A-ha!

I'm back! I bet you didn't even really realize I was gone, right? Well, this is partially because I didn't really go anywhere, in the geophysical sense of the word. However, my Yahoo email was being awful about my password, so I had to reset it, and I wrote that down, but then I couldn't find the paper.
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True, Yahoo has nothing to do with this blog's log-in, which uses my Google account. I think. However, I find that by changing one password, it's like my brain is temporarily reset and I can't remember any passwords. Maybe a design flaw, maybe a sign of the raging inability to focus I am suffering from as late. Waterbug brain, skittering from here to there. Zip! Zip! Zip! All valid lacations, but no continuity, no sense of order! Zip!
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I was just trying to think of some examples for you, & got sidetracked by realizing that I've neither folded my laundry, nor unloaded the dishwasher. These are both things that Am LOVES to help with, but sometimes, I selfishly unload the dishwasher by myself, after she's gone to bed. Ditto folding clothes.
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I honestly am trying to be more focused, more coherent; it'd be nice to be more efficient too. No, I don't want to be a mindless automaton (although: fun Halloween costume!). I just want to feel a little more on top of things. I'm not sure if it's the dregs of the summer's depression (depression usually hits first as inertia... difficult to overcome), the idyllic autumn (which tempts me into lollygagging outdoors - I mean, a 20C day in mid October? Come on!), Amoryn's blessed molars (which wake her up, and wake me up)...
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At any rate, I'm not condemning myself at all; all three above conditions are valid conditions (especially the gorgeous fall days - wowza!), so I'm not beating on myself. But I'm trying to get gathered, and man! Deciding what to accomplish during Am's nap almost does me in. And I really don't feel like I have enough time to let go of multi-tasking - even as we speak, I'm googling an Xmas idea - although maybe I should take a brief hiatus on multi-tasking, just to get refocused a little.
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I just sent an email.
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I think perhaps it's the sleep interuptions getting my order in my brain all scrambly. I make lists, then put them in my pockets, then spend ten minutes looking through my pockets for the list, decide I must have left it at home, get home, & discover the list in my pocket. Really. It feels like jet lag.
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I just sent an email about the Xmas idea I was just Googling.
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And I think it's time to go to bed, instead of continuing to blog abut my theories about how sleep deprivation is my enemy.

Gack. Ook. Gyuuuh.

I was at the fabric store yesterday to pick out buttons for Am's new sweater. Yes! It's done, it's adorable, it's too big for her in a good way, & I am inordinately pleased with it. As well, it took less than a month, which is a record for me & sweaters. (All of you speed knitters out there - no, I am not that slow... but I work part time and have a toddler. And I like to sleep. And it's been summer, so I've been dragging myself outside and stuff.)
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Anyways, despite slim button-pickin's, we persevered & found enough buttons. As it was Get Your Home-Ec Supply List day, there was quite a crush of teenagers & their mothers at the till. (I've never seen a father take a kid for Home-Ec Class stuff. I've seen boys taking the class, but no dads along for the ride.) So I found a pattern for a sleeper for Am, then finally got in line.
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And as the line wended towards the till, we went past a pile of interesting looking knits. Fascinating, really. Quite interesting. Missoni, actually, when I checked the info, and on sale. Hmmm. I thought "I'll go home, see if there are any patterns online that tickle my fancy, & maybe go back."
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Can you see where this is going yet?
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(Let me give you a hint: the horror, the horror... )
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I think I've addressed the "What On Earth Were They Thinking?" before, but in a european (ie: Burda) manner. These are all North American. And unfortunate. I was even playing fair & not looking in the Bridal section. (Typically, home of the heinous & horrible.)

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Although I can totally see the unfortunate red number in a wedding party.

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I'm not sure how cold I'd have to be to put on that blue jacket.

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And I'm pretty sure that you couldn't get me into that pantsuit jumper thing, no matter what. I'd rather be naked. I'd look better & be more comfortable.

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Why? Why encourage the pet-dressers? Why? PETA, is this not animal abuse? Pam Anderson, where are you?

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This is perhaps forgivable, as a sports-fan paraphenalia, until you realize that one of those is a two person poncho. A poncho for Siamese twins, perhaps.

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All right, this is charming, & the only reason why I'm not going to renounce McCalls forever.

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I'm going back to my sewing machine now, to mull the awful awful options ou there in the world.

Well. The Eagles Have It.

Yes, we're back from Napa Valley, hale & hearty. And over fed. And wined right up. And I'm trying not to be overmedicated, but the world, it hurts, without my DayQuil. I either found my very own headcold in Napa, or I caught the one that Mom & Am had/is almost done with. Either way, I am sick.

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California was sick too, but in that groovy cool way. And I didn't hear anyone say groovy or sick, or even cool. There was one use of the word gnarly, but it was (properly) in reference to a stand of trees. I think I need to maybe rethink my conception of California. Dude.

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I just reread this post, & I sound spoiled & vacuous & addled. I can live with two of the three being true. It's really nice being spoiled. And the addled, well. I think there's some kind of ratio between how much crap my sinuses are producing & how addled I am. Vacuous is just a temporary sub-set. Oh well, read on, my dears.

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Wait, do I sound confused? It's just the meds wearing off. Let me start over.

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Napa was incredibly, stunningly gorgeous. We didn't see a cloud until the day we were leaving, and it was hot. Hot. 103, 107, 110. And hot. And sunny. Lovely to sit outside - very still - and taste wines. One of the couples on our trip got engaged -hurray for them! - and so, well, it got drunker than the typical wine tasting, where you taste & swish, then dump the rest, but whatevs. The help of a disco nap had me in good shape (mostly) for supper, which featured the Most Amazing Tomato Soup Ever, a great sole, & an adorable lemon dessert. (Imagine a little snowman, made from Meyer lemon sorbet, nestled in a lemon peel, with a little lemon peel hat. Adorable. I feel fine eating things with faces though, so I ate it. Partially. I was pretty damn full by then.)

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The weekend was larely about consumption - sometimes consumption veiled as "experience", but mostly consumption. And it was grand to just wallow in the selfishness of it all, and have two disco naps a day, & then rest afterwards. There was another incredible meal, and a third amazing amazing phenomenal* meal, and some other really good and cool stuff, then there was Target, & Jack In The Box, & Ross Dress for Less, & Trader Joe's. There was the pool by our room, there was the gorgeous night air, there was the incredible fruit selection at the buffet breakfast. There was also the lame duck minivan rental, & the overrated taxi, but the rest? Pure gold.

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It was a very, very great weekend. And unlike almost every other great vacation I've take or had, I didn't take hardly a photo. One of the gals did; she'll copy a cd for us. When that happens, I'll post some. But rest assured, we were fabulous. There must have been paparazzi snapping pics of us, or something.

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I'm back to doing my thing here, I'll try not to wear my dark galsses too much. Particularily because it's overcast as hell.

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*Did you know there is a pork equivalent of Kobe beef? It is f-i-n-e, fine. That meal is going to get a post of its own, I promise.**

**I know, footnotes are usually smaller, but that porkloin, I've never tasted better. Wowza. Yum. Crazy.

Are you excited yet?

Because I sure am. Even as we speak, I should be packing my bags to go to Napa for 5 - count 'em - five days. With my husband. And two other adult couples.

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And no baby...er, toddler. I'm excited about the prospect of Time To Myself, with no need to worry About What Little Hands Are Getting Into, but I'm super going to miss my girl. If this is like my other stints away from her (1 day, 1 night; three days, two nights), I expect that I will thoroughly enjoy my time away, then fall ravenously onto her little pudgy self & eat her up once I'm home.

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The question is - do I wake her up that evening? Because I work Tuesday morning, you know, so I don't see her in the morning... or do I wait until I get home on Tuesday afternoon?????

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Only time will tell...

Conversations of late.

I knit publicly. I try to always have a little project* socked** away in my bag, so that if I unexpectedly happen into a block of unused time, I can fill it up by knitting, instead of fidgeting restlessly, reading anything in view, and fidgeting some more. This has proved to be a handy habit - one day, I was in a car accident - a minor fender bump, not my fault - but I still got to spend about an hour & a half, sitting in my car, watching the rain. And knitting! The police office who arrived to take my statement was very impressed with my industriousness. And prehaps my sanguine attitude - I really was quite content. I could've maybe had a purring cat & a cup of tea to complete the scene.

I also knit on the train. I've had a couple conversations with people who were knitters themselves (albeit private, closet knitters), and were commenting on either my technique or my projects. (I switched from knitting the way that pretty much everybody else here does - English style, with your yarn in your right - to Continental style, where the yarn acts like it's going to be crocheted, & curls lovingly about the fingers of your left hand. I look forward to someday holidaying in some far off & exotic locale, where all the knitters knit that way, to see how they do it. I taught myself, & I just recently realized that I was purling odd, so now I'm, alittle curous to see some working lace Continentally.)

(Should I warn you that today's post is about knitting? No? You've already guessed? Okay.)

I switched knitting styles to avoid getting carpal tunnel syndrome, because it's more efficient, & because the English style originated because when knitting moved up from the crofter's cottage to the lady's manor, it was considered that the motion of the hands wasn't very ladylike. So they changed it. To save my knuckles the wear & tear and to express my offence to 'them', I no longer knit that way.

S knits when she's a work, & she was telling me that people are always astonished, because "nobody does that anymore". I'd never had that response, although I had noticed that knitters are apparently regarded as exotic & possibly dangerous creatures, judging by the Transit Seat-Share Index***.

So when I was taking the train from the zoo to the spa, I was quite surprised to hear a man's voice over my shoulder: "Excuse me - are you knitting? You're knitting! I didn't think that people did that over here!" Turns out he's from Goa, INdia, & his grandmother knit jumpers up for them all the time. We had a brief discusssion about how knitting here is different, it's more of a luxury craft than a survival**** mechanism, and then I had to cut the conversation short as my top arrived. That's okay though, because he was shifitng the conversation from knitting to the fact that he met a Mexican (in Mexico), who knew where Goa was because of its 'like crazy weed, man'. In my experience with transit tales, a segue to drug stories inevitably ends in a cheezy pickup attempt. So do hat complimetns, actually.

At any rate, I'm off to put on my threatening cap, & continue to harrass people x about situation y, as per my mandte. (Don't worry, it's an office thing.)

*-Something small, that uses one color, that can have it's stitches dropped & pickedup again easily.

**-Not usually a sock, though.

***- You know - you get on a bus/train, and who do you want to sit next to? Nervous Asian women reading books are preferrable, because they're quiet & small. Big fat people eating potato chips are to be avoided, because they take up space & have greasy crumbs. (I know it sounds rude, but it's true. Sorry.) Goths usually are pretty cool. Avoid teenagers wth cell-phones, because like, Emily, seriously, Aaron was so into you at the mall, but you know, really...

**** - As much as I love knitting, & I think I would go bonkers if I didn' have it in my life, if I dropped my needles, my family wou;dn't go hungry or cold. ALthough there would be less yarn to help insulate the basement... really, it's my duty, I must struggle onwards! For the good of my family, I'm doing it.

"And you know you've seen it all..."

Some days have automatic soundtracks. You wake up, and there’s a song in your head, & it just fits the day.
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So what kind of day am I headed for if I’ve got the Dead Kennedy’s “Holiday In Cambodia” in my head?
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Time will tell… but it could be rough on the engineers that are wrapped up in their own little worlds….
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Turns out, it led to a happy & productive morning, followed by a slump in the afternoon. Fits with punk, I guess - all strong agression, not much lasting power. I guess it's hard to sustain that level of energy. And yes, it's true, old punk has lasting appeal; but what about the new stuff? Blech.
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Also, I changed listening gears forcibly as I spent 55 minutes trying to get across the rush hour traffic into the zoo to pick up my zoo-camper. Agh. I think I would have started clubbing people with my Club if I hadn't changed tunes.
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Now, to go & wake the baby, then zoom to the chiro, then back to the zoo! Oh boy! Wish me luck with traffic!

The Perils Of Home Offices

My desk is small and I keep grabbing my mouse and instead of my mouse, I stick my fingers in my salsa con queso.

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Ah well. It could happen in the office too... although there, I'm into seven layer dip more than salsa.

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And at least it's less hazardous than tea. Because who hasn't dumped a cup of tea into their keyborad at one time or another?

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Oh. Well, if you're going to be all judge-y, then I'm headed back to work.*

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*Of the less creative office variety.

Old, Old, Old.

The man got to bed the other night & told me I was old. I blinked, a little taken aback.
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"We're both old. We Are Old. Z was watching the movie, and Right Before They Blew Up The Deathstar, she was like 'I'm bored & I'm going to go and read.'. And she left! Right Before They Blew Up The Deathstar! We're old."
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He seemed kind of shocked by it all. I've been letting my inner granny out to play with all sorts of things since I was, oh, 5 or six? (Liquid embroider anyone? Wheat weaving? Never mind the knitting & the sewing.) So I'm a bit split personality age-wise, in that yes, I quilt, & I knit, & I do All Sorts of Old-Fashioned Square* Things. I guess my inner granny & I, we sit & spin in the rocking chair, & we're content with being old. And then I stack blocks with my toddler, and I'm happy being young. And** then Z walks by, & I revel in being square. I prefer to think of it as flexibility, not confusion.
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Z is currently out with Auntie S, they're hiking. Than man has gone to the gym, & Am is sleeping the sleep of the small & exhausted. I'm puttering in the basement, not really accomplishing much, because really, I've already cut quite a swathe through my UFOs***, and not every moment of my time needs to be spent in frantic action. I think the frenzied push to Get Things Done has a little bit to do with grieving for Hugh, actually, and I need to take a deep breath, realize that yes, time may be short, but by cramming every second with action & obligations, life isn't that enjoyable.
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I'm debating starting a new project or two. I think I'll polish off some more UFOs first though, but I'm mulling, variously, knitted socks, using the two-at-a-time, two needle method, dye projects, lace-weight cardigans, striped sweaters & vests... Not to mention taking up painting, in the smaller art-work sense, as opposed to the larger, room-reno sense, which I am already quite proficient at, thank-you. Oh, and, um. Yes. There's never a lack of things to pick up & poke away at.
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Anyways. I'm off to go & wheedle two BBQ covers out of the enormous pile of green MWCN****, wish me luck.
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*Square, as in the out-of-date slang term, not as in the orthogonal shape. Although some of my projects are square, it's true.
**And I know I'm not supposed to start sentences, with "And", but I I can't help it. I like it. And I'm gonna.
***UFOs - Un Finished Objects
****MWCN - Medium Weight Coated Nylon - old fabric store speak.

Great Googelly Moogelly

Things that Z said last night whilst we were letting the Phantom Menace: Star Wars Episode I wander across the tv screen. Arranged in both chronological order & scale of astonishment....

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"I've never seen that movie."

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"No, none of them."

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"So the Jedis are the good guys?"

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Wow. I have been remiss, brother A___, you have been remiss, we have all been remiss. How can a child grow to be ten years old and reamin unaware of whether the Jedis are good guys or not?

Ooooooo!

So, I've been back from SK for most of a week. I think. I was there & back & there again, so it's hard top tell. It's also hard to tell because yesterday felt like it was 14 years long.

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Why? Well, my poppet*, because of something that I plan on entering into my vocaublary of curse word: MOLARS. Am was pushing one molar for sure, maybe more, and she woke at midnite & every 15-20 minutes thereafter, screaming in agony, vibrating, & generally being understandably upset.

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I kept her company. In the literal, hugging, rocking, soothing, s'shing manner, of course, not the figurative, let-me-join-you spiritual way that involves me also pitching a fit, because solidarity rules.

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Although about 4:23am or so, I was tempted. Luckily, I was distracted by the fact that in 7 more minutes, Am could have another does of Tylenol, sweet sweet** Tylenol.

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Of course, there was hardly even a dreg left in the bottle, much to my horror. Luckily, the 1/2 dreg was just enough to allow the poor girl a rerieve from her molars, & she finally fell into a light sleep. Poor thing.

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I was quite shocked that the bottle was empty, as it's quite new, & didn't even have that nice sticky patina that baby Tylenol bottles seem to acquire. Then I was chatting with a coworker, and she commented that yes, they're such ridiculous little bottles. I looked at it when I got home - and yes! They are! Ridiculous little bottles. 24 mL. And when Am's dose is 2 mL, every 4 hours, well. The sticky bottle runneth empty, indeed.

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Speaking of other ridiculous things... (random, too. Did I mention that? Do I need to mention that?)...

1) I finally had the lightbulb I've been waiting for vis-a-vis C's babe S's crib skirt. Here's a hint: BROCCOLI! (Pictures will follow.)

2) The number one sign that your niece is not a budding fashionista: Vogue is pronounced vog-you. As in "Hey Aunt Kourtney, that vog-you magazine upstaris... (And no, I'm not mocking her. THat's a reasonable way to pronounce the word, esp. since it's all in caps on the magazine cover. I just can't remember ever not knowing that it's Vogue. In fact, trying to think up how to phonetically spell Vogue is making my brian short out a little bit. So we'll move on.)

3) I think we should enter the Internet Village Fete. http://belgianwaffling.blogspot.com/2008/08/village-fte-rules.html I found it because of Antonia at Whoopee. And I'll put a link in later, if you don't want to go & look at the sideabr, because the wee*** one is awake. After she slept**** all night! What a sweet girl.

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Later skaters!
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*Poppet. A real word, contrary to Z's initial belief.

**Sweet Tylenol - figurative use of the word "sweet". Have you tasted that crap? Bleh.

***Comparitive. A is smaller than Z.

****I think. Either the man didn't turn the monitor on last night when he plugged it in (unlikely), or I turned it off in my sleep. More likely, but I'm trying to comfort myself because a) I would have heard Am anyways, if she's been crying, it just would have been once she hit "I"M FREAKING THE F%&** OUT HERE PEOPLE" instead of "Waah" & b) she was crashed in pretty much the same position as when I put her down last night. Tired girl.

Irrational

Everyone has something they hate for no good reason. I think it's the rare (or decietful) person who admits only one.

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I have a couple. One is mating socks. I loathe mating socks. I once numbered each pair of my white sweat socks in permanent marker just to make mating them easier. I don't know why the sock-mating rankles so, but it does. I found it wasn't so bad if the socks were obviously meant to be paired, so I have a lot of interesting socks. Taupe with big butterflies. Acid green, orange, & purple knee socks. Etc, etc. The man does his own laundry (I know!), mates his own socks (totally!), & irons his own clothing (no wonder I proposed, eh?). I haven't trained Amoryn to do her laundry yet, but I almost enjoy mating Am's socks, because really, how can you hate a sock that is meant to cover a foot that is three inches long? The cuteness is irresistible.

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Lovely bobbin photo borrowed from http://crackersandhoney.com/category/sewing/

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Another thing that I loathe unabashedly is winding bobbins for the sewing machine. I hates it. I have always hated it. It seems like such a waste of time. I know that's irrational, because, well, you can't sew without a bobbin thread, thus winding them is integral to the whole process, but still. I'd rather re-thread the serger (with five cones of thread!) than wind a bobbin.

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These days, it's even worse that usual. The bobbin winder dealy* on my sewing machine is starting to strip out a little. It's not really a surprise, given that my beloved sewing machine is actually a Singer circa 1956. It does aggravate my hatred of bobbin winding though.

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And bobbles. Bobbles in knitting are a very bad thing as far as I'm concerned. End of story. I cannot envision a project where I would willingly knit a bobble. All right, maybe as a nose for a little stuffed toy, maybe. Maybe. But other than that? Nooo.

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I wonder if there's some kind of connection between them all - bobbles, bobbins, bobbysocks? Nah, not likely. Or I'd hate bobby pins.

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All right. There's no real conclusion to this, I'm just done ranting about socks & bobbins & bobbles, the end. Go & enjoy a nice sunny day.

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*Technical term.

Ah, sweet.

Two of the bestest things in my life. I'm not counting the beer.
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Yesterday was the five year anniversary of meeting the man. I remember calling Sar to confess that I was meeting an Internet Stranger, & that she was to call the cops if Anything Strange Happened. I think it's too late to call them, now. Ha ha ha.
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It does seem a little strange*, being married, and having a daughter, & being happy. I think it's the consistent happiness - maybe joyful contentment is a better word? - anyways, the goodness is what seems a little strange*. When I look at back at how life was before**, I remember an overwhelming feeling of struggling. Part of it was getting my feet under me for a work & financial standpoint, part of it was the incredibly awful men*** I dated, and I think part of it was just looking for my niche, searching for a way to fit into the life I wanted. Deciding what kind of life I wanted.
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I never really could figure out what kind of a vision I had for my overall life - but I realized that I wanted a partner, someone who would love me, & that I could be proud of, & laugh with. Someone that my friends & parents liked, that liked them too. I wanted someone kind & gentle & brave. Maybe it's be nice if they were taller than me & devastating manly, but whatevs, I was flexible on that.
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So it's still surreal that the Internet Godfairy delivered up to me the man! Amply qualified in the above conditions, plus many other features (likes to cook, gardens, adores me, etc.). We went back to Kensington, where we first met, this time with child in tow. We had a lovely supper. We had a nice toddle down the street. All the bums (well, both the bums) said sweet things about our staggering girl. Then we came home & I put Am down & the man hilled the potatoes & blow-torched the weeds****, & I spun some yarn, sitting in my rocker, watching TLC, and I just felt great about life.

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It does look like Am is thinking about it, though.

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In the continuing feeling great about life bit, the babysitter called this morning on her way over. "We're just at Second Cup, do you want anything?" Yes. And I adore you & your stepmom who drops you off on her way. Totally fantastico!
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Oh. Wait. The whole reason I have a babysitter this morning is so that I can get some Eng Office stuff done. Right. Um. I gotta go.
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*-In a nice way - like an awesome new pair of shoes you know you're going to love & they're not going to give you blisters, but your feet still don't know them yet. That kind of strange. Not ...strange... (see *** below)
**-I would abbreviate Before the Man as BM, but, well. Some of you work in health care & I KNOW what a BM is.
***-Okay, maybe some weren't truly wretched, but still. A couple were truly outstanding. And now, three whole exboyfriends all live in Small Town X! All my exes live in Small Town X... Luckily, none of them really like yarn or ice cream or know the T_______'s, which are the only reasons I go to Small Town X. And no, only one of them was there while I was dating them. They just moved there. Makes me wonder if there's some kind of weird gravitational force there.
****-Really. That's another whole post though. It'll need photos.

Check it out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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All right, so. Guess what. I have a plan. A crafty* plan. I'm launching a little business for myself. And one of the first 'outside world' steps is complete - I've got a website!
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It's called Dollybird Workshop, after Amoryn, of course (thank goodness I don't call her my little pork chop, eh?). You'll notice a new link over to the right in the sidebar, and a new header & caption on this blog.
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The website is far from complete - I've really just set the rack up outside, now I have to set the ideas out in the sun to warm up & unfold. Still, it's a very important step that I'm very pleased with. Wander over, look through, & let me know what you think!**
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http://www.dollybirdworkshop.com/
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*Crafty, in both senses of the word.**Other than "Gee, Kourtney, there's not a lot really in there, is there?"

The Natural Dyes Class

Organic Dye Scarves June 08, originally uploaded by Kourtney_R.

(L-R: All on silk: something root with rust, um, some kind of bark & rust, madder, madder, & um, logwood. I think.)
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It was interesting. It was surprisingly technical. I got some very pretty results & a trip to the crapyard out of it. And although I learned a lot & found myself very carried away by the instructor's enthusiasm, I doubt that I will ever set up the natural dye pots in my kitchen.
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This is because I am a junky for color, & for fast results. Premordanting, dying, postmordanting, repeat? For not certain results? When I have a toddler & regular meals to try & work around? Not so likely.
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I think I'm going to try the acid dyes some more - that's what the next post'll likley be about!

Look!

Enough hair for a barrette! Jul 08, originally uploaded by Kourtney_R.

July's pics are up, & Amoryn has enough hair for a barrette!
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(And sometimes, she has enough patience to even wear the barrette for a couple minutes.)

On our way...

Making miles! June 08, originally uploaded by Kourtney_R.

I've got the photos from Apr, May & June uploaded into Flickr!
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Now there's only July.
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And the big surprise.
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Stay tuned!

Wait For It!

So! I swears, I am going to be uploading new photos onto Flickr.
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And I have something else exciting up my sleeve too.
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(No. I am not pregnant. Why is that what everybody guesses? Amoryn is the only start we're planning to shine in our sky & scatter toast crumbs & happiness everywhere. The end.)
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And you, my fine fabulous friend, will be finding out aaaaaaall about it by the end of today. Or maybe tomorrow. By the end of the weekend, I swear.
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For now, however, Am & I are off to a Stampede Luncheon. My cowboy boots are giving me blisters & Am's are too big for her to wear, so don't anticipate any cheezy cowgirl photos, ok?

Stagger to the Left...

...and stagger to the right...

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My dad enjoys Mel Brooks movies - or, more precisely, the humor that you find in Mel Brook's movies. Especially those circa "Blazing Saddles". Of course, in Blazing Saddles, I was introduced to the genius of Madeline Kahn.

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I clearly remember a pirate movie where Madeline is following a treasure map, trying to find the secret location. "Stagger to the left.... stagger to the wight... crawl... crawl...". After some googling, I've only found one picture of Madeline dressed up as I remember her character in "Yellowbeard" (see above).

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This is clearly a long & convoluted thought that must be going someplace, right? It should, shouldn't it? You know, when you try & find an image from the internet that references "stagger to the left" & "yellowbeard", this is one of the results:

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Random, no? I mena, bully for Grahm & John & their Siamese cats & all, but still. Random.

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All right, I'll get to the point.... I don't have any photos yet, but as of yesterday, Amoryn is walking! Or, staggering. She veers to the left pretty strongly... but she's taking steps all on her own! And since I've spent more time than I anticpated hunting through Google images, it's time to go & wake the little darling up!

The Swing Of Things

...And I almost mean that literally. Earlier today I very seriously flirted with buying a three person free standing swing that folds into a hammock. After much mulling, input from my associate L., & a realization of how big the jeep is, how strong I am, & the fact that I didn't pack tiedowns, I changed my plan of attack.
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I got an umbrella for the upper deck, & an umbrella stand. I got a nifty zero gravity chair for the upper deck or the lower deck, or maybe the lake. And I got a little rattan two-seater swing that will hang from the upper deck. And some citronella mosquito bane stuff. And all for $60 less than the three person swing! I am content with all of it, or will be, once I get the man to hang the swing. (He is "In Charge" of screwing eyebolts into the deck. That is "Not My Job".) (There are very few things that are "Not My Job", so I feel okay about that. I don't need to "Do Everything", I just need to know who to get to do the things I "Don't Want To Do".) (In some cases - like changing manifolds in the Jeep - "Things I Don't Want To Do" coincide with "Things I Don't Know How To Do", & "Things That Completely Baffle Me".) As far as packing all of that into the Jeep, along with the stuff from the last CanTire run, & Am in her carseat, L. was my willing & able assistant. I think we were rather a side show for the people in the parking lot. Maybe it cheered up their day... they didn't get to the Stampede parade, but they did get to watch two women wrestle an amazing amount of stuff into a car.
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We then zoomed home, I put Am down for her nap, & I rearranged the decks. I'm starting to feel more normal - I think the everyday routine helps. So does working in the yard, working with yarn, & hugs from Amoryn.
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Things that don't help? My hitherto unsuspected method of dealing with grief - my subconscious opens up it's biggest, baddest cans of Bad Dreams. Nightmares make them sound a little too friendly, you know? Mares are nice creatures. These are bad dreams. Epic, ugly, horrible bad dreams. The kind that can haunt a person all day, into the next day, even. Oh well. I guess if my current gig ever falls apart, I could try to get a job screenwriting for Hollywood. Also, housework. I know housework counts as part of the regular routine, but I doubt vacuuming up the cathair that the three cats deposit will ever been a positive feeling. Bah. Anybody want a nice cat? Maybe two? Declawed?
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Aaaaand speaking of my current gig, today, it's "Mom", so I'd better go & get my darlin' girl up from her nap. More later, with maybe some pics of my latest dye project!

Internet Asks: How Are You?

Um, yes. Hello there, Internet. It’s been a while. The last you heard, I was happily abusing my rental car. It was June 1st.
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It’s been busy. First, & most happily, C had her baby! I got to be a labor coach, & it was a long & epic battle for her. It ended in a C-section, one stubborn & perfect little baby, and one doped up C. Babe & mama are both doing well – and my goodness the little wee cheeks on C’s babe! I wanted to eat them up this morning when Am & I went visiting. I didn’t though; the babe was asleep. And it’s rude to eat other people’s babies.
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Less than a week after that sweet & high point, there was the low point. As I was driving home to Saskatchewan with Am to see Mom ‘n Hugh, & Mom’s friend Debbi, things worsened for Hugh. Our intended 4-day casual gab’n’chat changed. Am & I were down for a little over two weeks, and we went from vigil, to wake, to mourning. I think recovering is still a ways off.

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(I don't believe that I'd mentioned in this blog what was happening. Hugh had been diagnosed with a serious cancer last summer; he responded well to chemo, then things sort of crashed in late May, with more cancer & sickness & hospital visits. I had hoped he was going to rally & recover, but he didn't. We lost him the evening of June 15th. He was at home, where he wanted to be.)
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I know in my head it’s June, but my heart hasn’t signed up for the summer yet. It was beautiful & warm & sunny in Saskatchewan, but it seemed like a dream. It’s a beautiful & warm sunny day today here at home, but again, it just doesn’t seem real.
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It feels like I lost June. I’m just treading water, trying to believe that June, & summer, & happiness are out there, but I feel like I’m mostly going through the motions. It’s a good face I’m painting on – even I buy it, sometimes, and with time it will settle in again, that it’s summer, & that good & happy things happen. Until then, I’m so thankful for Amoryn – mentally, I’m sure that the comfort I derive from her has to do with the evidence of life in the face of death, with life carrying on, etc etc. But really, I just love having her in my arms & having her little round head on my shoulder.
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Mom, I feel so bad for your loss, for what you are enduring. I know what I’m feeling is nothing compared to the loss that you have; but me posting about where I am here in this blog makes me feel better. I think writing out the answer to the “How are you’s?” makes me feel stronger; and the answer here can be as long or complex as I need it to be.
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So, how am I.... I guess I'm working through it. Talk to you later, Internet,

K.

Rental Car Abuse

So the Jeep now has 4 doors that all lock. Verrry exciting, especially if you recall that for about 6 weeks, one of the doors did not lock, courtesy of some criminals at Brentwood Station. (I'd call them hooligans or punks or somehting, but really, I don't mind a lot of hooligans & I'm quite fond of some punks. So I'm sticking with a simple descriptive term. Criminals.)
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In order for the fix to occur, I had to leave the Jeep at the repair shop for a week. THis meant that I got to zoom about town in a rental; a Suzuki XL7, I think. It was gold for sure. And, similarily to that good old song, "3 Dressed Up As A 9", this was a minivan dressed up as an SUV.
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Now, I did no lasting harm to the minivan; I just wasn't maybe the typical renter. There was the IKEA trip, followed by the scrapyard trip, followed by trying to get the mud off our steel-toes while fitting the rusty bits of metal in around the IKEA stuff. (Luckily, Amoryn was safe with Auntie C., or S. & I probably wouldn't have dared to try IKEA. And then there was the garden center... and the sand & the dirt from the garden center... and Costco... and Walmart... and Toys R Us... all of which involved large, unwieldy things being stuffed into the car.
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All in all, I got the feeling that the Suzuki was more accustomed to less hauling. It did okay, & I liked the power sunroof. But all in all, I'm happy to have the Jeep back.
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And now that I've told my story & established that the internet is working, I'm going to go & finish rearranging the basement. Wish me luck!

2 FO, OMG.

Yes, that's right. I've cast off on one of my many current knitting projects, verrrrry exciting. And today, one of my cost reports that I've been mashing my brain into mush over had it's first ever, on-time, perfectly correct release.* Amazing, eh?
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Once I download the camera pics, I'll post a pic of FO #1 (FO=Finished Object). It's the shawl I started in the Bahamas, and finished here, mostly knitting at the train stop. I could get about 1-1.3 rows done in the trip from McMahon to downtown. I knew it was going to be light & airy, but soft & warm, & I find myself enchanted with it far more than I expected. To the point where the pics feature me wearing it, and also a fuschia t-shirt underneath. Fetching.
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The cost thingy, well. I have learned a lot about databases & array formulas & MS Access & MS Excel, & while I don't know if it's made me a better person, in a while, when it finishes sifting to the bottom of my brain, that info is going to earn me more money. Provided I ever marshall my reserves & gird my loins & march in to my boss's cubicle & ask for a raise.
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I know I should be earning more**, but ack, this whole business of asking for rate increases, it's hard. I've read studies suggesting that women are underpaid in comparison to men, solely because they find it so hard to ask for that any kind of recognition, let alone MONEY! ANd it's true, It's hard. I will ask. I know I will. It's just... blech.
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In other news, I'm taking an evening class in natural dyes, which I'm enjoying, but is pretty much reinforcing what I thought about organic dyes to begin with. Pretty, interesting process, but probably too toxic & time consuming for my life/kitchen/personal hobby fetishes. BUt interesting, nonetheless. And surprisingly technical.
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And in non-technical news, Amoryn is awake, & hungry, I bet! She's also very solidly into the 97th percentile for height & weight, which reall, no big suprise, right? And she was very brave at her shots, & very good during the last car trip.
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*Let's not talk about the first three versions, which were more "cobbled", "makeshift", "in development", or "rickety".
**At least, for my position, seniority, & industry.

Bliss

Yes indeed. Sar, Cor, & I spent a lovely day at the spa. I had a hot stone massage, which was so relaxing that I actually thought that I'd melted & couldn't tell where the hot stones were anymore. It was lovely. Divine. Splendid. Verra nice & well worth the price.
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There was also brunch to start, then hot-tubbing pre & post treatment*, a nice relaxing veg in the Serenity Room (really), and a rain shower where I think I used more water than some third world countries consume in a month. I'll tell them it was Oil & Gas that used all the water up if anyone asks.
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When I got home, Amoryn was simply beside herself to see me. So gratifying. So lovely.
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And that was my day. How was yours?




*-spa lingo.

Uunnnhhhhhgggghhhhhhh

When the alarm went off this morning, I groaned. And I sounded like Chewbaca. Yesterday, I almost chucked a bag of moldy cheese down the stairs & put the dishcloth in the garbage. Et cetera.
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In other words, this head cold is not letting up. At all. And I have so much things to accomplish that my inability to process verbal talking out of my head plus the sneaky sinus headache that keeps flirting with a migraine is seriously screwing with me.
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Yes. So of course I'm posting on my blog, knowing that teh Intarweb is sympathizing with me.
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It's probably sympathizing with Amoryn too; although she is just a little crunchy, she doesn't seem to be as sick as I feel. I'm thinking that she would have progressed from crunchy to out & out bitchy if she had the sinus headahce. Or maybe she does, but her little skull is still soft enough that it flexes, instead of resisting the throb, thus creating the headache in adults but not infants? At any rate, I'm letting her sleep an extra hour this morning - she hasn't stirred & I think she really needs it, the regular sleep isn't letting her get ahead of her cold or her tooth.
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Oh, & by the way? Breakfasts for sneezing babies are especially challenging when they consist of cream of wheat porridge & yogurt. *wipes glasses off. wipes tables off. wipes high chair off. wipes shirt off. rinse cloth & repeat.*
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I'm off to wake my girl up, which is totally the high point of the day's current plans.

We’re Baaaaack!

Yes, we’ve returned from the Bahamas.

(View from our balcony of the pool & harbour.)

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To this.

(View from the back door of the snow back on our deck.)

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I know, but we’re still happy to be back.

(Happy child.)

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I think the best parts of the vacation were a) unwinding & losing track of the days b) Amoryn getting so much mommy AND daddy time - I think she really loved that part of things c) hearing about the snow on our way out to the pool after one of Am's naps. But around all of that, it was lovely. It was idyllic. It was gorgeous the whole time we were there. There were beaches, and ocean, & blue sky galore. Amoryn as very good on the flights, she loved the water, and she ate pretty darn everything the first couple days, then mellowed out of her growth spurt & really concentrated on her love of cheese, yogurt, & fruit. I diligently (& constantly) applied 45SPF La Roche Posay sunscreen, because I had a theory that a sunburnt baby would be No Fun At All. I didn’t get to test my theory, thankfully, because of all the sunscreen**** application.

Would that I had been so keen on slathering myself – I burnt quite remarkably mid trip or so (maybe it was Wednesday? I don’t remember, we lost track of the days.) It wasn’t bad enough to really throw a kink in our style, but I did stay covered up for a day or so. (The man burnt too – a little wee bit, but it is all glorious tan now.) I’ve got tan lines now! And freckles*! Huzzah! (* Although not too many freckles, because I religiously wore my new Tilley hat. Which I lurve, lurve, lurve.)

(Although it may look like it, I am not looking at the man in the speedo exiting the ocean.)

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And I peeled. I started peeling on the 2nd last day we were there, and I’m still peeling. I thought that I was all done peeling, until (disgusting alert! Don’t read if you’re squeamish or eating!) I was in the tub last night & noticed large-ish shreds of my skin floating by. Yecch. I’m glad the man wasn’t in town & was spared the actual indignity; he just gets to read about it. (Assuming he reads this. Do you read this? I don’t talk about you much here, you know. Maybe I should…)

(I'm peeling, in this shot.)
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Along with the peeling & the dry skin, I hab a head code. Actually, I’m not that nasally, but my throat is pretty froggy & I sound like I;m trying to do an imitation of Sam Elliot. Of course, for the imitation to really be a hit, I’d need a mustache too. Did Sma Elliot ever do a Got Milk? Ad? He really should’ve, if he didn’t. (I just asked Google, a quick check makes me think that he hasn’t.)

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Speaking of mustaches, some of my family visited over the weekend. (I know, that segue made no sense. It's late, I'm tired, & I've got a head cold.) I'm pretty sure that I made more sense when Mom, H, A, & Z were here. Even if I didn't, it wasn't really that big a deal; the real star of the show was, of course, my darlin' Amoryn, who loved the visist & all the attention. It was a lovely visit, but it wouldv'e been nice if the wweather let us go for a walk or a swing or something. That uncle sure has a lot of energy that he needs to burn off! I coulnd't get the photos to slideshow on tv, but I managed to show some of the trip videos via the tv.

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I'm really am feeling like quite the technological Genius*** - tonite, I installed my new portable hard drive, hooked up two USD hubs, downloaded iTunes, and attached my DVD burner. Next up - downloading the videos, editing, compiling, & burning, then sending them off to family! Golly, what will the man say when he gets home & finds that my laptop has been so busy!** (**LAME computer joke. Really awful.)

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Of course, this post is the last computer thing I'm doing tonite - I'm off to eat some cobbler & go to bed.

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***- Wile. E. Coyote pronunciation, natch.

****-I originally typoed "sinscreen" - wouldn't that be handy in Vegas!

Yihooooooooo!

We is on vacation. The bags is packed, the flights is tomorrow, the living, it is good.

(Actually, I should say flight - direct to the Bahamas.)

We're taking lots of picutres, talk to you when we get back!

Love, us.


PS: Regarding the last post, it's actually "Gotta Skate", not "God of Skate". Which makes it not nearly so funny to me.

PPS: Amoryn's birthday party was awesome! She was great, even with the teething & the vaccination the day before & the strangers singing directly at her & everything! More on that later!

Unsuspected Source of Information

The man & I were watching the curling final yesterday afternoon. After catching part of one one particularily garish, spangled, fringed, figure-skated extravaganza of a commercial, I said, "Holy cow, are the ice capades coming to town or what?"
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"No," the man says, "It's Kurt Browning's God of Skate Seven."
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I burst into laughter. It was just such a ludicrous sentence to come out of his mouth. I may have got the number wrong, it could be Kurt Browning's God of Skate Four or Eight or something. I can't say for certain, and I'm loathe to ask Google. What would Google think of me? (google does keep track, you know.)
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As well, the title - Kurt Browning's God of Skate Seven - makes me think of the Pay-Per-View Adult Entertainment titles - you know, Mistiii Raynes presents Hott (x-rated verb of choice) Action XVII.
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And that was pretty much my Sunday afternoon. How was yours?

Easter!

Easter was busy.

I dyed a bunch of stuff.

Of varying types & colors.

And made a bunch of stuff.

And ate a bunch of stuff.
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It was good.
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(I also did a lot of bookkeeping, but that's not as exciting to photograph, so.)

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(And yes, I did a bunch of stuff with the girl, & she was all adorable & stuff, but I'll put that in another post.)

Heh Mar 12

Heh Mar 12, originally uploaded by Kourtney_R.

You see that spoon? That purple spoon? It's no longer a token spoon, it is a spoon of action. If I load it with food, she successfully puts the spoon in her mouth & eats the food!

(As opposed to waving it around, smooshing it in her hair, dropping it on the floor...)

Trouble At The Playpen.

(Lest you think I'm being dramatic, "Trouble at the Henhouse", a Tragically Hip cd, croseed my mind as I eased out of Amoryn's room at 2:47am.)

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But there was drama, never fear. I awoke to hear Amoryn fussing, & waited to see if she was going to soother herself back to sleep, which is what usually happens. Nope. Fussing gave way to crying. I even gave it an extra second, because the man is in Fort sMac. That means I have to go out into the cold dark world & there's no warm hot water bottle of a man waiting in bed. Anyways. As I'm pulling on my housecoat, I hear Amoryn's cry turn to a different tone, a downright scream.

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"What on earth?", thinks I.

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Well. Amoryn sleeps with a small menagerie of stuffies, there's a caterpillar, her bear (THE bear, as opposed to a bear), a singing bunny, a grey cat, & another bear (pink one, as opposed to pink two). The bunny looks like he's holding a star, & his arms are attached to each other, forming a smallish loop.

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Amoryn had stuck one of her arms through the loop of the singing bunny somehow, and as I came into her room, was screaming at the absolute top of her lungs whilst flailing her arms about & clubbing herself in the face with rabbit, which just made it all worse.

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It's ok that I've been laughing about it all day, because I didn't laugh at her then. I just extricated the bunny, soothed her, picked her up, dropped the bunny in the laundry (bad bunny! washing machine for you!), changed her bum, soothed her some more, and put her back to bed.

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Then I laid in my bed, and listened to her talk the whole experience over with the bear. She went to sleep after 40 minutes. So I guess I'm also laughing because I'm a little sleep-deprived & sort of punch drunk. Heh.

Well, I'll be spatted.

It may be one of the signs of the Apolcalypse.

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I was just surfing through patterns, on the hunt for a swimsuit coverup concept, & I found that you can upload photos of your own projects at Burda.

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I'll gice you a second to see if your imagination can take you where apparently, a lot of Europeans go.

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Give up?

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How's about high heel spats:

This is the 2nd of two pairs; the first one was really ugly.

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And there's Tinkerbell. Clap if you believe in fairies, children!

Amazing. A little overposed & overexposed, but still. Nicely done, but why?

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And it goes on, & on, & on. There are some genuinely brilliant things, but there's also this:

Which is titled "Rückenansicht von Farbexplosion ". I don't think we need subtitles for that, do we? She does look totally hot, but really, that much red tulle? Farbexplosion, indeed.

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The truly astounding thing is not that people made these things; but they made them from a pattern. (Or at least, started from a pattern.) That just blows my mind, man....

She's so happy!

Smiley girl Feb 24, originally uploaded by Kourtney_R.

She really is. Unless, of course, she's tired or hungry, or has just bonked her head. But hey, we all feel like that, right?
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Tomorrow, Tuesday, is my first Tuesday going to the office while Heather watches my girl, which makes this the first two-office-day week. I think I'll miss my girl, but it'll be a relief to be able to get the Tuesday workload done so much easier, & I do enjoy going to the office & using a different corner of my brain.
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And this is my last week of spinning class - mixed emotions - I really enjoy the class & learning & being around like minded (similarily obsessed) women, but I really really go through baby withdrawal - daddy puts her to bed, then I leave early the next morning before Am is awake, then when I get home she's usually having her afternoon nap. So it's almost 24 hours with no baby smooshing! Well, okay, it's more like 22 hours, but man, I miss her. I think it's worse because she's right there - just asleep, so I could wake her up & squeeze her....except I'm not that crazy. Well, maybe I am, but I do like my sleep, & respect her need for sleep too.
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Speaking of sleep.....zzzzzzz

lolCat of the day.

I find this so funny. That's all. Thanks ICanHasCheezberger, you rock.

Dyed pencil rovings, stage 2!

Dyed pencil rovings, stage 2! Feb 18, originally uploaded by Kourtney_R.

Now, I know the previous photo looked good, but it didn't truly capture incandescent & angry tone of the orange. So I plunked it all back into the slow cooker, this time, adding only blue kooaid to the water, as opposed to sprinkling the powder directly onto the wool, then plastic-wrapping. I didn't use vinegar either time, & it seems to have worked marvelously! I'm in the process of spinning this into (very uneven & lumpy) yarn. It's quite lovely & subtle, soft peachy-browns fading into blue, with occasional little hits of orange. I think I need to work at bit more at finessing my handling of the rovings though - it had started to matt/felt just a little bit, which is making it hard to draft well to spin it with my spindle.
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Did I mention I'm loving my spinning class? I'm loving my spinning class.
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As well, I just figured out that I can use Flickr to post into Blogger, so I can blog/upload photos in one fell swoop! Huzzah!

The rovings, after stage 1. Feb 18

The rovings, after stage 1. Feb 18, originally uploaded by Kourtney_R.

Yes, a success: dyeing things in the slow cooker worked marveloussly - it wasn't hot enough to melt the cling wrap seperating the colors from each other; it cooked all the dye into the wool - for once, the ater was totally clear! It was awesome.

The Best of Soul Train Feb 16

The Best of Soul Train Feb 16, originally uploaded by Kourtney_R.

This was on. The Best of Soul Train, I mean. I think I was meant to dance on Soul Train, because I totally bust moves just like these people do. Well, maybe not liek the performers, who were... spectacular, as in worth of spectating. Their ensembles, in case you can't tell, included varying headgear inspired by ziggurats, filmy organza wings, lyrca leggings (covering one or both legs), and sequined bras & codpieces/hot pants. It was amazing.
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I can't wait to tune in next week to see what else the Best of Soul Train has to offer!

It smelled like spring today.

It was Wednesday today, which is obvious, yes, but Wednesday has come to mean not the middle of the work-week, but swimming lesson day! Swimming lessons are awesome, with the only awkward part the post-swim shower & change. Today's shower was mucho better, as I brought along a sling & used it to keep Amoryn braced on my hip. It may seem a little weird, but have you ever tried to shower holding a naked baby, shampoo her hair, rinse your own swimsuit, and not drop anything, especially the baby? And no, I am most certanly not going to ever, ever set my girl down on the floor of the shower. I wear flipflops in there for a reason, a good reason, a reason that involves all those stranger's feet & the warm, moist, hospitable environment that 10 showers in a single room create. *shudder* I gag in horror when other women set their babies down - BARE-BOTTOMED! - but I try not to judge. Sure, maybe you can't hold them, but land's sake people, put down a towel or something. That baby is going to get something awful or WORSE on its poor little fat bottom.
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So yes! Moving away from that awful scenario, it was Wednesday, which is in between Tuesdays & Thursdays, which are both engineering office work days where Am gets a babysitter & I get spreadsheets. Of course, I'm doing some bookkeeping on the side now, so "work" is creeping in all over the place. But I still want my Wednesday to be like a little mini-weekend day for Am & I - minimal housecleaning, fun stuff like playing all afternoon, with no momma doing dishes. (Although Am does enjoy that - it gives her an excellent chance to sneak up on the catfood.)
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So we went for a stroll! We strolled to the mailbox, we strolled around an easment to a different cul-de-sac, & we explored a "new" playground. It had a nice quick baby-friendly slide, which Amoryn adored (I was holding her from over the side, of course), it had a rocking horse which was quite a bit too big, a dinosaur that was quite a bit too dirty, and a little rocking car that was quite interesting. And there were two swings - one baby-bucket ("for VERY SMALL CHILDREN"), and one regular swing (whose warning I did not read before sitting on). Swinging was warmly recieved, as always.
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And as we strolled home the long way (because we could), there were wafts & very occasional gusts of spring flirting with my nose. I know spring's not ready to put out yet, but it makes me feel good that she's starting to fix her hair, & decide what to wear, & put on some perfume, & get ready for the big date.
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And now I have a date with my bed & my little green fuzzy booties, which are an anniversary present from the man. They have removable heatable insoles, & I've been sleeping with them on, & I lurve them almost as much as I love the man. He's so cool.

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I shall leave you with this warm idea from I Can Has Cheezberger, http://icanhascheezburger.com/

Who Trusts A Weather Forecast More Than Five Days In Advance?, or Why I Don’t Care About the American Election

I'm officially tired everything about the American election. It's not until November, people! We're Canadian; we don't even get to vote! Why is it everywhere - including my hip-hop radio station?
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I hardly pay attention to our own government's doings because really, they are beyond my control. And the people in power, they're liars. Even if they're not inveterate liars about everything, they get forced into it. I know this. It's a fact. I'm a liar too - but in a small scale, as my powers are small.
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I say "All right, we're going to clean up the toys & then go for a walk." But the weather changes or Amoryn has a giant poo or something else and poof! it's nap time & I'm a liar. Good intentions butter no bread, I'm sure someone's granny says that.

Epic toy spill coupled with noxious diaper derails stroller plan... news update at 11.
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Despite my best efforts, it happens occasionally. The scale of power that the goverment controls is so much more massive that it turns into "We're going to change health care / cut tax/ end child poverty." But then... there's the deficit / Senate / giant lighting bolts form God. So they turn into liars. This is the way it is; I end up voting for who I think has the best intentions. Mostly. Sometimes I pick based on who's the biggest loser - who's going to really appreciate my vote? (Here in a very conservative riding, I generally vote Green. An added bonus - as I haven't voted the government in, I can vetch about them all I want.)
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Now, I do accept that the American election is important to Canada, & thus to me. The election isn't until early November though! I have things to pay attention to right now, that are really important. Like lunch.

Fears that the electoral majority are won through their stomachs founded, new study reveals.

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And then later, doing more laundry so that the girl can wear her almost too-small 18-mo clothing, instead of her slightly too big 24-mo clothing. Hmm.

Big baby bending budget - critics worry when will mad growth end?

(Our 10-month old girl in her 24-month coveralls & shirt. So sweet! Luscious baby wale-corduroy!)
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Well, even if I decide to move her into her 24-mo clothing, I still have to wash the outgrown stuff before I put it into the hamper to save for as hand-me downs. (I always thought it was Handy-Downs, as a a kid. Or maybe Han Dee Downs...)
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Anyways. Please, please media & the rest of the universe, conspire for the day so that I hear something other than "Obama", "Hillary", "Blue state", etc. Thanks.
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Now, let's get back to lunch! And the new melamine turtle bowl! Yumm!

Ha. Arg. Gotta go.

This isn't nearly as funny - or illustrated - as Whoopee's blog about phone copmpanies - http://yetanotherbloomingblog.blogspot.com/2008/01/brief-working-notes-for-epic-norse-war.html - she even features antique nudity. Really.

At any rate. I just got off of the phone with two different employees of HBC. The first one I called to cancel the Mastercard that they were automatically upgrading my Bay card to. I was already irritated, I admit; I'd spent an hour + sorting & filing reciepts into piles so that I can do the bookkeeping for them later. And to find a letter, letting me know that I get a Mastercard! Without any effort! Oh boy! Be sure to spend lots!, well. It increased my irritation. I called the number to say "No, does not want", and went through their automated system. The automated system subjected me to a lovely 2 minute spiel about all of the wonders of the Mastercard, then said "if you don't want, press 2". I did, then pressed 8 to speak to someone further. It simply seemed too easy to cancel it that way; there was no verification, no nothing. Also, I wanted to know who I had to call to remove my name & phone number & address from the apparently inexhaustible array of amazing offers, special deals, incredible events, & free* things. The woman I spoke to spent another 2 minutes trying to make sure that I really understood how special I was to the HBC, that I should feel honored that they trusted me enough to recieve such a special offer with such amazing perks, and so forth. Eventually my mantra of "Does not want... remove from list... does not want... remove from list..." sank into her consciousness. Then I asked about the cancellation - well, she can send out a letter to me, but first, let her confirm that address. "Well, I will give you the cancellation number provided to me, then you can pull up my address." "All right!" she says. "Then can I have you address to confirm?" "No. It's the same address as is on this letter, that arrived in the mail yesterday. I haven't moved." "But I need to confirm," she says. I am not giving my address out to anyone; I'm quite certain that even though they have it already, there is a secret database that they store recalcitrant, master-card-free addresses in, then set them up to be automatically dialed by a fax maxchine at 2 am & recieve mailers about Enhancing! Your! Male! Parts! "Why don't you read me the address you have, & I can let you know it's the same", I say, adopting her cloyingly sweet wheedle. "I cannot do that." she replied, finally dropping the sucrose. "Well then, I'm not giving you my address, you can't confirm, so mail the letter confirming canellation or not; but give me the number to remove myself from all of the free* offers etc. She did, grudgingly, I chipperly apologized for being a bear, & wished her a verry nice day & hung up before she could get out one last time, how much I really mean to the Bay. It was like a verrry weird breakup with a passive aggressive needy boyfriend, using a script.
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My loins fully girded, I steeled myself for another ten minute quest into the automaton world of HBC. I was surprised & completely disarmed to find that the phone was answered on the third ring by a man, named Doral, who had me un-subscribed & feeling quite happy in three minutes flat.
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Other than bearding various telemarketing lions in their dens, I've been pretty busy. I've got all sorts of knitting things just completed & on the go; pictures & a post to follow at some point (I know, you can't bear the anticipation...), I've been working more for the office, I've been taking the girl to swim lessons, I've tried to get to the gym for myself too, and well. I've been busy. It's not you, it's me. I did manage to update FLlckr yesterday - I resolve to try & get it done weekly, if nothing else, because it takes faaaaaaaar to long to do it monthly. Plus also, it leaves the grandparents & other baby fans in the lurch.
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Speaking of the babe, she just started singing, so I'd best go & get her, stuff some lunch in both of us, then head off to my old office, where I am picking up some work to do from home. Yes. I now have three jobs - Amoryn, the engineering office, & the accounting office. (Not counting work that doesn't pay in baby snuggles or cash - which leaves out keeping track of our company AND housework as jobs.) Stay tuned to see how the balancing act all works out... assuming of course, that I have time to post!


*Free! for the first month, then for a low, low monthly fee of $14.95....