Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Time for a change. Scary change.

I am a creature of habit. It took me two years to change my coffee-and-wine-stained keyboard, FFS, even though I had to train myself to only use the right shift-key.

I have things that I like, and I don't want to stop using them, in other words.

But, it's time to say good-bye to a dear old friend. I bought this Altoids tin in a disgusting gas station somewhere between Las Vegas and Laughlin. I don't even really like Altoids, but I saw it at the counter, and thought, "that would be great for knitting notions!"

And that was back in the day, before I was loud and proud with my knitting. I only knit at home. Alone.

And, it has been great. It's held my mini-scissors, two darning needles (one of which I've had for 15 years, isn't that a record!) many, many stitch markers and point protectors.

That dear tin has been a very good friend.

But lately, I've been stuffing it so full that the lid is popping off the hinges, and no matter how much I try, the lid keeps popping out.

So, seeing the future, I stopped in at Sugar Mountain, on my way to seeing a Fringe play, and looked for a souvenir. I don't buy "merchandise", but wanted a memento.

I bought a minty tin:We will be very good friends. And every time I look for my darning needle or a stitch marker, I will be reminded of Bloodless: The Trial of Burke and Hare, by White Rabbit Productions.

New notions tin, I hope we have a long and happy life together.

The same cannot be said for the new keyboard. I am unimpressed with the size of the backspace key (which is employed frequently).

Saturday, February 13, 2010

I don't know what's gotten into me

but I love it.

This morning, I got busy and cleaned out the closet in my office. It's behind the door, so it's annoying to get to. Therefore, it holds purses, shoes and other random junk that is used too frequently to live downstairs.



If this trend continues, maybe I will finish removing the wallpaper and actually paint this office. It's only been 3 1/2 years

Thursday, February 11, 2010

A shift in domestic relations

So, Edgar.

He's been here for eight months now. I ran into Brucie a few weeks ago, and informed him that Edgar is mine now.

Brucie grudgingly agreed.

Edgar still spends most of his time in the basement. He no longer hides out in the crawlspace, but is instead curled up on a box of empty wine bottles (and I stuck a blanket on top of the box, because I felt sorry for the poor fellow).

Occasionally, he comes up of his own volition, but I also go down and bring him upstairs.

I had a brutal week last week, so I bailed on most of my plans for this week. Therefore, Edgar has been spending lots of time upstairs. He sits on my desk, while I surf Ravelry and knit. He even curls up on the scanner and snoozes sometimes.

The routine has been that I go to bed, and shortly thereafter, Parker chases him downstairs. It's not pleasant.

Tonight was different. It is Thursday, which is usually date night (meaning that Mustache Man makes me dinner, at his place, and we have a co-ed sleepover) but he has other stuff going on, and I am exhausted. So, I am at home, watching my stories and knitting. Edgar and I were sitting on the sofa watching Grey's Anatomy. Parker was on the other loveseat, sending the two of us dirty looks.

I got up to go to wring out some hand-washing after the program, and then sat down here at the computer.

I heard a scrap, and thought for sure that Edgar was being chased to the basement.

Nope. He was still in the living room, and Parker had scattered.

And just now, Edgar pranced out of the living room and waltzed to the back door to be let out. Parker moped after him.

It's about time Edgar gave as good as he got!

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Mini B turned 4 today.

Where does the time go? I am very ashamed to say this, but it seems like just yesterday, when I met my dad for dinner, on the day of your birth and said "Hello, Grandpa!"

And Papa Barry, as he is now known to you, stood up a little straighter, and well, preened. Just like the rest of us, Mini, he'd been waiting for you.

Mini B, you are an engaging, fun, busy girl. You like tractors, you like princesses, you like changing your clothes, you like playing the drums. You are a girl with a strong personality, and I hope you don't lose that (though I am sure your parents wish you would tone it down a little).

I just spent the better part of 24 hours in your home, and for the record, I'm going to quickly record some of our interactions. If I am lucky, I will share these at some future event:

"Hi Auntie Mister!"

"Mini B, that's Auntie Misstea."

"Hi Auntie Mister!"

I couldn't correct you. Your Uncle J called me "Mister" for a good two years.

At four, your favourite word still appears to be "no." This is amusing, because your parents, before you could even speak, decided that "stop" and "danger" would be the words they would use to rebuke you. Their logic was that those two words were too hard for you to say, and therefore you would not throw those words back at them.

Well, I think that was wishful thinking. You know "no", and employ it frequently. Good job, kid.

However, you are a shouter. When you want something, you holler. It's a sound that doesn't even have syllables. It's just nasty.

When you wanted to get over the baby gate last night, you made that nasty sound. I happened to be closest.

So, I took the bull by the horns, and said, "Well, I'm not your parent, but where I come from, Mini B, that's really rude, and we don't speak to people that way."

You looked at me for a moment, thought about it, and then bellowed "Open!"

And, I looked at you, and said, "That's better, but that's still not what I am looking for."

And in the background, your parents were coaching you, "say please, Mini B", "remember your manners!" I have a feeling that Granny was laughing her ass off around the corner.

You stood up even straighter. Squared your shoulders. And said, with a ever-suffering voice, "Please, open!"

So, I opened the gate. And you flounced through and went on your merry way.

It was hysterically funny. Don't ever lose that expectation that doors will open for you. If you use your manners (and trust me, it works).

You were surprised to see me the following morning, because I left before you went to bed. We (your parents and I) neglected to inform you that we were having a sleep-over. A sleep-over with a bonus guest You were a little bit stand-offish with my friend for a few momehts, but it didn't take you very long to get all bossy, telling her where to sit, before she even had a cup of coffee. You are very lucky that Mamayaga loves kids, and liked playing along with you.

All in all, it was a lovely morning. However, you need some boundaries, girl.

I went downstairs to have a bit of a wash and get out of my jammies. I grabbed my stuff, and headed into the downstairs bathroom. Since the basement is basically your playroom, I didn't think I needed to pay attention to you. Until you opened the bathroom door. Thankfully, I was brushing my teeth.

You just wanted to talk, and that was awesome, because that's the kind of relationship I hope to have with you, but still, not knocking. Not cool. So, given that information, you closed the door, and I continued on with my ablutions. You knocked about a nanosecond later. I said, "open!"

I was going for broke. I had no idea how your parents felt about nudity, but, you knocked. Right when I was about to change my shirt.

I whipped off my t-shirt that I wear at night, and you said, "you've got boobies!"

And yes, it deserves bold, because at that exact moment, your father, my little brother, was hollering "it is ok for me to come in?"

I said yes, well, to both questions. In retrospect. I've never put my clothes on so fast in my life. OK, that's an exaggeration, but Mini B, you are not going get the details about that other situation for a very long time. If ever.

But anyways, you simply didn't care that your Auntie's boobies were hanging out and your daddy was in the same space (it's a very large basement, with lots of walls, for those who are playing along).

You are a smart, strong, confident girl. The things that drive your care-givers crazy right now are things that will make you an amazing woman. Go forth and be yourself Mini B.

And I will laugh myself silly. Because you are exactly like your father was when he was your age. I love the both of you to bits.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Sometimes, a girl has to remember her roots

I'm on a Corb Lund kick tonight, and this song... well, it's about more than horses.

Hmm. Mustache Man loves horses, but I don't think he would get the nuances of this song. I think we could have an amazing discussion about this. And, anything would be a relief from the Barry White Greatest Hits I gave him for Giftmas. I am sooo sick of that album.