A fortnight away till ten days of play

Did you enjoy that rhyme? That was just for you. Sometimes I just amaze myself.

But seriously: Manfriend and I leave in two weeks for Hawaii, and it simultaneously is way too close and can't come soon enough. I'm mostly racking up paranoia over my last two weeks as an undergrad, with one research paper due tomorrow, another due Friday, a presentation tomorrow, an oral exam on Monday, plus two other exams on Monday, plus my Capstone presentation on Monday, and one more research paper and take-home final next Friday. Oh, and another take-home final. Joy. All around joy and bliss. And I forgot--my surprise shower/graduation party I'm not supposed to know about. Well, I don't know when (yes I do) or where it is. The "where" will be a surprise. Blame Manfriend for spilling the beans, but in actuality, I'm glad he did. I simply have way too much to fret over without being bustled away for a party on a night I potentially scheduled for studying. Gah! I just remembered we still have to do our check-out dives for scuba!

Does anyone want to do any of this for me? I think I can actually see some of my hair turning white as I type this.

Buying into the dominant patriarchy in regards to looks and mentality

Yeah, right. I have a particular professor who I don't see eye-to-eye with. She's very much a liberal feminist, which is fine, but what I fail to understand when people are highly opinionated on matters of opinion, is why they feel the need to bully me into their way of thinking. I know that our society is dominated by the patriarchy--many are. I know that women continue to make on average a quarter less in salary than men, and that Hispanic and black women are even lower. This continues to be a problem, because in a country where we tout "all men are created equal," we're certainly not referring to women, or even all men for that matter.

I get it.

Now let's get back to what I don't get. We're talking about perceptions of beauty in various cultures, and FemNazi says, "You wouldn't believe all the ridiculous ingredients that are in beauty products." I chimed in with, "Oh, I know. I started tanning and my friend told me the best tanning lotion had emu oil in it."

What does she take away from that? The fact that I'm tanning. Now, she says, I'm going to get cancer and I should embrace pale skin and yada yada yada. I tell her I agree with her, but I'm going to get married in Hawaii next month and I don't want to get burned so I'm building up a base tan.

Once again, she continues her rant with complete disregard for my reasons. "Well, you should just stay out of the sun!"

Lady, I'm going to Hawaii. To get married. On the beach. We're going to be there for three days before the wedding for a ten-day-total trip. I do not want wedding pictures that look like they're representing China (read: I do not want to be tomato-red in a white dress). I also am not going to Hawaii to stay out of the sun. What's the point? Oh, I'm in Hawaii and I'm just going to sit in the shade while you go out and have a blast in the water. What? It's overcast? Well, dear husband, mom always said that you can get the worst sunburns when it's overcast, so I think I'll just sit back here with my pina colada, my Kindle, and a gallon of depression.

Eff that.

Hey FemNazi, did you know that you're more likely to get skin cancer if you get burned really bad? Also, did you stop to think that maybe I have a little skin condition on my upper arms called keratosis pilaris that lessens with UV exposure? No, no, you'd rather just shame me in public, saying that I'm the epitome of patriarchal female-body-image-acceptance, likening me to the women in China and Japan who are getting their skin bleached. Hell, for all you know, maybe I'm making a political statement in order to be as black as possible. White skin is, after all, the deformity resulting from a lack of pigmentation.

Sincerely,
Me

P.S. Bully for you that you're 60-ish and hardly grey at all. Did you know that when you brag about keeping your dark hair, you're buying into the patriarchal image of female beauty?

That's the last time I listen to popular opinion

My Tuesdays and Thursdays are pretty treacherous. They're not very scholastically demanding (I have two classes today, as opposed to three on Mondays and Wednesdays), but the killer is the break between the two classes. I get out of my first one at 11 a.m. and don't go to my next one until FOUR. The studious, industrious part of me that exists more in theory than reality thinks this will be an excellent time to get ahead on the big, demanding project that is my senior project and which I will have to present next month.

So naturally, I took Manfriend to breakfast instead. I was really excited. We went to Morning Glory in downtown Ashland, and neither of us had ever been there before. I have consistently heard they serve the best breakfast in this touristy town that prides itself on its awesome food choices. And as I'd skipped my normal breakfast of branny-raisiny goodness (or not-so-good-ness) knowing I'd be going to Morning Glory, I was fully prepared to eat more than my stomach should contain. I ordered the special--chicken-fried steak and eggs (hearkening to my somewhat Southern roots). Manfriend got biscuits and country gravy.

The portions were huge and everything looked great. That's where the greatness stopped. The steak was 1) not chicken-fried, but Progresso bread-crumb-fried, 2) not pounded flat at all, but really thick, and 3) horribly overcooked. And then there was the gravy. It was sausage gravy. Mistake numero uno (or really, 4 at this point). Who puts sausage gravy on chicken-fried steak? That's a big Southern culinary faux pas. Plus, the gravy was so full of onions that I couldn't even taste the sausage. The hash browns and eggs were cooked to my specifications, but had no flavor. The best thing on my plate were the orange slices. But I suppose I can't give the restaurant credit for that unless they also manage an orange orchard in the backyard (they don't). Manfriend said his coffee and water were good. That's all he felt he had to offer to this review.

I wistfully pointed out as we were leaving that the guy sitting at the counter was eating pancakes with fresh strawberries, and they looked tasty, but as Manfriend pointed out, it's pretty hard to screw that up.

Now it's been two hours since we left and I feel like this lump of nasty, tasteless mass (save for the onions) is steeping in the pit of my stomach, waiting to either make me incontinent or transform me into a shapeless blob seeking out the destruction of all that is pure and natural. I suppose you won't know what happens either way, because while I lack the decency to refrain from mentioning future...illnesses, I still maintain the dignity of not broadcasting their actual occurrences. And if I turn into a hell-bent veggie-hating blob, I probably won't be able to type anymore.

I'm supposed to be doing homework but I'd rather be doing something else that in no way benefits my attaining a degree. Boom.

I'm kind of freaking out. Just a little bit.

You see, I graduate in less than two months now. And then I get married six days later. Both things have been a long time coming (the marriage not so much--we've been together for a little over two years and engaged since July), but what is causing ein Bisschen anxiety is that I'm taking care of two major aspects in the entrance to the next stage of my life in one fell swoop. A college graduate and a wife. Not that I won't rock at both. Because I will. But I'm also a tad crazy so that can either help or be detrimental. Don't worry--he knows what he's getting into.

The idea of graduate school is...daunting. I wish time and again that I'd finished school on time, but no one can predict what life will bring them (joining the Marines, leaving the Marines, moving to help mom with brothers while mom's husband was in Iraq for...three tours?). I'm not making excuses--I had legitimate life events that prevented me from finishing school when I would have liked to. I've also not stopped working for more than a few weeks at a time since I was 17...so almost nine years now. Life gets in the way, you know?

So now that I should be doing either German homework or preparing for my midterms or working on my Capstone project, I'd rather be blogging and legitimizing my existence internet-ionally (I just coined that. Copyrighted as of now by me.). My upcoming Schule-freiheit is also spinning the creative cogs of my brain. There are so many things I want to do now that I'll be out of school. How about a list to keep me on track, eh?

• Re-finish and re-upholster the oak rocker I got at an estate sale in Cross Plains for $20 (bundled with an old quilt that needs repairs, a copper-coated aluminum cake carrier with a wooden handle, and an original View-Master [which is sadly no longer in my possession]).
• I'm actually glad I waited so long on this, because my tastes in wood-finish and fabrics has matured some in the past three years.
• Make a t-shirt quilt.
• Cheesy, I know, but a quick, fun project that will be peppered with memories and promises of future coziness.
• Paint a wickedly awesome painting for the living room a la Van Gogh.
• I can do this sh**.
• Finish the Christmas quilt I started four years ago. It only needs to be quilted and edged.
• Finish the embroidered Christmas stockings I started for myself and future DH.
• Plant and keep basil alive and protected from earwigs. 
• I love basil. I could eat it like lettuce. Plus purple basil looks awesome.
• Learn how to make a fondant-decorated cake.
• I have a feeling I'm going to be watching a lot of "Cake Boss" this summer.

Look at that. I have a good list, and now I'm hungry. And then I have class. And then I am off to Central Point to help the lovely Stefanie pack for her trip to visit her family. I'm actually really excited about this, because we're ordering pizza with what we want on it, not catering to silly men and their desire for only pepperoni. I've been promised tomatoes, olives, and artichoke. Do you know how long it's been since I've had artichoke on my pizza? Probably not since my mom and I lived in Texas, which was 4 years ago.

Hopefully I'll be on here again before I graduate!

The One Where I Introduce Brother 2

I love living with Manfriend, but oftentimes I do find myself missing living with my family, especially those days of my teen years in Germany when Brother 1 was between 5 and 8, and Brother 2 was 2 through 5 (Brother 2 is younger, and I assigned them chronological name-numbers based on the order in which they were born--see how I did that?). While I love Brother 1 and he had many a quote-worthy moment, Brother 2 was a plethora of awkward and vulgar utterances that are coming into Internet publication now because I feel, as wiser Older Sister, that he is old enough now to be a little embarrassed but more proud of the tongue that got him into quite a bit of trouble.

Brother 2 went to Babysitter's house during the day on base. Let it be known that Babysitter is a wonderful woman and loved Brother 2 almost like he was her own (I later found when I taught pre-K that I fell in love with the 4 year-old who always got into trouble, most likely due to the strong resemblance between him and Brother 2). So, rather than be too hard on him for his gems of vulgarity and lack of a verbal filter, she shared his most shining moments with Mother, who always took them very well (she had to--she was in uniform).

One day, little Ellie came to Babysitter's with some gnarly scratches on her face.

Babysitter: How did Ellie get those scratches?

Ellie's Dad: Oh, she grabbed the dog's private parts and he turned around and bit her.

(Brother 2 saunters over, hands on hips)

Brother 2: Ellie, was you trying to have SEX with a dog?

Like I said, a gem.

La Loca

Am I a big ol' nerd? Well, the immediate answer is 'yes,' but allow me to be more specific: I'm getting geared up for my and The One's wedding. It's not going to be a huge affair, but I keep reminding myself that running off to Hawaii with our families is pretty huge in and of itself. We've got our place booked, tickets purchased, and my dress all taken care of. We've even begun to take care of ourselves--I'm down by ten pounds in a month (no, I haven't watched "Shedding for the Wedding," nor do I want to). My mom even gave us the awesome Christmas gift of scuba lessons and certification, which is really exciting.

Why am I a nerd? Because I've already registered a new email address and blog site in my married name. Sure, the wedding's 3 1/2 months away, but I've known The One for 13 years now. Patience has never been one of my virtues, so I figure I'm allowed to be a little impatient when it comes to the fast-paced technological world. No, I'm not sharing their names. That was one of the stipulations in my being "allowed" to create them anyway. As the Germans say, "Pfft."

Besides, there are other things that make me way nerdier, but those are not the focus of this post. So I guess my question is: is this crazy, or is it okay so long as I don't advertise what the addresses are before the wedding? I've never been married before; I don't know these things. ;)

Can You Spare It?

Living so high

gives me nightmares of

 falling,

down

down

down,

and just before impact,

I don't wake up.

I lie there like a mutant,

absorbing my pain through my mouth,
like sucking the juice from a Sierra Lady.

Back at the dinner table,

elbows on bleached linen,

you're selecting a cut of

meat from the waiter's tray.

I figure my flesh is more to your taste,
so I lift my shirt and cut a sample from my ribs.

Crash Test Dummies

Wake up before you and hide the Golden books in the night stand,
wondering when exactly the Swiss
extract themselves from bed to turn the waterfalls back on.
Take me to the mountains in an elevator
and down a wooden slide requiring straddling, not sitting,
so we can lick the same salt as everyone else,
turned black with bacteria and dirty hand-oil;
why weren’t we afraid of diseases?

You’ll know where I am by my red bucket hat,
bobbing in the waves at a safe distance
between intermittent construction projects
requiring mainly sand and water,
with a splash of aesthetic spacing and height
and a touch of structural integrity know-how.
By the way, the Leaning Tower of Pizza is 1) not edible, and 2) did not have rails in the late eighties.

Step on a giant stick and it won’t stay stationary;
most likely it will jump up and gouge my leg,
but no matter—there are are bazillion ladybugs to catch in
little handines that pudgily encase them until they’re
deposited in a flat-red Ford Escort with squared edges.
Learn not to smear nasal excretions on walls, or
Miss Audrey will yell, “You know bedderendat!”
It’s okay though, she still loves me and I’m the only one
she calls her daughter,
and for a few years I’m black by day.

The middle of the toast is best, all juicy with butter.
I’ll eat the crusts to make you happy and
feel like a good mother.
Just promise me we can get ice cream sandwiches from 
the machine that only sells ice cream sandwiches 
so they’re sure not to run out.

Ich bin nicht tot!

It's been forever since I've done anything on here, and it's not because I'm dead. Because I'm not. Obviously.

This is my third term straight taking 16 credit hours and working (on average) 30 hours per week. The first term wasn't so bad, since I was completely gung-ho about returning to school, but the second was the cause to a slight crack in my sanity, and now in the third...let's just say that if I don't get a break soon, the little brothers in "The Wedding Singer" will be taunting me with, "Cuckoo's nest! Cuckoo's nest!"

I have a paper I need to rewrite this evening (yes, I've had it for a week, and yes, I'm waiting till the last minute and instead writing on here), but of course have all fare of other things that need to get done. Dinner, for instance. Food would be good. Kyle and I are trying our best to behave when it comes to healthy foods and healthy portions (a mess-load of pasta at 9:30 p.m. when I get home from work is not conducive to either energy levels or weight management). And there's laundry. Not to mention the general state of the house. We have a magnet at work that says, "A clean house represents an unfulfilled life" (or something to that extent). I think I need this magnet. But I would sure like the full life and a clean house. Oh, one of these days...when I only have work to worry about, rather than work and school.

I feel like I need some sort of outlet for all the things I want to say, and my busy schedule simply doesn't allow it right now. It also doesn't help that we're now Netflix-Wii addicts (Netflix movies streamed to your TV via the Wii) and Kyle's started watching "Lost" for the first time, and I feel like I have to experience it all over again with him. Ha.

I'd better get back to the kitchen! My man was kind enough to offer to run to Ray's and grab me a replacement Lambic for the one I dropped in the street while unloading groceries from my car. It was a very sad experience and one a lover of Lambic should never have to experience.

The better (because it's homemade) Lofthouse cookie

The One and I both share a sad affinity for those lofty, cakey, heavily frosted cookies that you find in a lot of grocery stores (typically Fred Meyer/Kroger/Tom Thumb--all the same company, of course) known as "Lofthouse" cookies. A few months ago, I began my search for a recipe for these sweetened pieces of heaven, since my addiction at $5 a carton (with only ten cookies) became more expensive than my annual purchase of Thin Mints from green and brown-clad little girls who bat their eyes and confidently tell (not ask) me that I need to buy some Girl Scout cookies.*

At any rate, I ended up at RecipeZaar.com (*edit: now Food.com), and found what seemed to be a promising copycat recipe. One problem: I thought I had all the ingredients until I looked in my flour canister and realized I only had about half what the recipe called for. Since it was too late to halve the recipe, I substituted white All-Purpose flour with wheat flour. They turned out okay, and while I found that they tasted better a day after you make them, the wheat wasn't doing it for Kyle or me, and I used store-bought frosting, which just wasn't the same either.

Yesterday I made them again, with a few tweaks. Plus I found a fail-safe frosting recipe (which most bakers probably know off the tops of their heads anyway), which I made a few minor changes to as well. The resulting cookies are in short, amazing. Here are my altered recipes, and I hope that everyone tries these cookies and reports back to me. Go!

The Better Lofthouse Cookie

Ingredients:

1. 1 cup butter
2. 2 cups sugar
3. 3 eggs
4. 1 tsp vanilla extract
5. 1 tsp almond extract
6. 1 tsp baking powder
7. 1 1/2 cups sour cream
   
8. 5-6 cups flour (until desired consistency for rolling)

Directions:

1. Cream together butter and sugar.
2. Beat in eggs, sour cream, vanilla extract, and almond extract.
3. Combine the baking powder and 5 cups of flour separate bowl than your mixing bowl.
   
4. Mix in dry ingredients slowly.
5. Cover and refrigerate 6-8 hours (or overnight).
6. Preheat oven to 400'.
7. Roll out dough to a 1/4 to 3/8 inch thickness using a generous amount of flour.
8. Cut out shapes and bake on an ungreased cookie sheet for 8-10 minutes.
9. Cool on wire rack.
10. Frost and decorate as desired.

And don't forget the frosting...



Lofthouse Cookie Frosting

Ingredients:

1. 4 cups confectioner's sugar
2. 1/2 cup plus 1 T butter
3. 5 tablespoons milk
4. 1 tsp almond extract (or vanilla, whichever you prefer)
5. food coloring and/or sprinkles (if desired)

Directions:

1. In a mixing bowl, cream together the confectioners' sugar and shortening until smooth.
2. Gradually mix in the milk and vanilla with an electric mixer until smooth and stiff, about 5 minutes.
3. Color with food coloring if desired.
4. Frost cookies (don't skimp on the frosting--Lofthouse cookies' creators are heavy-handed with the frosting).
5. Add sprinkles if desired.

Watch out! These cookies are addicting!















*Girl Scout cookies are really quite the best example of inflation. I remember when I was a Girl Scout and cookies were $2.50 per box. When did they rocket up to $5???

The look that says, "You disgust me."

At least, that's what I think of when his upper lip gets stuck on his teeth like that. Sometimes it's weird to think of me as a "dog owner." I don't compare myself to the nutters in "Best in Show" by any means, and nor do I talk of my dog like he's my child. I do feel protective of him though, and I do think he has a personality. Here, for instance, he's saying, "Now why aren't you down here playing with me? Pah! Do you honestly think I enjoy mutilating hand-knit wool socks by myself?"

Yes, Graham, yes I do.

It's a bit of a trip to look at pictures of him from the summer and see how much he's grown. Not taller, but more in the girth department. He's not a chunky dog, by any means, but he's a far cry now from the lean puppy who chewed an entire t-bone into submission (and when I say t-bone, I don't mean I gave him a steak--I mean he actually ate a bone) in Chuck and Ginger's backyard this past summer.

Today he's nine months old and looking more like a grown-up. Sometimes I think having a dog isn't worth the effort. But then he does something completely goofy, and it's almost worth it. He's certainly no picnic though.

On an unrelated note, it's a shame I'm spending my last free weekend holed up in my room with a headache and sore shins watching "Doctor Who: Confidential." I take that back. Seeing Ood break-dancing is a joy forever.

Mooses! Meeses! I want my moose to lay golden eggs for Easter!

Time for more updates! We've had a bit of snow on the mountains--none on the ground yet, but it's forecast that we may be getting some on Friday. I'm excited, but I was goofy and left my snow boots in Texas. Anyway, here's a picture of Pioneer Peak from our backyard covered in snow.


Aaaand here are some flowers on the back deck. Larkspur, to be exact. I love these.

Also, I finally finished my sampler about a week ago. Since then, I've started on one of the same pattern but different colors for my mom. I really enjoy needlework, and have been ever since I picked it up January of this year. I'm also getting better, which is exciting, and as if this project weren't ambitious enough, I'm already thinking about designing my own stuff and creating away.


Aside from my crafting endeavors, I've recently been promoted at work. The store opens next week, and I've been there for a little over a month. Yesterday I was offered a supervisor position in the Jewelry department (I was in photo) after having interviewed for it last Wednesday. There's a lot for me to learn in a very short time, but the fact that I got promoted so quickly and they had me training cashiers for over a week after just barely going through the training myself makes it pretty clear that they're confident in my abilities.

I don't, however, think the photo supervisor is too happy. At first I thought it was just because he was losing me, but now I think it's a little bit of resentment as well. I now have the same position he does (different dept), and he's more than twice my age. I won't let his attitude toward me affect my work though, and I'm determined to set an example and remain above petty jealousies.

As if I don't have enough to do, I'm auditioning for "The Spitfire Grill" next Saturday. I figure, sure, I'll be busy if I get a part, but now's the time to do it, since I'm only taking one class. I more than likely won't have an opportunity to act next semester.

Anyway! I'm going to bum around in my bed, cross-stitch, and watch "Iron Man." Oooohhh what an exciting life I lead!

***OH! I almost forgot! I saw three moose just outside our front yard a few nights ago. One of the calves tried to go for our maple tree, but luckily Jim got some chicken wire around it, so the young moose fledgling's efforts were foiled! I have a video, but I sound like an idiot, so I'd rather not make that available to anyone and everyone. If, however, you'd like to see it, feel free to email me, and I'll send it to you. :]

Moses supposes his toeses are roses

I'm up to a lot and not much at the same time. I got hired only having been up here for two days at a brand new target opening about 15 miles from my parents' house. Not horribly exciting, but it is the first of two Targets to open up here in Alaska, so I suppose it's pretty epic for some.

Oh, my, goodness--you would not believe all the work that goes into a new store. Shelves, pegs, a bizillion price tags... I'm feeling quite buff after two weeks of manual labor. However, I think I've made a bit of a name for myself among my supervisors, and I'm always volunteering for extra shifts and to cross-train (my assigned area once the store opens is in the photo lab). I've had several of them ask me if I am a "Team Leader" (not the highest, but still a bit of a supervisor). When I tell them I'm not, they say, "Oh, you should be!" I checked into it, and unfortunately there are none of those positions left, but they know I want it now, and I'm just going to cross-train as much as possible so I know the store like the back of my hand. I'm told it's only a short matter of time before I move up. Oh yeah.

In other news, I'm taking one class. Not my choice. Right now though, money's kind of tight, and it's all we could afford. Next semester I'll be able to take a few more (12 hours? crossing fingers...), but for now I'm enjoying my studio weaving class. :-D

In my free time, I'm still working on my Hungarian sampler I started at the end of July. I'm on section 5 of 7. Check it out:

Tom Baker's Dozen

I know the picture quality isn't great (picture of a picture with my non-zooming cell phone camera), but the resemblance between my grandpa in the late 70s and the 4th Doctor is quite striking.

I was excited.

Another exciting thing my friend Ken informed me of is that I actually saw David Tennant in "Comedy of Errors" and "The Rivals" onstage in London in 2001. His sister is working on procuring a picture of my 15 year-old self mock-licking his face on a poster. Didn't even realize it! What a trip!

Pho and Babies

We grabbed some pho with Chuck, Ginger, Liz, and Ruby before heading
to see "The Dark Knight" at the Movie Tavern.

Hurray for babies, noodle soup, and Christian Bale.

Stressed

Yesterday morning was rough. I woke to the acrid smell of poo and ammonia. Graham had had an accident in his crate (his first). I know he was sick--he wouldn't have done that otherwise. He also must have been up most of the night in bowel-agony, because it was obvious he was tired.

As I was cleaning him off at 6:30 in the morning in the tub, I noticed his left eye was squinted shut and he had green goo coming out of it. I automatically thought poo = conjunctivits. So after calling up work and letting them know I'd be late, I stayed with Graham until I could call the vet at 9 am. In the meantime, I was looking up home-treatments for canine pink-eye with Graham sitting at my feet. Poor little thing--he already had one eye shut, and as he was sitting, his other eye would flutter closed, and his little body would leeeeean to the left. Then he'd jerk up, and a few seconds later start to nod off again. So while we waited till 9, Graham and I took a nap.

When I got up, Banfield didn't have any appointments until 3. I was only scheduled till 5 that day, and they had a 5 too, so I took that one, planning to leave work about an hour early. I was getting ready to head to work, and noticed little spots of smelly-brown-ness on the carpet and started cleaning it up. I thought I was all done until I headed to the door, and there was a nice big pile of mess there. Poor guy must have run to the door as soon as he got out of the tub and just couldn't hold it in anymore. I couldn't even be mad at him--it wasn't his fault.

Anyway, later at the vet, they discovered it was a corneal abrasion (put some orange goo on his eye and showed me under the blacklight). I got some ointment to keep his eye dialated, as well as some antibiotic drops. That visit cost me $87. Fun stuff. I'm glad it wasn't anything horribly serious though.

On the bright side, Jon surprised me with Death Cab for Cutie tickets for tonight, so I'm looking forward to that. :]

*Attention Knitters Who Love Me:

This lady is awesome, and this sweater is even more so. I love the green she uses as well.



I am, alas, a horrible knitter. I'm sure I could probably get better, but I have about a million projects going on and I am better at crocheting, so knitting needles just feel foreign in my paws.



I propose that if you are a good knitter (*ahem* mom *ahem* grandma), you should feel free to whip up this sweater for me, and I will cherish it always. In green. Oh, and a medium.

Here's the pdf download: http://www.flintknits.com/patterns/ladysweater.pdf

The Great White North

Some of you may know that I'm heading up to Alaska this month on the 26th. As of tomorrow, that's only two weeks away! I am so terribly excited; I haven't been up there in five years. My mom moved up in August of last year and moved into her newly-built house on Lazy Mountain this spring.

I was thinking about my trip up today--looking around my bedroom at the mass of clean clothes piled up on the "hobo" chair, and then panning over to my medium-sized rolling bright purple suitcase. Should I start setting things aside to pack? Do I need a heavy coat? Boots? What if we go to a glacier? It's going to be cold, and my thin Texan blood won't be able to handle it. What about my crafts? Will I have room to take some stuff to work on? I feel so neurotic. I know I'm going to have to bring an extra, empty suitcase--not only to take a few things up for my mom, but to bring a few things down as well...

Uhhhhh spasmodic.

At the same time, I've been thinking about marriage a lot lately, what with the wedding a few weekends ago, seeing several movies with weddings, and then Chuck and Ginger having their baby. It's really hard sometimes to see my peers experiencing all the things I want but am apparently not allowed to have (at least not right now). I go back and forth between jealousy, frustration with myself, and frustration with Jon. I know he was a lot younger at the time, but it's especially hard knowing that he was nearly ready to propose to his ex-girlfriend who cheated on him multiple times while he was in Iraq. He's tried to make me feel better by saying, "In Minnesota, she was as good as it got--I didn't know there was anything better." I know he means to say that he's found something better, but of course I read into the negative side of the statement and see it as him just testing the waters with me since he knows there will always be something better out there. Sometimes I can make myself feel better, and sometimes I can't.

Right now it's pretty tough going. I'm trying to hang in there, but it's hard not knowing what, exactly, I'm hanging in there for.

Ruby Ruby Ruby Ruby!!!

Chuck and Ginger had their baby Monday night! She's a girl (they were waiting to see), and they named her Ruby Nora Lynne, and she's pretty much perfect. :]

Crocheting things feeds the soul.

I stumbled across this video tutorial of how to make a crocheted neckline on a shirt. It looks really cool, and I already know how to crochet, so I think this is how I'll be spending part of my Monday.