisibility bubble hovering over them so no one else would see them in all their candy-colored glory. The first free day after those shifts, I made a mad-dash for the shop and shoppity, shopped to my heart's content grabbing the hangers first before the skirt my co-worker tried to pull as she thought it was both ugly and looked like a tablecloth. Don't worry about that though, I made sure to tell her I have been known to turn ugly tablecloths INTO skirts and that I really wanted it so she left it on the rack just for me. Now I know I am thought of as the weird new girl (hee-hee).
All this while, through all this hanger angst, I seriously was thinking I physically lived in my bubble of a crafty blogging world. A bubble where those hangers would have been snatchity-snatched up if not involved in a mini bout of fisticuffs. A bubble where I would indeed be mourning the loss of such happiness. A bubble where others, not just me, would have looked at them and seen a lovely story of crafty usefulness. The humor of my imagined bubble is not lost on me as I spouted hanger poetry to those around me who looked askance at the jumble of dull yarn woven over old wooden hangers that smelled of mothballs and reminded them of their Aunt Fern and her cut crystal bowl of puffed peppermint balls. I would have loved to have had an Aunt such as that. Since I do not, I will happily give her hangers a new home...after I take far too many photos of them first...

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

happy colors in the {new} tiny casa

While I wait for shelves, I amuse myself by taking happy pictures of the happy colors that are settling into the new tiny casa. Don't those books look happy under the bed? 

Monday, August 29, 2011

pokey, pokey, pokiness

Things are s l o w going in the new tiny casa. Mister is building a shelf for behind the sofa so until then, no more unpacking or organizing. Boxes are still piled up and piles are spilling all over the floor but soon...soon...soon...
i think we should upgrade the TV
boxes and more boxes

Friday, August 26, 2011

friday's confessional: august 26

I almost hung up on boss number two the other day. See, I have this thing about manners and etiquette. There is a basket brimming with unmannerly pet peeves of mine but the one that kills me (other than escalator etiquette, don't EVEN get me started) is when someone calls your home and asks for you by first name, or doesn't even ask, they just start talking to you with a bit too much familiarity and yer thinking "who the frick-frack is this?" without identifying themselves. Telemarketers, I know are trained to do business this way and since they always seem to call around dinnertime, it's a given and I'll just say no thank you and/or simply hang up. But boss-o number two called and the mama a-go-go answered and was completely thrown for a loop when boss-o did that familiarity thing AND thought it was her right to feel snippish. The confusing part for many folks involved is that both the sister a-go-go and I share the same first name. So if you call and simply ask for Jessica, ya gotta let us know which one AND you gotta let us know who YOU are, otherwise...we hang up.

By the time I took over the call, I think it would be safe to say that boss-o number two had her panties in a bunch. Once I clarified who she was (after she insisted I identify MYSELF) I told her how to properly execute a phone-call (don't mess with me). I was peeved as well (as I don't play with rudeness) and told her we were this-close to hanging up on her and she told me I had BETTER NOT hang up on HER and I told her, if I don't know who you are and you don't tell me what you are calling for then you get hung up on, plain and simple. Sheesh!

I'm sure she now regrets hiring me. I am such a pain after-all...don't ya know. And people wonder why I am not a fan of the phone....hee-hee.

a favorite combo

megan and her rad blanket
it was SO GOOD to see him!
their first time
blueberry, horchata & strawberry dipped chocolate

Thursday, August 25, 2011

it feels like home away from home...

whenever I am here I want to plop down on the sofa with a cuppa and read, read, read...that never happens, which is fine, because what we DO do is talk, talk, talk (with a cuppa or two) and I feel like I am at my other home...such goodness.
Porto's crumbs
pens ALWAYS make me happy
i love the random colors

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Saturday, August 20, 2011

another day for shells and such...

We went back to the cove to walk further up the creek and add to our shell collection.
We got there later than usual to find ourselves on a mostly empty beach. A cold, grey and windy mostly empty beach. Thank goodness for polar-fleece.
I had shorts on and since it was cold, I plopped myself down on the rocks to sift through all that goodness for jek treasures while mr. a-go-go and the goose wandered to the other side where Monday's visit offered up more shells than we could shake a stick at.
There is something very satisfying about the sound and feel of these rocks on this beach. I made little rock towers and possibly a new feathered friend before wandering to the other end.
It warmed up a smidge and I found a gorgeous whole snail shell...with its occupant still in residence. mr. a-go-go offered up two heart shaped rocks for me and I filled my right pocket with tiny shells.
After we had our fill, we tested out the cold creek waters and wandered in as far as we could before fallen trees and mossy moss barred our way. After a couple of stone skipping lessons from the pro (mr. a-go-go), we de-sanded our shoes and selves before heading to Sylvester's for burgers and fries...

Friday, August 19, 2011


I found the linens! Though, I wonder where the pillowcases have hied off to?

Thursday, August 18, 2011


color palette
I tried to wrap my head around a project I had pitched to craft that is due next week. I tend to mull over an idea in the noggin until that magic A-HA moment and then I get cracking. Sometimes though, I'll write it all out and everything is smooth. This wasn't one of those times.
It made a lot of sense to me and it even cracked me up but I think maybe it was too centric to growing up in Los Angeles in the 80s. I had some nifty repurposed fabrics for it and everything. Sadly, words weren't coming to me and neither was the reality of what I pictured. Don't you hate when that happens?
frozen goodness
So in a last ditch effort (since I do have a project due) I sat and thought and thunk and thought some more until I could come up with a new (and improved) A-HA moment and I did and I made it and photographed it and now, now all I have to do is find the words for the steps and the intro...
playing with the leftovers
In between and after all that thinking and making I made a delicious cucumber, red onion and cabbage salad, worked on a jig-saw puzzle with the mister and the goose, added some new (old) tunes to the laptop, hit up Foster's Freeze for a most delicious cherry milkshake and watched three episodes of Doctor a row.

Not bad for a day where I thought I had lost all my productivity. And yes, milkshakes totally count.

i made it UP the hill!

mr. a-go-go and I were biking home the other evening and as I wibble-wobbled about like a person three sheets to the wind I huff and puffed my way up the mini hill by the school before turning left to climb THE HILL. And...instead of making my way to the driveway for a graceful exit and climb on foot, I challenged myself to ride to the next driveway until I found myself (huffing and puffing more fiercely than the big bad wolf) at the top!


On my bike still. Before I could keel over, I leaned into the handlebars and coast, coast, coasted all the way down and into our driveway before falling over in the carport, elated that I had pedaled all the way up THE HILL.

Go me!  

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

making busy

I spent one morning last week doing laundry in the new casa. Not exciting at all and made even less exciting by the fact that I had nothing else to distract me (save for a box of home hair color). We are television-free and internet poor so the laptop has been living at the homestead. I misplaced the ipod and we have no radio or CD player and the old computer is still boxed up so I had to make do and find something, anything to do while the laundry danced in the spin cycle. We do have a record player but there isn't a place to play it safely (free from falling boxes) and I'm not sure where the box of records has hied off to.
So I cleared off the happy wall unit I begged my brother to give me years ago and went in search of boxes full of glass jars.
Two loads of laundry later (along with a new red hair do for myself) I had emptied four more boxes...
Dusted all sorts of whimsy...
and Washed Bob's BIG Boy...

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

i have a new favorite

An unglazed buttermilk donut with a cup of hot coffee. Simply happy. And yes, I ate the chocolate as well. I couldn't let it go to waste now, could I?

I like to ride my bicycle

Poor old Rodney has been sitting up on blocks at the homestead a-go-go due to a shredded timing belt. The mister should have it up and running sometime soon, but since we are sans auto this past week, I have been biking over to the homestead to make use of the internet, work on craft projects and bake the most perfect cookies ever!

The homestead is a hiccup past a half mile from the new tiny casa so it is really easy to get to on foot or bike. The kicker is, there are hills of the deceiving kind. Flat enough to make you think you're smooth sailing but steep enough for you to realize it is time to downshift (and ignore the new ruddy color of your face as you huffity puff till you feel like yer lungs might explode).

My routine has been to wake up in the morning, have a little breakfast, wash the dishes and empty a box if I am able. I have also been trying to take pictures as I find little bits of happy just to keep me going in this weird in-between stage we're in. Then, I put on my bike helmet, grab a bag full of whatever it is I think I will be needing for the day,  lock the door and settle onto the bike and get to pedaling.

The ride is simple save for THE HILL(S). One on the way out and one on the way back. I bike out the back driveway onto the street and turn right then right again to tackle THE HILL. The hill on the way out has been doable from the beginning. I usually have to shift down to my first gear and pedal like mad, hoping no one else except for myself is humming the wicked witch of the west's theme. By the time I get to the top of the hill, I have inched over into the oncoming lane because I am certain is makes for a shorter and therefore less steep ride. There are two stop signs for me to feel safe about but a blind turn without a stop on my right that almost resulted in me getting smooshed by a black BMW with a driver that doesn't believe in turn signals. I maneuver through the iffy intersection and coast DOWN the hill turning right and gliding down another wee hill, kinda like a roller coaster. If I am lucky, the work trucks are not blocking the road and I can take the shortest route to the homestead by simply continuing forward a smidge before another right turn to the street that turns into our old street. If the trucks are there, I will need to turn left and ride down a block before turning right then right again up our old street. This is one of those deceiving UPS. It only looks flat and smooth sailing but manages to kick me in the arse each time causing me to downshift and hum THE theme again. When I'm pedaling well and lazy-like, I switch to Pee-Wee's theme. Pee-Wee's theme makes me feel a lot less lame, thank you very much. Finally I am rewarded with an easy coast into the driveway and a good morning to whomever is at the homestead. My legs are a bit wobbly when I get off the bike but it's a good kind of wobbly.

When the mister rides in home from work, he grabs a couple of cookies then works on Rodney. We end up riding home in the dark with our blinkety blinking red tail lights and my headlamp on my handlebars. Mister will ride up THE HILL on the way back. I pedal as far as I can before admitting defeat and walking the bike up the rest of the way until I pass the iffy intersection and can coast all the way home to the new tiny casa. Riding in the dark is interesting. I appear to ride liek a drunk person, wobbling this way and that. It's also much cooler her on the central coast at night and the wind makes my eyes tear up and my nose run. I'm sure I'm one very attractive lobster-girl by the time I trip into the casa.

I may only be riding a mile a day but I'm sure it's doing something good for my body. My legs are killing me! Add that to my new PT gig at a thrift shop and well, who needs the gym, right?

Monday, August 15, 2011

a very full day

Happy AND tiring but all in a good way.
The goose and I hit the cove bright and early. We climbed up the cliff to the "cave" and admired the choppy, choppy waters and bluer than blue sky.
We spent hours. HOURS. Hours combing through mad piles of rock in search of heart shaped stones and snail shells (sea snails).

We skipped rocks in the creek and toed our way into the water until we didn't feel numb anymore. We then splish-sploshed up the creek into a quiet magical place where I learned I could be a damsel-fly whisperer. It was quiet and pretty and warm and perfect.
We trekked our way to the other side of the beach, cutting our feet on the rocky-rocks until we couldn't go any further. It was there we discovered a plethora of snail shells and other tiny treasures.
Four hours of rock hunting found us in the now running-Rodney chomping on cheese, crackers and fruit as we prepped for our next stop, The Shell Shop. After, we hit up Morro Rock and marveled in the softer than soft sand and simply lay in the sun, ears open to the waves.
It took numerous flappity-flaps of my hat to get the sand out. My shoes are STILL wet and even after a round of showers we still found our heads full, our skin pink and our toes tired fro mall that beachy goodness. When we got home, dinner was already ready and that picky goose-girl ate everything on her plate! Tomorrow, will be an indoor day. I could use one of those.