friday's confessional: november 4

Aw shucks, I forgot what I was going to confesss (other than my intense feelings of jealousy towards, oh...everyone right now) so hows about a wee response to last week's confessional? In response to last week's confessional I wish to clarify that I was attempting humor to point out my ineptness at all things girlie. I am often confused when I receive super lovely letters after a post that tell me not to fret, that I am lovely and things will get better after a post where I thought I was poking fun at myself and my ridiculousness. I do love me a nice, encouraging word, believe me, it really boosts the ego (thank yous to the folks who wrote, thank you!); but I am so often confused that my tone is so often misunderstood. I often have people gush over what they see as my positive and sunny disposition (wha? really?) which results in two things. One, I smile and say thank you and then two, I give a guffaw because really, I feel like I am far too cranky all the time. But then, I write here thinking I am sunny and funny and honest and then I am told I am a bit of a downer.

See? Confusing.

So, here's the deal (and I promise, I'm trying to sound light here and positive), I have lived a quirky life fuller than full of tales of woe. Most of the time, I look back and think WOW, I'm still here, mostly intact and I feel pretty good about that. But then, the dark comes crashing in and I am sad and feeling mad and I go with it. There are ups and there are downs and I deal with it as we all tend to do. I write what I write because it helps to get it out of my head and then I think maybe someone else out there is feeling this way as well and maybe they won't feel as alone as I sometimes do. Don't you ever feel alone? I simply do this to keep myself sane, I used to write with a pen in a book but I got tired of my hand cramping up and the ink that would glomb onto my hand as I am a lefty. Also, when I write fast, there is no discerning what letter is which and what word is what, I'm a sloppy scribbler with poor penmanship, my typing isn't as swell either but thank goodness for spell check and the delete key.

This all goes back to perception. Even those close, close, close to me manage to mis-perceive my intentions. When that happens I fell all prickly and irritated and there may be an urge for some shin kicking. I feel even worse when I try to explain what I meant so instead I let it roil and boil about the noggin until I'm a bit heart heavy which has me crash, crash crashing down to bottom and I feel like running even further away than I have run already. It's a stupid cycle and I feel all of twelve all over again. I'm kinda feeling it now but I opened this can o worms so I can't complain. I guess what I want to remind people is that perception is a tricky thing. It's the song in the head that you cannot hear. It's what you bring to the party based on how your day has gone, and it's personal and real yet not real at all. Does that make sense? It's all relative.

I'm not sure I'm making sense even to myself but I do know that my brows are STILL a mess, more of a disaster really and I need to find a stylist up here in this little town and I need to figure out how to fork over the moolah to do it. I miss my gal down in L.A. Gals, really. They were great, shaped 'em up nicely and did not over pluck one bit. Here, people tend to wear their brows a bit on the skinny side so I am weary. Oh and thank you for your support and giggles in cheering me on. I'm not afraid of the work, just don't know where or how at this point. Oh and threading, yes threading! I used to get that done oodles and ages ago. Goodness, haven't had it done in more than a decade. I wonder if anyone up here does that. Good question. And like I said, I am not very good at this whole girlie business. You would think after 40 years I would have gotten the hang of it but I haven't. Eyelash curlers terrify me, shaving takes too long, lotion leaves my hands feeling greasy and I have no idea how to get my hair in an even part in the back when I put in pony-tails or knots. I also find myself staring at all the ladies around me. All of them. How do they get their hair so shiny? How? I have gel and shine and other sorts of goo but all it does is make my hair oily...oy! At least my grown out dye job is fairing up. Thank goodness the trend in hair color is "ombre" for once I fit in with my kooky dark roots. Go me!

mornings are for routines

I am beginning to enjoy the mornings a bit more now that the casa is slowly turning into a home of sorts. It helps that the light is brighter as well. Brighter still, next week once we turn the clocks back. I'm a bit over the whole daylight savings ritual but I do still enjoy my morning routine.

I stumble out of bed and quickly make it up before approaching the kitchen and living room. First stop, computer...oh I do love my internet next I hit the kitchen and fill the kettle with water and set to boil.

I grab the four-cup pyrex and add a green tea bag. Tea bags are kept in the cup cupboard. If the box is almost empty, I tuck the loose bags into a vintage squirrel mug, if not there is a tower of boxes that tipple-topple about as I retrieve the jasmine tea. We have a small variety of teas toppling about but lately, all I want is jasmine. I am down to two bags and really need to scope out some more. Better remember to do that sooner than soon!

While the computer is waking up and the water rolls to a boil, I either get dressed if it is a workday or bundle up if it not. Plans for the day clutter up my head as I coax myself to wake up.

If I am on it, which is not as often as I want to admit, I am dressed regardless and chowing down on a warm bowl of oatmeal. If I am not, tastee-os it is with a dash of cinnamon. If I am really not on it, I reach for the pink snail shaped half-cup and dish out a dash of marshmallow mateys as well. A smattering of rainbow marshmallows can make almost any day a smidge brighter.

Thrilling, isn't it? What are your mornings made of?

apple{s} of my eye

We've been hitting up the apple farm about every other week or so picking up around ten pounds of apples a pop. We always intend to bake a pie or make a crumble but somehow...

The apples get eaten up, bite by crispy bite as they were intended.

I have developed a fondness for a crispy, slightly tart apple with a cup of hot coffee, cream, no sugar. It seems an odd combination I am sure but I find it delightful. Perhaos if my nose worked, I would think differently but until then...

 An apple a day it is....

clap on, clap off

I am often in the habit of losing things in the tiny casa. It drives mr. a-go-go quite daffy. I don't intend to lose my keys or my inhaler or um...camera cord, I simply am prone to scatteredness (or perhaps we have a bad case of duendes).

Saturday, I misplaced a tiny box of homeopathic sinus medicine. The mister was out purchasing wood and I was home puttering about when I realized it was time for my next dose. I went to the table where I had left the box but it wasn't there. I then checked the sofa, the bedroom and the bathroom but I couldn't find it anywhere. I wandered about the tiny casa lifting up things the box couldn't possibly fit under and muttering to myself. As I wandered from the bedroom to the kitchen and back to the bedroom I found myself doing something I generally do when I lose something...I develop a crazy urge to clap. As in two sharp clappity claps. What? Yes, it seems I like to pretend everything that is lost comes equipped with its own clapper. Or rather, those mini alarms that attach to your keys that beep when you make a loud noise around them. Not only do I have a crazy urge to clap, I picture the old school commercial for the clapper, them song and all.

Once I realize I am in clapper mode, I realize it is time to admit defeat. Usually this involves more muttering and a quick computer browse of Pinterest, Facebook or flickr and sometimes a quick game of sudoku. More often than not, it involves putting the kettle on and brewing a cup of tea while I hope, hope, hope the lost item resurfaces before the mister catches me looking for it.

The meds were eventually found in the dumpster. Crazy, I know but they somehow got into our tiny trash can just before the mister took the trash out. My allergies have been breeding the worst symptoms ever and I am SO HAPPY we found them, even though I really do wish we had a clapper.

crafting for craft: scrap happy needlebook

 Zip on over to craftzine to see my most recent diy. All you need is a handful of scraps, cardstock, gluestick, felt and a sewing machine. What do ya think?

the {soon to be} pink slip

 I have nine pale slips hanging from a yellow crocheted hanger showing their laciness off to all who drive by along HWY 1. Nine of them. I have been holding onto them for years. It is safe to say that I may even have been holding on to them for more than a decade. Ever since I saw a bit of lovely slippiness in the home of Betsey Johnson. Seriously, I took one look at that magazine article and went thrifting. I believe I came home with four slips in an array of punchy colors.

The punchy ones may have left the building but these lovely bits of cream and lace have stuck around and soon my friends, soon I will be giving them the happiest of bubble baths tinted with bits of pink, orange and yellow. I am so excited to finally, FINALLY get this done.