sueeeus

I can’t stand it when I publish the blog post and things don’t align properly. It drives me nuts. The preview function isn’t WYSIWYG at all. (Much as I detest acronyms, I first heard this waaaaaaaay back in the college days, in the context of systems theory I think it was …or perhaps I’m recalling SISO, which makes more sense in a systems framework, but I digress… …so I’m going to allow its use in this one post.) Anyway, I republish the stupid post several times and fiddle with this and that until it lines up and my sidebar is always on top. Formatting. Hrumph. Such a waste of time, but I have to do it. I have to. So so particular, is she. Type A, they call it. Or anal, if you’re not being very nice.

The documentary continues.

After work I finally took a shower, and decided to grab a little joi de vie (Suse, French spell check please). My choice of wardrobe would surely land me in snarkywood, were I a celebrity. Fashion faux pas for certain. But oh, so comfy, and I’m going for a walk. Yes, a walk. It’s a good thing I am not a celebrity. I’d be lambasted for my attire for sure. I have until 5 o’clock, which is the latest I can allow myself before I have to leave to pick up my little one.

The street by my house is lined with rocks. When I had dogs, my boy Jet would pee on every rock. He was a champion that way. Oh how I miss my Jet. I was so inspired to be outside, in the fresh air, that I decided to try jogging. Jogging! Alas, it was very short lived. I made it to the end of the street. The double-dees and tree stumps to which my feet are attached bring the fantasy vision of the long legged Masai running effortlessly for miles upon miles through the desert to an abrupt screeching halt of a reality check. It takes me another block to recover from the coughing fit that this moment of idiocy induced. I was so caught up in le joi de vie (Suse, need your help again) that I forgot I was sick.

I noticed that the street-side landscaping behind the fences of the houses one block over is much nicer than what lies behind my fence. Their neighborhood is probably ten years older, and perhaps the developer landscaped Or the city or county had different rules back then The city or county maintains the land behind my fence. I wonder if they maintain the land behind the neighboring block’s fence

The sign, sadly appropriate, is stationed directly behind my house. It is an outrage. An outrage! I wonder if that land is even mine, or if it is easement or city property. Things I should pay attention to when buying houses. That and their proximity to busy (noisy) streets. I arrive home with ten minutes to spare before I must dash off to collect my bundle of joy.

The documentary. More Self-Portrait Tuesday info here.

Mornings are his best time. He is so snuggly and an all around love, my love bug. All smiles and contentment. He’s my little space worm (and longer than I thought). Mornings are too short lived because I have to work and he has to go to daycare.

Do not all office floors have a giant stuffed horse and an exersaucer My office is a cluttered cave. The blinds are closed to reduce glare on my screen, and also, because milk duty renders me topless for a good part of the day.
My desk is no less messy than it was last week. It’s chaos and I don’t like to work in these conditions, but I don’t have the energy or gumption to clean it at present, nor do I have sufficient office space for the overflow. It’s depressing, this cave.
It seems there is no respite from bottle washing.

While washing bottles, I see my lawn of dandelions and thistles beyond the kitchen window. Depressing. But the leaves cheer me up. I love leaves. And fall.

The coffee has made me somewhat loopy today. Perhaps it’s the drum of my head with the sinus congestion. Caffeine normally doesn’t faze ( ) me. My coffee cup is less than perfect. I like bone china but have yet to find the perfect blend of size, shape, color, feel, and volume. This cup has the perfect volume, but nothing else.

Maybe some nice herbal orange tea will help. Lots of it.
I’ve been craving toast with butter and Marmite. So salty and satisfying. I will be glad when the coughing, congestion, and misery is over. Until then, comfort foods like this are most welcome. Who am I kidding They’re welcome all the time.
I am distracted by a ray of sunshine. It lifts my spirits tremendously, and I yearn to be outside in the fresh fall air, cool and crisp. My favorite.

Beyond the blinds there is bamboo, falling leaves, damp grass, and fresh air.

Yes, beyond the blinds there is sunshine and fresh air. But I am stuck within.

One of the conveniences of working from home. Still in my jammies. The other half took the space worm to daycare today, so I haven’t even gotten dressed yet.
Bed head. It’s what I like best about this haircut. It looks the same fresh out of bed as it does when it’s freshly ‘done’. Working from home, I don’t bother with makeup, hygiene, and wardrobe as much as I should.

The thing is, the days tend toward depressing, and I know that I would feel better if I did actually take a shower, get dressed, put on makeup, and fluff up my hair. I’m still stuck in the cave, but it would help.

I made a new sleeping bag for the boy. I made the sleeve and body pattern from one of his sweatshirts, and I made the bottom fold up and over so that it’s like a pillow case. No zippers, buttons, snaps or anything. I made it super long because when we used sleeping bags like these before, when he was new, he hated to have his legs bound. We shall see if this works for him.

Being lazy, and not wanting to do any hemming, I zigzagged over a piece of ribbon for a decorative edge, then snipped the raw edge to make a fringe. All said and done, it took just under an hour to make, start to finish.

The many faces of me. I found a link on Red Current’s page to a facial morph routine that applies various racial, gender, species, artist and age attributes to a baseline photo.
I’ve always wondered what I would look like as an ape-(wo)man. The Botticelli looks very much like my oldest nephew. The drunk looks like I have Downs Syndrome. The masculine looks like it could pass for a brother. The baby looks downright freakish. Run away! It reminds me of one of those Chucky horror movies.

I like Show and Tell. It’s a fun diversion. Today’s topic is “something in your kitchen that you cannot live without”. So here it is. The Classic Checkerboard Cake Pan Set. In its original box. Okay, kidding. It’s never been used. I’m waiting for my little boy to be big enough to be thrilled by a checkerboard cake. Assuming he doesn’t wind up with diabetes problems that tend to run in the family. Having had gestational diabetes, I’m told that he will be more susceptible to the disease. And since two of my siblings and both parents have it, the odds increase. So. There’s always Splenda.

I love kitchen gadgets and whatnot. But what can I not live without Hmmm. I almost posted my coffee mill, as that is extremely important, but I go in and out of coffee drinking phases. That left me with two possibilities of those things that are used most.

Here we have the Cutco Hardy Slicer. If I could have only one knife, this would be it. It has a serrated edge and cuts through meat, tough items, veggies, tomatoes (very important to be able to slice a tomato without destroying it), cheese, whatever. An all around good knife. Nice and heavy. I don’t so much like the plasticy handle, but what can you do. Yes, I tend to cave when the peddler’s give impressive sales demonstrations. At least I didn’t give in and buy the whole set.
And here we have the asparagus pot. I know, what’s so great about an asparagus pot Well, see, it is tall and narrow and has a basket and a lid with a steam hole and a heavy base. All good attributes. I use it for pasta with the basket, and it doesn’t take donkey’s years and forever to boil the water. I use it for popcorn, sans basket, because I love stove top popcorn, and again, it pops up and fluffy and there’s less burnage with the smaller surface area, allowing for a nice big batch of fluffy hot popcorn. YUM! One of my favorite things. And it works great for steaming veggies – using the basket again. Easter time Boil up a bundle of eggs and fish ’em out with no problem with a slick lift of the basket. It’s good for soups. It would probably be good for deep frying if I were into that. So you see, it’s an all-around good pot.

October Challenge – Self documentary series

A new challenge for Self Portrait Tuesday. The self documentary. My first is blue, parce que je suis malade.

The better part of my life is spent at my desk, which is littered with a cacophany of papers, post-it notes, lists, pens, medicine bottles, two computers, a mouse, a mousepad, a coaster, coffee cup, cell phones and their accompanying power cords, camera interface cable and power cord, a calculator, mail, notepads, reports, receipts, coupons, various and sundry other objects, and, buried somewhere beneath it all, a large desk calendar. That is just the desk surface. Beneath the desk is a jumble of electric cords, a kicked off pair of shoes that I will have trouble finding later, the ever-present Lactina to which I am attached by two long plastic tubes. Pan upper right, where the chaos encroaches other parts of my home. The Sunday paper on the entry floor, still in its wrapper. A floor littered with toys, diaper bags, baby paraphernalia. Lower right. Me. Aching head. Aching body. Raw throat. Disgusting wretched phlegm clinging to my bronchi. Burning cough deep in my chest. Misery.

*Revision Note: I can usually spell reasonably well in English. Any other language is hit or miss. Thanks Suse!

I’m so tired of junk mail. I wouldn’t care so much if the whole identity fraud thing hadn’t reared its ugly head in this generation. Why is it some people’s nature to try to get something for nothing, or to find fortune at someone else’s expense Today I received a platinum equity card with the promise of bazillions of dollars. The card enclosed looks like a credit card. It’s plastic, has my name and a number stamped on it, and an 800 number to call for activation. I cut it up, but this looks dangerous to me, should it fall into the wrong hands. How easy would it be It’s sickening. I get these almost every day.

[Rambling, possibly or probably selfish and very lengthy whine deleted, but off the chest now, after an hour of writing. Phew.] Suffice it to say that I just think people need to understand there are consequences for choices made in life, and they should be responsible for those consequences, whether they’re seven or seventy. [The selfish part: it shouldn’t be my burden, to shoulder the damage control. Like that guy on Survivor said, Sometimes you just have to man up. I man up (when needed).]

I’m going to scream! I have a pet peeve. (One of many.) That text message shorthand crap annoys the hell out of me. I’m guilty of some, like the smiley faces. I can live with those. But the LOLs are driving me nuts. Like fingernails on a chalkboard. Those and the URs. Those are the worst. And anything that uses a numeral for phonetic equivalence. GR8. H8. B4. U2. (Okay, as a band, Yeah Baby! In lieu of ‘you too’, no thanks.)

LOL is the absolute worst. Laugh out loud or lots of laughs or something like that. The first thing I notice is that almost everywhere I’ve seen it used, the preceding expression wasn’t funny enough to warrant a chuckle, let alone a laugh. NOT FUNNY.

OK is okay. It’s been around a long time. SOS is OK too, but I wouldn’t use it unless stranded on a desert island, and that’s not likely to happen any time soon. SOL. Now that one is fine. As with CYA, they come up frequently, especially at work. I’m actually tempted to use BTW and WRT, although I always reconsider and type the full phrases out, just in case the recipient isn’t prepared to translate.

Phonetic equivalence in other use is often annoying to me as well. Karpet King. Kwik Kleen. What is UP with that Not clever. Not clever at all.

Okay, the root of the problem is that I’m sleep deprived, as usual, and today have junk in my throat that’s making me cough. It won’t come up, it won’t go down. I hate that. My throat is raw and my bottle of Robitussin has an expiration date of 12/03 stamped on the label. I took a double dose, but I don’t think it did anything.

Today’s theme – What you’re wearing

I was going to cheat and wear something reasonably nice today, but I was actually called in to the office, so I donned something other than the stay-home-sloppy clothes that I usually end up in. I planned on a nice combo with a silk blouse and a skirt — even costume jewelery. But I decided that I’d get too many questions at work about who I’m interviewing with and when I’m planning to leave. Fridays are casual at the office. So I went with the old standby that I usually wear when I go to the office, as every office day is casual for me. Things have slid in the last several years, and we can get away with much with regard to wardrobe. Shall we begin
My wardrobe consists of black basics and a colorful coverup of some sort. Here we have the turquoise microsuede jacket. I love microsuede because it has a nice suede-like texture, comes in vibrant colors and can be thrown in the wash with no special handling or ironing. Hooray, no ironing!

I wear black boots almost every day. My last pair were Redbacks from Australia. Not the best looking, but very comfortable and very durable. I wore them every day for three years, and now the sole is compromised. I just got these, and they’re a bit clunky. I clod along in them. They’re alright. Not optimal, but they’ll do.

This is the fall lineup. On the left are several black turtlenecks. On the right are microsuede shirts in a variety of colors. Most are plain shirt style and I wear them like jackets. They cover my many lumps nicely. Only a couple are more fitted, like the turquoise one featured today. I was feeling bold.

This is more realistic to my present lifestyle, working from my home office. I was wearing this until I got the call that my attendance was needed in person.

And of course the comfy fuzzy fucschia socks. They’re sort of like a chenille. Very soft. Very comfy. But they attract fuzzballs.

This is what I wish I were wearing. I kiped this from my sister’s giveaway stash. I am two of her, so this is a fantasy skirt. Pleats! I envision myself wearing a form fitting black turtleneck with this skirt, along with black tights and some funky black ankle boots or shoes.

I have these shoes, and they would work. They used to fit, before I got pregnant. They might fit again, in the unlikely event that I can fit the rest of me into that skirt.