Not the alpha dog

Since Nate started his job this week, I've been fending for myself for a few days, and I'll be alone all next week too, drowning in a sea of boxes. For those of you who have my number, feel free to prank call me for laughs. I am bored and must be entertained.

While I would normally relish the alone time, I'm shocked at how quiet the apartment can be even with me and 5 animals in it. I've had lots of time to look around, do some thinking, knit some little things, watch tv, and do the occasional bit of packing. I average about two boxes before I say to myself, "whew! there, I packed today" and call it quits.

Some things I've discovered about myself are a little shocking too. Like my complete inability to feed myself. Since I have such an awesome cook around all the time, I usually get a nice dinner made for me. When left to my own devices I rely on frozen waffles, atomic fireballs, and beer. When did this happen to me? I used to call myself independent! I needed no man to feed me!
Now I can't even bother to open a lousy can of soup? What the hell is going on? Either extreme laziness or a ridiculous level of "spoiled absolutely rotten".

And also, my dog is no longer my own. He was a birthday gift from my ex-husband before we got married (never a good idea, by the way. dogs as gifts. just don't.) and I have always been the alpha dog because I trained him and took care of him, and well, because I was cool like that.

But somehow, the power has shifted. Nate is now the alpha dog. And in his absence, I can't even get the damn dog to sit so I can put his leash on him. "Hello! McFly! I am the mom here, I am the alpha dog, and you will do what I say!" And what do I get in response? A woof and a spin and a lot of tail wagging. My appreciation for his cute puppy dog attitude is waning. Now I'm just the one he runs to when the vacuum cleaner comes out. Or it's thundering outside. Or when Nate says the dread "B" word (bath!). Stupid dog.

I have plans for him though. Next week will be doggie boot camp, led by yours truly. No more messing around. No more treats. Just good old fashioned retraining. And a lot of "I am the boss of you, now go lay down and junk".

Also, for those of you interested, it was 100 degrees today with 70% humidity. I may never go outside again.

Packing sucks

I love how moving has a way of forcing you to go through your junk, sorting the good from the bad and throwing stuff away, while treasuring and embracing things you'd forgotten since the last time you shoved it semi-ceremoniously into a box.

I'm probably a pack rat to a certain degree, as in I still have all my yearbooks and silly awards from high school, but I also love minimalism and a distinct lack of clutter in my life. The hub's love of technology, however, lends itself to certain amount of 'stuff', but we're working through all that. Sort of.

Items disposed of (donated or trashed):

7 - very large bags of clothing, his and mine, but mostly mine (and I haven't gone through my sweaters yet)

3 - boxes of junk still packed from when we moved here 2 years ago (and probably several more to come)

2 - boxes of VCR tapes (blasphemy!)

2 - vacuum cleaners (we bought a Dyson, don't get me started on how much it ROCKS)

18 - photos of four different exboyfriends (like I'd forget what the jerks looked like, I damn sure don't need photos as reminders)

a gazillion - used pens, old notebooks, random scribbled on papers

6 - boxes of fabric I collected for god knows what reason (found a group of ladies who quilt for charity, yay!)



My dilemma is this: what do I do with things like wedding and honeymoon pictures from my first marriage?

When we moved here, I just packed them up and figured I'd deal with them later. Well, I still haven't dealt with them. I can't just throw them out like that part of my life didn't happen. But they're not relevant anymore either. I tried to pawn them off on him when we split but he wasn't having it. Should I just keep some of the ones that are important to me? What if they're all important to me in some way? And what about the pictures of Hawaii? Those are entirely too beautiful to meet the trash compactor.

This one of me and my dad is one of my all-time favorite photos, even if it is from my first wedding.

It goes in the 'keep' pile.


Thoughts on the rest? Start a bonfire? Let them rest in peace (or pieces)?

Interlude

For my musically inclined friends, Jack White of the White Stripes has a "side project" with some of his buddies called The Raconteurs, and they are taking up permanent residence in my CD changer. Very retro indy type rock. Me likie.

But Jack White could scream nursery rhymes and wallow in the mud dressed like a psycho clown from outer space (ha) or Dani Filth, who might just *maybe* have some issues (but i LOVE Nymphetamine...watch the volume dahlings), and I would still be all full of smit for him.

Running, and a Tunic

I am so in love with my new purchases, I can barely stand to take them off. I'd sleep in them if they didn't get sweaty and gross.

I got this from Athleta, in charcoal, yum, and I feel there are many more running skort thingies like it to come. I'm also lusting over this for the summer. Bring on the cute tank tops and flops. And someone make me a margarita.

I also snagged this (sooooo in love. and it has a super secret pocket inside for my spygirl needs.), this and this (omg a pocket for my inhaler! and it's orange! not normally a color i'd chose, but i have so. much. blue. and also pink.) from Title Nine. My new favorite place to shop, other than Amazon.

Karen will be dragging me to run very often as soon we return to Mecca, er, I mean Athens. I've missed running the campus track, the campus hills (my lungs don't miss those), and through downtown. Five Points is an awesome place to pound the sidewalk, but I prefer to avoid the sorority girls whenever possible. Yes, that is semi-hypocritical since I used to be one, but that just means I know what goes through their heads, and I rarely choose to subject myself to it.

***************************************

Prairie Tunic is finished.



But why is it not on my body, you ask? I love it, really I do. But the pattern is flawed. If I had made the size smaller, I would probably be swooning over it and refuse to take it off. However, I made the correct size for me, and since the pattern has *NO* shaping for the waist or bust, I look like a big slouchy box. Some surgery is forthcoming. I will probably sew new side seams and create shaping then cut (gasp!) the original seams, eliminating about 2 extra inches on both sides.

If I had been smart, I would have added shaping myself while knitting this up, because I could read the pattern and see clearly that there was no shaping. But I need some practice with making adjustments to patterns, and frankly, I wasn't ready to start screwing it up, because the top was coming along so well. Why take a swing at my knitting karma?

Yes my gauge was right (shush Denise), and I blocked to the stated proportions in the pattern. This particular pattern just needs some love and shaping. It looks just fine with some jeans and cute flops, but if I wanted to dress it up (and I do, because damn it's cute) then it needs shaping.

Oh, there's also a pattern correction for the front triangle shaping here on IK's site. For the record, I used the recommended yarn, Jaeger Sienna in Blush, and US3 Addi Turbos (knit back and forth, obviously).

I've already cast on for the Honeymoon Cami as my second cute top for the summer. Cami and I have a history, you know. I chose this project as my first attempt at knitting a garment, and to say that I wasn't fully aware of the importance of gauge at the time is a grave understatement. Let's say tactfully, that the sucker was way too big. Much to my dismay. But, I'm not one to let a little knitting pattern kick my ass, so I'm knitting it again. This time as a much wiser knitter. I hope.

Small Town Georgia (really really small)

Welcome to Jacksonville, Georgia. Population 118. Most of it being my family, in some incarnation or other.

Don't ask. It's scandalous.

This town is the site of our annual Family Reunion, which always occurs the Saturday before Mother's Day. No invite necessary or sent, just show up and bring food, sweet tea and pie. Ya'll know.

This is the one and only red light. Also the center of "town". Did you blink? Oops you missed it. There's a church, a building that used to be the general store, an old gas station, and an old auto shop. Only the church is still in use. I have no idea where these people get their groceries.


This is where the magic happens though. My great-grandmother's house, built in 1936 by my great-grandfather. Apparently it has "architectural significance" because of the double front doors, so some company is tearing down the houses around it (and salvaging this house) to build a bypass. Like bypassing Jacksonville is of vital importance. Seriously, just blink. There, you bypassed.


It's so old school, it even has a well. Or what used to be a well, anyway. We were always warned as little kids to steer clear of the well, lest you fall in and die. I still don't go near it, just in case.


And also a smokehouse. There used to be an outhouse, but they tore that down when plumbing arrived to the big city.


The interior is really cool too. It's never been remodeled except to add a bathroom, so everything else is original. Like these "locks".


And these screened cabinets.


And this antique Singer sewing machine, though, not part of the 'architecture'. Still, a collector's dream.


My great aunt Hazel said "hey, ya'll". She really did.



My grandmother *hates* having her picture taken. She wanted to make sure you guys knew that. If you ever wondered where my attitude, semi-psychotic energy, and insane need to call everyone on their shit comes from, consider yourself introduced to Grandma.


I took far more pictures of town and the house than I did family. But we had a great time. Lots of little ones running around. I'm pretty sure I'm the only female from my generation without kids. And that's ok. My great aunt Gertrude (she's 82) asked me if I had kids yet, and I of course replied "um...no". She said, "good, they're a pain in the ass".

I love her.

How Soon is Now?

One of my most favorite scenes from Spaceballs:

Dark Helmet: What the hell am I looking at?! When does this happen in the movie?!
Col. Sandurz: Now! You're looking at "now," sir. Everything that happens now is happening "now."
Dark Helmet: What happened to "then?"
Col. Sandurz: We passed it.
Dark Helmet: When?
Col. Sandurz: Just now. We're at now "now."
Dark Helmet: Go back to "then."
Col. Sandurz: When?
Dark Helmet: Now.
Col. Sandurz: Now?!
Dark Helmet: Now!
Col. Sandurz: I can't.
Dark Helmet: Why?
Col. Sandurz: We missed it.
Dark Helmet: When?
Col. Sandurz: Just now.
Dark Helmet: When will "then" be "now?"
Col. Sandurz: Soon.

And how soon is now?

Um...soonish. Nate starts his job in two weeks, I start mine in four. With us being five hours apart for those last two weeks, moving should be an entertaining venture. We have my family reunion on Saturday (bring on the fried chicken and pie, ya'll), leaving only Sunday to pack for this weekend. And I sadly had to say "I wish I could, but now I can't" to the 48 Hour Film Project for next weekend. I need to be organizing, packing, and throwing out junk instead of acting. I know, I know, what a lame excuse.

Good news is that our apartment will be ready for Nate to crash in when he needs it. And the apartment could be furnished if we want, so we may just throw most of our stuff in a storage unit until we buy a house (which will now be very soon. well, within 6 months or so). So things are a go, though I can't give a definitive date for moving. Let's say, between now and then, mkay?

As long as the hell that ensued as we tried to leave Athens two years ago does not rear its vicious head, I will take it all in stride and with very big smiles. If, however, I am stuck on the side of the road, one mile outside of town, with a full U-Haul (the second truck to break down on us. never again U-Haul. never) and my step-dad on the hottest day of the year for TWELVE hours as we wait for the repair guy to get there, and the fix the damned thing...well, let's just say ya'll will hear about it. Very loudly. That was the longest, most awful day of my life. I hope to never repeat it.

Mole Update: Benign. All is well minus the rectangular gaping wound that replaces the cute mole.

Hair Update: My adventures into the dark world that is Loreal has proven very interesting. I search my scalp, and find grays reappearing, but not even a hint of color. Black is my natural hair color. Blue black to be exact. I am shocked. And perplexed. Have I really been coloring my hair for so long that I no longer know what my true hair color is until NOW?!? Think I'll call my mom and ask this seemingly ridiculous question.

Event Horizon

And just like that, my world changes.

This past week has been a whirlwind of phone calls, stress, coughing, and knitting.

Nate had two phone interviews, both with the same company. The job is perfect for him and he's very excited about the possibility of getting it. He's amazing at what he does and they'd be lucky to have him. And stupid not to hire him. Very, very stupid.

My boss and friend from my previous job called and asked me if I'd be interested in resuming my position in Athens. I called her back the next day and accepted. (Insert big fucking WOOT right here. Ahem. YAY!) We. Are. Moving.

The lovely Stacy called on Thursday (in tears, oy) to say she had taken two pregnancy tests. Both are positive. She then demanded that I get pregnant immediately so she doesn't have to do it alone. Um...I can think of a few reasons to have kids (not the least of which is to have someone to brainwash into helping me take over the world, but I digress), but that one is NOT on the list. Though we did agree to be obnoxious moms together, so maybe I'll catch her next time. But being the Supergirl of Doom means my kids will have super powers also. Do I really want to unleash that sort of hell onto the planet? I must think of mankind.

So, I'm doing all sorts of job mojo dances in my occassional bouts of wellness. I usually stop when the asthma kicks in. Turns out "Melanie, Supergirl of Doom" has mortal weaknesses. Damn it. The coughing, the asthma, the allergies. They. Must. Stop. (Kryptonite anyone?) Seriously, couldn't I have something a little less life threatening? Not breathing is hazardous to my health and junk. Could I have leprosy instead? Amoebic dysentery? Bird Flu? I could survive bird flu. Work with me here universe, I have some world conquering to do.

Oh, and that pesky mole?



Hello! I am (was) a mole!

Had it removed this afternoon. Not by choice. There were needles and scalpels involved. I most definitely panicked. I plead in the mole's defense, even. "Please," I cried, "it's kinda easy on the eyes! Can't we consider the cuteness factor of the offending mole? It doesn't mean to offend, I'm sure of it!" All to no avail. Now that the local anesthetic is wearing off, I say "ow".

Of course I had to have a picture of it, seeing as how it now sits in a little petrie dish somewhere and is soon to be poked and prodded and abused in ways a cute little mole should not ever be abused. Especially one that used to live on my body.

Also, Prairie Tunic is finished. Pictures later.

Randomness

Random Things:

*I heart Stephen Colbert.

*Don't tell the nice young man making your burrito that you'd like enough fresh jalepeno to make you hurt but not so much that you scream. He'll just stare at you until you realize that what you've said could be taken in a way you didn't mean and you start to blush.

*I have pain in my lung. One spot in particular (the left lung if you're curious). Had it since the NY trip, though off and on. Today it hurts and is making me a little panicky.

*I also have a funky mole (to go with my funky figs, miss k). Getting it checked out next week. Let's hope there are no needles involved. I will bolt without shame.

*Hubs may have an interview in A-town. Will know more tonight/tomorrow.

*I got offered my old job back, also in A-town. It comes with free rent. Strongly considering.

*Wore a white skirt. And bought coffee. Ordinarily two great things. Sadly, the new stain I have on said skirt is the two headed love child of those happy things. Sometimes two rights make a wrong? I can't know. And I will not wax philosophical on a coffee stain. My brain doesn't have room for that.

*Stepped on a crack in the sidewalk in my cute little heels (that go SO well with my cute little skirt). And then tripped up the stairs to my office. I'm barely in one piece. Nothing broken, but it could have been catastrophic. It certainly didn't earn me any credits for grace. I hope no one saw my ass.

*Tried to reason with Satan. I don't believe in such a being, but if he exists, he's in my proximity for several hours a day. I just nod and smile and remember to not feed him cookies (ever again).


Random shit my friends say to entertain me:

joey says: 'you and your uncanny ability to end a conversation short and abrupt'

ali says: 'Jean-Luc: Perhaps we can have a peaceful negotiation, and learn to live in the same galaxy. Kirk: Fire'

pete says: 'something strange is afoot at the circle k'

alliene says: 'plus: woot'

chris e says: 'and by the way, "American Gods" - when the fuck did you cross the bridge from normal to SuperGeek?'

sasha says: 'when I got home at lunch she (guelita, her grandmother) had all the drawers out of my dresser emptied on the bed and she was sorting my underwear into sinful and not sinful piles. and people wonder why I don't have a vibrator.' (i love you sashita!!!)

Geek Girl Crush

Karen and I discovered this past week that we have a mutual Geek Girl Crush. Not on another girl. Or each other, for that matter. But on Wil Wheaton. Though probably for different reasons.

I love Wil because he's an actor (yes, he still acts, leave the Crusher alone). And reading his posts about auditioning and really putting himself into a role just make my heart ache in such an omg-that's-so-exciting-yet-i could-not-be-more-jealous-if-he-had-all-the-chocolate-pudding-in-the-world sort of way. And, he reads Neil Gaiman. And he likes Death Cab for Cutie. Oh, the crushing could go on and on! (ha! crushing! crusher! i made a pun! ha!) (god i'm lame.)

And I image Karen loves Wil because he's an excellent writer (very important to a Literature scholar), and also because he was on STAR TREK. I never watched the show. Except that one or ten times, whatever. But Wil has a little piece of my heart (cue Janis Joplin), and I accept that I have given it to him.

His most current project especially makes me swoon, and I will be watching. I don't usually do cartoons, except for the occasional South Park episode (I'm serial!), but look out Nickelodeon, Karen and I are tuning in, bitches.

Other than that, I have a lot to say, but for some reason nothing comes out. I have about 5 posts that are half written, even. I can't seem to finish my own thoughts. But I have a geek crush. Oh yes. I do. Cartoons may be my sanity after all.

OOH! And it's my second anniversary with my second husband today. I'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere, but I refuse to dig for it.