putting those gift tags to use

It's been a comedy of errors today at the homestead. All on my behalf...I have misplaced our Christmas stockings, my pretty giftwrap idea went awry when I couldn't find my pens, too much cake batter in a too little pan makes for a BIG mess, and an exploding can of ginger-ale knows no bounds.

 

Fill-in Christmas stockings have been made (diy coming soon), I added pom poms to craft paper and created a different kind of pretty wrap, the cake is still tasty even though there are a few burnt blobs on the bottom of the oven, and after two, three, and then four passes of a wet towel, mop, and scrap towel the floor is as good as new, even better than before. But boy howdy, am I pooped!

So while my initial plan of a silver and gold Christmas did not work out, the neon-happy of my washi tags and pom-poms make for a very festive gift wrap. I think they might be more me than the silver and gold anyway...perhaps the universe was telling me to stay true?

 

And since the wee packages were so darn happy, I had to take pictures of them. I just had to! They make me smile.

And serendipity hit when I stacked them up and saw they looked like a tree...add one snowflake star...perfection!

i want shiny hair (and less chins) aka the first rant of the year

**a return to the confessional....

Oh how I lurve this world wide web. I love it. I do. Sometimes however, more times than I should admit, I find that I do not like it so much if only for the way all that fabulosuness out there makes me feel. I am often inspired, quite often inspired...mostly inspired at least when it comes to recipes and crafts and diys and pretty things. It is the fashion posts that make me shrink in confidence and I wonder what happened to me?

Really. What happened?

see? no shine.

There are an incredible number of beautiful women out there blogging their stylish selves to the moon and back. Truly gorgeous. They have shiny hair, I have never had shiny hair. They have straight white teeth...me? Not so much. They look fantastic in tights or knee socks, in cowl necks and v-necks, kitten heels and lumberjack boots. They take their own photos and are in focus. Glowing focus with a secret smile on their faces and they look so casual and unposed in their perfection.

When I take a fashion shot of myself, really something like thirty shots, I look like a bad 80s catalog model all stiff with Spiderman wrists. I try making silly faces before the timer goes off. I think serious face, puckered mouth, sunshiney smile and I try but end up looking like a madball.

alluring..no?

Remember madballs? Maybe that is my problem. I'm old. And fat. Sure, I have great skin and a right dandy personality (so I have bee told) but I also have a waist size that used to be my bust size. I have a neck that crinkles. It crinkles, people! And my quirky outie belly button of yore is now an...innie. Gasp!  If I look down, even partially so, like I do when I read, or tippy-type on the keyboard, my face...and neck get lost in the uninvited guests of my chins. Plural. Yeah, I said it. I have CHINS. A serious case of the CHINS. I get so caught up in this dilema of mine that I've taken to stretching my head up and jutting my chin out you know, to camouflage the whole mess...I do it especially if I want to appear beguiling to the mister, sometimes I might even casually rest my hand somewhere under the whole mess thinking I can pull of a sultry Meryl Streep (seriously, Merly Streep? I AM old and she is too but she is stunning. STUNNING). All this accomplishes is a confused mister asking me if I am okay and why do I have that funny look on my face.

a laughng smile, wonky but me

I laugh about it. I do. A lot. Laughing is good, it makes one appear engaged and happy and dare I write it...sexy. Mister gets quite unhappy with me when I peevishly get all wrapped up in my imaginery non-looks. I wouldn't mind this fat dealio except I feel all ugly in the face (and no I am not trying for some ego boosting, I'm thinking of sharing this weakness in myself because I am certain there has to be a club of other like minded, like bodied ladies in search of a coffee kvetch. I really hope there is and I wana be a part of it and if there isn't, I say let's start one) and when I look at "plus" size models I wonder "why are they all so freaking gorgeous?" and really...they are not at all PLUS. Sniff. I think...who cares if yer fat when yer pretty and I have to honestly say I have never felt pretty. Never. Cute, I think I have mustered cute. When I was thin...from behind I was considered hot, from the front I was called dog-face (yes, really) and well, when a girl hears that enough she kinda carries it around with her and it is a stupid heavy load to carry. I need to put it down already.

Why do we do that? Carry around the crap that people feed us but doubt and disbelieve the nice things people say? I do this and it drives many folk around me nuts and all I can say is that I feel like I have had more people say unkind things than kinds things but then I get all caught up in the thought that I cannot believe the good things because then I would be bragging or big headed and if only my head were a smidge bigger, it might make my hips and ass less bulgy. Oh, and ranty rant onward, I seriously don't hate the fat (except the chins, I really don't like those buggers)...dimpled thighs aside, I'm still curvy and curves are good unless you want to wear clothes and well, society kinda dictates that we don't run around all nekkid (though nekkid dance partes at home are good as are nekkid jumping photos in national parks) and such and so I struggle. I struggle to find something, anything that will cover this large person who often misses her smaller self (a self which went AWOL back in the early 90s). Not only do I struggle for coverage but it would be nice if it both flattered the curves and made me not feel like a sloppy sad raccoon. Oh yes..and it would be nice if it stayed in place and did not ride up or slip off or creep down are cling from all the static that my doughy thighs are good at producing. Is that too much to a for?

go ahead...try it.

I would like to wear a dress and not worry that the skirt has creeped up under my bag (I carry a bag, not a purse). It has happened. It does happen. The first time it happend I was cute and 18 and wasn't at all embarrassed because hey, I had a great behind, I did. It rocked. In fact it rocked so much it didn't pass the pencil test. The boobs did, they were once perky and yes, the behind was as well but golly it could hold a pencil. What. Did you never try the pencil test...there? Well...um....nevermind that.

I would also like a pair of jeans that didn't slip off when I sat or squatted. Waists are either too high or too low. In the rare cases they do fit their pockets are usually sick with glitter or rhinestones. Bedazzled to an inch of their lives or they have distressing that makes it look like I participated in a sexy car wash ...with bleach. What's up with all that? On our BIG ROAD TRIP, I was so fed up with ill-fitting jeans, shorts and the like that I purchased a pair of shorts (which maybe were labled culottes, I cringe) that had an elastic waist. ELASTIC WAIST.

I am old.

see? patchy. patchy.

So...I love this world wide web. I do. But I would really like to return to my fashionista roots as I had them. BIG time. I'm good at clothes for other people not so much for myself. My closet looks pretty good and my imagination has paired up some lovely ensembles but when I put them on, I fall to the floor in defeat and return to my old-too-big-for-me patchy patched jeans, a tank top, maybe a genie bra*, and an eight dollar grey t-shirt from Target...crew neck because v-necks are icky and why, oh why are v-necks the only necklines in the store and why, oh why can I only find skinny jeans. Skinny jeans, really? But hey, if they fit and don't slip off, I will wear them....at hme, not in pictures. In fact, I picked up a pair of the skinnies that have tiny white polka dots all over them (I do love a polka dot) and they are on the dresser with tags still attached but I think it is passed the return-by date.  In my head I see them on me slightly cuffed, with crazy clunky white nursing shoes (a want), a long sleeved pale grey tissue-t, a dozen colorful skinny beaded necklaces, funky plaid old man vest, chunky watch (hee-hee...chunky),  and dark grey messenger bag.

It is time for a coffee kvetch. How does one set something like that up? 

trip-trup-trip-trup

 have you ever picked up a children's picture book that rhymes only to find that when you attempt to read it out loud, yer tongue trip-trups over the words? sometimes i think that is what happens with some of my blog posts. mostly the ranty kind.

i want to try to clear up what i meant about comments and pinterest and all that jazz. i think that pinterest has added to the lazy quality that the internet is developing. kinda like the facebook LIKE button. just because you repin it or like it doesn't mean i know you did or do. my intention was not to wax whiny over my lack of comments but to point out the lack of response and respect from the large number of persons who repin and like wily-nily without taking the time to let the owner of the property know you were inspired or love the project or recipe. my peanut butter cookie post now has had over 7000 views! 7000 views and seven comments. that is a little wacky, methinks.

i'm not sure this is coming out right or not but i did not mean to point my rant at regular readers who do not comment but to pinners everywhere who pin and repin projects without a shout out to the creator of the niftiness. does that make sense? there has always been free info on the web and i suppose i am asking for it since i continue to put free projects put there but i don't think it is too much to add a polite thanks to the march on manners. i think we could all use a little refresher in manners. this new technological age has been eliminating them at a speedy rate. i feel like an old fogey when i get cranky but just because everyone is doing it, doesn't make it right....right?

just park me on a park bench with a hairnett, rolled stockings, sensible heels and a (handmade) bag of breadcrumbs....

happy wednesday! it is time for work.

in which i ramble about Oblio, jealousy and grace...

 It has been my experience that people can only (mostly) relate to others through the context of their own experiences. If you can remember this, you might extend your grace to others who appear foolish, ignorant, stupid and/or hateful. Though, there are extremely foolish, ignorant, stupid and/or hateful folk out there that may have had oodles of experiences but lack empathy so they will always remain foolish, ignorant, stupid and/or hateful.

I write this because of all the people bashing I read about on facebook posts, pinterest quotes, blog posts and the like. My first reaction is to roll my eyes, mumble something about the poster and then feel angry for a while but I need to let that go, turn it away from myself and reign in my thoughts on cultural relativism and how it can apply to any type of culture, not just ethnicity and geography. Recently a fb friend posted a comment I found super offensive, ignorant and hateful on their personal page. Being that it was their personal page, I did not jump into the fray to share my opinion though it made me sadder than sad. Mostly because this person will probably not see that their comment (and the ensuing comments after) were so hateful in their context. I also wanted to drop this person as a contact but felt that would be running away and burying my head in the sand. I can only be me and continue with my stories of my experiences and hope that those who can relate will share theirs with me as well. Think of it as working from the inside out. Model by example and don't point fingers or lecture. No person enjoys a lecture. That's not to say I don't ranty-rant away in the safety of my own home to the people in my (lovely) bubble. I do. It's all about processing and engaging in a conversation and if you are lucky, you will have friends and family who do not always agree with you, who poke sticks in yer spokes so you go flying off your happy bike, landing hard with a new perspective. The view from the ground is a little different from up on your cushy bike seat.

I had more in my head that seemed organized on this thought but it has kinda slipped a little. The nice queue that originally formed got tired of waiting and now all the points are partying at the coffee maker making me feel anxious and jittery. I've been having some sad-raccoon days for a few weeks because I have foolishly been viewing myself through the filter of comparison. I was holding myself up to all these successful bloggers and seeing all the ways I don't and will never compare and I felt a bit like Oblio with no point upon my noggin. And if I had no point, what was I worth? I know, NOT a good idea...bad raccoon! Bad raccoon! But this is the way my crazy chemical works and so I had to muck through it all and wallow in the bits of pity that followed and then write things down because I have been having horrible allergies as well and wondered if they all went hand in hand...chemicals, hormones and all that jazz. I began to think really poorly of myself and my lack of accomplishments (in comparison to the super bloggers out there) until I began to think of the things I did before this internet savvy world. I've been blogging in one way or another since 2002 friends. That is TEN years! I've been blogging for ten years. Yikes! I stated out on Diaryland and the LJ and blogged Dear Diary style...it wasn't until 2006 that I began with the DIYs and other bits. I've seen my projects fall flat back then but picked up now with success (not by me though, I'm always a bit too early to the party) I've seen trends go full circle, hitting hard, fading out, only to return. I've seen colors become Prom Queen and supermodels then get ostracized only to be rediscovered with a new name and nose job. I've seen a lot, and through it all and before I have lived my life. It's not any life anyone would aspire too and I think that's what my whole problem was. I was jealous. Am jealous of those pretty bloggers out there who are the prom queens and most populars. The ones who people emulate and want to be. The ones who own homes and have beautiful babies...all those things I will never have or ever be and I slipped into a downward spiral wondering what my place was in the scheme of things. Wishing I had some sort of flash and fabulousness that would make people remember me in some way.

How's that for sorry thinking? Seriously, I shake my head in embarrassment at my needy self. I was trying to relate and compare to all these truly awesome internet folk through my experiences and when I found they didn't mesh I felt like I was pointless. I have had to pull up from my middle-aged brain story-worthy moments to remember that I have had some amazing experiences. I may not have ever traveled Europe on my own or purchased anything designer-ish. I may have battled with stupid credit card debt and have nothing to show for it (why oh why did I not buy art when I had the chance?) I may not own a home or ever be a mother but I do have stories, crazy stories; super silly and ridiculous stories. I may have had a disadvantaged childhood and lacked many things but goodness, I had a most loving and creative mother. I may have lost my mother when I needed her most but I had grandma and while it was one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life, I tell you, the opportunity to be with her and care for her and show her grace and love like she had never had before is something I hold in my heart and wish upon others. I may not be able to pull of fashion and cute clothes but if given a chance, I can style you up like there is no tomorrow. I may lack the lung power to ride my bike as often as I like but I can still stretch and lift and dance it up with my mister and speaking of my mister, I have him. Now THAT is something super special. I have him, I have us and we may both lack pointy noggins and have oodles of regrets and moments of melancholy that last far too long but we really do have a good beat that you can dance to. It might seem slow or outdated but if given the chance you might find us amusing.

I'm sharing all this because I think we're all looking for something here on the internet and in our lives. We may want to be noticed or appreciated. We may want to simply share in a conversation or just share ourselves. We want to relate to others and we will, just not everybody and that is okay. We don't have to. We do however need to relate to ourselves. We need to grow and we need to be accepting, faults and all. We need to know that the world and others hold so much more and that variety is a good thing. We need to know that unless we share, we won't know we can relate. Share a little, share a lot, it is up to you but try and remember that we all need a little hug now and then. A wee pat on the back ain't so bad either. Something that shows the other person that you connected in some way, whether it is a smile to a stranger, holding the door open, engaging in conversation, purchasing something handmade, writing a thank you letter, leaving a comment or giving someone a poke, you'll be amazed at how much that little something can carry a person to cheerfulness. On the flip side, it's okay to wallow and feel sad but don't let it take you away. Think of the wallow as a gift of self reflection. Of mastering your feelings and what you need in your life. It is a moment to focus on yourself but in a kind voice full of good things and maybe even a little self-mockery. Humor after-all is one of our greatest gifts.

On that note, I thank you. I thank you for sticking by me and reading my rants. I thank those of you who do comment and email me. I have had some wonderful conversations with you. I thank you for shopping my etsy shop and for enjoying my photos and I thank you for your wonderful words of encouragement. Thank you.

{meanwhile, back at the ranch}

**this may read as a rant, or a whine or really high maintenance. Really, I'm just frustrated right now and need to sort my brain out. Everything is a bit on the wonky side here in dillyland and my head is spinning and this is my space to vent...right? So, a rant is approaching and it is me all whiny-whiny so really, you don't need to read or comment. Just ignore me here. I'm in big time dork mode. Yeesh.

Do you know the saying: When it rains, it pours?

Well folks, a storm is a brewin' here in dilly-land. Not a bad storm, just a storm involving a lot of really, really bad timing.

For starters, I got a job. Two in fact. Whoo-hoo! One is as a teaching assistant and the other is an on-call gig for a local thrift shop. There were a few hoops to jump through for the teaching job. Nothing bad, I just had to get a physical and my fingerprints done and all that jazz and I have a set schedule which is really good for the on-call gig so they know they can call me on certain days to work. The only thing is the teaching job (aka job number one) doesn't officially begin until the last week of the month and even though I'm only going to be there two days a week, I NEED to be there for training and such which throws a rather unwieldy wrench into my availability for job number two.

Originally I was up for a full-time position at job number two but then job number one came along and I decided, it would be best for me to really focus on getting job number one. So I turned down job number two (are you confused yet?) for more than a few reasons. But then I got a phone call from job number two and they REALLY wanted me to work for them so offered me an on-call position. I took it but explained that there was a matter of poor timing involving when I would be fully able to be on-call. As long as I could hop on board and go to an orientation the very next day, they were okay with that, so I did. And then I did another orientation where I submitted my official availability with a round of apologies that this month had a serious lack of availability. I assured them that things would be on track in September. My new boss said okay, took my availability note on BRIGHT YELLOW paper and verified it all and said fine. And then, I even worked a full day. It was busy and good and crazy but good and I was and am excited to go back. However, this being a matter of stupid timing, I got a call from job number one letting me know which days I was needed for training. I wrote those down as well and turned them in to my boss at job number two feeling like the flakiest of flakes.

To make timing even more wonky, mr. a-go-go and I have a young visitor for the week, this week. Since mr. a-go-go does not get paid time off, and we now have stupid rent AND are in the market for a new (old) car, we can only afford for him to take two days off later in the week which means, my two normal days of availability for job number two are now NOT-available as I will be hanging out with our young visitor (which is a good thing). Toss in a craftzine deadline and a meeting at job number one and well...you get the picture. Time? What time?

I also will need to add (and I cringe, I tell ya, cringe) that we will be driving our visitor back home and will be out of town for the weekend as well so there goes my other day of availability which I had already submitted to boss number two. Oy. I know I am coming off as really flakey and demanding but she knew the job was dangerous when she took it. Like I said. Working at job number two really won't be happening until September and I thought my boss number two understood that. Good thinking, no?

I thought wrong. I just got a phone call from job number two asking me to work tomorrow. Tomorrow being within the "unavailable to work Aug 12-22" timeline. It was my first call to come in and I had to say no. Mind you. If I say no three times in a row, I'm terminated. I don't want to be terminated. I don't. The person who called was confused when I reminded them that I was unavailable most of August save for the 23. It was then brought to my attention that I was on the schedule for this coming week. On the schedule. I'm on-call. How am I supposed to know I am on the schedule? Especially on a day I am unavailable? Oy. Now that makes two times I cannot work. I think I don't really understand this "on-call" description.

I had an inkling that working with this person from job number two might be interesting which is one of the reasons I declined a full-time position. I think it is time to have a meeting and ask to be explained how this whole on-call thing works. That is, if I still have a job there. Ooof! Um, also, like I've mentioned before, mr. a-go-go and I are without internet or phone or anything technical. I've been borrowing the wifi here at the homestead and have been writing up mini posts to be published throughout the week. Gotta love that kind of technology. Sir Rodney is up and running again but it is time to acknowledge his time is at most...lingering. So this week will be a bit of a mess. I have to get fingerprinted, write an article, amuse a ten year old (who prefers to be outdoors only), research techy home stuff, continue to unpack the new casa, meet up with boss number one, find a new (old) car and make sure mr. a-go-go does not fling himself off a cliff (poor man of mine).

As for today? Today I plan the menu for the week, prep the room for our Goose, work on that article and head out to a car dealer and see what we can see.

**See? Rant. Whiny-whiny. There is more, a bit more but man oh man, if I write that out I think I'll be flinging myself off the cliff along with the mister. Note to self, think happy thoughts.

changing times

I suppose. With all the job-hunting and soul searching that has been going on as of late, I've been thinking a lot about courtesy, service and expectations. I am quite aware that I have HIGH expectations for most everything. I'm sure it exasperates some people I know and I may even be whispered about in not-too-kindly manners but here's the thing, I don't care. I've been told I was high strung, emotional, unbending, etc and in some ways I am but really, I'm not. I just believe in quality interactions and am a bit like Horton. I meant what I said and I said what I meant and all that jazz.

I never understood the act of saying one thing while meaning another or um, LYING. I'm not a fan of insincerity and have stupidly high values when it comes to moral judgment. If you don't have anything nice to say...It doesn't mean I think I don't make mistakes, if anything I am hyper-critical of myself which is very annoying for me and for those who have to listen to me when I am tearing myself up (thank you YOU, you and YOU!) I am keenly aware of my faults (save for those I don't know I have...heehee) and the moment I'm away from a situation say a job interview, party or conversation with a friend, the deconstruction begins and I panic that I talked too much (I always do) or said too much or didn't say enough or was too negative or too positive or...or...or? Frankly it makes me wonder why anyone would put up with me (and I so appreciate those of you who do, I really do).

And I'm rambling but there is a sort of point or maybe a reminder to myself. I had a job interview last week that was sorely disappointing in the lack of respect and professionalism on the part of the interviewer.  I came home to vent about it left and right and it made wonder if it had been so long I forgot how to interview but here's the thing, I used to hire people. I used to hold interviews. I know how to interview. I know how to be interviewed. It's enough to make me wonder if it had been so long that the process had changed or is it that technology has changed us? A friend mentioned that there is a lack of face to face interactions these days and maybe that was the case and in some ways I believe she is right. With younger people perhaps this would be true but can Facebook, twitter and all the rest change us that much in such a short period of time? Wait, I know that answer. Strike it, reverse it. Sigh.

And to toss another stick onto the fire, yesterday I left feedback for an Amazon seller that was FAIR. Sure we got the item in time and it was what they said it was. All in all it was a fair transaction. This morning I receive an email from the seller asking me to remove my NEGATIVE feedback and for a moment I felt really bad and wondered if I had done something wrong but after thinking of it I know I didn't. See, it was a fair transaction. Not good and not bad. If we all continue to leave GOOD or EXCELLENT feedback because we were delighted to receive our items in the time alotted we're doing everyone a disfavor. Purchases should arrive on time, don't you think?

I'm really feeling like an old fuddy-duddy but I refuse to lower my expectations. Keeping them high will weed out the riff-raff and keep me connected to making sure that I, in return, offer only the best of myself to my family, my friends, customers, readers and even those random interactions in job interviews or while walking around town. Some of my best is even letting you see me at my worst for what am I without being me, warts and all?

Phle-gm

Every morning the neighbor who lives behind us hacks up a storm. It's not just a simple H-A-A-AC-K sound, it is more like that horrible phlegmy monstrosity your brother would do as he sat on you and prepared to hock a loogie in your face when you were kids. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you're missing out.

Seriously though, I hear it EVERY morning and it's gross. What does he do? Go outside and become one with nature? I imagine he spits it out somewhere in their backyard. He probably spits it in the general area of where they pulled out the glorious lemon tree that had been there from the previous owners. Neighbors, ya gotta love them. These are the same people who use their tiny hibachi grill just outside their kitchen door in such a manner that the smoke blows INTO the kitchen and sets off the smoke alarm which they ignore. For many minutes. These are the same people who for no good reason, hacked up their beautiful concord grape vine while it was chock full of the purple jewels. They then built a grape arbor of sorts and the vine has come back but still, it made a mess and all that fruit was wasted. We did score some of the wood though and now have two vines ourselves.

Lookie the goodness as it grows! They are huge now. These are also the same people who wail. We think it must be some sort of prayer but the wailing can get really really loud and disturbing, ooh and they fight. Once my old neighbor thought we should call the police because it was so loud and violent sounding. It's the kind of loud you think will make them end up on COPS. Unfortunately they fight in a language that I don't understand so for all I know she's yelling at him about dirty underwear or something. These are also the people who have planted out sod for the dirt patch that runs along the sidewalk...three times, and don't water it. They put in a dozen rose bushes with cactus right next to them and underneath. They just put in the rose bushes. It's hot. It's summer. I'm not sure if the nonexistent roses are gonna come out. I guess it beats living on the other side of the courtyard where the whiney neighbor spies on everything we do and complains. She also goes through our trash and tries to sell it at her many garage sales. I'm telling ya, neighbors, you gotta love them.

I just got back from Felt Club XL Summer and I think I need to pass out now...after I drink my Izze Soda and take pictures of all my loot. Happy Sunday!

Furryville

This picture has absolutely nothing to do with my post but I thought you might enjoy the colors...

I can bake shortbead from memory, dialogue along with Grease 2; songs included, play "C" on the uke and still turn a cartwheel but I can't, can't, can't manage to shape my eyebrows.

Sure I can pluck a hair here or there which is all fine and dandy until all the hairs gang up on me to create a millipede on my face. Sheesh! When did this happen? True, it has been more than a year since I went to a professional and I thought I could keep up but those pesky eyebrow hairs are sneaky I tell ya. They throw a wild party in the middle of the night and the next thing you know it's furryville. It probably doesn't help that I have my very own unibrow. I spend so much time battling it out with that monster that the wee ones take full advantage of me. I should shave y'all off, that's what I should do! What'll you do then? Huh? Where will you go, you little buggers? Where will you go?

But I won't because even though I can still turn a cartwheel, sing along to Cool Rider (and yes, I do know the choreography) I can't really draw an eyebrow shape. I'm at your mercy you wanabe millipedes and I'm begging you to cut me some slack!

Please?