Happy Easter!

I can smell the spring in the air. It’s just under the upper range of the cold snowy surprise that landed today, but it’s there. I know it’s coming.

I’ve been pining for the spring, rolling with the snowy cold punches, peering out the window waiting for the weather to clear for more than a few days at a time. When I’m not battling the elements to get to and from the new job, I’ve been sitting on the loveseat with The Dog, doing that magic that turns string into things.

I’ve knit mittens from hand dyed Redneck Farms yarn. It once kept little goats warm, but now it keeps my fingers gorgeous. I love everything about them -0 the play of colors, the rather itchy finish, the way they fit my hands perfectly.

I have finished a pair of super warm woolen anklets and one of a pair of verry happy socks. Who wouldn’t be happy when striping in such bright giddifying colors?

I’ve worked three feet (the measurement, not the appendage) of a cashmerino shawl and most of a cotton Swi-ffer cover so I don’t have to use the disposable sw-iffer paper doohickeys that kill the rainforests and overall make me feel like a bad person as I throw them away.  I have a monochromatic  turtle with brown plastic eyes who’s name is Ortle and his best trick is making The Lesbian uncomfortable when she notices that he’s “staring at me again!” There’s also more Jayne hats keeping melons warm throughout western Canada, some prettier than others (if “pretty” is even an acceptable way to describe them). The Husband wears his with pride and has never been ridiculed or questioned while touring the oilfields, proving that, sure enough, folks know that a “man walks down the street in a hat like that, you know he’s not afraid of anything.”

That made me feel kinda productive listing off some of the projects I’ve compiled over the winter. I should probably point out, in case you are suddenly under the impression that I’m an amazingly prolific and effective person, that:

• I haven’t dusted in three weeks. I can’t find The Lesbian the Lives in the Sparer Oom. The dust bunnies may have eaten her while she was recuperating from a car accident. She’s recovered now, or at least she was last I saw her before the dust kidnapped her.
• I haven’t filed all the crap that keeps arriving in the mail. Or the important stuff like my tax papers. I’ve long ago cashed my income tax refund but the tax papers are still sitting precariously by the front entrance, waiting to fall into a gust of wind next time the door opens.
• I haven’t made anything in my pottery class. I’m too busy trying to figure out how the instructor makes the things he does so that I’m not actually successfully turning out much product. I should quit with the learning and start with the making. Or just accept the learning and abandon the making. Such a creative conundrum it is.
• I haven’t figured out how to keep the kitchen table from collecting miscellaneous crap. The coffee table is more pile than table with various yarns, crochet hooks, knitting needles, vitamins and assorted dog stuff. I think that I can still save the kitchen table. Pray for us.
• I haven’t sewn the curtains for our new travel trailer / camper / Love Shack. If I don’t get to it, we’ll have the local wildlife staring in at us while we sleep. Creepy.
• I still haven’t mailed important good stuff to the Bunny Lovers in Regina. Frick. It’s in a box. An open box. Somewhere in the basement. I blame The Husband.
• I haven’t bought nor knit new dish towels or dish cloths. Due to a very late realization that The Dog likes gross things, especially gross things that involve bits of food embedded into fibre, and that the laundry room door is often left open, I have a collection of slobbery and holey cloths.
• I haven’t yet arranged to have the interior of my car detailed. Don’t ask. It involves a winter of mud, a duck carcass and my backseat. Ew.

What have you been up to, or failed to get done, peeps?

thwarted

I’m going to show you a disturbing photo. You should sit down before viewing this horrifying image:

Pair of Degus photographed by JSx

Terrifying, isn’t it? (shudder)

I was standing at the SPCA with cell phone to ear, looking through the glass into one of the Bunny Rooms and there this little creature sat, whispering violent threats in my direction. Or maybe he was just scratching his face. Whatever it was, my stomach was tingling.

My very persuasive friend was trying to talk me through finding appealing characteristics within these rodents. I can usually find the silver lining, and he can talk me into damn near anything, so this seemed like a promising exercise that would surely result in a love affair with all forms of rodentia that would last a lifetime. I was picturing a D-isney scene, singing bunnies and flowers as we frolicked about in dance. My friend, with his girlfriends calming voice in the background, kept telling me that these “degus” (if that is in fact their real name) are furry and happy, always a bunnies’ best friend and a harmless tropical squirrel. I studied them and tried to see that ”squirrel” part - I like squirrels. I used to feed them and visit them and laugh at their antics in the park. But alas, I couldn’t see past the scuttling movements of a giant mouse-creature, long tail, urge to kill humans apparent on its face. If you crossed a mouse with a rat, you’d get this… thing.  I stood there for a very very long time trying to find something appealing, something that would make me eager to handle these furry prospective pets. It still made me feel anxious as I watched them dash around the little room.

The persuasive friend and his gf (the Amazing Dark Lightning) have a minilop that I can’t get enough of but sadly they live Far Away. In order to satisfy my Bunny Mania between visits to their home, I thought to volunteer as a “Bunny Exerciser“. Everything was fine until the volunteer coordinator asked me if there were any animals I wasn’t particularly fond of. I practically shouted “MICE!” before she’d even finished her sentence.

The rodents all live together at the SPCA. In order to exercise and cuddle the bunnies, I have to exercise and cuddle the rodents. The MICE. RATS. DEGUS. The deadly rodents that are plotting our violent deaths in their tiny little heads.

No bloody way is the SPCA going to be a safe and loving environment while I’m squealing, trying not to drop the bunnies as I do that “ew ew ew” dance qhe less cute and deadly rodents come towards us.

I shouldn’t have been honest - I’m banned from the Bunny Rooms until I can be at peace with all the rodents.

Stupid degus.

toothpaste stained and covered in snow

I have a toothpaste stain on my shirt today.

I was brushing my teeth at a truly nasty pre-dawn hour when I caught sight of The Outside World. It was snow. Lots of snow, “falling” horizontally. I swore, spewing toothpaste everywhere. I had things to do and places to be - and snow, especially new snow, throws a real wrench into any commute in this gawd-forsaken transport-disabled city. I threw aside the toothbrush, grabbed the dog, purse and keys and ran out the door to try to work our way to the doggie daycare (don’t judge me) then to my training course at the furthest north hospital in the city. I live in the far southeast and the hospital is normally 25 min away but today - well, here I am an hour and 20 minutes later, finally seated (very late) in class.

Oh - did I mention I scored a new job? Yessiree, I’ve left the world of credit unions and banking and ATMs. That month of holding my breath and staying offline really highlighted that I didn’t like my job very much. The company I was working for had geared down consulting work within my specialty and I was just being shoved into areas that I wasn’t interested in pursuing. So after some pondering and searching and after The Husband confirmed that as much as he jokes, he does not want a stay at home wife, I’ve jumped over to the emerging world of health care software, paperless hospitals and coordinated services. It’s interesting. Intriguing. Rewarding. And makes me feel like I’m doing something phenomenally good with my work. It’s been a month on the job as of today, and I quite enjoy it when I don’t have to cross the city in a blizzard to attend a training course. And when I’m not gasping for breath - note that I started this job on day TWO of the Bad Bad Sickness. The Sick lasted until last week. I was VERY popular - being sick while working in health care is only what I can imagine it is like for a vegetarian brigade dealing with their one meat-eating jerk that keeps showing up for meetings.

Health care, even in an office environment, is not for the faint of heart. I have a strong stomach and an interest in medical procedures and even I have now had lunch conversations that made me think twice about finishing the butter chicken. Fecal vomiting. Poop transplants. And I’ve already had to look up ”vaginectomy” just hoping that it really wasn’t what I thought it was. 

And that was all in my first week.

I now have WebMD on “speed search”, haven’t obsessed about credit card security and haven’t even used an ATM since I left my previous job. I am now terrified of germs and have antibacterial hand spray within easy reach at all times. It’s a strange new world.

a very starry hat

Look what I made!

It’s the Starry Hat by Kate Gilbert made for our friends’ baby due to enter the world in January.

Blue-Eyed Sista in Saskatchewan: do you think your daughter or you might like one in blue or pink? Let me know ’cause my needles are on FIRE with this pattern. ON FIRE!

Speaking of on fire, if you’re on Ravelry, hook up with me - I’m gypsyhick there too.

neglectful

I’ve been neglecting my online home. There are towels on the floor, dead plants in the corners, a good inch of dust laying about on everything and I’m beginning to fear that I’d better come in and make it livable before appendage-less creatures and mice take it over as their own.

The plague is still lingering in our offline home, congested chests and feverish humans curling into thick blankets on any available soft surface near the television. We’ve watched more partial CSI episodes than I could ever imagine existed, gently tossing cold medications to one another between trips to the kitchen to retrieve hot toddies and cold treats. Erotic sighs stem from frozen fruit bars and hot hot water sliding down our inflamed throats. The house temperature is so cold then really really hot then icey cold again but never for the same two people at the same time and the thermostat wars ended in futility on day two. It’s been nearly three weeks and although the fevers have died down and the sinus pain is manageable without pharmaceutical assistance, the phlegmy coughing is our new Symptom Of The Week.

The Dog, she is some worried. She wanders from couch to couch nosing the humans, often curling up beside the least healthy among us. Late at night when we’re finally awake enough to discover that a bed would be a nicer place to spend the night, she curls up so close so she can feel our breathing throughout the night.

We could be infecting each other over and over, the probability of three different sicknesses brought into the Townhouse of Love and exchanged on hand towels and door knobs. I just started working with a new company in health care and my first week’s training occurred at the hospital and could have seen me tracking home some terrifyingly named viruses and bacteria. I was the happy recipient of the flu shot and I’m some upset that whatever we’ve got isn’t being defeated by the antibodies I drove across town to get via intramuscular injection.

Mostly we’re just plain quietly miserable here at the Townhouse. The piling up of housework and Lists Of Things That Must Be Done grows while all of us spend each day with our reasonably new employers pretending that we’re happy and healthy and fantastically enthusiastic while downing symptom-hiding medications and existing on willpower alone.  Each of us enters the house in the evening, exchanging outer wear and work clothes for sweat pants and flannel to collapse and suffer until the next morning calls us back to our new jobs as actors.

We tiredly fight a battle against this plague but orange juice just isn’t shielding us from devastation. We have been sending the dishes through the heavy super-heated dishwashing cycle. Multivitamins are inhaled like oxygen. The scents of eucalyptus and lemon is strong and our love affair with bleach has been kindled out of desperation.

Send penicillin. Send it quickly.

my pots bring all the boys to the yard

The first batch of test glazes emerged from the kiln Saturday morning. Can I get a “HELL YA!”?

HELL YA!

This is a triple glaze test on a “I was practicing pointed bowls” bowl. I wanted to see what each glaze did on top of the next and for the first time in history, it looks like I got a great result on purpose:

There were other nice pieces, but I salivate when I hold this mug. As much as I hate the handle, I love this mug. The whole thing was meant for practice glazing (to check how the glaze combination broke over the handle and rim, how much it would run) so I didn’t put the effort in that I would for a “real” mug. I wish I’d put in the time, especially since it came out so freaking lovely. This glaze test is a resounding success:

 

Oh, how I love when the chemical magic in that giant brick oven goes right. I mean, I did have to trash a nasty ass bowl that had absolutely no redeeming qualities but if I get these type of results in exchange for one in the trash, I can live with that. It’ll get expensive, but I can live with that if I get such SEXY POTS!

Guess what colors are going on my next few batches of pottery, kittens?

a day off

I’m off today. A whole long day with no work and the house to myself and nothing urgent to take care of.

Ah, yeah.

So far, I’ve sworn I will do no menial things that will turn this into a “work day”. Today shall be a day OFF. I shall enjoy it. I will knit mittens or cunning hats. I will shop for new work clothes including jeans that make this ass look as amazing as it should. I hope to mail a very late birthday present. I could bead my name onto my new pottery apron to personalize it and so that, just maybe, my new instructor will stop calling me “Jane”. I will take a leisurely walk at the dog park with The Dog. I may have a long hot shower. I will enjoy this coffee while surfing the internet and enjoying the sun streaming into the living room.

Then I noticed the husband’s dirty socks in the corner of the living room. Since I was heading into the basement anyway, I grabbed them and took them with me to the laundry room. While I was grabbing some clean clothing in the laundry room I noticed some of the recycling was falling out of the storage closet so I went in and just… straightened up a bit. When I came back upstairs to feed the dog and repour a new cup of coffee since my original was a bit chilly, the lack of spoons had me noting that the dishwasher was full of sparkly clean dishes. Since I was in there anyway, I just grabbed the contents and put it away and then, to get the job completed, I filled it back up, wondering who the heck is using so many cookie sheets and piling them on top of the stove? Who does that? And are there cookies somewhere that I should be aware of. Finally, a cup of hot coffee again poured and as I made my way into the living room to check my email, the overwhelming filth of the carpet tried to trip me on my way to the couch. So I just did a quick vacuum while noting that the Coffee Table of Cluttery Doom had really become far too doomy and empty water bottles were actually overflowing onto the floor I was trying to just quickly neaten. So I just grabbed them quickly and went to the recycle closet where I discovered that SOMEONE has been just throwing their poptart boxes on top of the bins rather than putting them into the correct one. While taking care of that AND pondering how someone in this house is eating poptarts (and cookies - where are the cookies that are the result of all the dirty cookie sheets?!?) without sharing their breakfast candy with me, the can bin mentioned it was a bit full and could probably use a bagging and storing. After I told the can bin that I was busy enjoying my day off, but sure, just this once, I returned with the bagged cans to the earlier-straightened recycling storage, delighted in how lovely it looked. With a smile, I returned to the kitchen to notice that two hours have passed and I still haven’t had a whole cup of coffee.

The whole time, the dog watched me and went about her normal morning business: sitting on the back of the loveseat, gazing out the window, monitoring the neighborhood.

(NOte: I did have that long hot shower after scrubbing those rings off the side of the tub and doing just a bit of an attempt to get the scum from between the tiles. And we did get to the park and walked twice as far as usual, chatting with nice people and rubbing lots of friendly fur. Now, to resist the giant pile of stuff in the living room we refer to as “The Yarn Pile”…)

we’re so pretty

This is what we’d look like if we were Modigliani paintings:

Wow, I’m so glad I’m a real person rather than what this painter would make me out to be. And double ditto on that for The Husband.

Ok, now YOU do it! Face transformer

run, bunnies, run!

 

“You must be the change you want to see in the world” - Mahatma Gandhi

I don’t remember the first time I volunteered for something. It could have been through early mornings in guilt ridden religious classes or through Girl Guides earning badges in community service. Maybe it was my curiosity regarding medicine or the urge to wear a special red and white striped apron that led me to candy-striping at the next community’s hospital, driving what seemed like hours every Tuesday evening to refill linens and hand out fresh ice water. It could have been a school or band fund raiser, taking tickets or selling tickets or arranging events. I don’t remember a start, and I don’t imagine an end to spending some portion of my spare time doing unpaid work. I can trace the need to my parents who have always in my memories been volunteers - although being teachers may have initiated them since teachers are expected to supervise extracurricular activities without pay nor often any thanks. They’ve volunteered their time, skills, and efforts in local theater, lobbying, art organizations, board of directors for the local co-operative, coaching sports teams and now, although technically paid a stipend, they work with housing in their home town and give much more time and care than they are paid for.

Volunteering is like coffee in the morning - it brings me satisfaction and I can’t imagine life without it.

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that every has.” - Margaret Mead

I was making a list the other day on what volunteering has brought me personally - I’m a “volunteer coordinator” for a non-profit organization and sometimes I have to sell the idea of volunteerism to people who have amazing skills that our organization can use. And also to sell the idea to friends and family who are spinning their wheels in their daily lives, just needing some fresh air infused into their routine. Without volunteering, I would never have learned:

• to tell a wicked choose-your-own-adventure story that mesmerizes a child. This skill was learned and needed during summer Brownie/Sparks camps during a really freaky thunderstorm.
• to speak publicly and enthusiastically about things I believe in.
• to make burgers and juice to serve hundreds with total strangers and loving every minute of it.
• to pace myself and not take on too much or too little.
• that just because a perk of volunteering during halloween is permission to go through the haunted house for free, it’s not necessarily a good idea (Yes, I ran out the emergency exit side door screaming. I’m at peace with my woosiness.)
• that learning and trying out new skills is always an option.
• the joy and pride of watching the final runners cross the finish line during a 24 hour relay marathon.
• to ask for help.
• to teach a mentally ill person how to communicate via email with his loved ones.
• to laugh as children challenge each other to run through an autumn maze fundraiser.
• how to guide people who want to help but just don’t know how volunteering could work in their life.
• that our unwanted belongings mean the world to a complete stranger starting a new life.
• that three hours of my time means that a community organization now has a web presence to field FAQs and give contact info and directions to their location.
• that if there is a will, there’s always a way.
• what the back room of a casino looks like while counting $300,000 in a locked cash room with seven other people.
• the joy of watching a mother and her newborn during their first day together while bringing fresh warm blankets to their room.
• to give a little, to give a lot, to know that both helps.

I’ve been a volunteer coordinator for awhile now and have a system so that it takes only a couple of hours a week during lunch to get the job done. I help in a clothing drive once per year, but that’s not until next month so I’m itching for a new way to help, a new task, a new learning experience.

I’m waiting with baited breath for an opportunity that I’ve applied for. I checked the local volunteer listings (Canada here, USA there) and of all the listings in my neighborhood, one especially caught my eye. Quick, picture me doing this:

“Bunny Exerciser - Dogs aren’t the only ones who need exercise! Weekly commitment required.”

Yes, I thought it was a good match too.

anniversary

One year ago we were celebrating a Very Good Thing when suddenly a Very Bad Thing happened. By 10pm tonight a year ago, I was in the recovery room trying to figure out what had gone so terribly wrong.

We miss you, Amazing Tectonic Baby.