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We were down to the last three pieces of furniture yesterday before mom would admit that I was right, everything did fit on the truck. It is, in fact, about two thirds full and we only have some files, suitcases and cleaning supplies left to load. Already we’ve had some snafus but nothing that isn’t to be expected with this sort of undertaking.
The truck and trailer are sitting in my driveway; I should say, consuming my driveway as the whole ‘combination’ is roughly 35 feet long. Happily, the truck is so new it still has ‘new car smell’ and has just over 3000 miles on it. The trailer is considerably older but seems to have good tires and hopefully good breaks. The connection between the two is like nothing I’ve ever seen and it took me almost a half hour and some serious elbow grease to get it disconnected yesterday. It seems the latch sticks a bit which is fine by me, I’d much rather it stuck on than slipped off - heh.
Tomorrow afternoon we’ll load mom’s car on the trailer and hit the road with our sites set on reaching Atlanta where we will encounter the first of the few concerns I have about the trip: my brother’s neighborhood. It is packed with tight, odd angled turns and very possibly no place to be jockeying a trailer around in. But I’m sure we’ll figure it out, even if it means parking the ‘rig’ at a local grocery store and having him pick us up.
Another concern is my staying awake. It has been a very long time since I was the sole driver on such a long haul, 1300 miles in this case. Even when D and I drove to Wisconsin we’d each drive a few hours and then switch off. We’ll be arriving in Atlanta well after dark (read: well after my bedtime) and very tired and that is the ‘short’ day.
The final big concern is called Mounteagle, and it is the only true mountain between us and our destination. It is tall enough and steep enough that it has runaway truck ramps on the down hill side. Please, please don’t let me find out how well those work ... please. If I remember correctly though, the north bound side of the mountain is far less steep than the south so it may not be as big a deal as I’m making it.
Truthfully, all these concerns reduce down to simply being careful. As long as I’m careful everything should be just peachy. Long, arduous, and tiring but peachy. I hope to post from the road, but I doubt it will be with any kind of regularity. Just in case I can’t, I wish you all a wonderful week, and I’ll see you on the 6th of April.
I finished my lion security blanket this morning, and other than the fact that he sheds, I am tickled pink with him. He feels like empty child’s pj’s with a head; very soft and very snuggly. I hope he gets worn positively threadbare and has embarrassing stories told about him when his new owner attends his first prom…
D wandered into the bathroom this morning as I was doing my make-up, looking immensely pleased with himself, and announced:
“I’m stroking my goat”.
“Well, don’t do it in here!!!”. I responded, and then asked what the heck was he talking about. He drew his fingers along each side of his jaw line until they met at the point of his chin, gently pinching that straggly thing he calls a goatee.
“I won”, he said smugly.
I feel a little badly as I had to think a few moments before I remembered that they were announcing the winner of the most recent 3-D rendering competition he regularly competes in. At the time I didn’t realize this particular round was a ‘prize’ round, but it was and he won a computer program he’s been wanting for a while. Yay D!
Before I show you the winning image, and one other he just finished and is pretty proud of, let me explain his hobby. He draws three dimensional images on the computer, some of which you wouldn’t know weren’t photographs. Up until the time that he actually renders the final image he can turn what ever he’s drawing on a 3-D axis, much like you or I would turn a ball in our hands. By doing so he actually draws every side of the object; just because you can’t see the back side of something does not mean it isn’t there. He’d probably be embarrassed if he had any idea how much time he spends on one drawing, but trust me, it’s a lot, but it pays off in the results.
The winning image:
This one is an extra, one he’s been working on for a long time and finished up last night.
Congratulations honey, ya done good, both on your drawings and in giving me something to say when I’m proud of myself that’s bound to raise eyebrows!
This is one of my favorite fabrics. I received it almost a year ago as part of my Backtack swap. It is tiny, from a fabric lover’s point of view; about 10” x 8”. I’ve carried it to every fabric store, even some out of town while I was on vacation, looking for more but without success. When I got home Saturday from helping mom pack, D was gone, the house was quiet and this scrap of fabric was lying on the ironing table atop a yard cut of black and white polka dot I purchased to line a tote bag. Rather than doing the chores I should have been doing I broke out the sewing machine and set to work on a case for my makeup brushes. Yes, that’s right, I made something for myself and the earth did not crack in two.
It took too long, it’s crooked, has a bad corner, and overall is a little wonky; things I see when I’m looking closely. When I was done I was relaxed and happy with the finished piece no matter how ‘off’ it was. Moreover I was sane again.
Today I woke up early, cleaned up yesterday’s mess (and yes, D burned inscence and made thankful offerings to the Gods) and started on the Lion security blanket for my new baby cousin. There was more packing, but when I got home D had done the laundry and cleaned so I had tinkering time. And the result of that is this:
Pardon my dirty mirror, but I wanted me in the photo for scale. The body is a flat, lion skin outline with a tail. I’d be done but I ran out of fleece. I think he’s terribly cute, but I’m waiting for the Lion Queen’s verdict before I call him a success. Even if he’s as wonky as the brush case it’s ok. Stepping back, taking a breath, and thinking of nothing but the task at hand. Well as the commercial says: priceless!
As usual the weekend is laid out before me and already crammed with things to do, none of which I actually ‘want’ to do. I’d like to be selfish and lock myself in the sewing room, but its not going to happen, instead I’ll be packing and cleaning and trying to maintain sanity.
I did manage to finally get my taxes done. This is normally a task I secretly enjoy; it’s like solving a big puzzle. This year, however, was mind numbing. This is our first year with a Health Savings Account, the IRS doesn’t even seem to be sure how to handle it. In the end I took my best shot and sent everything off. The worst case scenario would be that I’ve overpaid my taxes. I’d be surprised if they audit me for that. It’s far more likely they’d keep the change and call it a tip, and I’ll bet they don’t add it to their W-2 in the box marked ‘unreported wages and tips’.
If you get a chance to put your feet up and indulge in a tall cold one this weekend send a calming thought my way!
During my search for new blogs to read I stumbled over a great one called Six Impossible Things (thanks to a link found on 6.5 Stitches). She writes well, is scathingly humorous and sews; my kind of blog! She keeps a section called Phantasmagoria where she lists the vital statistics of the moment; eating, reading, pondering etc. My favorite entry is a ‘watching’ from April of 2004 where she writes:
Watching: The cat preparing an elaborate dog ambush. He’s going to scare the crap out of them. I can’t wait.
Cracks me up and reminds me of a cat my grandmother had when I was little. Suki, an enormous, old, cantankerous Siamese who lived for scaring the tar outta people and dogs alike. She’d wait on the tops of open doors and land on you screaming and fully clawed. She did this once to a big white dog my grandmother had, and I’m told rode him all the way to the end of the street.
Anyway, I digress, my whole purpose was to give you my own little list of doings, shamelessly borrowed without permission from Six Impossible Things, so here goes:
Eating: Cashew chicken, still. We’ve had it in its original form, as well as reincarnated in salad and last night as General Tso’s. Perhaps this is the real reason I only make it once a year.
Watching: Mostly the computer screen but there is usually Bones, House, America’s Next Top Model or any incarnation of CSI droning on in the background.
Reading: Eragon ... I’m miserably stalled five pages in and considering picking up something else and shelving it for a while.
Crafting: No crafting, I want to be crafting, sewing particularly but I’m somewhere between not having time and not knowing where to start.
Wishing: It would rain.
Coveting: This Betsy Ross ‘All For One’ shoulder bag pattern, and Denise Schmidt’s Contemporary Quilts, and a scrap bag of her fabric! Told ya I want to be crafting.
Appreciating: My new undies. They aren’t anything spectacular, but darn comfy!
Musing: Whether or not anyone would blame me if I Thelma & Louised the truck and trailer right off of Monteagle. Yeah, mom’s move is makin’ me tired.
So there ya go, what’s going on in your neck of the woods?
The weather is messing with me. No surprise really, it always messes with me this time of year. We are beyond dry, even the weeds are screaming for water. The yard has turned to mostly sand, the bird baths dry out in hours of filling them and the wind pelts you with dust. It is bright, sunny, beautiful even, but dry. Tinder dry, and we have the wildfires to prove it. Yesterday afternoon the clouds moved in, loomed darkly for several hours and even rumbled a bit, but not a drop of rain. The waiting is making my nerves as brittle as the grass. I feel anxious. I know why the Indians danced to ask their gods for rain, they simply couldn’t sit still.
I woke up this morning just knowing it was Sunday, which is solid proof that the weekend wasn’t long enough. We cleaned and cooked, I installed the electrical bits left over from last weekend, D completed a drawing for a competition that he’s been working on for nearly a month, and I spent much of Sunday at mom’s packing her stuff. If you guessed there was no crafting my way you’d be right. In fact, by the time I did sit down with some time to myself I could only muster enough energy to push the tv channel button on the remote ... repeatedly. Busy people were we, but it was a fine weekend nonetheless.
I’m hoping that I can tinker in the sewing room a few nights after work, but it may be a futile hope. There are errands to run and things to do to gear up for mom’s move. Next weekend is totally shot as I’ll be spending it packing. My hope is to load the truck on the 29th, not pack and load on the 29th. I’m not holding my breath, there appears to be a great deal left to do. If I do get the chance I’m hoping to make a ‘lion skin’ security blanket for my new cousin, and play around with a bag idea that’s been banging around in my head for a while. But I’m guessing that whole ‘spinning off into the sun’ thing is more likely to happen than me getting anything done.
In other news, my Ebay auctions ended this morning and, I’m happy to say, were a success. I earned just shy of $700 and got seven things out of the house. Yay me! Sadly, its not ‘fun money’, at least not yet. Most of it is going into the travel fund for our trip to Aruba in October. The rest will be given to the tree guy this week when he comes to give the palms and mahogany tree a badly needed haircut. Of course I have yet to collect all the funds. I’m keeping my fingers crossed because at least one guy was acting like a putz before he even bid in the auction. I’m sorry to say he won two items, and he’s already indicated he’s pissed that I won’t take a personal check (clearly stated in the auction). I won’t be surprised if he leaves me a less than glowing review. Sigh. Oh well, there’s a jerk in every crowd, and damn if I’m not good at finding them.
Many of my favorite bloggers are on hiatus right now and I’ve been scouring the internet for some new ‘reads’ but so far my search hasn’t yielded much. This is my own fault because my search started with craft blogs, and somehow the craft blogs all seem to eventually lead to a handful of superstar crafters. I’m not so interested in the superstars right now. Don’t get me wrong, they all have a talent I could never aspire to, but I’m feeling a little ‘been there, done that’ about them these days. Besides, most of the superstars are so super they no longer bother to list links to sites they appreciate or their links are back to the other supercrafty. I always look at the links on other blogs, I think they say something about the blogger; I feel the same way about Amazon wish lists. I’m disappointed when there are no links.
I’d like to be participating in a crafty swap right now, in fact I’ve been holding my breath for BackTack, but alas they just posted that it will not take place till late in the year. Why I want to add something else to my plate right now is beyond me, my dance card is full and I’ve started writing on the back. Still, the need to be creative is burning in my gut (or maybe it’s the chicken I had for lunch). The obvious solution is to make this week’s mini project a creative one. I might even fulfill one of the promises I made to myself ... and then the earth will fall off its axis and spin into the sun ...
I’ve invited the whole ‘fam-damily’ over for dinner this coming Saturday afternoon, ‘cause you know I have nothing better to do. I will be serving a dish called Cashew Chicken. It is nothing like the soupy mess of cubed chicken and sauce that you find at many Oriental restaurants. Instead it is crispy deep fried, boneless chicken served over rice with green onions, cashew nuts, and a oyster based clear sauce. This take on the dish, which some call Southern Style, originated in Springfield, Missouri, and remains particular to that area. Our ‘family recipe’ came from the very restaurant that is credited with its invention; Leong’s Tea House.
In those days the local grocery stores didn’t carry ‘Oyster Sauce’, so mom ‘made do’ with the juice off of canned oysters. Her version of the sauce was a faintly fishy, white gravy ... you’ll just have to trust me that it isn’t as gross as it sounds. It wasn’t until I graduated college and went to work at a huge farmer’s market that I first encountered real ‘Oyster Sauce’, but by then mom had perfected her version of it and to this day makes it with ‘oyster gravy’. These days the elusive condiment is practically a staple in the Oriental section of most markets and my version more closely resembles the original. Both are yummy, which version you are served depends on which side of the family you are visiting.
It’s an odd thing to share a dish we consider a ‘family tradition’ with a whole town, then again it’s cool too. For the most part you can always wow a guest by serving it, either because they’ve never had it or have been missing it. Best of all whenever I make it I always feel a little like I’ve come home.
With my mom’s impending move back to the great white north there has been an huge influx of stuff into my house. Some of it I’m trying to sell on Ebay for her, some I want to keep (for no really good reason I’m sorry to say) and some needs to go to Goodwill. There is so much of it in fact that D cannot park his car in the garage right now ... he drives a Mini Cooper for crissakes, he could park it in the mailbox but there’s no room in the garage.
There are wine glasses, hat boxes, Waterford perfume bottles, hat pins, a poodle skirt costume, mirrors, photos, frames, vases, straw hats and a positively hideous “I cant believe it was ever in style” burnout velour dress in emerald green. Perhaps the most amazing thing in the lot is fabric; fabric that I don’t want ... I never knew such a thing existed! Its good fabric, Waverly upholstery weight but it is French Country, and just not me. I may finally be succeeding at turning over a new leaf, you know the type that does not covet every bit of fabric it encounters.
Of course on our trip we’ll be passing through Paducah, Kentucky, home of the Quilt Museum and Hancock’s of Paducah, a huge fabric store. The thought of tossing mom and her stuff out there, stuffing the truck with fabric and returning home has crossed my mind.
Intentions are funny things and they manifest themselves in many ways. They can be a pile of uninstalled electrical bits, an overgrown lawn or ideas rattling around in the ol’ brainpan. Yet, regardless of being corporeal or ethereal, they carry great weight, and when I lay awake at night it is that weight that keeps my brain spinning.
This weekend was to be of the ‘catch-up’ variety, and was badly needed as I’ve been something of a slacker for the last few. I planned to wash my truck, clean the house, work in the yard, install that pile of electrical bits, replace the toilet seats, finish my taxes, finish my blog banner, straighten the garage, deliver things to Goodwill, photo things for Ebay and maybe sit at the sewing machine for a while. All week I walked around with this list in my head, adding and subtracting things, rearranging the time schedule; truck washing in the morning, weed pulling in the evening, blogging in the heat of the day and so on. All week I looked forward to 5pm Sunday, my traditional ‘quitting time’ when I put my feet up, open a book (and maybe a cork) and survey what I’ve accomplished with extreme satisfaction.
Before I even got home Friday night my mental plans started to ravel. Mom needed help packing and Saturday morning was best, a friend invited me to a ‘stamping’ party Saturday afternoon, and D wanted to see “300” Sunday morning then go to lunch. When something woke me early Saturday morning it was the conflict between these intentions that ultimately forced me from bed and into my craft room where I cleaned and straightened. The sun came up and I washed D’s car and my truck and since I already had the hose out I pulled the lily pond pump and cleaned the filters (nasty, nasty job) and then hustled to my mom’s.
We packed books and argued ... unpotted plants and argued ... plotted a moving plan and argued. A grand time was had by all. It has been decided that I will be driving the moving truck and car trailer to Missouri at the end of this month - the 29th to be exact. We will spend one day in Atlanta and then try to make St. Louis in a day - a very long day, before making the final leg to the lake where she’ll be living. I will fly home April 5th. Do you think we’ll argue?
That afternoon I went to the ‘stamping’ party; think Tupperware party but with rubber stamps, ink, pretty paper, grommets and brads, glitter and glue. It was both fun and frustrating, the woman next to me was positively unable to follow directions of any kind and kept asking me to help ... she’s lucky she didn’t go home with a nice new grommet piercing to go with the other eighty seven she had in her left ear. The cards I made and not to my taste - a little too cutsy for me - but I think they came out well, and yeah, I spent an obscene about of money.
I was home far later than intended - six cards took over three hours thanks to Miss I Should Have Been Born Blonde - I slapped some dinner together, did a load of laundry, watched a movie with D and fell into bed. It was a very busy day, and yet very little got done. Not surprisingly those weighty undone intentions woke me early Sunday morning and I worked a while on some Ebay auctions and my taxes, more laundry, and cleaning out my iPod library. D woke up about 9 but we hadn’t changed the clocks so it was really 10 and we busted it out the door to make the movie.
A 10:30 movie on Sunday morning sounds silly, but its $4 bucks and practically crowdless. We saw “300” and despite some pretty dreadful sound problems we really enjoyed it. Where it was gory it was very gory, and where it was beautiful it was very beautiful. I don’t recommend taking the kids, but I would recommend seeing it. Then we went to lunch, and the auto parts store (I needed an air filter) and then home. We cleaned house, and did more laundry before settling in front of our respective computers to play City of Heroes and dropping into bed.
A very full, fun, frustrating weekend and I gained more intentions than I marked off. The lyrics of “Lightening Crashes” by Live tell of an elderly woman’s death, and when she passes her “intentions fall to the floor”. You can bet when I go the ‘crash’ of mine falling free is going to be deafening.
I’ve spent my day working on a project I started the first of the year – cleaning out the file room; a room that by all rights should be called ‘the junk room’. When we bought this building several years ago the room was an oddity and seemed to be wasted space. It is just a little wider that I can stretch my arms and easily thirty feet long. It runs parallel to my and T’s offices and I always thought it would be so much nicer if the offices had been that little bit wider (and I had one more window - heh). But, whoever designed this building had other ideas and built this long, narrow, dead bolted room, slapped an acrylic ‘No Smoking’ sign on its door and called it the File Room. And we use it accordingly by stacking cardboard banker’s boxes full of archived paper dating back to 1996 at its far end. It is the room where all non electric wires go; phone wires, network wires, cable wires; the front corner, near the door is crammed with wires. It also houses a mini work station designed to be run by the generator should we have a hurricane and be without power for several days, and the tower computer that pretends to be a mainframe so that we can communicate with the home office. And, for all the years we’ve been here, it has been a catch all for old computers, monitors, phone equipment, cables, batteries, scale labels, and, as I found today, a gazillion insect carcasses.
A few weeks ago I added two more filing cabinets to the three that are already there and began the arduous task of moving the contents of the banker’s boxes to the drawers with some semblance of organization. At the same time I began culling items that have passed the ‘7 Year Filing Rule’. It is a scarey process since there seems to be no hard fast rule for how long to keep certain papers and I’m terrified that I’m tossing something the IRS will want someday.
Today is the first full day I’ve spent on this project; previously I’d only spent and hour or so at a time. The amount of paper I’ve moved it stunning, I’ve filled a full quarter of our dumpster, plus three boxes that will have to be shredded, and created over a dozen empty banker’s boxes. My hands ache, my nails are torn and there is no doubt my back will be barking tomorrow. But I feel great ... I guess even an old hoarder like me really can learn to ‘quit the clutter’. I do have to ask though, weren’t comptuers supposed to eliminate paper? Seems to me we just have more 
If you are a daily reader you already know we have an extra dog in the house, Bear. D calls her Sally, because she has ‘flying nun’ ears. When I came home Monday night both dogs met me at the door in a wild flurry of wagging tails. When D came home Tuesday night there was only one dog, Mackenzie. He did a quick search and found Bear outside on the back porch, or lanai, as we say in Florida. He decided that he must have left the sliding door open while we were getting ready for work and when he locked the house up he accidentally locked her out. Wednesday morning we were extra careful to count two black heads before we left for work, but Wednesday afternoon ... one dog. Again, Bear was outside on the lanai.
This is Bear:
And that little square to the right is the cat door. If you, like D and I, think a piggy pup like her can’t get through the cat door, well, you’d be wrong.
