Unfinished Object
Quote of The Day
Navigation
Home |
Where I Play
Categories
Read
Lurk
Inspire
Green
Diversions
Photos
Monthly Archives
- July 2008
- June 2008
- May 2008
- April 2008
- March 2008
- February 2008
- January 2008
- December 2007
- November 2007
- October 2007
- September 2007
- August 2007
- July 2007
- June 2007
- May 2007
- April 2007
- March 2007
- February 2007
- January 2007
- December 2006
- November 2006
- October 2006
- September 2006
- August 2006
- July 2006
- June 2006
- May 2006
- April 2006
- March 2006
- February 2006
- January 2006
Site Credits
Powered by:
ExpressionEngine
Design by:
BlogMoxie
If you asked me my hobbies, I’d say reading, writing, sewing, cooking, a few odd crafts and occasional gardening. The newest one I’m calling ‘internet gifting’, and it is an odd hobby. For some time now, I’ve been reducing my fabric stash by making things, bags in particular, and sending them off to cyber-folk. It is always fulfilling, completing the project alone is fulfilling, but when I am making something for someone else I am ever so much more careful in my work, and therefore that much more pleased with the outcome. Sometimes it is very, very, fulfilling. For example, The Tribe. Everybody plays nice, there are always ‘thank-you’s’ and much ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhhing’ and even when you miss the mark folks are too kind to mention it. Missing the mark is particularly disappointing for me. It’s about 5% sadness that I’ve created something with such care and (dare I say) ‘love’ and it will never be used. (It’s probably nice to receive (mail is always nice) but it is ultimately a disappointment.) And 95% frustration on my part that I failed the recipient, failed because I had set out to make something they would love as much as I did during the making. I’ve participated in swaps where my supposed partner never sent a single e-mail. Shipped things that I guess arrived, simply because they never came back. Busted my butt to make a promised deadline and never received one word of thanks. None of these are as frustrating as missing that mark. I’ve received things that are off target, though very few, and I’ve re-gifted them *gasp* to other friends that I know will love them. And I think that’s ok, because I hope that’s what folks do with my ‘missed mark’ items. I would rather them be loved by someone than discarded. And that is what make ‘internet gifting’ an odd hobby.
First I had thought to impress you with my cycling experience this weekend (and how many things, including my posterior, that have forgotten how to ride a bicycle.) Nah, boring. So next I thought I’d share my experience with the Rheumatologist this morning ... boring and depressing. So, now I have settled on a game (stolen from Reecie - thanks Reecie). Below you will find seven bits of information about me and my life, 6 are completely true, 1 is an out and out lie ... can you find it?
1. My grandparents owned a farm, and though it was not their primary source of income they sold veggies and raised a few head of cattle. Much of my growing up was done playing in the barn and wandering the three cattle fields. The center field was bisected by a drainage ditch that led to the pond. The ditch was filled with all sorts of rusty junk, from small farm tools, bottomless buckets, and old plows to simple trash. I spent an entire day loading my wagon, with any pieces that I could pull from the muck and hauling them to the trash pile near the garage. I just knew my grandfather would be thrilled that I’d help him clean up that awful mess. When he got home I showed him what I’d done and was promptly spanked and sent to my (uncle’s) room. The junk in that ditch was to help prevent further soil erosion. It took him three evenings to put it all back.
2. Growing up I wanted a Mustang more than anything. At nine I wanted the actual four footed variety, but by twelve the four wheeled kind was more appealing. When I woke on the morning of my sixteenth birthday there was a card on my dresser, left there by my father sometime in the wee hours of the morning. Before I even opened it I could feel keys through the paper. I ripped it open, grabbed the keys and headed to the driveway...nothing. The card said, “I tied your Mustang up in the driveway, but it must have gotten loose. Sorry, Love Dad.” The keys were for my mom’s POS Chevy.
3. We had a black cat when I was about 5 years old named Black Jack. Bless his heart, he put up with a lot, including me cramming him into my PlaySchool Schoolhouse and closing the door - the door being the long side of the building that hinged open like an oven door. In his panic he stuck his head through the only escape he could find, the 2"x3" front door to the school, and began making a noise that I have never heard since (and hope I do not again). The racket brought my mother who spent nearly thirty minutes, and half a can of Crisco trying to free him. She says to this day, she has never been angrier with me. Black Jack ‘ran away’ not too long after that, but I suspect she may have found him a safer home.
4. My first life drawing class in college was also the first time I’d seen a naked man anywhere other than Mel Gibson’s fine hiney in Lethal Weapon. Our first male model was another student (later models would be homeless men and women our Professor brought in). The first few poses were away from me, and when he finally did turn and face me I was not only shocked, but disappointed that the male member was so damn tiny! It looked like the tip of a thumb sticking out of a bundle of steel wool. He took a pose near my corner of the platform and looked off somewhere over my head. I was concentrating on his torso and looked up to check my proportions and was surprised that his tiny little thumb had transformed into a shuddering tree branch, complete with pulsating vein. Most of us were reduced silent giggles, until one student, a male, pointed and asked the Professor “Do we have to draw that?” The class fell apart, and the teacher ejected the model.
5. My brother and I convinced my dad to go look at some caves we knew were in the woods near our house. I’m still not sure what we said to encourage him to don his winter coat and go hiking across frozen fields in thin driving sleet...but he did. Halfway across the first field, I thought I heard a thin cry from the woods. No one else did. Further on I heard it again, and this time so did my dad and brother. We altered our course toward the treehouse my brother and I knew the older kids had built. On the ground beneath it was one of the boys, who had come out to cover the plywood roof with a tarp to protect it from the weather and had slipped and fallen. He had broken his back, and had been lying there freezing for over an hour. I stayed with him, while Dad and bro went to call an ambulance ... we never got so much as a thank-you.
6. I was waiting tables at a small privately owned family type restaurant and we were ‘in the weeds’. Everyone was in a rush. I had a party of 15 in the dining room furthest from the kitchen, plus two other tables. I was pre-bussing the large party’s table, and greatly overloaded a tray. I don’t mean the cocktail, pizza sized, tray. Oh no, I mean the size that could hold six dinner plates plus all the sides, and I packed that puppy full! Arriving at the dish station I discovered (belatedly) that someone had dropped a butter ramekin and tried to wipe it up with a wet towel - effectively smearing it everywhere. I hit the butter just as I was stopping to set the tray down on the dish table. The tray sailed out of my hands, over the dishes already on the table and dumped into the floor on the machine side ... at the same time I was sliding on my ass, under the table. I arrived on the machine time the same time the dishes did. Oh my achin’ head.
7. About five years ago, D and I, my dad and step mom packed up the SUV and drove to Georgia to participate in BRAG or Bike Ride Across Georgia. The plan was for D to set up and tear down camp each day and follow the ride from stop to stop, while the three of us actually rode. One morning, about half way through the ride we took off to the start line I realized that I had failed to snap the strap on my helmet closed. Rather than stop, and fall behind the others, I took three big pumps on the pedals, sat up and went ‘no hands’ to clip the offending strap. My front tire clipped a rock and jack knifed the wheel. I was on the ground before I knew what had happened. My step mom, hearing the crash, looked back and got so upset she started yelling the wrong husband’s name (she was yelling for the father of her kids, not my father - heh). Luckily, I made my dramatic crash in front of a woman with a ten year old son. She was on me with Bactine and bandages before I got un-clipped from my pedals and my feet under me again.
A weekend post is something of a rairty around here, but I know a few of you are are interested in my date. Rox and Greenie, sorry, but no, he didn’t, I guess my feminine intuition works about as well as a magic 8 ball sigh. The restaurant is located in a very busy outdoor mall (Green it’s next door to Blue Pointe - where we had that ‘to die for’ artichoke dip), by the time we found a parking place and walked 1/2 mile to the door we were a little late. It didn’t matter though, because they had lost our reservation again. The new computer system ate it. With only 9 indoor tables we had a little wait (it was just too cold for me outdoors, I would have been miserable). In the end that was really the only goof in the evening, everything else was fabulous. D had seafood pasta, with muscles, calamari, shrimp and scallops - his usual. I had a filet mignon, crusted with cracked black pepper and garlic, with a champagne pepper sauce, creamed potatoes and ratatouille. Despite my dislike of egg plant the ratatouille was really pretty tasty. I had wine (of course) Jessie’s Vineyard, Red Zin - mmmm, divine. To finish: creme brule - I sooo love creme brule! D was cute, protective, opened doors, ordered our dessert and I did my best demure. All in all it was a fine time - and a lovely Christmas present!
One of the things D gave me for Christmas was a gift certificate for dinner out at a very nice local restaurant called Bacco. I love fine wine, fine food and impeccable service, it could be listed as one of my hobbies if I did it more often. D, on the other hand, really does not care for such activities. So it is really a fine and caring gift and tonight is the night we will partake of it, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited. There is the possibility of a glitch though, and I am trying to school myself today on how to react if it arises. When D purchased the gift certificate (paper not plastic) the man he purchased it from had neither his reservation book, nor his gift certificate book on hand. He told D that he’d remember the reservation and log it later (oh, sure!), and since he had sold only one other gift certificate that day this one had to be #2, which he did indeed write on the card. A few days ago I suggested, obliquely I hope, that D may want to call and verify the reservation. He did, and sure enough they had never heard of him. We are more than a little worried about the certificate. We can afford to pay for our dinner, but we’d hate to just chuck $100 out in the street. D is pretty easy going, and while he’d not be happy, I’m not sure he’d raise much of a fuss. I, on the other hand...well lets just say demure is not one of my strong points. But, I also think that my normal route of jumping in and taking over will really, really not be appreciated in this situation. So, send any stray demure thoughts my way today ‘cause this mouthy broad could use all she can get!
See that little bullet, the one over there under Donni’s (of the Amazing Tribe) name. Please make it go away .... please, I beg you!
UPDATE D took one look at my template and pointed out where I was missing a closing slash - 10 seconds to fix something I stewed over for about an hour - I love him, but sometimes I dont like him very much - lol!
The sad truth of the matter is that I wont work on this site unless I force myself, mostly because I’m terrified of screwing something up. But, since there’s a good sum of cash involved I’m forcing myself and here you are. So, welcome ... and pardon the dust, because I expect to be under construction for some time. Archives, prior to today, will be left at Comfortably Numb, because I simply cannot wrap my brain around how to move them. I am going to continue with The Bag Lady at Blogger, though I expect new patterns and bags will appear on a monthly, rather than daily basis. Also, I haven’t the slightest (ok, maybe the slightest) idea how to post a photo - that is next on my list of ‘figure it outs’. Additionally, the only links that work at this time are those listed under Diversions, the others are either still being considered or still built. And finally, no props for the template, it is borrowed, but still kinda nice. I sound disgusted don’t I, mostly I’m just frustrated with myself for not going further faster. I actually used html to make a word in itallics yesterday in someones comments - you’d have thought I built a bridge - heh. Changes, they’re a coming - promise, I’m just slower than Methuselah. 