Thursday, December 13, 2012

Brain droppings

- Why, after years of doing Greek mythology/ stargazing storytelling programs, has my audience suddenly skewed to families with 3-5 year olds?  Every third call this week was someone wanting to bring their preschooler to my program.  My program consists of sitting outside, in the dark, in the cold, while listening to long complicated stories whose plots are primarily driven by murder and rape.  We did not advertise this program any differently than any other time I've done it.  Now we have to figure out what the hell to change in order to get the audience back in the proper demographic.  >maybe an R rating?<

- I hate Giftmas shopping.  I never have any money this time of year, and I can't tell what anyone needs.  I'm dangerously close to just giving everyone a nice box of chocolates and calling it a day.

- My furoshiki workshop went swimmingly.  Playing with fabric always amuses me.

- Found a new way to play with fabric- kanzashi tsumami.  Little folded fabric flowers.  Doesn't take much fabric, and doesn't require much skill beyond careful cutting and tiny stitching.  I've made a bunch of these little things in the last 24 hours, and I'm noticing a steep learning curve.  The most exquisite part is the interior stitching, which nobody will ever see.  Alas.  Here's a small timeline- first attempt to most recent, clockwise from top right.
#1:  Misaligned stripes and weird stitching on back.  
#2: Better stitching but imprecise starter squares, need to sew the top together before the bottom.  
#3: Sewed the top before the back, better shape but still dealing with weirdness on the back.  
#4:  Stitching worked out, but there are exposed raw edges on the back.  
#5:  Stripes all aligned, stitching good, but imprecise starter squares.  It's also upside-down.  
#6:  Stripes aligned, precise starter squares, nice stitching, fold still allowing raw edges on the back. 
#7:  Tried a different fold, still getting pesky raw edges, love the shape.  
#8:  New fold, super clean squares, the stitching on this one is swoonworthy, and no exposed raw edges.  I think I've figured it out.  
Now I need to add buttons or beads or whatever to finish the naked ones.  The best part of this?  All scrap fabric.  I knew I was saving those little bits and snips for something.  Hooray for the internet and it's vast treasure trove of tutorials.

- Sewing all these little things is probably going to give me carpal tunnel.  Bah.

Monday, December 3, 2012

It smells like marshmallows and fire

Let's start on a product review note- the Bath and Body Works "Marshmallow Fireside" candle (and Scentpod thingy) is rad.  My house smells like sugar and fire.  YES I APPROVE OF THIS.  Their "Fresh Baguette" is the strangest thing I have bought in months.  It's uncanny.  Not sure how I feel about it, but it makes me want bread.


Lessee, what else is going on here in The Cave?

New Roommate is busily making a replica of the flying thing from the last Batman film.  There is a loud whirring and grinding noise coming from his workshop, peppered with occasional swearing.  So that's fun.

What else?
My den is slowly shuffling together.  PAAAANK.  I think I'm going to replace the Egyptian thing (which is camouflaging the Gloomiest Painting In The World) with a framed miniature kimono or something along those lines.  Maybe hang some paper lanterns, I dunno.

I discovered London broil.  Season the meat with whatever sort of rub you like, and throw it under a broiler for five minutes per side.  Normal people should probably go ten a side, but I like my meat cold and blue inside.  If I could just eat it raw, I would, but that's generally frowned upon.  I just sort of wave it near the heat source to make it seem less savage.  Good lord, it was amazing.  I'm salivating like Pavlov's dogs right now.  Well, minus the saliva-collection devices.  There is kale under the meat pile, and it was also delicious.  Garlicky.

Gypsy and I had Cuddle Time.  Cuddle Time is not very pleasant for me.  SHADDUP AND BE MY PILLOW.  Yes, Gypsy.  Fine.  Just take your claw out of my cheek.  NO I AM COMFORTABLE THIS WAY, JUST BE QUIET AND LET ME RUB MY FACE ON YOUR FACE.  You have hideous breath.  YOU DON'T BRUSH MY TEETH AND I DO NOT HAVE THUMBS, BESIDES, I AM MAGNIFICENT.

Woke up kind of sick today, and Trixie agreed with my plan to stay in bed.  She is the worst bed hog on Earth, but at least there was no claw in my face.  

Helped Mom put lights on her tree.  After two hours of playing the "Shit, The Red Lights Are Out Again" game, I convinced her to go with LEDs.  Her living room is now glowing blue like some sort of alien ship.  It's rad.

All right, bittens, it's about time for me to take my mildly-sick ass to bed.  I have to get up and teach children tomorrow, much to everyone's chagrin.  I should probably shower first.  Showers usually a good plan when one is sick.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Unhappy feet

I hate shopping for clothing and shoes.  Everything about my body is a weird size or shape, so it's just frustrating.  Wide feet, long legs, no waist, pancake ass, barrel chest, beer gut... yeah, I'm not exactly a fit model.  I avoid shopping unless it is absolutely necessary.

All my socks and shoes are starting to self destruct.  Oh, lawd no.

My usual work shoes are making my left big toe joint (the bunion joint, I don't know it's proper name) super sore, and my heels are killing me.

My other pair of work shoes has managed to wear clean through the sole.  I spent the day with one wet shoe (yay rain).

All my flip-flops are making my ankles hurt.

My socks seem to be disintegrating in the heel region.

My Docs aren't quite wide enough in the toe box, and not tight enough in the heel, so I can't wear them for long stretches without developing blisters or joint pain.

Even my slippers hurt my feet.

I am broke as a joke (Giftmas might have to be a "free hugs" kinda holiday), so the idea that I will have to go out and buy shoes is doubly maddening.  Great, I have to do something I hate AND spend money I'd rather not spend.

My great fear is that I bought ALL my clothing at the same time as my dying shoes and socks, and that this is just the tip of the iceberg.  My one decent bra is threatening to die.  I only have two pairs of pants.  The shirts seem to be holding, but there are more of them to rotate through.


Monday, November 26, 2012

Tante is a terrible blogger, she apologizes

Dude, I know, I'm sorry, it's been an overly busy sort of month here at The Cave.  I got a new roommate, I did some painting, I did some work, I went camping, I hung out with rats.... yoinks.

So.  Yeah.  I sum up.

Bread knives are dangerous.  Superglue is your friend.

This wretched thing decided to die at a most inopportune time.  On a brighter note, I now know how to disassemble one of the displays in the museum.

The den was colonized.

We painted it PAAAAAANK.  Photos to come later, as it is dark in here and the New Roommate is playing video games, which makes for a crappy pic.
At Thanksgiving, Tante became a horsie.  Or something.  He didn't  specify.  He doesn't really speak English.
Yule is coming.
Tomorrow, I am being interviewed about this year's furoshiki workshop (phone interview- I can't understand people on the phone, so I'm freaked out).  I'm not sure what it is about these workshops- people could give a fig about any other workshop I teach, but fabric tied in knots?  TELL US MORE!  I think it's really strange.  I mean, it's not like I'm an expert or anything- I learned it from a book and the internet, for Pete's sake.  But whatever, fabric is pretty.

Wednesday, Boris and Vincent are being neutered.  Enjoy your goolies, boys, they're not long for this world.  Your peeing and reeking days are numbered.  Ingrid will be beating the crap out of the two of you by Yule.

I have a million projects to finish- a present for a friend that I started in JANUARY.... a pile of vests and sashes for a coworker's wedding.... a bride's hair flower that needs repair... kimono cloth pillowcases for the pillows on the daybed in the PAAAANK room....  several lesson plans.... I have to learn how to make little goofy videos..... Giftmas shopping... several things need to be covered in glitter...  finish rearranging the garage....


Friday, November 16, 2012

Where the hell is Tante?

Uuuuuugh, hiiiii, it's been a bit, hasn't it?  I'm worn right the hell out.

I can't really recap.  I recall that I went camping, and that New Roommate moved in, and that I taught children on several occasions.

I had to take apart a display at work- the damn thing is a design mess.  The moving electrical part with the filter requires 2 people to even access.  Let's not even get into the fact that the parts that I have to replace are not readily available off the shelf at Home Depot or Fry's or anything.  Nooo, I have to order things.  Fantastic, really.  Extremely well thought-out.

The dog is pestering me.  I had the audacity to come home and clean a rat cage and feed the cat and then SIT DOWN ON THE COUCH for a few minutes.  HOW DARE I?

I am going to get a pedicure tomorrow, and then I am going to see if Lowe's carries the filter that I need for this ridiculously designed display.  And then I have to work again on Sunday.  And Monday.  And Tuesday.

Wednesday I have to paint my living room.

Thursday I have to squelch my social awkwardness for a long meal.

Friday I have to hide in my house like a bunker.

Dammit, dog, you are starting to damage my calm!

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Collecting artists

So, it would seem that my days of having my house all to myself are over.  Barely a month after the first artist moved out, a new artist is moving in.  Different genre- this one is a sculptor, and different gender- this one is a dude.  Sister-in-Law met him at a party, thought we'd have things in common, hung out a few times, mostly interacted on FB.  A decent sort of chap.  His life sort of went sideways, and he needed a place to stay for a bit.

Most of the people who have heard about this have expressed concerns.  My folks seem to be afraid that I'll get robbed blind, or otherwise financially parasitized.  Others seem to think it'll be some weird sexual thing.

I have nothing to steal.  I've stated the financial terms (kick in what you can for X amount of time, after that, discuss the rent terms with the landlord, aka Mom, as I already have two dependent animals, I don't need a third).  And I know how to keep my gorram pants on.  We're all adults here.

And honestly, I could use some company.  I am in such a weird demographic.  The two main categories for people my age seem to be "Tyler has soccer on Saturday, and then I have to take Addison to a playdate..." or people so vapid and slow-witted that they can barely converse without a bucket of wine and a reality TV plot to discuss.  I am not very good at interacting with either of those sorts of people, and it's rare to meet other "Others."  The dog heartily agrees with the company thing- the 8 hours I'm gone every day are making her very sad.  She loves people, and there's only one here.  Both of us are kinda lonely.

I am extraordinarily lucky.  I have never had to sweat my living arrangements.  I have never worried that I would be evicted, or had to search Craigslist for someplace to hole up, or had to live in my car. Someone I know, who seems to be a decent enough human being, needs a roof and a bed and a place to sculpt.  Nobody else in his general vicinity was able or willing to toss out that life ring.  I have whole rooms full of life rings that I'm not using.  Shit, man, stop thrashing around.  Catch your breath.  Now paddle back to shore.

If nothing else, it will force me to clean the house.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Halloween draws to a close

Time for the Universe to go to sleep.  Turn off the lights when you leave.

New visitors

Hi ho! It's come to my attention that there have been some new visitors to The Cave. Welcome! Come in! Pull up a stalagmite, ignore the mess. Trick or treat! You want a banana? There's cake in the fridge. With frosting.

There are a few things you should know about the Cave before you begin wandering around.

1: I have a faulty Shame Gland. What you see is what you get. I stopped apologizing for my personality a long time ago. It's tiring, and futile.

2. If I use a word that can either be very clinical or very offensive, I was probably using the clinical sense. If I offended you, call me on it. I promise I will be very sorry, and will work on eliminating the offensive word from my vocabulary.

3. If I use a descriptive word, I am not generally implying any additional meaning. If I say "weird," I mean just that- not normal. I don't mean "weird and unacceptable" or "weird and creepy" or "weird and worthy of disgust." I just mean weird. I tend to state facts, not make value judgements.

4. I tend to use this blog to blow off steam, and I stare into my own navel a lot. Blogs are cheaper than therapy. Feel free not to read. If you do choose to read, hellew. I'm neurotic. We all are. I keep my neuroses right out in front where I can see them.

5. I talk about things that are socially inappropriate. Again, faulty shame gland. No social filter. Rest assured that if I write about something here, I would absolutely discuss it in person with anyone. Well, any adult. If you're a kid, what the hell are you doing reading this foolishness? Go outside and play.

6. If you comment, please be nice. I'm prickly, but I'm not made of stone. I have a soft marshmallow interior.

So that's it! The Cave is a mess, but I share what I've got, and the animals are friendly. Enjoy your visit, we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming as soon as something mildly interesting happens!

Affectionate headbutts,

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Saturday, October 27, 2012

In other news

So, aside from being gloomy and gluing acorns back together...

I picked up some new work friends.  We're still working on the "friends" part, as I am, apparently, very scary.

This is Vincent.

This is Boris.

I made some planets.
Well, mostly planets- a few protosuns.

I made a small star system.
The blue sun and the red sun are the same size, I'm just a terrible photographer.

 I glued crystals to a dress.

They're irridescent.

I made a drink.
The 'Verse- 1.5 pineapple juice, .5 vodka, .5 Midori, .5 Frangelico, .5 lime juice.  Delicious.

I gave myself a manicure (ignore my cuticles).
Sally Hansen Diamond Strength "Black Diamond" with Orly "Shine On Crazy Diamond" 

I put the dress on my body, the star system on my head, and went to a party.

Please ignore my nephew's bedroom decor.  

I took drunk photos of myself.

With flattering yellow overhead light.

And a bit of gruesome humor that I can't take credit for.

Yaaaaay gallows humor.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Repairing Acorns

My boss is sometimes a difficult man to work for.  I am sure this is true for any boss- there's a power imbalance, there's human interactions, there's expectations and reality and all manner of complicating factors.  He's not a bad guy, we just have certain personality differences that can cause friction.

I am reasonably sure that my boss finds me frustrating.  I am.  I am weird and often pessimistic and I take a long time to finish tasks and I am clutterblind and I say wildly inappropriate things.  It's why I stay away from donors as much as possible.  It's okay, these are just statements of facts.  I think I'm rad.

Today, my boss wanders into my little cubicle corner, looking a little lost and bewildered, holding two small objects in his hands.  

Yesssss?  Can I help you?

He makes a weird, sheepish face, and fiddles with the small objects.

"Umm.... well... I.."

He holds out the objects, which turn out to be a large black acorn and an acorn cap.

"My acorn... it.. the cap.... and... well... I've had it a long time... and..."

I am immediately struck with the mental image of what he must have looked like as a little boy, with a broken toy.

He's a weirdly sentimental guy.  I knew he had important rocks, but it would seem that he also has an important acorn.  Without a cap.

The sheepish stammering and fidgeting continue as I reach into my "repair" drawer in my desk.

Would you like me to fix your acorn?

He looks hopeful.  "Can you?"

I take this weird small broken treasure.  

Yes, I can fix your acorn.  It will take a while for the glue to dry.  I will bring it back when it's ready.

An hour later, I appear in his office doorway, acorn in hand.

The glue is dry, but not set.  You have to keep it upside down like this for another 3 hours.

He lit up and looked somewhat relieved to have it back, in one piece.

I do not know the Story of the Acorn, or what it represents to my boss, or even what species of oak it came from. 

All I know is that I am trusted enough to repair it.

My yearly performance review is next Tuesday.  My weaknesses and faults will be laid before me, and I will need to use every ounce of self-control not to curl into a little ball and roll away.  I am very hard on myself, and I don't like not living up to expectations.  I will feel very inadequate.

But I will remind myself-
I can repair acorns.

That's not nothing.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012


I think I might wandering towards depression again.  I really don't want to go there- it sucks and it's lonely and nothing tastes good.  Last time I was there, it took meds to get me out, and they were damn near impossible to stop.

Maybe it's because I have felt sick lately, or because I don't think I've had a decent night's sleep in months (thanks, Dog), or because I am really very alone most of the time.  I can barely give enough of a shit to do my laundry.

I tried to decorate for Halloween the other day, and then remembered that nobody would see it but me.  Due to the Cat's little urine habit >ahem<, I don't invite people over.

My brother has a Halloween party every year.  I'm going to that next Friday.  Maybe I should see if I can find something festive to do on Saturday, force myself out amongst other people.

This weekend I'm going to drive to San Diego to pick up two new baby rats for work.  I'm going to stop and see a former coworker who has many exotic creatures.

I have vests to make for Coworker's wedding.  A project is nice, keeps the mind off of loneliness.  Of course, it also keeps one holed up at home, listening to the shick-shick-shick of a needle.

Perhaps this is akin to what my best friend (who is a domme) calls "sub-drop."  Apparently, submissives build up so many endorphins that their systems just can't handle it anymore, and they get all sad and weepy and depressed.  Maybe the Quail and Fall Faire and the roommate moving out and the rat and the cat and the dog was all just too much at once, and now my system is trying to force me into hibernation.

I cannot go into hibernation.

Sunday, October 14, 2012


My nature center holds an annual Fall Faire sorta pumpkin patch fundraiser thing.  Crafts and games and children and ponies and whatnot.  I have been designated "Grill Manager" for the past two years, which basically involves bringing supplies to the firefighters-who-do-the-actual-griling and making sure there is relish in the relish bucket.

I don't pass up an opportunity to dress funny.

China Glaze "Unpredictable" on the green nails, and a combo of CG "Orange Marmalade" and Sally Hansen's Nail Prisms "Coral Amber" on the orange nail, covered with a spiderweb nail decal and some Orly "Shine On Crazy Diamond" just for shits-n-giggles. 

My ever-so-festive spiderweb apron, and my extra fancy photo studio.

And the purple tarantula that ate my braiiiiiiiin!  Okay, it's a headband.  I'm supposed to look comically shocked, mostly I look like I'm yawning and rolling my eyes at the same time.  You'd be surprised at the number of people who really didn't register that it was supposed to be a spider.  I think it's awfully spidery, but I pay attention to that sort of thing.  I dunno.

I'm sunburned and I have little teeny bumps all over my upper arms.  I can't tell if it's from meat grease or heat or sun or what, but it's not super pleasant.  Fortunately (?), I am somewhat symmetrically sunburned.  So that's a plus?

I came home to cat pee AND dog vomit on the carpet.  I just know they're conspiring to get Expensive-Sick soon.  You pricks, I just dropped $700 on the cat at the vet for the blood sugar and the carpet peeing, don't you start this shit again.

I would do unspeakable things if this entire house had vinyl flooring that I could just mop.

Friday, October 12, 2012

October has finally arrived

Fall Faire approaches- yay working on a Sunday?

Bat macaroni?  YES.

Old Man is chilly.  Old Man is crickety.  Old Man is pleased with his basket.

The sky in October is really the best shade of blue ever.

I finally finished the goddamn quail kiosk panel.  Here's a ceanothus.

The quail is named Hercule, and is mildly disappointed in you.  He says "harrumph."

It has been installed, where it will be underappreciated by passersby.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Goodbye, my darling.

Leena passed away this morning.  She was two.  She had a lumpy life, but was very sweet.  She only bit if you stuck your fingers in the cage, and only because she was too excited about the idea of a treat.  She would apologize afterwards by grooming you.  She liked having her face rubbed until she fell asleep.  Sadly, her last 12 hours of life were uncomfortable, and she did not want me to touch her.  I would have rubbed her face for hours if it would have helped ease her pain.  She is survived by her roommate, Ingrid, and her coworkers at the nature center.

Goodbye, my darling friend.  Safe journey.  We will miss you.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

And then there was one (living human)

So, the Roommate left her key and garage door opener on the dresser in her room, along with a note of thanks and half of October's utilities, because she felt bad that the Landlord (aka Mom) didn't charge her a cleaning fee or anything.

Umm, dude, are you coming to get the rest of your shit?  There's like, a whole carload of stuff at least.  Turkish coffee sets, a box of pharmaceuticals, your entire filing cabinet, acres of canvases and frames, a sword, all your baking foofaraw, all your DVDs...  I don't think she realized how much stuff she had accumulated.  She moved into a teeny tiny little place waaaaaaaay out in the boonies, and I'm sure it's stuffed to the gunwales.

I have a lot of space now.  Two whole bedrooms, the other half of the garage, and the majority of my kitchen are now empty.  I'm not in a hurry to find another roommate.  The only reason I had one in the first place is because Roommate needed a place to stay, and asked me if it could be here.  Who was I to say no, with a 3 bedroom house all to myself?  I will probably keep the bedrooms pretty much empty, except for the furniture that lives in there.  I suppose I have a guest room, now.  I am embarking upon a fairly ambitious sewing project, I will probably sequester it in the other bedroom while it's in process, just to keep the animals off of the fabric.

I'm shuffling all my shit into the garage, though.  I'm practically drunk on the idea of it.  Oh lord, everything will have a place?  >swooooon<  For the first time in almost two years, there is NOTHING on top of the dryer or the chest freezer, and nothing on the garage floor.

I am now the only living human in this house.  The dog, the cat, two rats, and at least two intermittent ghosts are now my only company.

I have begun the Pants Off Dance Off, not as a celebration, but as a matter of principle.

The dog, having no pants to abandon, is in mourning for the departure of her favorite friend.  I'll have to make sure she has lots of extracurricular activity.

The cat could give a shit.

I'm not sure the rats noticed.

The ghosts are staying silent.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Sometimes, I forget.

Most of the time, I feel very much like a normal person.  I tootle along, doing my thing, and life is cool.  I think my thoughts, I behave my behaviors, I eat my foods, I say my words, and I brush my teeth twice a day.  I feel very normal.  I think this is an average life.

And then, occasionally, I am suddenly made hyper-aware of how far outside the realm of "normal" I am generally operating.  The realization hits me like a wave, and I am left shaken and confused.

Some of my coworkers didn't know what "pragmatic" meant.  That was today's sudden Weird Awareness Wave.

Doesn't seem like enough to set off an existential crisis, does it?  But it is.  I find the idea of an adult not knowing the meaning of the word "pragmatic" to be utterly, completely incomprehensible.

What do you MEAN you don't know what it means?  It's not that strange of a word!  It's relatively common!  It's used in general discourse!  I don't expect you to be able to give me the OED definition, but you can at least use the word correctly in a sentence, right?

We're teachers, for heaven's sake.  TEACHERS.


I called my parents to ask them questions about an unrelated event.  I asked them both to define "pragmatic."  Mom went with "practical."  Dad went with "realistic."  I felt less alone.

My brother is a smart guy, but is admittedly not a language freak.  He's an engineer.  He likes numbers and variables.  I had to help him with English papers quite frequently when we were in high school.

I called my brother and left him a message- I have a weird question for you, please call me back.

"Hey, you called, what's up?"

I need you to tell me what "pragmatic" means.

"What the hell?  Why are you asking me?"

I need to know that you know the definition of "pragmatic."

>uncomfortable, on-the-spot noises<

I don't need the official definition, just use it in a sentence.

"This is the pragmatic solution."

Sigh of relief.

"I guess it means... logical?  Reasonable? Why are YOU asking ME?"

I related the story.

"Dude, there's no way they've gotten through adulthood without having heard that word.  You'd think they could at least use deductive reasoning to puzzle out what it meant."

The fact that you just used the phrase "deductive reasoning" makes me believe that our whole family might be outliers in this situation.

"I guarantee that almost none of my coworkers could use 'deductive reasoning' or 'pragmatic' in a sentence.  The world is dumber than you think it is."

And the Waves of Otherness continue to wash over me.

What other words do I use casually that are incomprehensible to the general public?  I mean, I know I like words more than the average person.  I get a kick out of etymology.  If see or hear a word that I cannot immediately define, I will Google it.  Nuance is important.  I want my words to accurately describe my thoughts, and I will pick and choose words carefully to assure that I am conveying the message I intend to convey.

Is this really such a strange trait?

If this is strange, what the fuck is normal?


I'm sure that I will have returned to a feeling of normalcy by morning.  And I will tootle along again, oblivious to the actual state of normalcy, and I will continue to use clarifying words that only serve to obscure my meaning, and I will forget again.

But at this moment?

I feel like I just found out that the world is actually flat.

Monday, September 17, 2012

Paint paint paint.

California poppies.

How do you paint something that is all one shade of obnoxious orange?

Yeah, I'm not exactly thrilled with the flowers, but fuckit, I'm tired of painting this thing.

At least they're loud.

Quail plumage is more interesting.

Monday, September 10, 2012

Back to Aloneness

Welp, my roommate has found her dream place up in the canyon, with studio space and chickens and whatnot, so as of the beginning of October, I'll be the only human living in this house.

Truth be told, I'm kind of excited about the idea of having space to organize shit properly (never got done, and right now it's like one of those sliding-tile puzzles in here), but I'll have to keep my tendency towards utter chaos under control.  It's easier to attempt to keep things somewhat orderly when there's someone else to consider.  Of course, I'll also have nobody else to work around, and double the kitchen cabinet space, but still.

The dog will miss her terribly.  The dog is very needy.

Walkin-around-nekkid-time will increase exponentially, though.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

It's too hot in this house.

Hi ho, fellow Internet denizens.  It's gorram hot in Southern California, and I am quite over it.  If I start decorating my house for Halloween, it will make the temperature drop, right?  That's how nature works?

In other news...

I started working on the quail kiosk panel again.
I hate doing lettering.

I took the dog to the beach and forgot to put on sunscreen.
That's ridiculous.  And it's peeling.

I cleaned the rat cage a few times.
Ingrid's head, Leena's butt.

I spent a shitload of money at Bath and Body Works.

And I lost all faith in humanity.
I don't want to live on this planet anymore.

So, how was your week?

Saturday, September 1, 2012

September Theme: Someone Special

It would seem that most of the people who participated in Sophistique Noir's September theme posted about their significant others.  I find this heartwarming, because I like to see weirdos (come on, you've thought of yourself as a weirdo at some point, if you were normal you wouldn't be reading this blog, I think weirdos are the very best sort of people) who have found each other.  

However, I'm single.  This weirdo has yet to find another weirdo to love.  And my friends are special and weird, but really, there is only one person to whom I should devote this post-

My Mother.

The Grand Weirdo.

Her Weirdness taught me about the outdoors.  I spent time in the bushes as a child, and at the beach, and in the mountains, and in the desert.  We still enjoy dirt together.

Tidepooling in Dana Point a few years ago.

Her Weirdness taught me to love animals, and that pets are for better or for worse.  Inconvenience is not a factor. 
Mom and her granddog, Trixie, looking purdy for Christmas.
She recently became an Oma, to my brother's kids.  One does not mess with Oma.  Although, one does apparently cover Oma's house in red lipstick and gel candle goo.  Oma still loves her little boys.  She shall perpetuate the weird with another generation.  Incidentally, these two little dudes are the reason I'm "Tante."
Oma meets her Bug, 2010 
Oma's Bug got bigger, 2011
Oma gains a Hopper, 2012

Her Weirdness is a skilled Maker Of Things, and is probably where I inherited it from.  Dad's clever, too, but his process is different.
Hardanger ring pillow for a friend's wedding, 2008
Pony swing, 2007?  We had one just like it when we were kids.
She does not shy away from public foolishness, and thoroughly enjoys wearing ridiculous, costumey things.  From her, I learned that there is no such thing as "too much," only "not enough."
I am responsible for the eyelashes, the head thing, and the shitty photograph.  No snappy snaps while you're drinking, Tante.  They don't end up flattering to anyone.
Halloween is important.  Her Weirdness as Frida Kahlo, and the Heir Apparent as a witch.  This, my friends, is why we don't let the short people take our pictures.  It's not a cute angle.
My mother is my landlord, my therapist, my voice of reason, my partner in many crimes, my ride to Pageant, my dog's babysitter, and my cat washing assistant.  I look like my father, my essential habits and personality traits are my father's, but when push comes to shove, I am my mother's child.

Magnificent hat by Her Weirdness.  Devil Eyes courtesy of the Heir Apparent.