the stitching blogger's QOTW!
Do you set stitching goals?
Hmmm...good question. It's difficult to set goals for anything, between being a mom and wife and teacher and soon-to-be student again. So where can I fit in all my stitching time and my new obsession for beading (I would like to open a store one day!) in addition to playing mommy, cleaning, teaching, and grading? And not to mention all the other crafty things I like to do.
I don't normally set goals as far as a rotation or have to do *x number* of hours on a project before I get to move on. I follow what's known as the *screaming* rotation, ie work on whatever screams the loudest until I'm sick of looking at it.
I do have a couple of monthly scheduled stitch-a-longs that I work on also. The second weekend of every month is dedicated to TW's Romeo and Juliet, and the last weekend is dedicated to TW's Lady of Shallot. I try to tell myself on that starting Friday that I'll finish something specific on that design, like LOS's cushion or Juliet's dress, over the weekend. Hasn't happened so far. But after the weekend is up I stitch until I can't stand it anymore.
An unofficial goal for 2005 is to finish at least one large project. I would like it to be one of my UFO's (stitching that I have about half finished but started hating them), but actually anything would be great. I think I get sick of looking at these faster than the other projects, and put them away in disgust after only a couple of hours.
I guess another unofficial goal is to use what I have in my stash to kit up those projects that I would like to start working on. I need to quit buying stash, and since I have so much fabric and floss I really should see what I can kit up. But then again do I really need more WIPs? I mean, honestly, the list at the right is overwhelming as it is!
My last unofficial goal is to go through everything I have and either sell, trade, or auction off the stuff I don't want. That means going through tons of magazines and culling the ones that don't have at least one project I can see myself doing in the near future. I try to be honest with myself, but sometimes I'll see one that I just have to keep for whatever reason. And a lot of my patterns, well, I can't remember what I was so attracted to in the first place. As my tastes change I find that I want more patterns than I can sell, and just want to *have* them. I like to hoard! You stitchers know what I mean!
So I guess my unofficial goals for this year (and it won't kill me if they aren't accomplished) are to:
1. Finish 1 (at least) larger project
2. Kit up projects that I can from my stash
3. Do some major stash reduction (and limit my buying!)
Seems do-able...
...on paper.
4.27.2005
4.25.2005
It doesn't get any easier...
to lose a beloved pet.
This Friday I took my mother to the vet to have their dog, Max, put to sleep. He was the sweetest dog. He never complained, he never argued, and best of all his temperament was amazing. Kids could crawl all over him and he would never make a sound. He loved babies and kittens, and licked both with equal zest.
But as much as you think your animals will be with you forever...they just can't be.
There comes a time when they get sick. Really sick. Max had a very strange cancer. One of the cells from his salivary glands traveled up into his forehead and became cancerous. By the time we noticed anything, it was too late.
The lump above his left eye just appeared one day. And then his eyes started bulging out. The doctor said he had glaucoma, so we started giving him glaucoma medicine. The doctor said he had Horn's disease, and the lump should go away on its own. Then the doctor said, "Let's do a biopsy."
It turned out to be cancer, and the doctor said he only had a couple of months to live.
And Max never complained. Not once.
Until Friday. He bumped into Mother's leg and cried. He was in serious pain. And his right eye was bulging and looked rotten. Obviously the tumor behind the eye had cut off the blood flow to the eye itself. It was time for him to go.
We took him to the vet that afternoon. Mother was crying and saying that Max was acting like a puppy, running around and eating like normal. But I knew, just like I knew the lump wasn't good.
It only took a few seconds. Max slowly relaxed and went to sleep. And he didn't make a sound. Mother was holding his chin in her hand because she couldn't hold his head. It was too painful for him. The doctor placed his head on his paws, and he looked just like he did when he slept at home. I don't know if that was comforting or not.
I feel a lot of guilt about Max. He wasn't really my dog, since my parents got him when I was 20. He turned 15 this month. But I feel like I maybe talked Mother into doing it, if only for *Max's sake*. I couldn't stand the thought of that sweet dog turning mean because of the tumors pushing on his brain. I couldn't stand the thought of him going through seizures, or dying in more pain than he was already in. And I really couldn't stand the thought of coming over during the day while Mother is at work and finding him dead.
Mother had hoped he would die in his sleep, so that she wouldn't be forced to make one of the hardest decisions of her life, but he was tough.
My daughter, Alyssa, has been hit the hardest. Max was around for 4 years before she was born. He was her best friend. We lived with my parents for several years and Max slept in her room. She took him for walks, and in every family picture we have, Max is in her lap. Alyssa can't stop crying, and I don't really know how to comfort her except to say that I know how she feels. I have been through the same thing and, although the hurt never fully goes away, it does get easier. That deep, rotting sorrow eventually fades into something more managable.
One thing I didn't tell Alyssa was that Max went to Heaven, or *Crossed the Rainbow Bridge*. I did tell her that Max is wherever makes him happy, doing the things that made him happiest when he was alive, and he is in no pain. Someone suggested giving her a copy of the Rainbow Bridge poem, but I just can't do it. I realize that it makes it easier for many people to deal with a beloved pet's death, but to me *Crossing the Rainbow Bridge* sounds like the animal is on the path to Big Gay Al's house. Too much South Park I guess.
I just can't stomach anymore euphemisms. Phrases such as "passed away" or "crossed the rainbow bridge" or "euthanasia" or "put to sleep" just covers up what really happens. We can tell ourselves and our kids all we want that someone "passed away," but in the end we still have to realize that they're dead. There is no other way around it. And it's easier to explain death to kids the first time than when they come to you later and say, "You said he was sleeping!"
I realize how harsh that sounds, but everyone deals with death in their own way. When Misty died 15 years ago, I spent 3 days in bed sobbing. I thought I would die from grief over that dog. And then there's Shadow, who's now 14. My cat has been with me through 3 husbands, 2 kids, many moves, 2 college degrees, 2 hospital stays, and 1 nervous breakdown. 14 is pretty old for a cat. I don't want to think about taking naps and not having her snuggled under the covers with me. Because one day she'll be dead.
And it doesn't matter what *nice* label you put on it.
This Friday I took my mother to the vet to have their dog, Max, put to sleep. He was the sweetest dog. He never complained, he never argued, and best of all his temperament was amazing. Kids could crawl all over him and he would never make a sound. He loved babies and kittens, and licked both with equal zest.
But as much as you think your animals will be with you forever...they just can't be.
There comes a time when they get sick. Really sick. Max had a very strange cancer. One of the cells from his salivary glands traveled up into his forehead and became cancerous. By the time we noticed anything, it was too late.
The lump above his left eye just appeared one day. And then his eyes started bulging out. The doctor said he had glaucoma, so we started giving him glaucoma medicine. The doctor said he had Horn's disease, and the lump should go away on its own. Then the doctor said, "Let's do a biopsy."
It turned out to be cancer, and the doctor said he only had a couple of months to live.
And Max never complained. Not once.
Until Friday. He bumped into Mother's leg and cried. He was in serious pain. And his right eye was bulging and looked rotten. Obviously the tumor behind the eye had cut off the blood flow to the eye itself. It was time for him to go.
We took him to the vet that afternoon. Mother was crying and saying that Max was acting like a puppy, running around and eating like normal. But I knew, just like I knew the lump wasn't good.
It only took a few seconds. Max slowly relaxed and went to sleep. And he didn't make a sound. Mother was holding his chin in her hand because she couldn't hold his head. It was too painful for him. The doctor placed his head on his paws, and he looked just like he did when he slept at home. I don't know if that was comforting or not.
I feel a lot of guilt about Max. He wasn't really my dog, since my parents got him when I was 20. He turned 15 this month. But I feel like I maybe talked Mother into doing it, if only for *Max's sake*. I couldn't stand the thought of that sweet dog turning mean because of the tumors pushing on his brain. I couldn't stand the thought of him going through seizures, or dying in more pain than he was already in. And I really couldn't stand the thought of coming over during the day while Mother is at work and finding him dead.
Mother had hoped he would die in his sleep, so that she wouldn't be forced to make one of the hardest decisions of her life, but he was tough.
My daughter, Alyssa, has been hit the hardest. Max was around for 4 years before she was born. He was her best friend. We lived with my parents for several years and Max slept in her room. She took him for walks, and in every family picture we have, Max is in her lap. Alyssa can't stop crying, and I don't really know how to comfort her except to say that I know how she feels. I have been through the same thing and, although the hurt never fully goes away, it does get easier. That deep, rotting sorrow eventually fades into something more managable.
One thing I didn't tell Alyssa was that Max went to Heaven, or *Crossed the Rainbow Bridge*. I did tell her that Max is wherever makes him happy, doing the things that made him happiest when he was alive, and he is in no pain. Someone suggested giving her a copy of the Rainbow Bridge poem, but I just can't do it. I realize that it makes it easier for many people to deal with a beloved pet's death, but to me *Crossing the Rainbow Bridge* sounds like the animal is on the path to Big Gay Al's house. Too much South Park I guess.
I just can't stomach anymore euphemisms. Phrases such as "passed away" or "crossed the rainbow bridge" or "euthanasia" or "put to sleep" just covers up what really happens. We can tell ourselves and our kids all we want that someone "passed away," but in the end we still have to realize that they're dead. There is no other way around it. And it's easier to explain death to kids the first time than when they come to you later and say, "You said he was sleeping!"
I realize how harsh that sounds, but everyone deals with death in their own way. When Misty died 15 years ago, I spent 3 days in bed sobbing. I thought I would die from grief over that dog. And then there's Shadow, who's now 14. My cat has been with me through 3 husbands, 2 kids, many moves, 2 college degrees, 2 hospital stays, and 1 nervous breakdown. 14 is pretty old for a cat. I don't want to think about taking naps and not having her snuggled under the covers with me. Because one day she'll be dead.
And it doesn't matter what *nice* label you put on it.
4.21.2005
The saying is true...
there is no rest for the weary.
Once again I have been affected by crud. I'm stuffy and snotty and my throat hurts. I had no voice at all this morning so I'll be lucky to get through teaching my class today.
And I should be grading papers again. I don't feel like it. But I did find this on blogthings.com (and yes, it's all true!):
You Know You're From New Mexico When...
You buy salsa by the gallon.
You are still using the paper license tag that came with your car five years ago.
Your favorite restaurant has a chile list instead of a wine list.
You do all your shopping and banking at a drive-up window.
Your Christmas decorations include "a yard of sand and 200 paper bags".
You have license plates on your walls, but not on your car.
Most restaurants you go to begin with "El" or "Los".
You remember when Santa Fe was not like San Francisco.
You hated Texans until the Californians moved in.
The tires on your roof have more tread than the ones on your car.
You price-shop for tortillas.
You have an extra freezer just for green chile.
You think a red light is merely a suggestion.
You believe that using a turn signal is a sign of weakness.
You don't make eye contact with other drivers because you can't tell how well armed they are just by looking.
You think six tons of crushed rock makes a beautiful front lawn.
You have to sign a waiver to buy hot coffee at a drive-up window.
You ran for state legislature so you can speed legally.
You pass on the right because that's the fast-lane.
You have read a book while driving from Albuquerque to Las Vegas.
You know they don't skate at the Ice House and the Newsstand doesn't sell newspapers.
You think Sadies was better when it was in the bowling alley.
You have used aluminum foil and duct tape to repair your air conditioner.
You can't control your car on wet pavement.
There is a piece of a UFO displayed in your home.
You know that The Jesus Tortilla is not a band.
You wish you had invested in the orange barrel business.
You just got your fifth DWI and got elected to the state legislature in the same week.
Your swamp cooler got knocked off your roof by a dust devil.
You have been on TV more than three times telling about how your neighbor was shot or about your alien abduction.
You can actually hear the Taos hum.
All your out-of-state friends and relatives visit in October.
You know Vegas is a town in the northeastern part of the state.
You are afraid to drive through Mora and Espanola.
You iron your jeans to "dress up".
You don't see anything wrong with drive-up window liquor sales.
Your other vehicle is also a pick-up truck.
Two of your cousins are in Santa Fe, one in the legislature and the other in the state pen.
You know the punch line to at least one Espanola joke.
Your car is missing a fender or bumper.
You have driven to an Indian Casino at 3am because you were hungry.
You think the Lobos fight song is "Louie, Louie"
You know whether you want "red or green."
You're relieved when the pavement ends because the dirt road has fewer pot-holes.
You can correctly pronounce Tesuque, Cerrillos, and Pojoaque.
You have been told by at least one out-of-state vendor that they are going to charge you extra for "international" shipping.
You expect to pay more if your house is made of mud.
You can order your Big Mac with green chile.
You see nothing odd when, in the conversations of the people in line around you at the grocery store, every other word of each sentence alternates between Spanish and English.
You associate bridges with mud, not water.
You know you will run into at least 3 cousins whenever you shop at Wal-Mart, Sam's or Home Depot.
Tumbleweeds and various cacti in your yard are not weeds. They are your lawn.
If you travel anywhere, no matter if just to run to the gas station, you must bring along a bottle of water and some moisturizer.
Trailers are not referred to as trailers. They are houses. Double-wide trailers are "real" houses.
A package of white flour tortillas is the exact same thing as a loaf of bread. You don't need to write it on your shopping list; it's a given.
At any gathering, regardless of size, green chile stew, tortillas, and huge mounds of shredded cheese are mandatory.
Prosperity can be readily determined by the number of horses you own.
A tarantula on your porch is ordinary. A scorpion in your tub is ordinary. A poisonous centipede on your ceiling? Ordinary. A black widow crawling across your bed is terribly, terribly common. A rattlesnake is an occasional hiking hazard. No need to freak out.
Once again I have been affected by crud. I'm stuffy and snotty and my throat hurts. I had no voice at all this morning so I'll be lucky to get through teaching my class today.
And I should be grading papers again. I don't feel like it. But I did find this on blogthings.com (and yes, it's all true!):
You Know You're From New Mexico When...
You buy salsa by the gallon.
You are still using the paper license tag that came with your car five years ago.
Your favorite restaurant has a chile list instead of a wine list.
You do all your shopping and banking at a drive-up window.
Your Christmas decorations include "a yard of sand and 200 paper bags".
You have license plates on your walls, but not on your car.
Most restaurants you go to begin with "El" or "Los".
You remember when Santa Fe was not like San Francisco.
You hated Texans until the Californians moved in.
The tires on your roof have more tread than the ones on your car.
You price-shop for tortillas.
You have an extra freezer just for green chile.
You think a red light is merely a suggestion.
You believe that using a turn signal is a sign of weakness.
You don't make eye contact with other drivers because you can't tell how well armed they are just by looking.
You think six tons of crushed rock makes a beautiful front lawn.
You have to sign a waiver to buy hot coffee at a drive-up window.
You ran for state legislature so you can speed legally.
You pass on the right because that's the fast-lane.
You have read a book while driving from Albuquerque to Las Vegas.
You know they don't skate at the Ice House and the Newsstand doesn't sell newspapers.
You think Sadies was better when it was in the bowling alley.
You have used aluminum foil and duct tape to repair your air conditioner.
You can't control your car on wet pavement.
There is a piece of a UFO displayed in your home.
You know that The Jesus Tortilla is not a band.
You wish you had invested in the orange barrel business.
You just got your fifth DWI and got elected to the state legislature in the same week.
Your swamp cooler got knocked off your roof by a dust devil.
You have been on TV more than three times telling about how your neighbor was shot or about your alien abduction.
You can actually hear the Taos hum.
All your out-of-state friends and relatives visit in October.
You know Vegas is a town in the northeastern part of the state.
You are afraid to drive through Mora and Espanola.
You iron your jeans to "dress up".
You don't see anything wrong with drive-up window liquor sales.
Your other vehicle is also a pick-up truck.
Two of your cousins are in Santa Fe, one in the legislature and the other in the state pen.
You know the punch line to at least one Espanola joke.
Your car is missing a fender or bumper.
You have driven to an Indian Casino at 3am because you were hungry.
You think the Lobos fight song is "Louie, Louie"
You know whether you want "red or green."
You're relieved when the pavement ends because the dirt road has fewer pot-holes.
You can correctly pronounce Tesuque, Cerrillos, and Pojoaque.
You have been told by at least one out-of-state vendor that they are going to charge you extra for "international" shipping.
You expect to pay more if your house is made of mud.
You can order your Big Mac with green chile.
You see nothing odd when, in the conversations of the people in line around you at the grocery store, every other word of each sentence alternates between Spanish and English.
You associate bridges with mud, not water.
You know you will run into at least 3 cousins whenever you shop at Wal-Mart, Sam's or Home Depot.
Tumbleweeds and various cacti in your yard are not weeds. They are your lawn.
If you travel anywhere, no matter if just to run to the gas station, you must bring along a bottle of water and some moisturizer.
Trailers are not referred to as trailers. They are houses. Double-wide trailers are "real" houses.
A package of white flour tortillas is the exact same thing as a loaf of bread. You don't need to write it on your shopping list; it's a given.
At any gathering, regardless of size, green chile stew, tortillas, and huge mounds of shredded cheese are mandatory.
Prosperity can be readily determined by the number of horses you own.
A tarantula on your porch is ordinary. A scorpion in your tub is ordinary. A poisonous centipede on your ceiling? Ordinary. A black widow crawling across your bed is terribly, terribly common. A rattlesnake is an occasional hiking hazard. No need to freak out.
4.20.2005
It's Wednesday again...
and that means the stitcher's question of the week!
Have you ever been asked to do model stitching?
Did you do it? If so, what was your compensation? (money, stash, etc.) If not, why not?
If you haven't done it, if you were asked would you? Why or why not?
I just started model stitching in January for Stoney Creek. I have only done one ornament, and am working on three bookmarks. For right now they are very quick stitches and I really enjoy doing them. The selection process was pretty nerve-racking, because I had to send several samples of my stitching to the company. It's difficult to choose just a few, and you constantly ask yourself, "Is this one good enough?" or "Maybe I should choose something else."
But I get to stitch different things before they are actually on the market, and it's a total self-esteem booster to know that I was the first person to stitch something, ever. I work with different fibers and projects that I may not necessarily choose to do myself, but I think any stitching I do can only improve my technique and skill. The money is not necessarily a factor (I get paid hourly minimum wage), but I think it's more of a selfishness on my part. I get paid to do something I love, and I get to see my name on the finished product when it's published. Plus, just the fact that someone thinks my work is good enough for the world to see, well...that's a whole 'nuther reward in itself!
I would really like to do more model stitching with other companies and designers because, as I said, it's a real ego booster. I've worked hard for my 15 minutes of fame!
So what's wrong with trying to drag it out a bit longer?
Have you ever been asked to do model stitching?
Did you do it? If so, what was your compensation? (money, stash, etc.) If not, why not?
If you haven't done it, if you were asked would you? Why or why not?
I just started model stitching in January for Stoney Creek. I have only done one ornament, and am working on three bookmarks. For right now they are very quick stitches and I really enjoy doing them. The selection process was pretty nerve-racking, because I had to send several samples of my stitching to the company. It's difficult to choose just a few, and you constantly ask yourself, "Is this one good enough?" or "Maybe I should choose something else."
But I get to stitch different things before they are actually on the market, and it's a total self-esteem booster to know that I was the first person to stitch something, ever. I work with different fibers and projects that I may not necessarily choose to do myself, but I think any stitching I do can only improve my technique and skill. The money is not necessarily a factor (I get paid hourly minimum wage), but I think it's more of a selfishness on my part. I get paid to do something I love, and I get to see my name on the finished product when it's published. Plus, just the fact that someone thinks my work is good enough for the world to see, well...that's a whole 'nuther reward in itself!
I would really like to do more model stitching with other companies and designers because, as I said, it's a real ego booster. I've worked hard for my 15 minutes of fame!
So what's wrong with trying to drag it out a bit longer?
4.19.2005
It's April 19th...
and I'm haunted by yellow socks.
Every year, on this date, I become even more horribly depressed and paranoid than usual. And everytime I close my eyes I see yellow socks.
It's been 10 years, the building is gone, the devil has been destroyed, but the image of the yellow socks never goes away.
I have a similiar reaction around September 11th, as it was just as horrible an experience as any. I try to keep most of the people faceless, because it's easier to deal with that way. Not that I don't remember that they were human, or that it was any less humane, but the yellow socks makes it so much more horrible, so much more incomprehensible, in my mind.
Was it because it was carried out by one of our own? That one of the "good guys," someone who swore to defend our country, came out of the shadows and snuck up behind us when we weren't expecting it? Someone who attacked when we were most vulnerable, looking to outside forces as a possible evil? We never would have believed it.
Maybe it's because the owner of the yellow socks would be the same age as my oldest, but was the same age as my youngest when it happened. I look at my girls and ask myself how I would cope. I don't know that I could. I have no doubt that I would drop down dead with my grief, a grief so deep that it would destroy any semblance of humanity that I possess. Did her mother feel that way? Was she angry because her daughter's yellow socks became the symbol for evil in the world? Did she feel vindicated when the devil was destroyed?
Just because the devil is gone, that doesn't mean the demons aren't still haunting us. I can't close my eyes today, as the yellow socks are there. And the fireman.
The fireman holding the dead little girl with the yellow socks.
April 19, 1995
Every year, on this date, I become even more horribly depressed and paranoid than usual. And everytime I close my eyes I see yellow socks.
It's been 10 years, the building is gone, the devil has been destroyed, but the image of the yellow socks never goes away.
I have a similiar reaction around September 11th, as it was just as horrible an experience as any. I try to keep most of the people faceless, because it's easier to deal with that way. Not that I don't remember that they were human, or that it was any less humane, but the yellow socks makes it so much more horrible, so much more incomprehensible, in my mind.
Was it because it was carried out by one of our own? That one of the "good guys," someone who swore to defend our country, came out of the shadows and snuck up behind us when we weren't expecting it? Someone who attacked when we were most vulnerable, looking to outside forces as a possible evil? We never would have believed it.
Maybe it's because the owner of the yellow socks would be the same age as my oldest, but was the same age as my youngest when it happened. I look at my girls and ask myself how I would cope. I don't know that I could. I have no doubt that I would drop down dead with my grief, a grief so deep that it would destroy any semblance of humanity that I possess. Did her mother feel that way? Was she angry because her daughter's yellow socks became the symbol for evil in the world? Did she feel vindicated when the devil was destroyed?
Just because the devil is gone, that doesn't mean the demons aren't still haunting us. I can't close my eyes today, as the yellow socks are there. And the fireman.
The fireman holding the dead little girl with the yellow socks.
4.15.2005
Between PB&J sandwiches and mopping the floor...
I found some time to google "Sandra." Yes, that's my name. Why else would I bother?
In addition to the usual Sandra Bullock or Sandra Brown sites, I came across this...
Download Sandra
Free Sandra track.
Free Trial with no obligation.
www.real-download.com
For reasons unknown, I was bothered by the possibility of people downloading me. Why would someone want to download me? And what would they do with me if they did? Would I end up as a cut-and-paste on a porn site? As a target on a virtual dart board? Hit normally semi-attractive woman in the third eye and win a prize! (Third eye=incredibly large pimple directly centered in the middle of my forehead. I heard it mumbling about world domination last night.)
My curiosity got the best of me, and I wasted no time getting to the site so that I could download Sandra for my own personal gain. The toilets need to be scrubbed, and my cat has been walking around holding a sign that says, "Hey hey Ho Ho that kitty litter has got to go!" I suggested sending in a scab to cross the picket line, but my cat reminded me that our queen/serb contract specifically states "No substitutions." And I think Aislin just made a poop face.
How divine it would be, I thought, to be able to download myself. TOS (the other Sandra) can do all of the chores that I dread! While TOS is taking care of the dishes, the toilets, cat litter, laundry, and mopping, I can sit around on my ass and watch Law and Order reruns while simultaneously cross stitching, reading to Aislin, and helping Alyssa with her math. Oh joy! And while she's at it, TOS can grade those quizzes I have been putting off, and write that hate letter to Sports Illustrated for Kids (because damnit I didn't order your magazine and I'm not paying for it! Get the hint!)
But alas, no such luck. Sandra turned out to be a program for diagnosing computer problems. It doesn't clean toilets or litter boxes, or write nasty letters to overly-zealous sports magazines. But I won't let it get me down. Because "a woman's work is never done." That's why it can wait. I'm going to go snuggle with Aislin.
Poop face and all.
In addition to the usual Sandra Bullock or Sandra Brown sites, I came across this...
Download Sandra
Free Sandra track.
Free Trial with no obligation.
www.real-download.com
For reasons unknown, I was bothered by the possibility of people downloading me. Why would someone want to download me? And what would they do with me if they did? Would I end up as a cut-and-paste on a porn site? As a target on a virtual dart board? Hit normally semi-attractive woman in the third eye and win a prize! (Third eye=incredibly large pimple directly centered in the middle of my forehead. I heard it mumbling about world domination last night.)
My curiosity got the best of me, and I wasted no time getting to the site so that I could download Sandra for my own personal gain. The toilets need to be scrubbed, and my cat has been walking around holding a sign that says, "Hey hey Ho Ho that kitty litter has got to go!" I suggested sending in a scab to cross the picket line, but my cat reminded me that our queen/serb contract specifically states "No substitutions." And I think Aislin just made a poop face.
How divine it would be, I thought, to be able to download myself. TOS (the other Sandra) can do all of the chores that I dread! While TOS is taking care of the dishes, the toilets, cat litter, laundry, and mopping, I can sit around on my ass and watch Law and Order reruns while simultaneously cross stitching, reading to Aislin, and helping Alyssa with her math. Oh joy! And while she's at it, TOS can grade those quizzes I have been putting off, and write that hate letter to Sports Illustrated for Kids (because damnit I didn't order your magazine and I'm not paying for it! Get the hint!)
But alas, no such luck. Sandra turned out to be a program for diagnosing computer problems. It doesn't clean toilets or litter boxes, or write nasty letters to overly-zealous sports magazines. But I won't let it get me down. Because "a woman's work is never done." That's why it can wait. I'm going to go snuggle with Aislin.
Poop face and all.
4.14.2005
Nothing more interesting to me today...
than quizzes.
The Pissy Toothpick?
Hmmm...considering I've lived in the south most of my life.
Sounds about right *sigh*.
And they base this on the color of your drawers?
I get those all the time!
*snerk* I lived in Japan, so I know about the Yakuza.
Well, I think that's enough fun for today. I need to go do some soul searching.
Sandra's Aliases |
| Your movie star name: Chocolate Cake Robert |
| Your fashion designer name is Sandra London |
| Your socialite name is Sissy Austin |
| Your fly girl / guy name is S Tol |
| Your detective name is Owl Robert D. Edgren |
| Your barfly name is Rice Crispy Treats Margarita |
| Your soap opera name is Leanne Parkview |
| Your rock star name is Snickers Cheetah |
| Your star wars name is Sansha Toljus |
| Your punk rock band name is The Pissy Toothpick |
The'>http://www.blogthings.com/meganames/">The Amazing Meganame Generator
The Pissy Toothpick?
Your Linguistic Profile: |
| 70% General American English |
| 10% Dixie |
| 10% Upper Midwestern |
| 10% Yankee |
| 0% Midwestern |
What'>http://www.blogthings.com/amenglishdialecttest/">What Kind of American English Do You Speak?
Hmmm...considering I've lived in the south most of my life.
| You May Be a Bit Dependent ... |
 You're more than a little preoccupied with being abandoned. You need a lot of support in your life, at all times. It's difficult for you to survive on your own... And you don't reallly think you ever could. |
What'>http://www.blogthings.com/personalitydisorderquiz/">What Personality Disorder Are You?
Sounds about right *sigh*.
| You are |
 |
What'>http://www.blogthings.com/rejectedcrayonquiz/">What Rejected Crayon Are You?
And they base this on the color of your drawers?
| You Are a Losing Lottery Ticket! |
 |
What'>http://www.blogthings.com/crappygiftquiz.html">What Crappy Gift Are You?
I get those all the time!
| You are "Yakuza" (Japanese mafia) |
 |
*snerk* I lived in Japan, so I know about the Yakuza.
Well, I think that's enough fun for today. I need to go do some soul searching.
4.13.2005
Like I said before...
there's nothing like a job interview to show you what you really don't know.
It seems that I'm not as qualified to teach for Upward Bound as some of the other applicants. That's ok, since I'll be getting a license to teach public school soon. That's why they didn't hire me, because there were several licensed teachers who applied. I still feel a little worthless though, because I know I'm a great teacher.
But the day isn't a total bummer, because I got my next model stitching project for Stoney Creek! It's three really cute bookmarks. I should be able to get those done in no time, because they're mostly words with a few little designs on them.
Today is Wednesday, so that means the stitching question of the week, courtesy of the Blonde Librarian:
Do you "stitch with the seasons?" (This could be reflected by the colors that you stitch with, the themes that you choose, or even that during your favorite season you stitch more (or less) than in others.)
I think it really depends on the mood I'm in. I do generally stitch nothing but ornaments towards Christmas, and a favorite subject is snowmen all year round. Then there's my favorite designer, Teresa Wentzler, whose designs I have plenty started. I work on those year round too. I do like to stitch *lighter* things during Spring and Summer. These aren't necessarily Spring and Summer themed or colored, but maybe a specialty stitch sampler or something smaller with not a lot of solid stitching, in between the regular projects. Lizzie*Kate and Bent Creek are perfect for smaller, instant gratification type pieces. Often times I will get really bored with what I have going and can find nothing in my stash to pacify me, so I'll run to HL and see what they have, or else do something else entirely. It's not unusual for me to just want to read during late spring and early summer. So I guess I don't really "stitch with the seasons," but stitch whatever appeals to me most at the moment.
I think I'll get started on my model stitching. At least today someone thinks I'm useful.
And I didn't even have to do an interview!
It seems that I'm not as qualified to teach for Upward Bound as some of the other applicants. That's ok, since I'll be getting a license to teach public school soon. That's why they didn't hire me, because there were several licensed teachers who applied. I still feel a little worthless though, because I know I'm a great teacher.
But the day isn't a total bummer, because I got my next model stitching project for Stoney Creek! It's three really cute bookmarks. I should be able to get those done in no time, because they're mostly words with a few little designs on them.
Today is Wednesday, so that means the stitching question of the week, courtesy of the Blonde Librarian:
Do you "stitch with the seasons?" (This could be reflected by the colors that you stitch with, the themes that you choose, or even that during your favorite season you stitch more (or less) than in others.)
I think it really depends on the mood I'm in. I do generally stitch nothing but ornaments towards Christmas, and a favorite subject is snowmen all year round. Then there's my favorite designer, Teresa Wentzler, whose designs I have plenty started. I work on those year round too. I do like to stitch *lighter* things during Spring and Summer. These aren't necessarily Spring and Summer themed or colored, but maybe a specialty stitch sampler or something smaller with not a lot of solid stitching, in between the regular projects. Lizzie*Kate and Bent Creek are perfect for smaller, instant gratification type pieces. Often times I will get really bored with what I have going and can find nothing in my stash to pacify me, so I'll run to HL and see what they have, or else do something else entirely. It's not unusual for me to just want to read during late spring and early summer. So I guess I don't really "stitch with the seasons," but stitch whatever appeals to me most at the moment.
I think I'll get started on my model stitching. At least today someone thinks I'm useful.
And I didn't even have to do an interview!
4.11.2005
It's amazing, the things people do...
when they think no one is looking.
Most of us spend a lot of time in our cars, whether it's going to pick up the kids, run errands, drive to work, or do any of the millions of activities we have to take care of away from home. And a lot of that time is spent sitting at stoplights. I'm amazed at the amount of stoplights we have in our little town, and the fact that they are so slow. The average stop light in our town lasts about 4 minutes. That's a lot of time to spend sitting, so I have a tendency to watch people in other cars.
Yesterday I observed the following:
1. A young man (older than teens but younger than 30) sitting in a nice pickup. Said young man is waving his arms and flopping his head back and forth. I became quite worried for the young man and thought he may have been either a) having a seizure, or b) being attacked by a swarm of killer bees (after all, it has been warm enough to have the windows down). As I ponder as to whether or not I should dial 911, I realize that the young man is listening to the same radio station as I am (we have maybe 3 stations that aren't talk radio or religious discussion, and 2 of the 3 are country). It becomes apparent to me that this young man is heading for American Idol auditions next year. What would be Simon's retort to this young man's seizure-like stage presence. Hideous, maybe?
2. A young couple in a white Grand Am GT is sitting right next to me. The passenger, a young woman, is looking very Annette Funicello-ish in her bouncy pony tail. Said pony tail is tied up with a white ribbon. Upon closer evaluation I notice that she is also wearing a white sleeveless blouse, white sunglasses, and has a French manicure (seen as she holds her hand up to make a point to the driver). When did it become trendy to use your car as a matching fashion accessory? Does she only wear white? Or does she have other cars to match with her wardrobe? And Mom thought I was obsessive about matching my socks with my shirt.
3. Oh look, there's a matching white Grand Am GT sitting right next to the first one. No wait, not quite, as the second one has 4 doors and the first only has 2. Second Grand Am driver is revving his engine and *scootching*, obviously trying to entice first Grand Am driver into a battle of the Grand Ams. Apparently, it doesn't work. Does he only do battle with white Grand Am GT's? Maybe he should widen his arena of possible duel contestants.
4. An older man, again in a pickup, though not as nice as "Seizure-boy from New Mexico American Idol contestant 2006." Said man is very impressed with his reflection in the rear view mirror, as I notice he spends quite a bit of time staring at himself and making faces. He has just brought something up from his lap. I think it's a...no, it can't be! Yes, it is! It's an electric nose-hair trimmer. He's trimming his nose hairs in the privacy of his own vehicle on the busiest street in our town. Egad, what would his wife/significant other think about that? Nevermind, she's in the passenger seat.
5. There were also various people doing various things, such as a) putting on makeup, b) reading the newspaper or a book, c) arguing with another person in the vehicle, d) arguing with the radio, e) eating large, sloppy hamburgers, f) smoking, mostly cigarettes, or g) picking at various body parts, including, but not limited to, ears, noses, eyes, teeth, and something below the window line.
All of these fascinating people beg the question: Is everyone late for whatever activity that they may be heading for that they can't spend an extra 10 minutes in the bathroom? When did it become acceptable to move all of these activities to the city streets? Do they think that they are invisible in their vehicles? Don't they realize that, yes, other people can see them? Please people, I beg of you! Do your private business in the privacy of your own home/bedroom/bathroom/kitchen/den/etc. I have no more creative answers for Alyssa as to why you are flossing in your car. Have mercy on the poor drivers who are just trying to get somewhere.
On the stitching side of things, I have become disgusted with Tigers, and once again realize why I stopped loving it. The kit floss sucks. Really sucks. It shreads and most of the time breaks. I hate it. It gets in my eyes and in my mouth and sticks to the cat. Why can't all kit floss be like the lovely kit (Mickey Mouse Through the Years) I got from England? It's a great quality, not fuzzy, doesn't break, and is quite smooth to stitch with. Now I know why many stitchers swap out kit floss. And Tigers has once again gone into the "I hate you" pile.
I'm such a snob.
Most of us spend a lot of time in our cars, whether it's going to pick up the kids, run errands, drive to work, or do any of the millions of activities we have to take care of away from home. And a lot of that time is spent sitting at stoplights. I'm amazed at the amount of stoplights we have in our little town, and the fact that they are so slow. The average stop light in our town lasts about 4 minutes. That's a lot of time to spend sitting, so I have a tendency to watch people in other cars.
Yesterday I observed the following:
1. A young man (older than teens but younger than 30) sitting in a nice pickup. Said young man is waving his arms and flopping his head back and forth. I became quite worried for the young man and thought he may have been either a) having a seizure, or b) being attacked by a swarm of killer bees (after all, it has been warm enough to have the windows down). As I ponder as to whether or not I should dial 911, I realize that the young man is listening to the same radio station as I am (we have maybe 3 stations that aren't talk radio or religious discussion, and 2 of the 3 are country). It becomes apparent to me that this young man is heading for American Idol auditions next year. What would be Simon's retort to this young man's seizure-like stage presence. Hideous, maybe?
2. A young couple in a white Grand Am GT is sitting right next to me. The passenger, a young woman, is looking very Annette Funicello-ish in her bouncy pony tail. Said pony tail is tied up with a white ribbon. Upon closer evaluation I notice that she is also wearing a white sleeveless blouse, white sunglasses, and has a French manicure (seen as she holds her hand up to make a point to the driver). When did it become trendy to use your car as a matching fashion accessory? Does she only wear white? Or does she have other cars to match with her wardrobe? And Mom thought I was obsessive about matching my socks with my shirt.
3. Oh look, there's a matching white Grand Am GT sitting right next to the first one. No wait, not quite, as the second one has 4 doors and the first only has 2. Second Grand Am driver is revving his engine and *scootching*, obviously trying to entice first Grand Am driver into a battle of the Grand Ams. Apparently, it doesn't work. Does he only do battle with white Grand Am GT's? Maybe he should widen his arena of possible duel contestants.
4. An older man, again in a pickup, though not as nice as "Seizure-boy from New Mexico American Idol contestant 2006." Said man is very impressed with his reflection in the rear view mirror, as I notice he spends quite a bit of time staring at himself and making faces. He has just brought something up from his lap. I think it's a...no, it can't be! Yes, it is! It's an electric nose-hair trimmer. He's trimming his nose hairs in the privacy of his own vehicle on the busiest street in our town. Egad, what would his wife/significant other think about that? Nevermind, she's in the passenger seat.
5. There were also various people doing various things, such as a) putting on makeup, b) reading the newspaper or a book, c) arguing with another person in the vehicle, d) arguing with the radio, e) eating large, sloppy hamburgers, f) smoking, mostly cigarettes, or g) picking at various body parts, including, but not limited to, ears, noses, eyes, teeth, and something below the window line.
All of these fascinating people beg the question: Is everyone late for whatever activity that they may be heading for that they can't spend an extra 10 minutes in the bathroom? When did it become acceptable to move all of these activities to the city streets? Do they think that they are invisible in their vehicles? Don't they realize that, yes, other people can see them? Please people, I beg of you! Do your private business in the privacy of your own home/bedroom/bathroom/kitchen/den/etc. I have no more creative answers for Alyssa as to why you are flossing in your car. Have mercy on the poor drivers who are just trying to get somewhere.
On the stitching side of things, I have become disgusted with Tigers, and once again realize why I stopped loving it. The kit floss sucks. Really sucks. It shreads and most of the time breaks. I hate it. It gets in my eyes and in my mouth and sticks to the cat. Why can't all kit floss be like the lovely kit (Mickey Mouse Through the Years) I got from England? It's a great quality, not fuzzy, doesn't break, and is quite smooth to stitch with. Now I know why many stitchers swap out kit floss. And Tigers has once again gone into the "I hate you" pile.
I'm such a snob.
4.08.2005
It's the little things in life...
that affect us in the biggest ways.
I really did have a nice birthday this year. I got a HL gift card to go spend on whatever crafting goodies I want! Yah me! I also got a card from my girls that had $75 AUS in it, just so I can order a subscription to my favorite magazine, which does cost $12.95 an issue here in the states. But the problem is that I have to drive at least 100 miles each way just to get a copy.
I also got a dining room table. Yep, a table. I don't know of anyone else who gets furniture on the holidays, but I always do. We have had a card table in the kitchen since we bought our house a year ago, only because I couldn't find the *perfect* table. It's mission style, just like most of the furniture we have. I like this style because it's very simple, and I'm a simple but elegant kind of girl. Justin is so sweet! He gets me things that I don't really know I want, but they end up being perfect.
I have a lot of issues going through my mind lately: like why do we have to live in such a windy place? How am I going to go back to school when my parents are moving to North Carolina? Why is Britney Spears getting so fat? and ugly? and why has she quit bathing?
The town I live in is only 100 miles from one of the two most windy cities in America...Amarillo, Texas. I can't remember what the other one was, but I don't think it was Chicago. Anyway, here we live in the high plains, where the wind blows at 50 mph on a good day and 75 on others. Forget curling your hair. Forget even combing it before leaving for work. It's inevitable that it will look like something a family of birds has nested in on any given day. And if you have allergies, just don't even look at moving here. Every day you will look like someone popped you in the eye. The sniffling, sneezing, watery eyes, scratchy throat, and bubbly nose make every citizen in this place look like a walking allergy commercial. Spring is here, and I feel like my sinuses are being used as the fourth ring for Barnum and Bailey. I think it would probably feel better to use my hand for target practice out at the police academy. Maybe when I finish school next year we can follow my parents out to Greensboro.
I haven't heard from Upward Bound yet. Nothing like a job interview to remind you of how little you know about anything.
I realized this week that age is just a number. It wasn't as bad as I thought to turn 35. It doesn't seem much different than 34.
Maybe I just don't like odd numbers.
I really did have a nice birthday this year. I got a HL gift card to go spend on whatever crafting goodies I want! Yah me! I also got a card from my girls that had $75 AUS in it, just so I can order a subscription to my favorite magazine, which does cost $12.95 an issue here in the states. But the problem is that I have to drive at least 100 miles each way just to get a copy.
I also got a dining room table. Yep, a table. I don't know of anyone else who gets furniture on the holidays, but I always do. We have had a card table in the kitchen since we bought our house a year ago, only because I couldn't find the *perfect* table. It's mission style, just like most of the furniture we have. I like this style because it's very simple, and I'm a simple but elegant kind of girl. Justin is so sweet! He gets me things that I don't really know I want, but they end up being perfect.
I have a lot of issues going through my mind lately: like why do we have to live in such a windy place? How am I going to go back to school when my parents are moving to North Carolina? Why is Britney Spears getting so fat? and ugly? and why has she quit bathing?
The town I live in is only 100 miles from one of the two most windy cities in America...Amarillo, Texas. I can't remember what the other one was, but I don't think it was Chicago. Anyway, here we live in the high plains, where the wind blows at 50 mph on a good day and 75 on others. Forget curling your hair. Forget even combing it before leaving for work. It's inevitable that it will look like something a family of birds has nested in on any given day. And if you have allergies, just don't even look at moving here. Every day you will look like someone popped you in the eye. The sniffling, sneezing, watery eyes, scratchy throat, and bubbly nose make every citizen in this place look like a walking allergy commercial. Spring is here, and I feel like my sinuses are being used as the fourth ring for Barnum and Bailey. I think it would probably feel better to use my hand for target practice out at the police academy. Maybe when I finish school next year we can follow my parents out to Greensboro.
I haven't heard from Upward Bound yet. Nothing like a job interview to remind you of how little you know about anything.
I realized this week that age is just a number. It wasn't as bad as I thought to turn 35. It doesn't seem much different than 34.
Maybe I just don't like odd numbers.
4.05.2005
Does being a year older...
really make me a year wiser?
35. Today. Today I'm 35. Wow. I don't look 35. I don't feel 35, but sometimes I feel about 70. When I was a teenager I thought 30 was really, really old. I'm not sure how I feel about turning 35, although I am dressed in all black for work.
I haven't gotten anything yet today, since it's still early. But we did go out to dinner last night with our closest friends. Our normal "birthday thing" at the local K-Bobs. We go 4 times a year, just for birthdays. Justin did tell me he got me the Australian funds to get a subscription to my favorite magazine, "Cross Stitch and Beading." It's about $12.95 an issue here in the US, and the subscription is about $75 AUS. Expensive, but well worth the funds. It covers both of my obsessions in one fell swoop, so who can pass that up? I know he and the girls have something planned to give me later, but they won't tell me what.
Mom and Dad have been slowly giving me things for the last couple of months. Mostly ordering beads and things I need to get my business up and running. I've made a few gorgeous necklaces, bracelets and earrings out of semi-precious stones and Swarovski crystals and pearls (another one of my obsessions). I also got a bead designing software cd and a cross stitch designing cd for designing patterns. They are really cool! I have had fun playing around with them and learning what they can do. I think they are a must to have if I want to make the most of a jewlery/cross stitch business. Now I just need to get a license and a website, but I'm really not sure what to call it yet.
I got stash in the mail yesterday too! Stash always makes the day better. I got the Stitcher's Pocket Inventory online from Lazy Daisy in Raleigh. It is about 220 pages of checklists for different flosses and fibers. The biggies are the Rainbow Gallery families and the Caron families. I think it's one of the best stitching invention ever, besides the multi-needle holder. Ingenious! I really recommend them to any serious stitcher. I think I'll add a new section to my blog today...Recommended tools.
I have a job interview today for Upward Bound. I don't know why it had to be scheduled on my birthday, but that's the soonest it could be done.
Nothing like having an evaluation on your birthday...I don't think my grey hairs are showing.
35. Today. Today I'm 35. Wow. I don't look 35. I don't feel 35, but sometimes I feel about 70. When I was a teenager I thought 30 was really, really old. I'm not sure how I feel about turning 35, although I am dressed in all black for work.
I haven't gotten anything yet today, since it's still early. But we did go out to dinner last night with our closest friends. Our normal "birthday thing" at the local K-Bobs. We go 4 times a year, just for birthdays. Justin did tell me he got me the Australian funds to get a subscription to my favorite magazine, "Cross Stitch and Beading." It's about $12.95 an issue here in the US, and the subscription is about $75 AUS. Expensive, but well worth the funds. It covers both of my obsessions in one fell swoop, so who can pass that up? I know he and the girls have something planned to give me later, but they won't tell me what.
Mom and Dad have been slowly giving me things for the last couple of months. Mostly ordering beads and things I need to get my business up and running. I've made a few gorgeous necklaces, bracelets and earrings out of semi-precious stones and Swarovski crystals and pearls (another one of my obsessions). I also got a bead designing software cd and a cross stitch designing cd for designing patterns. They are really cool! I have had fun playing around with them and learning what they can do. I think they are a must to have if I want to make the most of a jewlery/cross stitch business. Now I just need to get a license and a website, but I'm really not sure what to call it yet.
I got stash in the mail yesterday too! Stash always makes the day better. I got the Stitcher's Pocket Inventory online from Lazy Daisy in Raleigh. It is about 220 pages of checklists for different flosses and fibers. The biggies are the Rainbow Gallery families and the Caron families. I think it's one of the best stitching invention ever, besides the multi-needle holder. Ingenious! I really recommend them to any serious stitcher. I think I'll add a new section to my blog today...Recommended tools.
I have a job interview today for Upward Bound. I don't know why it had to be scheduled on my birthday, but that's the soonest it could be done.
Nothing like having an evaluation on your birthday...I don't think my grey hairs are showing.
4.01.2005
I hate winter...
but I love snowmen! Go figure.
Wow. I feel like crap. And not just any crap. Crap that has been stuck to the bottom of some poor unknowing person's shoe and has been tracked all over hell and back.
It started Tuesday at work. My eyes started feeling itchy and began to swell. By the time I got back home at 3 pm they were nearly swollen shut and my body ached all over. As far as I know, I haven't done any amateur wrestling in the recent past. Maybe I got jumped and had my ass kicked, or Justin accidentally backed over me in his truck. Likely not. But that is exactly what I felt like. And still feel like. Achy. Cruddy. Snotty. Did I mention achy? I had to cancel class yesterday, but the secretary wasn't in the office all day so she didn't get my message to leave a note on the door. So of course my kids called asking if I was coming to class. I'm sure they missed me.
On the upside, I did get to spend the whole day with Aislin. We watched The Wiggles every 1 1/2 hours from 5 am to about 1 pm. I also got to stitch a little. I pulled out a UFO (Peaceful Stream--see my stitching links off to the right) and worked on that. Even though I can't see very well (nothing seems to make my eyes feel better) it's a pretty easy stitch. Especially since most of it is only half stitches, which gives it a very surreal look. I don't really know why this became a UFO, when it doesn't have any fractionals, very little backstitching, and everything but the house and bird are in half stitches. Plus I really enjoy the color palette.
I have an interview with Upward Bound on Tuesday (which happens to be my 35th birthday) to teach a summer class. We'll see how that goes. But as for this weekend, hopefully I can grade papers. I think I have senioritis.
And I'm not even close to being a senior.
Wow. I feel like crap. And not just any crap. Crap that has been stuck to the bottom of some poor unknowing person's shoe and has been tracked all over hell and back.
It started Tuesday at work. My eyes started feeling itchy and began to swell. By the time I got back home at 3 pm they were nearly swollen shut and my body ached all over. As far as I know, I haven't done any amateur wrestling in the recent past. Maybe I got jumped and had my ass kicked, or Justin accidentally backed over me in his truck. Likely not. But that is exactly what I felt like. And still feel like. Achy. Cruddy. Snotty. Did I mention achy? I had to cancel class yesterday, but the secretary wasn't in the office all day so she didn't get my message to leave a note on the door. So of course my kids called asking if I was coming to class. I'm sure they missed me.
On the upside, I did get to spend the whole day with Aislin. We watched The Wiggles every 1 1/2 hours from 5 am to about 1 pm. I also got to stitch a little. I pulled out a UFO (Peaceful Stream--see my stitching links off to the right) and worked on that. Even though I can't see very well (nothing seems to make my eyes feel better) it's a pretty easy stitch. Especially since most of it is only half stitches, which gives it a very surreal look. I don't really know why this became a UFO, when it doesn't have any fractionals, very little backstitching, and everything but the house and bird are in half stitches. Plus I really enjoy the color palette.
I have an interview with Upward Bound on Tuesday (which happens to be my 35th birthday) to teach a summer class. We'll see how that goes. But as for this weekend, hopefully I can grade papers. I think I have senioritis.
And I'm not even close to being a senior.
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