- I am currently sitting at my not-so-sucky job, staring at the computer screen, in a half comatose state brought on by fairly consistent lack of sleep.
- I very nearly O.D.ed on lemon bars that were left over from a lunch meeting.
- I am now very thirsty because of said lemon bars.
- Many people have complimented me on my outfit today, which I find humorous, because it’s my Palin outfit for my costume at the company party later. And I find it horribly boring. They most likely won’t be as complimentary when I pull out the wig, glasses, and tiara.
- I still can’t decide if I should enter the Funniest, Most Creative, or Scariest category at the party. Perhaps I should try for all three.
- I don’t like wearing pantyhose, but I am. My legs are freezing.
- I’ve been over my skirt with a sticky roller about four times, and cat hair still keeps appearing.
- I could really use a nap.
- If anyone can come up with an image of an very ornate English Regency room that uses a lot of red, let me know before Sunday night.
My Day So Far October 30, 2008
An Intellectual. Hmm. October 24, 2008
I’m sorry people. I try to be understanding of different points of view, I really do. I know that not everyone will agree on everything, nor do I want that. But seriously, do you really want a woman that “always wanted a son named ZAMBONI” to be a heart attack away from the presidency?!? Really?!?
http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5iGvyQEbhE7p4C9xKEkCpqqlIdvOgD93VLK4G2
I kind of judge people poorly if they give their kids ridiculous names for their own selfish reasons, whether it be they want to stand out as “interesting” parents, or just thought it was “cute”. And shows a serious lack of critical thinking skills.
Would you wish to have to go through life with the moniker of Trig? Can you imagine the painful, junior high teasing when everyone enters that math class? Well times it by 100, and god help you, if your name ends up being Zamboni. That, my friends, is an automatic 20 years and hundreds of thousands of dollars of therapy.
And one gigantic set of idiot parents. They might as well go with “I Hate You and Don’t Want You To Be Happy or Succeed. Ever.”
Now that has a nice ring.
Just One More Sign October 24, 2008
That motherhood may not be for me. When I saw this picture:
I immediately wanted everything in it, except the baby. Well, maybe to borrow, because the costume is so cute, and might look a bit creepy on that old My Buddy doll in the basement. But you bet your sweet bibby I’d be handing him back as soon as that diaper needs changing.
But really, that lamp is to die for.
News Flash October 9, 2008
I’m really not liking LA lately.
I wish I were home this weekend.
That is all.
Darkly Dreaming Dexter October 8, 2008
Today is a lovely day. Well, at least it became so around 5:15pm when I came home, and rushed to my back steps to find a lovely, large package waiting for me, even wrapped up in brown paper. I love it when things are wrapped in brown paper.
Let me back track a bit to give background info as to why this made me so happy. I’m a member of a knitting/crochet website called Ravelry that I adore. The easiest way to describe it to laymen is a Facebook or MySpace for needle fiber fanatics. There are forums, groups, friends, your own homepage, but much more. You can keep track of your yarn stash, search through thousands and thousands of patterns, lots of which are free, list all your needles, and have a place to post and track all of your projects, including what yarn you used, needle size, and a plethora of other useful gadgets. OK, that’s my “Up With Ravelry” moment for the day.
Anyway, on Ravelry many months ago I had joined a group devoted to the kick-ass TV show Dexter, which also can quickly be broken down into being about a serial killer who kills other serial killers. I do love me the macabre. While perusing this groups forum postings (after posting my own excitement about previous events), I came across a call to Dexter lovers to have another swap. A swap, for us at least, is basically finding tons of knitting related goodies, and trading packages with other people that signed up for it. I sent a package to Canada, and I got one from Norway.
OK, this should bring everyone up to speed on what the heck I’m talking about in the first place.
*stops to catch breath*
So, I came home, and thanks to a previous delivery attempt notification, I knew a package was waiting for me. Somehow I managed to find the patience to take pictures before and during the opening process. So, without further ado, here are the pics of the contents of my super sweet package from Pia (Frksnupp) from Norway!
My package with a cute little sign drawn for me.
Pretty pink box tied with up yarn. (These are a few of my favorite things...)
Lots of unwrapping lay ahead of me!
13 initial items. My favorite number!
The very cool envelope Pia painted for me.
The letter Pia wrote, explaining the items. Dex would be proud of that blood splatter!
The gift extravaganza begins! She found this awesome bag on Etsy, one of my favorite sites.
So cute! Press on nails in the Hooker Fingernails colors, and some with the Norwegian flag!
My own set of nail polish in case the press ons do not fit. Such a neat idea!
AWESOME stitch markers made by Yarn Lust on Etsy.
Cute little Knit Kit that comes with 5 patterns and knitting accessories.
YARN! A gorgeous, deep red lace weight wool.
TWO patterns! Both look beautiful, and the lace weight will look great for the stole! They are VERY me.
MILK CHOCOLATE FROM NORWAY!!!!!
Cookies!!!! YAY!!!
Hot cocoa from Norway! (If you cannot tell, I really like European choclate. It is so tasty!)
Some really wonderful smelling coffee. I will have to find someone to share this with!
A mix CD, and based on what I recognize on the playlist, we have very similar tastes in music. 
Adorable wooden circular needles. Love that panda.
Every thing together. There was also some yummy gum and a set of handy post-it notes.
Thank you SO SO much FrkSnupp! You did an awesome job, and were a fabulous swap partner! What a great start for my very first swap! Now I need to go eat some chocolate and start knitting with my new items!
You Can Never Go Home Again October 3, 2008
I am having an overwhelming bout of homesickness tonight. The reason why? It almost felt like fall here today. I love fall. As in absolutely, completely, amazingly adore the season and everything about it. The problem is, it never really comes here. Yes, it was chilly today, and even very overcast, which I actually now miss. But the smell. There is never the smell of fall. There’s nothing crisp, or quiet, or beautiful about fall here. Nothing changes color. It either just stays green or becomes brown. People don’t slow down or become more friendly. There is no rustle of leaves, or drizzle showers at night, which is like a lullaby to me. It’s just sad, and dreary, and dirty.
It really hit me today, not only because of the sudden temperature change, but because I also joined my brother, sis-in-law, and niece and nephew at a small carnival “pumpkin patch”. It’s just a corner of empty parking lot at the end of some retail malls along PCH, but it made me absolutely ache for home. Like serious, sucker-punch-to-the-gut, chest constricting, aching to be at home in New Albany, going to Harvest Homecoming, driving around on a Spook Run, waiting in line for two hours to walk through the Culbertson Mansion haunted house, only to make fun of it 5 minutes later. I miss all of this so much, it makes me want to jump a plane tonight.
But I can’t. I have a life here. A job that is finally giving me 40 hours (or more!) work a week. I just started school again and found out said job will cover up to $3000 in tuition per calendar year, meaning the degree I thought would cost $15000 out of pocket, will now only cost around $4500. I have a husband with a great job, and who also just started school again too, and also has work covering for it, a decent apartment, at least one secured parking spot (which is a big deal where we are), a dog. I can’t just up and leave on a whim. Thus is the life of an adult.
It all sounds good, but I just seem to grow more and more miserable the longer we are out here. It goes way beyond the lack of interesting weather. And granted, I’m fine with not having to deal with losing power for a week because of it. It’s just LA. The people, the pace, the lack of courtesy and respect because everyone is just a mass of nameless faces. I know you can find this every where, and that people are becoming more rude and lacking in basic manners where ever you live, but it seems to be on such a scale here that becomes almost intolerable to me. There are so many people, and the chances are good that you may never see that person again who almost ran you over while you were crossing in that cross walk, that they just don’t care. And that makes me sad.
Walking around that street corner, covered with hay and lines and lines of perfect pumpkins, I had to hold back tears that suddenly sprang up behind my eyes. Little kids running around, begging to ride the ponies, pet the goats, go on the merry-go-round. The smell of funnel cake and corn dogs. The fact that carnies seem to be scary no matter what part of the country you’re in. It all made my heart clench, and wistfully imagine being 10 again, begging my own mother to let me ride the Tilt-a-Whirl just one more time, so I could maybe, just maybe, throw up that elephant ear I just downed.
Never again.
Sweet Vindication October 1, 2008
Kyle is taking an Organizational Behavior class for his MBA, and during the course of his reading, came across something that pertains greatly to me. Last weekend he looked up from his book and said, “Hey! There’s a name for your fear of talking on the phone!”
A quick segue here. I hate, hate, HATE talking on the phone. Always have. It’s so bad, especially when I was younger, that I would flat out refuse to call friends to ask them to come over and play. I would beg and plead for my mom to call their parents for me, and when she would tell me if I can’t do it myself, then no one calls, I would either throw a tantrum, or just go off and play by myself, trying to convince her, and myself, that I never wanted a stinking friend over in the first place.
It continues to plague me even now. I’m notoriously bad about returning calls, even from good friends. The longer it’s been since I last talked to them, the great the chance they may never hear from me again! I’m a lover of email, a fan of the letter, and a devotee of the card. But the phone? I can barely even carry on a conversation with my own husband when he’s out of town. Although we’re both to blame for that one, so maybe that’s an anomaly.
Getting back to the point, I finally feel a sense of vindication, because here in Kyle’s textbook, in black and white, is my exact phobia! It reads as follows:
Communication Apprehension
Another major barrier to effective communication is that some people – an estimated 5 to 20 percent of the population – suffer from debilitating communication apprehension or anxiety. Although lots of people dread speaking in front of a group, communication apprehension is a more serious problem because it affects a whole category of communication techniques. People who suffer from it experience undue tension and anxiety in oral communication, written communication, or both. For example, oral apprehensives may find it extremely difficult to talk with others face to face or they may become extremely anxious when they have to use the telephone. As a result, they may rely on memos or faxes to convey messages when a phone call would not only be faster but more appropriate.
That would be me! And only 5 percent of the population! My mommy always told me I was at the end of the bell curve! Oh wait, maybe I’m on the wrong end of this one…
Anyway.
I’m not so bad with talking in public, or face to face, although I am a natural introvert, and especially when meeting new people, I apparently can come off as very aloof because I struggle to come up with viable conversation. If I’m prompted, I’ll respond, but will then just sit there like a zombie. Maybe this is one of the reasons I’m a fan of alcohol at times, because it certainly loosens my tongue!
But the phone phobia never quells. It has cost me job leads, friends, and who knows what else. It’s most likely genetic as well, because I share this quirk with my father, along with depression and general social anxiety, which probably makes us more prone to this manifestation anyway.
But now I finally feel like I’m not just crazy for having this. I’m crazy with a name!
