Friday, June 30, 2006

Office Report

There was one girl at work who seemed to just despise me. Even recently it seemed like the more I tried to be polite, the more offense she took. I couldn't really figure out what I had ever done to her, although I did once go on about an awful, dreadful, evil manager we once had right in front of her, not even thinking about the fact that she might take offense because she had been friends with that past manager. That wasn't considerate of me at all, but it didn't even occur to me at the time that it was so rude. When I hear her make cracks, within earshot of me, about a friend of mine who no longer works there, I have to remember that I did the same thing to her. That friend of mine treated some people there in a way I can't quite approve of, too. So, I guess we are even on that score.

Something has changed drasticly, though. She has been very nice to me lately. I realize that women in general often befriend as just part of a strategy, and this girl is one sharp cookie who could probably be one hell of a chess player. But, I refuse to second-guess her motivations. She has made a real effort to be nice, and I am very grateful for that. It makes the work place SO much better. She deserves some team-player points, for certain.

A long time ago, I felt like I had one enemy on the escrow side of our company. Oooo I would get SO mad at her, but I was afraid to tell her off, lest she use my rudeness against me. One day, I finally told her how I felt. Turns out, she is an awesome person who had no idea she was making my life difficult. She's great to work with, now, and I've had the honor of getting to know her a little better recently. She's a total riot, funny and full of personality, and has a heart of gold. She loves dogs, loaned me a crate for Harry, and I get the impression that she is top-notch at her job. Funny how things work out, eh? She's now one of my favorite people there.

My fellow late-workers (Jill, who will spare every minute she can, Billy, who must work 100 hours a week and recently came in on his vacation to help us out, and Brandi, who would work herself to death and just hate herself for dying if any files were left undone) are real motivators. They have a team spirit that just gives you a second wind and then a third, when you thought you were completely out of juice.

So, for the most part, things are great at the Office. You already know my boss is terrific. There is still at least one person that seems to hate a couple of us, but maybe that will change with time. I even tried to make another effort, recently. I get so much energy out of the little rallying emails between me and my team-mates (joking about being swamped, about Jill working with a broken butt, sort of, and formulating game-plans about when we can work, etc... etc...). It makes you feel like you are really part of a team and we all just do what we can, knowing that the rest of the team appreciates it and is there, right along side you. So, I tried including a couple other girls in the emails and she apparently took huge offense. It didn't occur to me that inclusion is only an insult, when you think you are better than those who have the nerve to try and include you. What's odd is, she took it out on someone else instead of me, and I'm the one who started the email. Anyone can misinterpret even the kindest of gestures. It happens. Communication is always subject to some interpretation, although I found her interpretation wildly creative, to say the least. So, although her reaction to it was terribly negative, I thought no less of her for that. I do, however, think less of her for taking it out on whomever she pleased, instead of having the character to say something to me. But, I'm sure she isn't a bad person. Maybe she was just having a bad day. Or maybe she felt bad because she couldn't work the extra hours some of us were, but no one would ever judge her for that. I know nothing about what most of them do after they punch out, and it's none of my business. When Jill has to leave for her responsibilities, we are all just grateful for the effort she put in up to that point, and the girl who took such offense really cranks out orders and has a kid to get home to, so I can't imagine why she should feel threatened by others putting in a few more hours. I admit, I sometimes get angry at myself for not being able to live up to Brandi's workoholic hours, but I'm sure she knows we all do what we can, so I can't imagine being angry at her for it. That's just plain silly.

I'm sure whatever personality clashes are going on are cureable with time. We have an amazing team that I'm proud to be a part of. Every single employee in that plant impresses me on a regular basis. It's energizing to be a part of it, sometimes.

Harry Report

Mr. Harrison T. Harrier is doing far better than anticipated, or even hoped for. He's super-freindly to every dog he meets. He's still gentle and loving and loves to take naps with me, but he is getting really energetic and playful too. We are working, just a little bit, on his tracking skills. I'm teaching him to "smell" (to check out a scent) and "find". He's gotten so much better with his house training, that we were able to let him sleep on the bed with us last night, rather than having to lock him up. I'm glad of that. He doesn't know "sit" yet, but I haven't had a lot of time for training sessions. The smell and find comes easy with him because he is a tracker by nature.

I'm beginning to wonder why on earth anyone would go through life without a dog. It's no surprise that dog owners live longer. Not only is it an emotional panacea, but he's a great excersize plan. I now walk 30-40 minutes every day, and that is on the increase. I try to go a little further each time.

There's certainly a lot of responsibility, since I have to be home with him enough that he is never lonely, walk him enough that he never gets frustrated and destructive (plus to keep him healthy) and give him outlets for his instincts (like tracking), but I firmly beleive that such responsibilities are crucial to the human psyche. Living for one's self creates voids in one's motivation, self-discipline, and can make someone so egocentric that they are never happy. (anyone who lives for their own happiness will always find it harder and harder to possess it, I've noticed).

Personally, I probably have an even stronger need to have someone to take care of than most people. My self-esteem demands that I be of some use to someone, and to be protector and caretaker are instensely fueled by my hormonal make-up. Also, I find that having just one person who has faith in me to do right by him, no matter what, gives me the confidence and strength to be whatever it takes to earn every drop of that faith. That strength and confidence builds up momentum and seeps into all parts of life. I would probably be a better house-keeper, now, too, if it weren't for all the excessive hours I've had to work this week.

His vet visit went well. Apparently, he is supposed to be super-skinny like he is. He's just a very lean breed of dog that is supposed to have that big bowed-out chest and very little fat. The vet said he is actually at his optimum weight. She also said he is probably between two and three years old. I was guessing much younger.

Status Report

My poison ivy kept getting worse instead of better, despite antihistamines and pouring alcohol over it constantly, and then started to spread all over. For the last couple days I was also weak and tired and sickly feeling, so I listened to some good advice and went to the doc. He said it was the worst case he'd seen all year. He said that creams and shots wouldn't cut it for me. He put me on 13 days worth of steroids and antihistamines. In only one day (6 steroid pills and a antihistamin), it is already TONS better. I just took these grody pics. It actually looks worlds better, now. My hand was covered in big translucent oozing blisters, but they have all shrunken down and it hurts far less. Pretty, eh?

Harry is doing well, but during the few hours a day that he is locked up in the bathroon, he tries really hard to open the door by mouthing the doornob. It is now a chewed up mess. Other than that, he has been excellent.

Now, it is after 2am and I've GOT to fall asleep. I worked till midnight again so I haven't been able to wind down. I still didn't get enough done. I went home at 7 and walked/ran/excersized/fed/played with the dog. Had to. Then went back to work, but didn't get there till 9:30pm.

Now I've GOT to fall asleep!!! Wish me luck.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Harry was extremely skinny when we took him home. His skin kinda sinks in between every bone. We thought maybe he hadn't been eating well at the shelter because he'd been depressed or something. But, he bonded with me VERY quickly, and he seems quite happy in his new home. Still, he barely eats anything at all, except when it comes to grass. He eats a lot of grass. I've been doing a lot of reading, and it seems these are common signs of IBS in dogs, which is a fairly common problem with dogs, now, because of the processed corn nuggets we feed them (whether it be Science Diet or generic kibble).
It's far too soon to jump to conclusions, but it would be rather suiting for a girl with all my health issues and food allerigies to have a dog with special nutrition needs. I'm really hoping that Harry is healthy, and just needs time to adjust, but if he does have diet problems, then I am certain we picked the right dog. Just because I'm the sort of person who will research and work to help him, where most people might not.

I'll put a little extra nutrition in his food (enzymes and barley grass juice powder) and give him lots of love and excersize. If that doesn't cut it, then we will do whatever needs to be done.

A LOT of articles and studies insist that dogs need raw foods in order to be really healthy, but I'm a little hesitant to jump on that bandwagon until I know more, even though it does sound quite logical.

As for the Sheba/Harry story... she doesn't puff up so much when he is around now. In fact, last night she layed down on my lap while Harry was sleeping with his head on my leg. I was amazed she got so close so fast. But, Harry saw her and perked up and backed away, because he is still scared of her, and she freaked at the sudden movement and hissed and ran away. But still, the reduction in comfort-distance between them has progressed far more quickly than I would have dreamed. I dare say they might actually be friends some day.

When there was a large guest cat in our house, he lived on one dining room chair and she let him go no further, ever. Every trip for food or to the litter box was a huge ordeal. It's funny how she is more tolerant of a freindly dog than of a cat. Her own kitten, whom she once cuddled and petted (yes, litterly stroked with her paws) was never tolerable to her once grown. (he died many years ago). Stephen said that it's just like women... competitive with their own kind. Perhaps that's it. What they say about men being like dogs and women like cats is SO very true, most of the time. (although Steve said you'd expect it to be the other way around... because dogs are "bitches" and cats are "pussys" who put up with the "bitches". Pardon the language, but in terms of canine and feline, I gues the terms are acceptable. :)

Now it's time to leave poor little Harry and go back to work. We are swamped an many people were sick today, so it must be done.

Anyway... tune in next time for more on the riveting (only to me) saga of Sheba Samantha R. and Harrison T. Harrier, Esq.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

Mr. Harrison T. Harrier, Esq.

The lighting made the pic all yellow, but this is your first pic of Mr. Harrison T. Harrier, Esq., at home. His friends just call him Harry. Sheba calls him "Mrrrrrowwrrr HISSSSSS!!!"

If you wondered about the Esq in his name, no... he has not attended law school. I think he possesses a real aptitude for ambulance chasing, though. :P

Saturday, June 24, 2006

Happy Harry

Harry is now a member of our little family. Right now, I'm too tired and sweaty to take pictures of him, but soon enough I will. Once I've rested and eaten and showered and feel human again.

He REALLY surprised me. He isn't half as spaztic and hyper as I espected and he made absolutely no attempt to chase my cat. In fact, I think she hurt Harry's feelings. She tried to attack him twice, and Harry is now afraid of her. My cat is extremely small, most people think she is a kitten, and she has no front claws and very few remaining teeth. Yeah... real prize fighter. lol But, Harry is a gentle sort. He also loves to run and play, much like any dog.

He is supposedly already house trained, but he already disproved that. It was right after Sheba ambushed him and chased him off. I led him right into it, accidentally, so perhaps he was just upset. He loves the pen that we picked up from Dad's today. It's huge. I think it's about 8 foot by 10 foot. He especially loves smelling EVERYTHING by the side of the road on our walks, though (as one would espect from a Harrier). He wont be in the pen often, though. Only as much as he wants to be, probably. He does well indoors, even locked up in the bathroom (we tested that earlier today for about 8 minutes and he was very good). He's in there again, now, and I will probably leave him in there for 15 minutes this time. I just want him to learn that lock-up and relax time is ok, that he can count on me to come back to him.

His temperment is surprisingly great, although he isn't much into toys. He has no real training, though. And since we are starting with a dog who has probably had a youth devoid of intelligent interaction/training time, it may be a real challenge to train him. We experimented a little today, mostly to see how quick he'd pick up on things, and it looks like it will at least start out quite slow. But, once he gets the idea of training time in general, and that I am wanting him to think, it may get easier from there.

How do these posts always end up so long?

Short version: I got my dog. :) He seems to like Stephen and I and his new home. I still think it would have been MUCH easier to get a puppy and start him off right from the beginning, but that's ok. Stephen doesn't really like puppies, and I know they can be a huge hassle.

Friday, June 23, 2006

Sword for hire

I'm selling my Scottish Claymore. I need money, but don't seem to have much use for a sword in my daily life. You can't really see the gorgeous etching on the blade in these picks, but really is a sword worth seeing. You can buy it on Ebay.

Note: My "buy it now" price is less than HALF the going price to buy this exact same sword new, and the starting bid is even less than that.

Click here to check out the auction

Harry the Harrier

Everyone, this is Harry. When I called the shelter Thursday he was still there. Keep your fingers crossed for me, because if someone else has claimed him between then and when I go to pick him up Saturday, I will be crushed. I've got my heart set on this particular pooch and I've yet to even meet him. Silly, eh? I will also be picking up a big pen from Dad that day. I don't get his training crate until Monday. I picked up some doggie necessities this evening and I hope to have finished reading "The only dog training manual you will ever need" this weekend. I'm so excited!!! Isn't he precious?

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Maybe it's the hormones from being in my thirties, but I am WAY too emotional anymore. First example, you have my whining posts during PMS days, but then there's tonight...

I was pulling back in my driveway (going to get Stephen beer as a reward for letting me use him as a camera model), but I wasn't in the Alley yet. Then my neighbor across the alley was trying to pull into her garage. I pulled up in my driveway so she could use the back end of it to more easily pull into her garage. She (the homeowner) was the passenger in the car I saw that she was talking at me, so I rolled down my window to hear her and said "I'm sorry?" because I hadn't heard what she said. She proceeded to start yelling at me "Can't you just wait a goddamn minute for us to park?". I was in shock. I was waiting. I even gave her room in my driveway to maneuver. I wasn't in the alley at any point and I never acted impatient in any way. She kept yelling at me, saying we always run over her flowers and don't look when we pull out. She has no flowers out back, so I found this crazy, but I politely waited for them to pull in and then I left. I was barely down the alley at all when I wondered why I was being so freakin passive. So, I turned around, went back down the alley and got out.
I said "So, if you are so worried about someone using your few feet of concrete, here, why did you start yelling at me for where I was in my own driveway when I pulled up to let you use more of it?"
There was a heated arguement after that, although it took me a while to get as heated as she was, as it is not my nature to cuss out my neighbors. For one thing, I was in too much shock at her rudeness to even feel anger at first. She kept calling me trash and cutting on my "trash" house and my "trash" bush at the end of the drive that isn't trimmed enough for her liking. When she started in on my yard, I asked her "How many hours a week do you work?"
she said "that's none of your business", obviously showing she doesn't work outside the home and has plenty of time to piddle in the yard. I said "is my bush your business?"

Anyway, it was all stupid... but, by the time I got to the liqour store to get Stephen's beer, I was completely balling. I work hard. I'm sick a lot. I have no money for landscaping. But I am not trash. I'm not the one going totally Jerry Springer on my neighbors for no reason. I may not have a lot of money, but a person could live in a trailer and have plenty more class than that lady. I work hard for my home. I have worked hard for everything I have and have lost two landscaped yards in divorces.

I think what really made me cry so much was the frustration. I was in the right, she was being a complete bitch, but there was nothing I could do about it. There's nothing illegal about being a bitch, so what can I do? Nothing. I just hope they move away or something. There's no excuse for acting like that. It's completely uncivilized.

But, I rarely ever see the bitch. I don't have to deal with her. I will just forget she exists and forget about it. She will likely get her comeupance, in one way or another. Some day, someone she bitched out will be in charge of approving her loan or something like that. Having an ugly personality has its own built-in penalties, so I need not worry about it. If she doesn't get what she deserves on earth, then hopefully God will at least see that I was a good neighbor, and He will weigh that in on his judgement of me. Maybe my amount of "love thy neighbor" will help to weigh against my failure to comply on the "sex before marraige" rules. I know it doesn't exactly work that way, but I have to be me. I will try to be a good person and not worry about bad people getting away with being total bitches. I said my peice to her. If she is too screwed up to listen, then that is her black mark to carry.

Whine whine whine... ok. Enough of that. Time to let it go. Bye now.

Monday, June 19, 2006

It was not long ago that I quit regular beer and started drinking only gluten free beer because of my Celiac disease. So, when I was out of beer on a Sunday, I figured it wouldn't be a big deal to have a couple regular beers. (FYI: Alcohol sales are illegal on Sunday in Indiana, which is absolutely retarded... not only is it a clear violation of separation of church and state, but the Sabath is actually Saturday, not Sunday)
I used to drink regular beer regularly. Sure, I quit for a reason, I felt it was dragging my health down just a little bit more, and I want to be healthy. But, I guess I forgot the whole allergy-rule that if you go without something you can't tolerate for a while, your body will react even more violently to exposure to it. (Celiac disease isn't technically an allergy, but very similar). Plus, I've noticed lately that every time I expose myself to something I'm not supposed to have, the reactions get just a little worse each time.

So, I had a couple normal beers yesterday, because I'm an idiot. The migraine started at midnight. My throat didn't feel like I had swallowed dynamite until this morning. My belly wasn't fully swollen up like I was 6-months pregnant until around 7ish today. Every bone in my body still hurts like hell, but the nasea is subsiding, I think. I feel absolutely horrid. I'm half tempted to take a sleeping pill so I can doze through it (I tried napping, but I hurt too much all over to sleep), but I figure my body doesn't need more crap in its system while it is already trying to clean out one bad reaction.

I'm starving, now, but there's no way in hell I'd feel like going to the store or cooking. Just focusing on the TV or reading a book hurts. So does this stupid computer screen, but I'm about done with it.

And to top it all off, I had a horrible night. I started out having fun. Although I was the only sober one in our trio. We danced, laughed, sang... all that jazz. Then, I left them in Louisville (they weren't ready to go home, so they decided to take a cab home later). And when I got home there was no place near my home to park. I tried to squeeze in beside my boyfriend's truck, and put a huge scratch down the length of my car. That was stupid. With the side mirrors folded in, there was only a few inches of clearance between his truck and the neighbor's car, but I tried it anyway. I was too tired to park on another street and hike back to my own friggin house, but if I had thought of the option, I would have taken it. I just didn't even think of that. I was tired and nearly blinded with that stupid migraine, so I wasn't thinking well.

Then, my boyfriend eventually came home much later and was still peppy, yammering, and awake, and kept me awake for quite a while, despite me begging for sleep. I'm a bit pissed about that. Hope he doesn't mind me saying so up here. If he does, I'll take it down.

Anyway... I'm in serious pain from head to toe and decided to whine online. You lucky, lucky readers. But hey, I didn't make you read it.

There are knots of pain radiating from a few spots around my neck. My head is just a giant sack of toxic agony. I wish it would stop hurting already. I'm sorry. I will never drink regular beer again, just PLEASE stop hurting!!!

Sunday, June 18, 2006

My kimono

You may recognize the obi, since I let Tori wear it with her kimono. I haven't gotten her an obi yet. But, here is my vintage traditional kimono. The print is quite pretty up close. It has hints of plum, purple, and mauve in it. (Thus the plum Jyuban and stuff with it). In the last pic, you can also see my favorite haori. Very fine dye work on it. You should see it up close. I am going to get a furisode kimono soon. Those are the fancy ones with the extra long sleeve-things and those are more ornate.
Since I haven't had much time (or haven't utilized it well enough) this is what my sewing manequin is normally used for... just displaying my kimono. I've been getting the sewing itch, though. I have some really nice fabrics and need to start seeing what I can design with them. :)

Finaly, I got it to post :)

This goes with this post. I couldn't get it to go up at the time, though.

Me & my Honey :)

Saturday, June 17, 2006


It has been noted, by many A.D.D. experts, that those with ADD have a predisposition towards addiction. In my own reasoning, I suppose this is the Dopamine-rush & receptor-block crash type of addiction more than the direct chemical variety. In the past two weeks, I have read about 6 books. The last was The Cry of the Halidon. I much enjoyed it.

But, as I've beaten the strongest of my destructive addictions (my love of tasty foods that poison me), I suppose I have the final say in what substances I am enslaved to. My recent candy-fiction (aka, escapist genre writing) binge need come to an end. I may allow myself to indulge on future PMS waves, but I can't read so much all the time. I tend let it comsume me too much.

Next, I need to kick the caffiene habit... again. I also need to cut back, at least, on smoking. I will mark a decline in beer consumption down on my list for a later date, mainly because I think the carbonation plays nasty games with my inards, which are much unacostomed to it, since I drink no sodas.

But, some addictions help curb my cravings for others. I will likely continue to smoke, at least to some small degree, because it helps me quell the cravings for deadlier vices (like bread, wich is much more dangerous for me).

As for beer, since I don't wander around drunk, I don't think it poses much of a threat. I can't reward a hard work day with cheesecake or dinner out or pasta, so I take what I can get. If that is an evening beer or two (gluten-free beer, and with a very low alcohol content), I will accept it as the lessor of evils, for now.

All things in moderation, neh?

As for my strongest addiction, that for Stephen, I hope it never need be "remedied". It is the healthiest addiction I have ever fallen prey to. It is much akin to being addicted to broccoli and vitamins, if ever something so healthy could taste so rich and sweet. Forgive me for sharing with you the cheesy truth. He has given me more than I ever could have understood before now. Thank God for the sweetness of oranges, and the pleasure in things that can give us nothing but health and vitality. I have been with him, now, for over a year and no other man can hold a candle to him. If he can somehow manage not to tire of me, he will always be, for me, the very difinition of every rush and high, as well as every gentle contentment.


Any of you whom are massochistic enough to be regular readers of my ramblings may recall Cosa, the bald hatchling I tried (and failed) to save by nursing it with a syringe and warmer, etc...

Since then, I also found a bird (feathered) in my yard which a cat had batted around but not injured. I put it up in a tree and waited for it to calm out of it's shock and answer its family's calls. That took many hours. They really freeze up when in shock, and I'm sure that this blond giant handling it didn't help the shock in any immediate sense. It was flight ready (although likely not experienced) and I hope that, with the chance to recoup from cat-fear (and human-terror), it made a new, more successful, attempt at flight.

Since then, I have found dead hatchlings on my doorstep. This is odd, as that is out of the way of any trees and my cat is strictly indoors. Since I think it far beyond the intelligence of birds to be depositing dead/sick youths there for help, it must be the gifts of a cat.

I commented last night to Lisa about the tiny, bald, lifeless bodies of hatchlings on my doorstep. She said she thought my cat had an outdoor admirer.

Whatever the reason, I find it quite odd, since I have neither fed nor befreinded any outdoor feline (other than the one that died long ago). Then, this morning, there were two more dead hatchlings on my doorstep.

I've decided that, from now on, when my cat mews excitedly at the door at mad, frenzied chattering of upset birds, that I should go outside and try to frighten off whatever cat might be terrorizing our bird friends. It seems to be too great a number to write off to the cycle of nature.

Anyway... I thought it a bit out of the norm and decided to share it with you. Poor little hatchlings... If anyone has ever held a wild fluttering bird in their hands, they know the feeling of wanting to assist that which is terrified of you. I wish I could help the, no doubt, bereft mother of that nest. She will soon forget, no doubt, but even birds know protection of their own. She must have been quite a-flutter.

Anyway... that is my report for today.

Saturday Afternoon

Rough draft of a new song, which I just now wrote (sorry I don't know how to record and post the melody)

I’m feelin good from being so bad
Slept till noon
Now I’m drinking beer at 3pm
Smoking cigarettes
And wasting time
Something about being lazy
That makes you feel so fine

Saturday afternoon
Making lots of plans on cleanin
Just not anytime soon
Sweet Saturday afternoon
Gonna make this time all mine
And hum a lazy tune

Doo doo doo dooooo Doot doo doo doo doo
Doot doo doo dooooo Dootn doot doo dooooo

I plan my chores, Got to do my part
When the beer buzz wakes me up,
Likely after dark
Till then, I’m lounging…writing songs
Every now and then it’s right
To do everything wrong

Like Saturday afternoon
Making lots of plans on doing
Whatever need be done
Sweet Saturday afternoon
Letting time trickle past reckless
Humming nonsense at the sun

Doo doo doo dooooo Doot doo doo doo doo
Doot doo doo dooooo Dootn doot doo dooooo

Watchin tv, reading books, in crumpled pajamas
Later I’ll find some motivation
But not until I wanna
I earned this time in 50 hours for the man
so I aint gonna lift
a single working hand

Saturday afternoon
I map out all the efforts
It just aint time to start
Not this Saturday afternoon
Singing bout the sweet reward
To a week a’playin my part.

Doo doo doo dooooo Doot doo doo doo doo
Doot doo doo dooooo Dootn doot doo dooooo

Needs a lot of work, and is pretty simple, but I most songs I attempt to write are just meant to be simple and enjoyable. Plus, of course, song writing is a very new thing to me.
Hopefully I will refine it and record it. I'll probably start a new blog for songs. I've written a few lately. (I think you all will like Dick & Jane especially)

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

The PMS is passing and I return to my more balanced self. Band practice has continued to be a real highlight in my life, though I grow impatient for something to show for our time (not even necesarily a set list with promise of gigs, but perhaps a decent recording or two). But, it is always such fun. It's hard to gear myself towards the style they want (less blues, less attitude, more "white", so to speak" of vocals), but I'm inspired to play along. The guys are very talented, and it can be a real rush to be a part of their creative process, although it would be far easier, I think, to come up with lyrics if I had recordings to work with.

Work is ok. I've been concentrating well, still. I get so much done, but I would enjoy it far more if it was appreciated. I work hard, I don't dally or play, and my time sheets are impecibly honest (except for the fact that I've only turned in a couple hours of overtime for the whole year, although I often work late). I'm sure my boss appreciates my industriousness and devotion, but I still don't understand the attitude of my coworkers. I have no problem with them being a tight group. I respect that and, although I try to be friendly, would never think to intrude upon their friendships. But, I don't understand why I seem to be looked on disaprovingly. Whatever... I'll continue to work for the team and let my works speak for me. That is all I know to do.

Life at home is superb, as always, but my desire to have a puppy has increased. I prefer to raise a dog from puppyhood, to insure its training as well as to enjoy its adolescense, but I would be content with a dog. (Stephen prefers dogs to puppies, intensly so).

Anyway... life is good. I took an herbal relaxer about an hour ago in hopes of reaching sleep at a decent hour. Now I'm also drinking beer. I think one point of critisizm from my workmates has been my tendency towards tardiness (although it doesn't effect what I do, and my timesheets reflect when I arrive accurately, I can understand their disaproval of that, despite the fact that it is none of their business). I've GOT to get to sleep sooner. I struggle at that. If I could just friggin sleep better, it would be far easier to get up in the morning. I should have excersized when I got home. That might have helped. But, I worked until 9 and just wanted to relax. Anywhoooo....

That's my status, in a pecan-husk. All well, I hope? Hope you are all happy and healthy.
May the force be with you, and all that stuff.

Sunday, June 11, 2006

I've been in a reading frenzy lately, the excapist kind. I have lots of books I haven't read yet, but only a few of the escapist variety (aka, genre fiction... spy, action, supsense, sci fi). I love borwsing my bookshelves. The unread books are like promising little worlds waiting for me. I also love to glance over the spines of those I've read, remembering my joy in each as I see them there, collected in mass. Bookshelves bring me pleasure.
Anyway... in the past week and a half I read Suspect, Good News-Bad News, and Treason. Today I started readon a sci-fi book my sister loaned me. I don't recal the name and am in too much of a hurry to go to the other room and check. I love books.
Anyway... here is a picture of Tori with her friend Cassi. Then there is one of Stazi (she smiles so huge for pictures) :)
When the kids are here, sometimes I just want to slip off for a moment, have a cigarette and a beer, and read a book. I'm not use to the constant energy and "why this, kiki?", "Why that, Kiki?", "I'm allergic to healthy, Kiki... broccoli makes my leg hurt", etc...

But, the moment they are in their Daddy's car, I don't want to let them drive away. I should have taken them to the park this morning instead of us vegging out in front of a movie. I should have found some way to sneak more veggies into Stazi. I had a feeling the whole time that Tori needed to talk, but we never got a chance to talk privately. Never enough time. I want them to stay. They are always hungry and always making messes and always underfoot, but they belong there.

How does my sister do it? It must be so hard for her. Plus, I imagine that some people look at her as irresponsible for leaving the kids with their Dad. I was so proud of her for that decision. The foolish perceptions of people must make it even harder. Instead of toting them around apartments and leaving them alone while she works and all that confusion, she let them stay in the same familiar house with the same friends and yard and all that. It had to have been so hard for her. My poor sister. I went through this, the divorce, the year of no escape from "crazy town", etc... etc... but I didn't deal with the children issue. That must be so hard. I shouldn't talk about this. She HATES to be discussed in any way shape or form. But, I feel for her. I love my sister. I love those babies like my own. Life is easier without children attached to your hip, but the vacancy of a home without them, once you get that attachment, is like a hollow howl in the back of your mind all the time. You can tune it out, sometimes, like white noise, but it is always there. And I'm not the one who carried them, nursed them, etc.. etc... although I often wish I was. It must be so hard for her.

Maybe that's how I avoid thinking of my own selfish need to keep them... it's always far easy to sympathize than to think of my own need.

I actually spanked Stazi today. I'm not much of a spanker. I'm the reasoning kind of gaurdian/parent/aunt. But, I felt like it would be selfish of me not to. I don't want her to go home with the memory of mean old kiki spanking her to make her eat being the last thing she remembers. But she needs to learn a little bit of "have to". She is so used to getting whatever she wants, apparently. And, after a few bites of food she had originally refused to eat (despite the fact that I know she likes beans and rice), we cuddled and I got her a chocolate milk. A little sugar wont kill a kid. I worry more about not enough nutrition and about the poisons in pre-prepared foods. I worry more about her facing disapointment, when she gets older, if she never learns about having to do things she doesn't want to. That's the main reason that I made her eat some beans and rice. (that and the fact that at least there is a little nutrition in it, more so than macaroni and cheese).

Anyway... over all the weekend was great. I think we all had fun, although Tori needs some alone-time with me, I think. I just don't want Stazi to feel left out while she is going through the parental-divorce thing. I need to see about getting some time off while Stazi is at Daycare and Tori is free.

I bought them some kimonos a while back. We finally had a chance for them to dress up in them. I think they got a kick out of it. Stazi wanted to sleep in hers.
Here's some pics. :)

And then one of the "spider ice cream". (a swirly ice cream that just happened to look rather spidery on top)

Ok... so photoblogger isn't working right now. Well... I'll insert them later, I guess. For now, just trust me. They look adorable in their kimono and obi and all that. :)

Friday, June 09, 2006

I’ve told at least 4 people, so far, that I would be at Richo’s tonight. It’s Davefest and I can’t go tomorrow night. I should go. I will go. But, a large part of me just wants to put on a kimono, curl up with a good book, and drink myself to sleep.
I wish I could leave work early today. Some time to eat something healthy and read and relax would be nice. I REALLY need to get out of here.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Kimono Sanctuary

If I weren't makeup-less, I would take a picture. I've never taken a picture of myself in full kimono.

This is sort of a continuation on my previous post (which was written at work and emailed home, although I never write blog junk at work anymore). I arrived home only to be alone again, basically, for reasons I wont get into. No fault of anyone, really, just very bad timing. I don't expect the world or anyone in it to arrange their time to suit mine, so that's no biggie.

But, when I am in a bad mood, I find wearing Japanese-looking things very soothing. Why is that? Does it instill in me a sense of "wa"? Perhaps that's it, at least to an extent. It reminds me to ask for less and enjoy the minimal things. Also, it is a matter of doing/being what I want (by wearing what I want) despite the world around me... a world that makes little sense and is mostly cold, vain, and empty.

I was just going to slip into a silky kimono and read, but I ended up putting on the jyuban, kimono, tying the extremely complicated nagoya obi, and completing it with the obijime. I skipped the tabi and geta, as my feet like to be free, bare, and natural. This is how I embrace being alone and how I can come to love it.

When God (or nature, if you refuse to think of God) made tiny little worms that spin tiny little threads that, when painstakenly woven together, can make a natural human-size cocoon of smoother-than-baby-skin wrappings... that was one amazing gift. To put real care into the craft of silk is to appreciate that gift, thread by tiny thread, process by tedious process. When I wear a very old vintage kimono, made the old fashioned way with hard-working and patient hands, I am wrapped in the calm of humans loving a gift of nature. That is a mentality that makes sense to me and soothes me. All paths, all crafts and works, lead to enlightenment according to the old Japanese way, so long as you take extreme care in every step and treat your work, your art, as if it is far greater than you are. In this way, a samauri would respect his caligraphy as much as his swordsmanship... in this way, a poet, seamstress, and a trusted consultant of the rulers of the "island of the gods", are all on equal ground. In this way, we are all nothing, and yet all hands that shape something divine.

Although I am no disciple of the religions of the east, I think God could want little more than to see us all embrace the beauty of our existances, and the humble way of putting our works before ourselves, in this manner.

There are 5 layers of silk around me, now, not counting the obi, obijime, and whatever you call the other belts. Layers of time have spun the work of tiny creatures of nature in to a swaths of earthy womb for me to rest in, and I am grateful for that.

If I ever get married again, IF, then I would like to wear a kimono. After all, I would only want to be with a man who understood my excentricities, and would not question my love of such things. He would not think "shouldn't her dress be white and poofy?", or "what is that blonde white chick think she's doing in a freakin kimono?". He would only think "Doesn't my little Morkiko look beautiful in all that Japanese silk?". I would also only get married in the woods, where I belong and where I feel whole. Heck, I might even walk down the "isle" (or path) barefoot. Why the heck not? This is my life and I am me, myself, the wild-flower-eating, kimono-wearing, spanish-song-singing, italian-cooking, german-beer-loving, book-gluttoning, typeaholic, tree-hugging creature that I am.

Anyway... so here I sit in a kimono, drinking a beer and rambling on my blog. I think I'll go read a book in bed until I fall asleep. Good night folks.

Bad Day - Send me home

Couldn’t sleep much of last night, especially the hours between 5 and 8. Got up late, tired, lonely (Stephen had been out), and depressed. So, then I got to work 8 minutes late, with the weight over my head of knowing that the clique has been watching my time, hungry for fuel with which to burn me. Always fun to work with a “team” that has no appreciation for what you do. Now, I’m trying to work… getting crappy files that take forever and feeling like I’m under the relentless surveillance of people who only wish me ill. Then I get this killer file that has taken me, quite literally, half of my freakin day. I should have gotten 4 or 5 files done in the time I have messed with this crazy file, but it had mis-indexed deeds, conflicting legal descriptions, incomplete and confusing tax info, 15 judgments against the borrower, and one hell of a strange divorce case that even the judge said presented “novel questions of law”, etc… (and all 3 of his wives would agree, I think). I’m depressed, feel rather alone, and just want to go home. I just want so very badly to go home.
I’ve never been anything but nice to these people, I work hard, and take on the crappiest work. I don’t play online and chat via IM all day like many of them do, but somehow I pulled the wrong straw and lucked into the part of dinner on this cannibalist-fest. Then, when I get hit with files like these, I know that no matter how hard I work today, it will look like I didn’t do enough files. SEND ME HOME!!!

I was hoping to actually ask to go home early, but it’s 4:30 now, there are still 7 files left to do today, and all the examiners have gone home except for me and two other people.
I am trying my best just to keep from crying, but I tear up every time my coworkers laugh at secret jokes and make sneers and complaints about the smell of my lunch (fish). I want so badly to go home. I hate this place so much, and it obviously hates me even more. I’m not normally a tearful pansy about this sort of thing… must be PMS. The hormones turn my adamantium backbone to cellulite.

Monday, June 05, 2006


I am very bad about arranging time with my niece. Sometimes I wait too long to spend time with her, but mainly I wait until the last minute to make plans, never know exactly what we will do together, and am sloppy about informing everyone that is involved.

Much of this, predictably, is because I am a last-minute person who slacks at making plans.

Much of it, perhaps even most of it, is because it feels wrong. Making arrangements for sitters at the right time would feel more natural. Shaping my entire life around the inevitability of her being here, dependant upon me as her mother, feels like the only natural life for my baby and me. Arranging time to see her… alien. She should simple be here, night and day. There should never need be any thought given to visiting her, only to the occasional inconvenience of sending her away to a sitter or relative or friend. This relationship has been twisted, inverted, turned inside out by the cruel gap between the reality of her physical parentage, and my love for my daughter.

Sometimes this life feels wrong, making arrangements to fit her into my life, when at heart, she is the center and purpose of my life.

From before she was born, to the time I asked my sister if I could adopt her, to these days now, when she has a tiny room (usually empty) in my humble home, I find myself swallowing the selfish need to have my girl with me because I know that it is better for her to be with her parent.

Her crib was a few steps from my bed, her baths happened a few inches from it, her food hand ground by my overly-long pale fingers, her face and fingers washed ritually by my spirit and heart and every other cheesy expression… I have moved on in my life, but my heart is still there, hanging over her empty crib, where I cried every night after she was whisked away from it… That was the place where I was forced to accept that she was not mine.
I am a realist. I accept the ugliest of the facts of life before they even dare approach me. I have widened my stance and prepared for every worst truth before it had the time to smack at me, but this one most obvious truth I refused to see. I didn’t carry her, give birth to her, or name her… yet I have never once really accepted that she is not mine, and I never will be able to.

Friday, June 02, 2006

Jobs schmobs

When I go to work, I go there to work. That's it. I like to witness the ways of people and I do observe them. I also try to be friendly and, if ever someone seems to feel left out, I try to make a special effort to reach out to them. A job becomes more than a job, though, when there is a real team spirit in the air. Sounds cheesy, but it does make a difference.

For months I hoped that spirit would evolve. It did among a scattered few of us who work late and stay till the job is done. A totally positive spirit - never judging those who go home early (hey, they get in earlier than I do and may work faster for all I know). But, as for the majority... it is all sideways glances and blind biases.

I don't share gossip or badmouth or backstab to get in good with people. I try to earn my part by working hard for the team. But, that isn't worth much to most people. When keyboards chatter in secret IM's, when coworkers glare or roll eyes in my periphial view, I ignore it. When someone seems down or overworked, I try to help.

But... these methods of mine don't fly in the social puppy-meat banquet for canines that is normal social interaction. Common goals and common interests don't unite normal people. They bond best in having someone to gang up on. When one person is ousted, they move their attention to someone else... whichever straggler is enough out of the clique to be fair pickings and not fall under the protection of the pack.

Sad, sad truths...

So... I go about my days. I am friendly and resist frustration and judgment. But, I miss the days when I worked with a team, united by our loyalty to the common goal, our dedication and exhuastion, and our pride in what we accomplished on a daily basis.

But, all I can really do now is trudge on and hope that when this wave passes (and I have been in this company long enough to witness so many waves) that the next one will be a positive one. I also have to hope that my boss is aware that I, of course, am going to do less files in a day than the ones who get the cake files. I think he knows. After all... he gave me the challenging work for a reason. I dig in, learn, and do it.

It's a shame that the atmosphere at work is the way it is. Individually, I find all the people there pleasant and interesting in their own ways. I don't know why they feel the need to form alliances against others. Maybe they have been steeped in too much "vote someone off the island" TV.


Work sucks. jobs suck. But, at least I have a good job, with good insurance, and pitiful but consistant pay. The competitive dribblings of the canibalistic socialites will just have to run off my back for now. This wave will pass. In the mean time, I will do my best to earn my place the honorable way. Any who don't appreciate that can kiss my can.