Just Call Me Grandma

Yeah, me too. I'm in a slump--blog-wise, project-wise, life-wise...I think it may have something to do with the fact that everyone's gone. Twin, Boy (temporary), Tot, Pal (permanent--or so they think, gosh darnit) and pretty much everyone I meet, 'cause that's my job. Speaking of my job...

My last weekend shift was so so nice. I couldn't have asked for a better one. Old friends returning. New ones made. Each night I had someone wanting to stay up past midnight to chat...So I think I left that shift on a signature ed note. The first night I visited with my old friend K., a frequent house guest with her husband, P. Do you ever come across people in your life who just get you? For me, it's pretty rare. She's in her late 50's, I'm guessin', but I get her too. We have so many interests in common. I found out the next night that this is because I have the hobbies of a "grandma"...or so said the gentleman I was visiting with. When asked the dreaded "What do you do in your free time" question (second only to the dreaded "What kind of music do you like" question), I explained that I like to do homey-girly things like sew and knit. "And do crossword puzzles? You mean grandma things?" was his response. Hey, if that makes me a grandma, then that's cool. I'm only sorry I didn't get a chance at that Scrabble challenge, N. You'd be sorry you cracked wise about The Grandma.

Say, incidentally...I finished the hail-dance costume with much less drama than expected. I didn't get to try it on her one last time, though, and they are off to NJ today. If anyone is in the area, it might be the show of the century. Ripping seams, flying jewels, static cling and fling. That's what I call a hailstorm. Hopefully they will give me pictures to post.

All right. I'm out. I must make my days productive since I actually have to work at night now.

Countdown to a Normal Life

I'm heading in for my last weekend shift at work. Hooray! I've been promoted...sort of.

A few celebratory Bad Libs before I hit the road...

Lost and Found

LOST: A solid-gold tinker toy with a tragically carved wooden devastation hanging from it. Reward of 50 Peeps for the return of this dusty heirloom.

Instructions for the Baby Sitter

The baby gets his warm spittle around six o'clock. If the baby starts to stutter in his deep voice, be sure to change his diaper before you put him back in his buttpatter. If you have any winsome questions or fragile problems, please page us on our male ego. Good luck!

Happy Weekend, All! I know I'm pumped!

THE END of My Love Life

Bo lost American Idol. Boo for Bo. And for me. Boo Hiss.

My friend brought her daughter over this evening for the hail-suit fitting. It looked much better than I expected, but there will have to be some adjustments made. I don't think that will be too rough, but the material looks like it could be a nightmare. Must. Get. Motivated.

I don't know why it is, but every time I'm working on a project where I'm up against a deadline, I say to myself, "Oh...When this is over...I'm totally gonna make something for myself", but I never do. Odd, because each time I sew/knit, etc. I remember how much I love it. If nothing else, you'd think I'd feel the need to live up to my blogname. (There's probably some ANGRY knitters out there who have disappointedly stumbled across my non-project related rantings).
All play and no knit makes ed a LOSER! Just kidding...about the all play part, that is. Anywho.

Here's my 'M' tale of the day. Last Wednesday I went for my hike and as I got toward the end, I could hear someone coming up behind me. I paused and scooted to let them pass. He apologized and then proceeded to engage in a conversation which ended in asking me out to lunch. Luckily, I already had a previous engagement with Fella. (I Freudianslippedly called it a "date" which sent The Passer running). I'm not saying "luckily" to be mean. He seemed like a nice guy and I think I was nice back. I just don't know how not to panic in those situations. (And yes, I am being rather liberal with the plural usage of the word). Besides, thinking back on it, The Passer followed behind me for who knows how long, but when he actually got beside me and was talking to me, he never once looked at my face. Basically his opinion of me was 90% backside and 10% voice. As I told my mom and Fella...Nice to know that my heinie can get a date, even if the rest of me can't. I don't know whether I should be flattered or insulted. So, I guess I'm neither. As I was thinking these things over on my way back home, I wondered if I'd have to worry about seeing him again. Then I said to myself, "Well. At least I know he wouldn't recognize my face!" when who do you think comes running toward me? Point proven. No sign of recognition...Or maybe he was just embarrassed. I guess I'll never know...At least, not until the next sighting. One of these days he's gonna see me comin' and he'll think to himself, "Hmm...She seems familiar". Then, after I've passed and I'm walking away, he'll turn around and say "Ohhh Yeahhh...NOW I know who she is". THE END. (No pun intended).

Monday vs. Tuesday

Dad says you can't say you've climbed the 'M' until you've CLIMBED THE 'M'. So, when he joined me on my late morning trek on Monday, he made sure we slippered our way up the giant letter. It was worth it to be able to enjoy a rare long uninterrupted chat...Well, that is, if you don't count the rowdies down below us. Incidentally, can I just say that I had forgotten how brutal childhood and growing up can be? It's a wonder any of us ever survived. Hmm...I think that statement officially makes me old. Anyway, I know I wouldn't have survived without my parents. I was thankful for the chance to spend some time with them away from work! (They usually come on the weekends). I got to have a nice long chat with my Momma too. We had lunch at FFT (they sell my favoritest food item in the entirest universe) and I saw cuchillo and Rocket who gave me an update on Twin and company. Neat! My mom and I went to B&N to look at nerdy computer books and then my Gramma made dinner. It doesn't get any better than that!

Today was a little less...um...nice. Not bad, but it's midnight and I have yet to leave the house. I spent the whole day watching Freaks and Geeks while sewing, unsewing and resewing a costume for my friend's daughter's senior dance recital in New Jersey. She's supposed to be hail...and no, not covered in cotton balls hail. Pretty interpretive flowy hail. I hope she doesn't mind looking like pregnant hail. This thing looks HUGE! I also (re)realized that I have peanut butter issues. I bought a jar last night and already I touched bottom. I thought I could control myself if it was au naturel. Au contraire, mon frère, Pierre.

G'nighty tighty whitey.

Golden Boys

Well, here I am after a loong weekend at work. This time around it felt sort of like living with the Golden Girls...if they were 15 years older, male and temporarily made single by the fact that their wives were in the hospital. On Friday night, I got trapped in the office when two of the Golden Boys entered a lively kitchen table discussion on life, or the disappearance thereof. Sitting there, trying not to listen too closely, a poem fell off my pen. (I prefer to call it a song that I can't sing). It goes a little something like this...

I came upon a table set
By someone else's fate
And two old friends
At two dead ends
For whom time wouldn't wait...

It is much longer of course, but I'll spare you since I was in there for hours. It was strangely fun, though. One of the old men (the uncomfortably frisky one...I guess that'd be Blanche) said that if he had it to do over again, he'd never marry. Then, when he went to check out of his room, he asked if I could (help) make the bed for him. Does anyone else see the irony in that? Well, it made me chuckle. And of course I made the bed...after he was safely gone. Well, that's the life and times of ed...and this makes it all worthwhile!

R-Rated Pictionary

As a general rule, I try to keep my blog G-Rated, but I just couldn't resist posting the fruits of last night's accidentally dirty pictionary game. These are two different takes on the word penthouse: mine (left) and #1 Sister's (right). After both failing to draw an actual penthouse (we don't really have any in Montana...unless maybe you count the top floors of the Wilma or Millenium Buildings), we resorted to drawing the other Penthouse. S. (cuchillo's wife) managed to get it right, thanks in no part to my drawing, and both drawings were passed around to much disturbed delight. Incidentally...everyone was creeped out by my "dirty old man" enjoying his read (to which I protested that he's not old, I just didn't have time to draw hair), but COME ON...my sister's drawing is waaay the heck sicker. SICK!

Vintage Montagnes

Boy finished the raspberry mead today. Looks pretty jazzy, eh? I like to think I played a role in the making...perhaps in the publicity department (who could forget the hamburger floaties stunt?). Anyway, it was enough to score me a free bottle which I intend to save long enough so that I can whip it out in discerning company and say "Ah, 2005. That was a good year." Maybe if you're really nice, Boy will give you some from his cellar (aka bookshelf in his apartment).

Google Talk

I put this thing at the bottom of my page. It's kind of fun to play with. You just start a sentence with three or four words and it finishes it for you. Sometimes it just goes on and on and on. I think what it does is search the words you put in and generates words to follow and then keeps removing the first word searched, etc. Actually, I'm not sure, you could probably ask cuchillo. He's the technical whiz. I just think it's funny.

I tried typing in my friends' names followed by "is" with mediocre results (Fella is a very nice guy and I have a dream that this nation will rise up and walk around the Moscow Kremlin), but my favorite use for it is as a funny fortune teller. Here goes...(my words in pink)

1. The man for me is a way of life for the elderly and disabled. The question is whether the government has a right to children.
2. My boyfriend is a twat. He is a man of his word by his spirit-the spirit of the West Indies.
3. My husband is a big fat stupid white man.

Well, have fun all. I hope your futures look as blindingly bright as mine!

Live from Slovakia: Twin and Scott

Everyone needs to check out this audioblog that cuchillo put together for the Chi Alpha missions trip to Slovakia. It even has a link to a slideshow! Way cool! I can't wait to read/hear(see?) all the latest news!

Trying to Run

I suppose it's just the nature of my work or perhaps the nature of me, but in my life, it seems that people come and go but seldom stay. You may remember this post, where I likened my life to a bus station. I have to say that I tend to resent this, and more often than not, take it personally. You start to wonder if there's something wrong with you--if you chase people away. In any case, I am learning to see that life is a path we walk along (or rather, a race we run) and that sometimes we are just blessed to have others share a little piece of the road with us. Until now, I guess I viewed life as a rollercoaster and I would try to pick one friend to be stuck with in all the ups and downs. The trouble with this is that roller coasters don't really go anywhere. And lets face it, a lifetime of carnival rides? No wonder I always felt a little queasy at heart. My personal challenge is to love every person who comes along, but not hold on so tightly that I keep them (and myself) from the race.

On that note, I'd just like to mention that I did receive an answer to the Letter to a Long Lost Friend. I love that kid. I wish I could keep him in my life forever but I know he's got to get on. I suppose that I do too. I'm just so lucky that he walked beside me for a moment. I hope our paths will cross again--next time under happier circumstances. Take care, K-Bar. If the road ever gets too long or lonely, just yell my name. I'll find you.

Soundtrack of a Goodbye

It seems I may finally get around to that To-Do list afterall...well, the last item anyway. I just said good-bye to Tot and as I write, we are having a synchronized listening of the Goodbye CD that we made for her. Right now it's still in the funny 80's songs (ie Cruel Summer), but I know that when tracks 15-17 (17 being cuchillo's pick) come, the tears are gonna fall.

Tot, in the immortal words of the Waterboys...I will (and do) cry when you (ye) go away.

I love you.

My Cup of Tea

I've taken up my morning 'M' climbing again. It's such a great way to clear the head. Well, maybe clear isn't the right word for me (instead of the hamster on the wheel, I've got Robin Williams with the cameras rolling). Perhaps 'stir' is a better word. Yes, hiking is a great way to stir the head. You wouldn't believe some of the mental cocktails my creative juices can mix. Never fear, I'm sure I will be posting lots of them. Today, however, I want to share something less random. You can call it the tea that brews only in hot water and forces us to pause and sip...if you are so inclined. Lately I've been stressing about where and what I'm supposed to be. I guess I've sort of been reminding God that the clock is ticking and I ain't gettin' any younger (to which He would probably respond...'Whose clock?'...if I gave Him the chance). Following the zigzag trail up the mountain, looking down at my feet, I pleaded for direction (step-by-step instructions would be nice) for myself as well as my friends. When I got to the 'M' I looked up from my feet. As I stood there, overlooking the city, I was reminded how much bigger life is than any one of us and how many different paths we take on our way through. Then out of somewhere/nowhere/everywhere, my worry's answer came: 'You're asking to see My footsteps. I want to show you My face.'

It's astounding really, this relationship we're invited into. So often we dismiss it as religion or rules to live by (that often seem to cramp our style), but the offer is for so much more. If we keep our eyes on the ground, always looking for God's footsteps, we will miss the love in His face and the beauty all around us. But if we keep our eyes on Him, always looking to His face, there's no way we'll miss that path He has for us. We will walk it together.

Ants and other Significants

Goodness! It's 3:30 am! I really should go to bed since we are having a farewell-Tot breakfast at 8am tomorrow. I actually just came back from a farewell-Tot Happy Hour (translation: mud pie and raspberry lemonade). It was so much fun. I hope she enjoyed it as much as we all did.

This weekend at work I played den mother to a bunch of characters. I knew things would be interesting when the first person I met said that mine was a good job because it allowed me the "perk" of bringing a significant other to stay overnight. I have no idea where she got that from. If by "significant other" she meant one in the endless parade of stuffed animals that get donated to the house then, you know, true that. Funnily enough, it could very well be this job and its perceived perks that keeps me out of the realm of others, significant or otherwise. Well, that and the fact that I'm mean and nasty. Other characters included James Earl Jones' voice double and Tom Selleck's aged-face double. I know I can't pick favorites, but the latter was way up there. I'll tell a little story about him later when I'm not so tired.

Here's a sad little story, though. Another of our guests discovered a giant ant colony out by the garbage bins. She pointed it out to me and asked if she could borrow some bleach to take care of the problem. We sprinkled some in the sidewalk cracks and near the nest. Almost instantly, the ants started workin' the grapevine and scattering themselves out; but when I came back to take out the trash it was a sad sight indeed. Just two little ants surveying the massacre. I watched them walking among their dead and imagined them getting a body count. I felt sorry for them and a little guilty, so I stepped on them to end their pain. THE END.

Good night, everyone. Good morning, as it were. I'd better sleep now so I can get back to Friday the 13th's To Do list.

Re: Friday the 13th

You know you're having a crap day when you've got a to-do list a mile long and the last thing on it is 'cry your eyes out'. Ah well. Perhaps I'll get around to it someday. Back to work now.

Movie Night

Day Two: We will miss...$4 movie night at the Wilma...even if one of us should've gotten in free...



Tonight I went with Tot and Twin to see Born into Brothels at our pretty (if rundown) Wilma theater. I almost didn't go because I was being a lazyhead and it seemed like it could be a downer. I am sooo glad I went! That movie was so...well...moving. I don't usually cry at movies (unless I'm by myself and feeling sappy), but I just fell in love with those kids. It breaks my heart to think of all the opportunities I take for granted (and waste) that they would probably give an arm for. It inspired me to the point of desperation. I also love the fact that the filmmaker set out to document a horrible life but refused to leave it the way she found it. Isn't that the way it should be? I want to leave my piece of the world better than when I found it.

Photo Shoot

Day One: We will miss...car-singing to our heart's content...road trips to little worlds found only in Montana...capturing our souls on film...making DQ runs in the pouring rain...

In just one week, our darling friend Tot will be trading the big skies of Montana for the rainy ones of Oregon. This week is officially dedicated to exploring the many reasons why we will miss her (and vice versa, we hope). This evening we went on a photo shoot to Lolo, a "suburb" of Missoula, which was somewhat appropriate since Tot and Twin each spent some time growing up there. I guess #1 Sister and I did too if you count all the time we spent playing Mad Libs, listening to the Monkees, remaking Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, giving each other miracle cure apricot face scrubs and building wilderness houses near the abandoned household appliances in the forest by Twin's house.

Here we all are looking longingly in the window of the restaurant that Twin has cleverly dubbed the China Barn. It used to be this family restaurant that always had signs like "Come in and eat. Grandkids need braces." Now it's all painted to "match" the scenery and has been converted to serve Chinese food, which is apparently pretty good. Who knew?

Happy Mother's Day?

Happy Grab-the-Nearest-Child-You-Can-Find-and-Head-to-Dairy-Queen-to-Make-Them-Believe-You're-a-Mother-and-Get-a-Free-Sundae Day!! Oops. Did I say that outloud? No, I'm only kidding, of course...a small sundae would NEVER fill me up!

But seriously kids. It is the day for honoring the people who made our lives possible, and apparently in my family this means letting them prepare a big meal for us all. Shoot, I wasn't even there and I reaped the benefits via mom's curbside delivery. (Before you go thinking I'm the worst daughter ever, can I at least say in my defense that I had to work?)

So...Mom, Grandma and mothers at large, I hope somewhere in all of this you were blessed. If not, you can always cling to the hope that, in a very distant (and in my poor mom's case, perhaps not so inevitable) someday, the ancient curse, "I hope your kids are just like you" will come true. I love you bunches!

May Day II - I'm Not Crazy

All right, critics (myself included). I totally did NOT make this up. May Day is a real holiday--and a pretty serious one at that--which is odd since we always celebrated it this way. I guess my 2nd grade teacher was Irish. Actually, come to think of it, she probably just didn't want to say "Good Morning, kids. Today we celebrate International Stick It To The Man For Screwing Us Over Day. Now, who wants to go outside and protest?". Well, in any case, I like the anonymous flower giving idea. And heck, it beats World Phone In Sick Day (also May 1st). What kind of message would that have sent to the kiddies?

Hey, did you know that it is generally believed that the distress signal "Mayday! Mayday!" is derived from the French expression venez m'aider which means "come help me"? Let's think about this. I mean, granted, "Mayday! Mayday!" might sound better in distress than "HELP! HELP!", but I think that if I were in imminent danger these days, I probably wouldn't go straight to the French for help.

Sorry, mes amis. I love you AND the Statue of Liberty you gave us, but we're all pretty certain you hate our big American guts.