Anne's tricks for Ukrainian Easter Eggs (Pysanky)

It's that time of year when I clear off my craft table, pull a box out from under my bed and set up to go back to my roots. It's Ukranian Easter Egg time!!!

A lot of people say "painted eggs". This is incorrect. They're made with a wax resist method. Meaning you cover the color you want to keep as opposed to covering the white area you want to hide. So it's backwards, in a sense. If you've ever written your name in that white crayon found in common easter egg kits, and it magically shows up afterward...well, this is the same thing, but a bit more elaborate.

What I love most about this tradition is that I was raised to make them for gifts only. To give the egg away is to give the gift of the meaning behind the symbols to the recipient. To keep them removes those blessings from your own life. Superstitious I know, but that's what I was told growing up. If nothing else, it makes me happy to see someone admire my work and I can tell them "Here, take it and enjoy.".

I've spent every year scouring my mom's stack of designs and books and pamphlets collected over the last 40 years and more recently, through the internet. On a typical year, I'll make a dozen eggs.  I love finding sites were masters offer their tips and tricks. I don't feel that I'm particularly a master, but I have some tricks of my own passed down through my grandmother and also just from trial and error. I hope this helps.

Disclaimer: This is not a step by step process for pysanky. Merely a collection of tips. I'm only sharing my personal experience of what works, not endorsing anything.

White: Fine, Blue: Medium, Red: Thick

Where do you get your special supplies?
I live in Seattle. And the best place I've found is the University Bookstore (associated with UW). They sell individual dyes, modern and traditional kistkas, and entire starter kits. I'm a fan of modern Delrin kistkas and have never tried an electric kistka, but i hear they are amazing. For large chunks of beeswax, check out a craft store candle making section. They usually sell 1 pound blocks that will last you 4 or 5 years. I break mine up into reasonable chunks with a hatchet or a hot knife. 
I've also had no trouble ordering through this website: http://www.ukrainiangiftshop.com/

What kind of eggs should i use?
If you're just starting, plain white eggs from your grocery store are perfect. White eggs are better because brown eggs will make the dye colors different. My mom swears by "fresh from the chicken's butt" eggs and goes searching all over for them. Whatever floats your boat. Always, always allow your eggs to come to room temperature. Condensation will not allow the wax to stick properly. As you get more advanced, try duck eggs and goose eggs, though be aware of what size jar you have your dye in. 

How do you store your dyes and for how long?
Wide mouth mason jars are your friend. I get them from Ace Hardware. I keep them in the cardboard divided box they come in and i have 10-12 colors at any time. Every year, the first thing i do is shake each dye and look for "floaties". Light dyes almost always have them, replace them. Check darker ones with a white plastic spoon. Then I do a tester egg. I divide an egg, label each section for a color while its still white, and put it through the dye progression (light to dark) using a wire egg lifter from a grocery store kid's easter egg kit. Slowly, I cover each  labeled section before placing it in the next dye. That tells me what colors are still good. If a color looks odd or is way too light, I dump it and make a new batch. Every other year, I will usually refresh all my colors just to be safe, but if they're still true to the colors, you can go longer. 

Why light to dark?
The color progression goes light to dark because you're replacing the dye at each level. If you put a lot of yellow eggs in a red dye, it will become orangy over time, but go the opposite direction and the dye will turn orangy a lot faster. So light to dark limits the visibility of color contamination. 

How do you keep your lines straight in pencil?
For lines through the middle of the egg (in any direction) i use a 1/4" thick rubber band and trace along its edge. It's a little tricky to hold, so pillow some paper towels under your hand just in case. 
For the side, nothing compares to Wayne Schmidt's toilet paper roll method:



An upgrade from a standard candle:
Candles are the traditional method, and they work well. But another option I like is an Alcohol Torch. It's a medical tool and it burns clean, steady and there's no smoke or wax drips. This is not a good idea around children because the flame is less visible. I got mine off of Amazon for about 15$. It requires high proof alcohol (91%) which I get at a drug store in the first aid section (standard is 70%). Just be careful and it's a handy tool.


My kistka is clogged! What can I do?
My white kistka gets clogged occasionally. First i'll empty the well back onto my beeswax clump. Then i'll heat the kistka until it's really smoking (not on fire). Then i plunge the point into the middle of the beeswax clump several times, reheating as necessary. After that, fill the well with a little beeswax and test it on a practice egg or practice paper to see if the flow has returned. This has always worked for me, but my mom also keeps a super fine wire to feed up the point, which is another method.

When do I empty my egg? And how?
At the end. Why? Because the innards of the egg will help it sink in the dye. At the end of the dye process, I will cover the entire egg in a thin coat of beeswax (Fill the well, heat it super hot, then flip it over so the wide end is down and smear it, reheating often, you'd be surprised how much you can cover with just a few well fulls and a hot kistka). This is overkill but I don't like to take risks with my pysanky. The egg white will ruin the dye so on the off chance I might get a little on my hand, I cover the egg. If you're doing big eggs, this may be impractical, so cover at least the top and bottom 1/4 of the egg. 
Make the hole: I've tried those egg drill that comes in the kit - they suck in my opinion. I don't have a dremel and no...a drill bit in a screwdriver doesn't work well, it cracks the egg from pressure. I do it like my mom taught me: With a corsage pin: the one with the big pearl on the end? yeah. Press the pin in firmly making 4 hole like a square. Then 4 more holes between those to make it more circular. Then more holes between those until you have a little dotted circle. Keep pushing between the holes until the perforation breaks all the way around. I do both top and bottom.
Empty the egg: I've used those yellow squeeze pumps. They work just fine. Just be careful to not suck egg backwards up the nozzle. But, I usually just use my mouth. The beeswax prevents the dye from getting on my lips as I blow in the top, and the egg part flows out the bottom. If you're worried about salmonella, use the pump. 

How do you display the eggs?
Honestly, we just get clear napkin rings from bed bath and beyond. They're the perfect size and while not as nice as the guilted pedestal you see in specialty stores, they're effective and still look nice. We have been gifted several from friends thanking my mom or me for teaching them. They have a special place in my mom's china cabinet (they've been emptied so they won't explode).

Through my father's side, I'm 1/4 Ukrainian. Ironically though, it's my mother, who has no Ukrainian heritage, that has passed on this tradition to me. My father's mother (full blood Ukrainian) taught my mother soon after they were married, finding that she had artistic talent. I think I started picking it up around 7 or 8 years old and have looked forward to it every year since. I hope I eventually have a kid to pass this onto myself.

All of these were made in the traditional wax resist method by me. No paint was involved.

I love the tradition and craftsmanship of this method. It's not unusual for me to sit for 4 or 5 hours, working on 2 or 3 eggs at a time. Truly, I enjoy it that much. I only do it for the few weeks of April, leading up to Easter, then the box goes back into storage until next year.

Been a while...Been a crappy summer

I haven't posted anything since June 18th. that's over 6 months now. I had an immensely crappy summer followed by an even worse fall, then November hit and there was an even bigger surprise. Mostly there was so much going on that i never had the emotional time to get all my thoughts out into a post. The rest of it was not the sort of things i want the details of all over the internet. I'll try to tell the stories as best i can without revealing too much.

In my last post, i talked all the things that were gone.

Such as Boyfriend Jon's work schedule. That started in April....and didn't end until late October. 12 hour days, almost every day of the week. He was exhausted and frustrated nearly all the time. To each of our credit, we only had one blowout where our emotional turmoil got the best of us and we took it out on each other verbally. But even that only lasted one angry phone call and we made up a few hours later. I don't want to sound like i'm a needy clingy person...but i missed him whenever he was gone. Our time to be together became infrequent but precious. Still we managed to get in a few camping trips and a couple weekends where literally all we did was simply BE at home together.
Of course...when the schedule ended, it was weird. And i ended up having to ask him to be out of the house so i could finish his christmas gifts without him seeing. A compromise was found where i worked behind a screen (a folding table leaning up against the couch blocking my work from his view...but he could still see my face).

Another thing is gone...and all i can say is good riddance. Someone i care about deeply was in a relationship with...well....the only way i can think of him now is as a con artist. Because that's what he did. He came in like a whirlwind and swept a very grounded person off her feet. He charmed her and wooed her and even put a ring on her finger.
But then things started to sour over the summer. He had tales of woe about his finances and he worked all the time. He was a very private person so he didn't want her talking to others about the problems he was having. So quietly, she helped fund so many things for him. Because she loved him, completely. Even moved to a different city, into a house that was awful for her elderly dog and had spiders infesting the lawn....but the money started running out. And things started to get worse. We all knew something was up, but she wouldn't tell us any details.
And one day...in an email...he ended everything and said he was moving out and only showed up once more to get his stuff, clearly having tried to time it so she wouldn't be there.
With a lot of coaxing, the whole story started coming out. The family and the friends were all shocked. We had all been conned by his entrancing stories, the seemingly unbreakable devotion he displayed for her, the simple fact that she was completely in love. He conned everyone, myself included, and shattered her heart.

So we did what friends and family do best. We circled the wagons around her and helped her get back on her feet. We talked, hugged, and helped until she was grounded again.
I'm so proud to say that she used this crappy experience to change careers into something that made her happy (and made her more money), she moved out of that house and into a new temporary place until she can move back to the city that suits her personality, and she is making plans to go back to school. She really channeled her anger and hurt into a very positive path.

Fast forward to September, and i'll tell you the rest of my crappy 6 months.

My uncle fell off his deck onto his head/shoulder area. Even worse luck...his head managed to find a single loose brick on the ground for it to land on.
Thankfully, someone was home and heard the crash and found him almost immediately so he was able to get help right away.
The tally of injuries were as follows: His left ear was nearly severed, a massive concussion, broken collarbone and shoulder blade, 5 broken ribs on his left side and 2 on his right, and he somehow managed to rip his toenail off. He was on a breathing and feeding tube for 2 full weeks, and in the ICU at Harborview for 2 months, then he was kept in the Acute care for an additional month. Thankfully the amazing doctors and nurses and PT trainers did an amazing job and my uncle is almost back to his usual self.
During this time, tempers and emotions were high to put things mildly. Somehow my mother and I ended up trying to be the peace keepers between certain members of the families, both working from opposite angles. That took up every ounce of my mental and emotional strength since i could see both sides merits and shortcomings.

I celebrated the day my uncle was able to go home with some reservations. I was so so so happy that he had recovered enough to go home. But i worried about the emotional healing and the fortitude of several parties involved.
Things seem to have found an unsteady equilibrium, but i check in every now and then to see if i can lend an ear or a different perspective.

Then when i thought i couldn't take another major change, November 1st hit.

Standing in front of my NaNoWriMo group of dear friends, Boyfriend Jon, not typically a big speech maker,  put his arm around me and started a countdown, explaining all our milestones:

6 NaNoWriMo's have been done while we've known each other
5 NaNo's that we've done together as a couple
4 year anniversary
3 cheers for all the work i put into my meetings
2 writers in love
1 simple question

and he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.

to which i replied, with my usual eloquence,..."oh hell yeah."

Honestly, i could never have gotten through the shit storm that was my 2013 summer and fall without him by my side. And it was an amazing turn around from all the awfulness to have something so wonderful to celebrate.

I listened to my grandmother's uncouth advice when i picked him: "Will you still love him when he farts and has sagging parts?" and the answer is yes. I've never imagined being married to anyone until i met him. there was always a family, but the future husband was always faceless and abstract in my daydreams. Now i see Jon, clearly, across the daydreamed dinner table with kids screaming about not wanting to eat peas, and i can already hear the jokes he's going to crack. Or the calm and sage advice he'll pull out just when i'm ready to tear my hair out over a really bad day. I don't need a diamond and a huge party. I just need him with me to face whatever the future brings.

So it is my pleasure to introduce you to my Betrothed.

Gone

These last couple have weeks have been all about people being gone.

Boyfriend Jon is working harder than ever this summer. Since i leave for work before 7am and he's starting to frequently get home between 8-9pm, i hardly see him. To give credit where credit is due. Boyfriend Jon took on some extra chores to help out and i've been seeing random bouquets often, so i know he's thinking of me as much as i'm thinking of him.

It's weird having my live in-best friend gone all the time. It makes me thankful for Kira-dog to make sure i have company even if she just ignores me when i talk to her. He finally walks in and flops on the couch just in time for me to announce i need to head to bed so i can get up again for work. Often our only interactions are a few emails during the day, and a brief summary of our days before bed.

But what we lack in interaction during the week we more than make up for on the weekends. Boyfriend Jon has been serenading me with his ukulele, following me to family functions, going with me to the dog parks, and even trying to bake something together.

Allow me to segue into our "I Love Lucy-esque Malasada Blob Fiasco". We decided it would be fun to try to make Malasadas (Portuguese doughnut that is so popular in Hawaii that the day before lent is known as Malasada Day). We probably should have known that we were in trouble when the recipe called for 9 teaspoons of yeast, 12 eggs and 5lbs of flour.
But we pushed on in ignorance...having to get creative with my kitchenaid to fit all these ingredients in the bowl. Then came the blob as all that yeast got to work and it spilled over the sides of the largest aluminum pan we could find at the grocery store.
It was at this point Boyfriend Jon started singing the "i love lucy" theme song making us both laugh hysterically. Plus the dough was sticky, gloopy, and got all over the place as we tried to drop clumps into hot oil without burning ourselves. The end result was pretty tasty, b
ut we had at least 100 malasadas for 7 people.

There's another person in my life who is gone. Leila Ball, whom i always called grandma, passed away last week. Even though technically she's only my cousin's grandma. So....grandma in law? But since we spent our childhoods together, i and my brother Johnny got rolled into the Grandkids group. The news was expected since she was 90+ with cancer and having a very rough time of it. While i will miss her gentle voice at our family gatherings, i'm glad she's no longer in pain.


And finally there's another missing piece of my life. My father retired and decided he wanted to travel the USA immediately after. So they've packed up and left my childhood home behind headed for Idaho, Yosemite, South Dakota, Georgia, Virginia, and New York. For a month and a half, my parents...who are totally homebodies and rarely leave a 5 mile radius...are completely gone. Out of state, incommunicado, gone.

I like to think i don't rely on them very much, but knowing that Boyfriend Jon scoffs whenever i say that....it's very weird to know they're gone. My brother will be house sitting soon, but i went over last night to check on the house and was overwhelmed by this creepy feeling of a dead silent house. Coming from a 6 person family, that house has never in my life been that quiet. Sure I've been over there when there's no one home, but even then, the furnace or AC is on, my mom's computer whirring. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but the profound silence creeped me out!

I'm certain that myself, my siblings, my cousins, and Boyfriend Jon will all adjust just fine to the sudden changes, but the suddenness of so many things being gone
all at once really hit me last night, standing in the silence and heat of a house that no one calls home right now. It feels like something big just happened yet i know it's no big deal.

Learning to live with an Introvert

Boyfriend Jon and I have been living together for five months now. And along with all the normal arguments compromise that goes along with combining resources, tasks, and responsibilities...it's also been a huge learning experience. For me especially, learning to live with an introvert has been a near constant crash course trying to understand what, when and how much the other person needs.

Why didn't I know this coming in to the living-together situation?

Well, I knew he was happy staying at home, and that when he got involved in a project, it went so far as to exclude all else for long periods of time. I've also never in my life lived with an introvert. There is no such thing in my family, though my mom claims to be one. She goes for long long drives by herself, but usually, it's to go see someone. My dad, rarely goes to the grocery store without someone to keep him company and my siblings take up the spectrum in between.

Overall, i guess i fit into the Extrovert category. I somewhat straddle the line, though. While i love having someone there even though i'm not talking to them, i also don't like people getting into my bubble without permission. Empty house means i'm going to turn on the TV just to have the placebo effect of a human voice.

What i didn't know was that The Introversion Flag could pop up at any time, occasionally conflicting with my extrovert needs to have company, interaction, and socialization.

But I've watched him, seen the physical exhaustion that comes after parties, the strain after long periods where he can't work on his projects, and the outright despondence when we've been going going going, for a long time.

He's a strong man; I wouldn't be with him if he wasn't strong enough to support my own weaknesses. And often i wonder at his patience with my constant whirlwind of plans, projects and bouncing from idea to idea in a single conversation as i try to clear out my head for bedtime.

Out of everything we've been through for almost 3 years, this has been the toughest part for me to learn: Boyfriend Jon is an introvert and has different mental needs than i do. But, I honestly don't know what i'd do without my Infuriating Introvert.

Occasionally, in trying to help me understand, he sends me articles, comics, or a few emails that better explain Introversion. The following was one of the most adorable depictions I've ever seen and i had to share it.

My Great-Aunt Claire

Aunt Claire & Uncle Buddy

I have no idea why, but these last several days, my mind has turned frequently to memories of Aunt Claire. I find myself missing her so much. I wish that i could once again be a little girl, and climb up into her lap and tell her all the problems of my small little world. And that she would hug me tight tell me not to worry, then suggest some tidbit of wisdom that would snap everything into perspective and then everything would indeed be all right. And if it wasn't, well, suddenly her crossword puzzle would become too difficult for her and only i would be able to help.

My Great-Aunt Claire was many things to me. She was my grandmother's unmarried sister, my father's aunt, my summertime house guest, my playmate, my enthusiastic audience, my source of infinate wisdom, and role model for how i wanted to live my life.

To look at her, she would make a doctor, fashionista, and hair stylist all cringe. Her hair was dark brown, almost black (and later grey) and she never dyed it. She kept it cropped boyishly close. She wore thick 80s glasses that gave her bug eyes. She was very overweight, so she wore muumuus usually in garish colors like orange, fuchsia, and brown. Beneath them, she wore knee high nylons to hide her varicose veins and what i can only describe as grandma shoes. Her arms had arm fat hanging from them almost 10 inches long and she never work makeup. She was no delicate flower. Not with her brisk and no nonsense attitude.

G-Aunt Claire, Grandma Anne, Aunt Eileen, Uncle Paul

But I loved her fiercely and i would never change a single hair on her head. If i had eons to sit here and tell you about her, i could never come close to truly describing the woman who shaped my growing years in ways that i can't even pick apart until i catch someone staring at me when i'm ranting in "Aunt-Claire-ian" terms. Her enthusiasm for life always amazed me.

Behind those thick glasses were mischievous and sparkling with a hundred unspoken jokes. Her arm blubber was an endless source of entertainment and she never ever felt shamed about it. She wore the muumuus because they were exceedingly comfortable, not giving a damn about fashion. I learned how to count because she would have me count out her pills in her weekly pill reminder case. She made up words collected from Italian, Ukrainian, Yiddish, and Tarzan (no i'm not kidding, she loved Tarzan's language of the beasts and used several phrases on us children) She knew how to improvise just about everything from card game rules, which spontaneously changed mid-game, to the left hand while playing piano.

Aunt Claire, my brother Michael, Grandma, Me, Dad, Mom,
Grandma T and my brother Johnny

And she would sing. Off key, tuneless, and able to be heard through the whole house. That's how i knew everything was right in the world, when Aunt Claire was singing or shuffling her feet in a silly little dance.

When everything was not all right, the whole neighborhood heard about it. Her and my grandmother would get into screaming matches over who had more cookies at tea time or if Perry Mason or Columbo was a better show, which generally ended up with them screaming at each other in Ukrainian about fifty or more past arguments. But so help you if you jumped into the argument, they would both turn on you like savage dogs, defending the other for the very thing they had been yelling about seconds before.

She died just before i graduated, on May 21, 2005 at 84 years old. I very badly wanted to go but with school coming to a close and the trip to the other side of the continent, we held our own memorial at home in the form of an UNO card game marathon proclaiming PURPLE PEOPLE EATERS, and YELLOW CANARIES and TAKE 2 when dropping a regular 2 card and the infamous ACCORDING TO HOY-LEE proclamations. It was my aunts favorite game even though she would cheat against us children. So many of my memories revolve around a deck of well worn Uno cards.

Uncle nick, Michael, Random person,
Me, Margaret, Johnny, Noreen,
and Aunt Claire, clearly plotting some uno scheme

I found recently that my upper arms are starting to develop a little droop when i hold them up. I began to freak out. I loved my aunt and admire every detail about her, including her complete disregard for mainstream beauty. But at 25, i'm not ready to have her arms, I hate dresses in general, i love my long hair, and well, just...damnit i'm to young to have blubber arms!

Part of me has always wanted to be like her. Until Boyfriend Jon came along, it wasn't entirely unexpected (by myself and my family) that i would become the unmarried caregiver in this generation of our family since it seems there's always one or two. I wanted to be the one whom all the kids gathered, so i could pass on my unconventional wisdom that comes from not being a typical woman. To show them that its not really necessary to live according to main stream, to have the latest media and toys to entertain yourself, and mostly that life is a wondrous thing and we should enjoy it.

It's my philosophy in life even now; not conforming, doesn't necessarily mean you can't be happy doing it. I wish now that i had asked my aunt why she never married. There's so many things i wish i could talk with her about. I regret that in the last few years of her life, she was barely even a shadow of the incredible dynamic woman i grew up with. Dementia saw to that. And that even as a teenager, i didn't make time to talk with her on the phone. Mostly i regret that my future children will never know her.

Some day, the Uno cards will come out, and i'll teach them about purple people eaters, Hoy-Lee, dig a little deeper, let me call you sweetheart, scosheeboshee and Ungawa Nichcha (most of those are aunt clarian terms that still float around our family). Who knows what's in the cards for me. I could still turn out to be very much like her.

But the blubber arms have to go.

We're off to see the Redwoods

I've only have a brief encounter with the California redwoods aside from dreaming about racing a speeder through them. They were easily the biggest trees I've ever seen. That includes the cross cut on display near my first house in Tacoma. Which was huge when i was a toddler, but even i know that cross cut is dwarfed by some of the "small" redwoods that i saw when i first went to California.

That was my first time being able to drive through a tree. Even though our rental car was small, it was such a big novelty.

Now, we're off for another road trip to California. This time it will be 11 hours instead of 14. Not too much of a difference, but a bit more manageable. It will give us a little breathing room on our drive. But it's going to land us smack dab in the "Avenue of the Giants" so these will be really really big redwoods. That's going to be exciting.

Why are we going?

To meet up with Jon's family for a camping trip near a river. It's the first camping trip we've been able to organize all year because I've been obsessed with unpacking we've been too busy setting up the apartment to be home.

I love camping. My first camping trip was when i was 7 and i still remember a lot about it. Incidentally it was my first rendezvous, but that's a story for another time. We met up with my dad's brother and his family. We were prepared fairly well to camp in general since my parents had been boy/girl scout leaders for 20 years so we had enough gear. But we were not prepared for a thunder and lightning storm. That was the one and only time that i remember my mother joining us on a camping trip. After that, it became a bonding experience with just my dad. I went camping with him several times a year until i was 18.

Looking back, i realize that those campsites had only the most basic of amenities. Port-a-potties. But at the time, i thought they were awesome. Catching lizards in the rocks. Walking into the woods to get firewood, playing in the woods with my cousins. There was limited supervision....and by that i mean everyone in the entire campground knew who's kids belonged to who and they'd just a soon give us cookies and let us play in their camp as smack us when we got out of line. I walked other people's dogs, helped with dishes, ran errands and messages across camp. And for some reason, i remember it being fun. It's amazing that so many people come together and can form a brand new village mentality for just a weekend.

Personally a fan of log cabin/pyramid

It was here that i learned how to make and use char cloth, flint and steel, build fires, learn knots, cook over an open fire, keep a fire going through the night, as well as what rock lizards taste like cooked (they're edible, that's all i'll say) which was probably one of the more stupid things we did.

Now i'm going to state campgrounds. And I laugh that they have running water and hot showers. So this is how normal people camp? I thought we had everything we needed when we had port-a-potties. Sure we'd come home and have to do rock paper scissors to see who got the first shower, but I don't remember every turning down a camping trip because of that.

Regardless, i'm excited to go. I have a urge to test some survival skills i haven't had to make yet. I'm going to try to make a fire with sticks. And also i get to hang out with Jon's dynamic and interesting family.

Unpacking!

My last post was about getting down to the dregs of packing, cleaning, and trying to not accidentally pack my sanity into a box. Despite my efforts not to, things got a little frazzled. and i was literally going day to day trying to stay on top of things without freaking out.

Now, sounds a bit pathetic right? Like i can't handle the simple stress from a basic move? Well there was a bit more to it than that.

I think the most eventful thing that happened since my last update is that my mother had a pretty serious accident. She was climbing onto the roof (we're still not sure why she was up there alone) and the ladder went out from underneath her and she landed hard on her right side, breaking one of the bones in her leg and shattering her upper arm bone. Thankfully, my sister was right there and was able to get immediate help and my mother tried to boss the paramedics around on how to move her to the ER, much to their amusement and my dad's chagrin.

This led to three days in the hospital, probably close to 100 x-rays, and very little pain meds because my mom has bad reactions to them. My dad stayed by her side all day every day. Then they came home for about a week to wait for the swelling to go down. (Two days ago she went in for shoulder replacement surgery, and she's now back home and recovering from that as well.) Meanwhile, my sister and I went for several visits both to the hospital and to the house to take turns babysitting my mom who was still stubbornly trying to get around without help.

Let me tell you she had the single most livid bruise i have ever seen. Her whole upper arm was PURPLE and green. I can't believe how doctors looked at that and didn't worry too much. I'm so glad my mom is ok if a little worse for wear. She's been working even! Participating in conference calls and dictating emails. That's either extreme dedication to her job or anything to get dad to stop fussing over her. I made sure to make the joke that she didn't want to help me move so much she had to go and get injured to get out of it. It made her laugh.

During ALL OF THAT, is when i moved. And as if things couldn't get much worse, we had quite an adventure with the U-Haul truck. First they tell us that we CAN'T get it Saturday and Sunday because i waited too long to to make a reservation. Next they tells we CAN get Friday night to Saturday afternoon. But when we show up the manager says no way! Finally we arrange that we can get it first thing Saturday morning, to Saturday afternoon and we'll get the smaller truck. We show up to get the truck and they can't find the reservation which is in Jon's name. Getting REALLY ticked off by this point, we repeat his last name several times before I say his full name last then first. Suddenly, they find our reservation because it was filed under his first name. By this point we weren't going to argue or wonder if we had gotten another "John/Jon"'s reservation and we went off to get our keys.

The new apartment was really the only good part of my last two weeks. With a few small maintenance requests which have been getting taken care of much faster than my old place....I'm in love with this place. It already is starting to feel like home.

Then came the move. We had a small army of friends who came through for us. Thank you so much; Dad, Sister, Lee, Naomi, Tyler, Lindsey, Shelly, Ian, Josh and Annie. You are the best. Two days, two apartments, probably near 100 boxes, a bunch of furniture which was a pain to navigate, three pizzas, some KFC, Pho and a lot of aspirin later....WE'RE MOVED IN!!!!!-ish

Boyfriend Jon and I have been spending every single day trying to deal with the mountain of boxes everywhere, trying to decide what we needed most, and battling hoards of crumpled newspaper. We're well on our way to making our apartment a happy home.

Last night, i finished unpacking the kitchen and made my first meal in about six weeks. It was simple, delicious and probably the healthiest thing I've eaten in those six weeks. No more take out and TV dinners for me for a while. I'm cooking with.....well...it's electric, but i feel as good as when i cook with gas! :D

I'll post before and after pics soon!

Not-so Breaking News!

FINALLY! FINALLY! I can talk about it.

Boyfriend Jon and I are moving in together!!!!!

We found a gorgeous apartment, in the perfect area, next to a creek with a trail, a fireplace, a huge kitchen and walking distance to a grocery store. It's huge, almost double the square footage that i'm currently living in. And in the next month, you're probably going to be reading about all the obsessive moving thoughts that will be running through my head.

I didn't want to break the news pre-maturely and possibly jinx it, and also because i hadn't told my parents yet. There were a lot of variables that had to come together in order for all of this to work.

But we got the lease papers last night and are going over them today. So it's pretty much official. We're moving in together.

I had a lot of concern about how my parents would react. They pretend that most dating milestones that are common for the 21st century don't exist. They like to pretend there's still the courting process prevalent in the 1950s. Sometimes the pretending goes to the extreme, in my opinion, but that's just the way that they are. And i am their baby, and this mold hasn't been broken in on the girls side of things. Thankfully, i seem to have caught them at a good time and overall the announcement went well. I had hoped for a genuinely happy response, but it was more reserved and cautious. Probably cause they've had no wind of this before, they don't realize that this has been in the works since August.

I'm so excited to move in with Boyfriend Jon. He's my best friend, companion, confidant, and winner of the best boyfriend award multiple times. This is going to be such a beneficial step. No more logistics of having two apartments, two refrigerators, two schedules...we'll be able to save money on rent, cook more cause all the ingredients are in one place, so many other pluses that i can't even count them right now cause i'm too giddy. And the place is huge by comparison to either of our places, and open, and there's two bedrooms so there's the option of our own private space. I have such a good feeling about this place.

I'm an artistic, right brained type. I love to spread out and have room to move. Which is kind of hard in a just over 500 sq/f apartment. Oh, did i mention its on the 3rd floor? This means there's the options of leaving the curtains open!!! Natrual light, oh happy day!

Right now thoughts of BBQs by the pool (did i mention there's a pool?), movie nights with friends where everyone can sit and enjoy the tv, baking parties, Halloween parties, eventually getting a puppy or two; all those things just keep running through my head.

I just can't wait for April!

The Feast of the Seven Fishes

There's been quite a delay in my posts. Partially between a burn out from writing in general, and partially due to the chaos of the holiday season.

Updates:
Boyfriend Jon has gone off to the wilds (aka, California) to spend the holidays with his family. It leaves me with two weeks of pure alone time after work. Although i miss him terribly, I've already started putting it to use; cleaning my bathroom from top to bottom. I'll wash the floor tonight.
Other cleaning is in the works including an entire empty and reorganize of my cupboards, emptying and sorting of all the boxes that have miscellaneous items shoved inside them when i had company coming over. Maybe i'll actually figure out where on earth my second hammer went to.

Then i have projects galore to work on. Wood working and sewing projects which for the time being will remain unspecified because they're Christmas presents.

All i can say is i'm very happy that i found a wood supplier online that has bubinga, one of my favorite woods.

Also, in my family, we have a holiday tradition that many people don't know anything about. It's called the Feast of the Seven Fishes. It stems in my family from my grandfather, my dad's father, who was born in southern Italy. It's supposed to be very religiously related, but there's very little rhetoric in my family. We believe what we believe and that's all there is to it. The Feast of the Seven Fishes has it's own traditional meaning for us that has nothing to do with religion. It is a very special time.

When we were little, on Christmas Eve morning, dad would get us out of bed early, (7am), and treat us to hot chocolate at a coffee shop (which almost never happened during the rest of the year) then we would go to the local fish market and dad would carefully select and buy all kinds of fish and seafood. Shrimp, Sole, Salmon, Halibut, Clams, Crab (more about this later), Scallops, and occasionally Eel, Catfish, Trout, and other random seafood made the menu. Most years, we had no idea what was going to be on the table when everything was concocted.

Then we would stop off at the grocery store and pick up any extra ingredients that were necessary. Then it was back to the house. By that time, usually it was past noon, and food preparation began immediately. I always got tasked with shelling shrimp and de-boneing what i could. And my dad would cook everything, dressed in his blue and white striped apron, going in and out of the back door to check on things cooking in the BBQ.

When the shrimp was done, as with all holidays, i got put to setting the table, arranging shrimp around the rims of these short glasses with snowmen painted on them, and filling them with the sauces. I made sure we used the gold rimmed goblets with snowflakes, and pulled out the candles. And after my grandmother died, her favorite silverware was used.

My mother would go outside with a pair of garden nippers and bring back in several branches from our cedar trees and occasionally the neighbor's pine tree. Then she would arrange it all, with some pine cones and ribbon into a beautiful center piece.

It took all of us years to figure out how he did it, but all the dishes hit the table at the same time. At which point we would dig in to spinach and garlic halibut, seared scallops, grilled salmon, a plethora of other mouth watering dishes.

Even this makes me want to throw up!

When i was really little, everyone in the family would get a kick out of putting the cooked crab right next to my chair. Then dad on my left would rip off the legs and arms with gusto while i tried not to think about those horribly sickening sounds. Then being a trouble maker, he would leave the head of the crab staring at me. I couldn't have been more than five and he would try to get me to touch it, only to make it move when my finger was a hairs breath away.

One year my mother got the hair brained idea to run the cleaned out crab head through the dishwasher with the idea of keeping it to add to her collection of shells. Only she didn't count on my brother Johnny to be the one to empty the dishwasher that night. I'll give you three guesses as to what a sevenish year old boy did with a scary crab shell that made his little sister scream. Oh yeah, he chased me with it. It was cruel, but i survived usually by screaming so loud that my mother put a stop to it. Though to this day, i'm still terrified of crab in the shell. No problems with the meat, it's quite tasty actually. Just the disgusting, creepy, freakish exoskeleton, makes my stomach turn.

Anyway, that was the story when i was little. Now it's a whole different ballgame. Dad still throws a fit if any of us so much as thinks about not attending. But he always has volunteers to go do the fish shopping. When we had fifteen people to feed, the table would be filled with different dishes. Often only limited to seven KINDS of fish, but multiple variations of all of them. Now, we're all more health conscious. Baking instead of frying, and reducing the amounts of butter and cheeses in all the dishes. Also, my sister and I join in on the cooking often bringing a signature dish or two ourselves to save our dad some of the labor.

This year is another first. My sister finally finished her kitchen remodel and wants to host the Feast at her place. My father was giddy that he wouldn't have to cook. But then my sister ended up having to work. So we're going to try preparing some dishes ahead of time. And we won't be without some of my dad's signature dishes this time around.

NaNo 2011 - Day 7

So last night, i finally got my timeline and route in order and went to bed thinking about how to write it. I woke up and was all energized to go.

I was in such a good mood that even an extra dump of work on my desk couldn't phase me. Cause as soon as I got home i was going to kick some NaNo butt! Hiiiyaaa!

And then my sister called.

Oh yeah, i'm the horrible daughter that forgot her mom's birthday...is tonight. In the words of Homer Simpson: D'OH!

Not to mention i found that apparently i'm taking her to the Verizon store tonight to help her pick out her new smart phone. Which since my mom is not extremely technologically savvy...means extensive answering of questions. Which will probably take a lot of time. Time i had hoped to get back into the swing (finally) of my story!

Yeah...life happens.

NaNo 2011 - Day 6

Whoops. Usually i'm a bit better about keeping up with my thoughts and feelings over the course of a November. The truth is, this year, i'm (was) neck and neck with one of my friends so just about ever spare second was spent writing on my story.

Today being the sixth, i should be at about 10,000 words. Due to the fact that the friend I've been neck and neck with is going for one hundred thousand words as opposed the regular fifty thousand, she's helped push me to push out over 16 thousand words.

The official count right now is 16,425 while i take a break and get some work done in completing the company calendar.

14k of that was completed by Friday. After that, a small conversation with Boyfriend Jon led me to question my entire timeline of my story. Turns out, not paying attention in pretty much any of my history classes was a problem after all. My memory of events and corresponding years was faulty and caused an enormous hole in my story that could not logically be breached in any way that still made sense.

It had a huge effect on me. I was instantly frustrated and i frantically searched about online for some other way of fixing this huge hole. I snapped at poor Boyfriend Jon, and a headache took a strong hold at the base of my neck. There was no logical way i could get two young men into Europe, but not to join the war, without completely deviating from history. Finally I got an idea.

I have an Uncle, who is renowned in our family for talking about WW2 at great length and even occasionally exhaustion. Now normally, when he goes off on his rants, i leave the room or stare at him until i start to nod off. WW2 history doesn't interest me in the least. The only reason i'm writing about it is to give the story an urgency and an easy bad guy. Not to mention Indiana Jones is one of the inspiration and who is Indiana Jones always's fighting? oh yeah. The Nazis.

But now, at day 6 i was being forced to consider the possibility that i would need to completely alter the timeline, perhaps even choosing a completely different era. That might have been less daunting at day 6 if i was actually following the 1667 words a day. But 14,000 words is a LOT to have to compeltely re-write.

So, back to my Uncle. When i called he wasn't home so i enlisted my cousin to do what the women in our family refer to as the sweet insistence. Which in this case involved her standing over him with the phone in her hand telling him how much his niece (me) needed his help and without him my entire project might fail. Of which i said no such thing, but i got a phone call back from him in a surprisingly short amount of time.

As i laid out my problem for him, he kept interrupting me telling me about where else in Europe the Germans were fighting during 1939. Border disputes with the French were the least of the battles as the Germans moved over eastern europe. Czechoslovakia, Poland, and Russia taking advantage to try and get their share of the land. May i just say...power hungry idiots!?

But when i explained the path that i needed my characters to follow, he gave me two lumps of SOLID GOLD. One being that i could land my characters in Spain which was a neutral port. Neutral port to neutral port meant that they were less likely ("accidents" happened all the time) to be sunk by U-boats.

And if i made my characters arrive in France before June 3rd and if they left to go into Italy before June 10th (when Italy declared war on France), they would be able to go straight through  without too much of a problem. It would be even better if i gave them some way of diplomatic immunity.

So there you go. You've now been caught up with my frenzied recalculation that has taken up most of my weekend. As a matter of fact, i don't think I've written 2 thousand words all weekend. I just was so not feeling it. Which is why i said that i WAS neck and neck with my friend. I think the last i hear she was coming up on 22k. Which i'm so excited for her but my competitive nature is like OMFG! STOP TYPING SO I CAN CATCH UP.

Boyfriend Jon is also eliciting a similar response as he's approaching 20k right now, or so he tells me.

Closet Shopping

I hate shopping for clothes. It's the worst, most depressing and humiliating task i can think of. Although i adore my gal pals and know they are beautiful and supportive...going shopping with them is a struggle with my ego.

They're size 8/10 and 12/14. They have entire aisles dedicated to their size. Whereas I as a 18/20 have at best a 3 foot long section to look through. And I can try on every single item in that section and not find a single thing that fits.

Since this has been the case through most of my life, I never developed an affinity for going shopping. Either nothing fit or i looked like i was dressed by my grandmother. Hence, i hate clothing shopping in general and find it to be a necessary evil. Occasionally i get lucky and find something that i like and fits, and then i buy four of them.

Over time, i found shops that catered to my size and didn't have grandma style clothes. But where jeans are normally $40, mine are $58. Where tops are normally $20, i pay $50. So i still didn't go crazy with clothes.

I've been tightening my purse strings for quite a while but with a wedding coming up, I had to find something nice. My closet currently contains:

• Slinky black dress numbers 1, 2 and 3 and slinky red dress number 1, 
• doesn't fit anymore dresses 1 through 5, 
• Red ballgown (aka totally inappropriate for a wedding)
• Super casual red print dress (aka totally inappropriate for a wedding)
• and two skirts that i love but are very uncomfortable to sit in. 

Did i mention it's going to be in the mid to high 80's on that day?

So i called the only person i could think of that would have a solution: My sister. 

She grew up very skinny and spent entire summers going shopping with our aunts on the east coast who all love to shop. I grew up on the west coast, wearing camouflage and scraping my knees. But now, ironically, we've evened out to just about the same size and shape. Although she still has about four bra sizes on me. 

She loves to shop. She has three closets (two of them are double hung) that are stuffed full of clothes. To the point that i could barely push stuff aside to look at them. From theses closets she pulled out a dozen dresses for me to choose from and borrow. 

I was skeptical at first. Usually with a dozen i have about a 30 % chance to walk away with 1. But by dress four fitting nicely, i was actually enjoying myself. In the end all but three fit me reasonably well, but i took the four best with me to decide after spending some time in them. 

Four dresses of varying niceness, for free, in the span of about an hour from start to finish. All the hard work was already done thanks to my sister. I can go formal with the green beaded one, I can go comfortable casual with a navy one, retro with a polka dotted one, or feminine with a peachy flowered one. 

Now i understand the appeal that my skinny gal pals feel when going shopping. Shopping in my sister's closet has options. Options are FUN! Not to mention it's free. Best Shopping Trip EVER!!!

Rest In Peace Rusty Roo

The moment finally came, and the decision was made. We put Rusty the poodle down yesterday at 4:15 yesterday. It was a peaceful end to his love filled 15 year life.

It was the hardest day of my life. Holding him, giving him extra treats, taking off his harness and using my long nails to give him a good scratch in all the hard to reach places. I was crying so hard the whole way as dad tried to talk me out of going into the room.

"It will upset you terribly" he said.
"I know." i replied
"You really don't know." he pressed.
"I'd feel worse if i didn't."

There were so many things i wanted to say but every time i got started my throat felt like it closed off. I think that was the quietest car ride my dad and i had ever shared.

In the end, I didn't go into the room. The vet requested that if a family member couldn't keep it together, that they weren't present. I knew there was no way i could watch my puppy slip away without bawling. So i sat in the car crying into Molly's fur while she looked out the window probably hoping that dad would bring food back for her. Indeed when a beagle was being walked near the car, she kept licking her chops. Finally i reminded her it was a beagle not a bagel.

Everything else yesterday was trying to get from one task to the other. Reading James Herriot to mom since she's still recovering from surgery. Trying to coordinate the family for tomorrow going to and from Seattle. Driving back with my sister and trying to figure out what in my closet would work for a bachelorette party. Cleaning out all the garbage in my car to get ready for camping this weekend. Forcing food down my throat despite it clamping up several times. Trying somehow to explain to Boyfriend Jon what i needed from him when i didn't even know myself. And finally falling into bed exhausted and feeling like a wrung out towel.

When it rains it pours.

Too many cooks spoils the sauce

The garage sale was in a word, chaotic. By the time the signs went up on Friday, everyone was already stressed. The weather decided it would be funny to rain for 2 out of 3 days and we had way too many people all very willing to help but ultimately adding to the chaos. 

In addition to the family, we had the neighbor kids who helped set up, make signs (which were cute, but barely readable) and then set up a lemonade stand to stop them from running around like crazy. Their grandparents who brought a ton of random items, and my sister's coworker's wife and her infant were also there. Then the neighbors joined in. It was crowded and loud and everyone was in each other's way and no one was 100% sure how low negotiating could go since there were so many people's stuff there. 

I don't ever want to do a garage sale again. By opening time on Sunday, i was ready to call it quits. I had had enough of the arguing, the chaos and the stress. After talking with my dad, i stuck it out even though i had zero enthusiasm left. Thankfully by Sunday, everything was very quiet. We ended up watching Demolition Man to stay awake while the rain did it's best to soak us out.

Between everyone we sold about 1000 dollars worth of our old stuff. This included some big dollar items such as the piano i spent twelve years learning on, some dressers, electronics, and other furniture. As for me, i got rid of some knick knacks but none of the major items i was hoping to get some moola for. I came away with just over $40 which will be put towards a folding table for entertaining, crafts and general space saving abilities in my tiny apartment. But i'm just glad that now i'll have room to move around...once i fold laundry that is. 

My saving grace this weekend was Boyfriend Jon who got me not just one beautiful bouquet, but three to help cheer me up. And then we watched and concluded the LOTR extended edition blue rays. It explained a lot of things i forgot about since i haven't read the books in a long time. But it was just nice to sit and relax with no one clamoring for my attention every five seconds. Oh, and the double stuffed Oreos might have helped some too. 

Update on Rusty Roo

We finally had some good news after a week of worry and stress. Rusty went in for an X-ray and they determined that it's not his larynx but more likely a bronchial infection. So Rusty is in for a month long round of antibiotics and hopefully that will help with his severe cough. We're not out of the woods yet, but at least there's some rays of light.

It was scary listening to him. Every single breath out sounded like he was coughing deep in his chest and sometimes it seemed like he was having difficulty breathing at all. His poor sides are swollen and you can see that he definitively is having some problems with his kidneys. We don't know if they're failing for sure, but at least with the doggy dope, he's not in any pain.

Meanwhile, we try to encourage him to relax and sleep as much as possible. Not that this is a problem because as long as you stay seated, he konks out.

Wallet Theif, aka Miss Molly dog is having a hard time with all the attention he's getting. She's been pawing and jumping up people more often with her "pet me! pet me!" pleading look. We know she's jealous of Rusty in that she doesn't like the attention and food he steals from her...but when you look at them together, they're a lot like an old married couple. And if Rusty were ever not there...she'd miss him a lot...except when there was food around.

Otherwise, the family is finally unwinding from all the Rusty stress and onto the Garage Sale stress. The weather seems to not want to cooperate and is threatening rain so tonight we get to figure out how to cover everything.

We have a huge, multi family haul and hopefully, we'll be able to keep track of everything and get a reasonable amount of money for it.

Me, i'm gonna spend the money on a new folding table, a new lamp a second camping/patio/gaming chair and the rest will go towards my credit card bill which still has not recovered completely from glorious San Francisco.

Good Planning, aka Luck

Its hard for me to believe it, but i started building my coffee table and end tables just after Valentines day (aka single awareness day)

This project has by no means been the most complicated of my projects, but yet it has taken the longest. My father is certainly feeling his age, and I've confronted my uncomfortable emotions and frustrating setbacks. He has readily admitted that he can't work like he used to and i've been too timid to work without his help.

Last night, dad agreed to get to work on my drawers, the final bit of building that needed to be accomplished. But when i showed up, he was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was helping one of his friends with something complicated and wouldn't be home for hours and he was very sorry but I would have to wait.

I was ticked. Nailing him down to a time and place has been difficult to say the least because he's been very busy helping my sister. I tried not to impose but, with her project also several months over-schedule....it made life harder on everyone. And now, with her project finally down to a few punch list items, i thought i finally would have time to whip through the remainder of the building steps which i need dad's extra set of hands for. Yet when it came down to it...i was alone...

In dad's shop...

With all the tools i could possibly need....

With the knowledge of how to do the drawers...

I was just ticked off enough to be in my "Well, i'll show him" mood. Defiance and rebellion as my ally, i seized a hold of the plank of maple which had been plained down to 1/2 inch and quickly measured the gap that the drawer would need to fit into. I cut boards an inch over the right measurement  and then ran them through the jointer to make the edges smooth and even. Then i ripped them to the right width and cut them to the right size since i could now be sure of a good 90 degree cut.

In two hours, i had the frame of the drawer. So i started casting about for paneling for the bottom of the drawer. I didn't want to use the one dad had pointed out because it had a laminated side that i wouldn't be able to stain it. it would have to be painted or horribly mismatched. I went out into the wood shed and looked through would that had been put in there when i was still a teenager, Most of it was un-usable for my project.

It wasn't until i started looking through the scrap bin that i came across a piece of paneling that i instantly recognized. It was the exact same material i had used as the backing for the DVD stand and the TV stand. It looked rather small, but i pulled it out to see if i could get at least one bottom for the drawers.

As I set up the frame, i began to realize, hoping against hope, that i might have just enough for both drawers. When everything was set up, i had literally 2 inches to spare width wise without ever trimming the paneling.

I cut groves for the paneling to slide into and it's perfect. The groves were not as deep as i would have preferred, but with some wood glue, they'll hold up just fine. Besides, these are going to be holding relatively light things and serve as a general junk drawer for scissors, glue, stamps, ect.

When dad finally showed up, my mood had dissolved out of sheer disbelief at the perfection of the size of the LAST piece of the same paneling i had used for the other pieces in my living room. So i showed him what i had accomplished. We both had a good laugh as he analyzed my handiwork and gave me a stiff nod...adding that he hoped i didn't make any mistakes without him there. I confidently replied that i doubted i had, but if i did, it wouldn't be anything that couldn't be fixed.

Good Planning or Pure Luck? Who cares...the drawers just need to be glued and nailed and the end tables are ready to put the finish on.

Camping plans

Perhaps Boyfriend Jon and I have an odd relationship. By that i mean instead of going the traditional route for our year and a half....doing things like dinner at a fancy restaurant, dancing, wine on a bear skin rug kind of thing....Nope, our idea of fun and romantic is going camping.

I started camping when I was seven years old. My uncle invited my father to join him at this thing he called a Rhondevous (Ron-day-voo). It was a pioneer day re-enactment. Similar to a Ren-Fair, but in the days of Mountain Men and Indians. We started out with hardly any proper camping gear, and i remember that we had a lightning storm the first night. My mother made us get off of our aluminum cots and sleep on the ground because she was concerned about us getting electrocuted. I still don't understand why she did that. We were in the middle of a forest after all. The tent leaked, our feet turned to prunes, and we spent the second night in my uncle's tent, crammed in with all five of them, plus four of us, and their smelly dog. Since then, I  think i can count the number of times my mother has joined us on one hand.

I'm not sure how, but my father got hooked and so did my brother and I. The group of people that went to these Pioneer days were just plain cool. They told incredulous stories, taught me everything from beading to how to start a fire with flint and steel, and dad let us run basically wild. We caught newts, wandered through the woods, bought things in 'Traders Row". He never had to worry about us. Everyone kept an eye on us. I remember smashing my finger and a random woman that i didn't know at the time, bandaged me up. I even acquired a nickname: Skirts Afire. I'll let you guess how i got that one. It became a second community in my life as i grew up.

Me at the 2003 Women's Rhondy
(skill training weekend)

And quickly, dad purchased proper camping equipment. In later years, when my brother no longer joined us, my dad and I got to the point where we could set up and tear down the camp in a matter of a half hour. Granted, by then, we had a pop up camper.

But eventually i had to grow up. My father would get testy whenever i mentioned wanting to camp on my own, not with him. Especially if I had a boyfriend at the time. After one particular blow up when i was 20, i quit and for five years since, i hadn't gone camping. Our relationship mended and life otherwise went back to normal.

The last attempt Boyfriend Jon and I made at going camping was not well planned out. It was overnight, we were cold, and we ended up eating out instead of making up the food we bought. I kept trying to get into my normal groove and got frustrated by Boyfriend Jon not instinctively know what i needed him to do...the way my father did. I'm very accustomed to doing things a certain way, to always having the proper tools available to me. But living in an apartment doesn't leave much room to store a plethora of camping supplies.

So we borrowed my father's camping gear and additionally i was freaked out about the extremely remote possibility of things getting stolen. We weren't surrounded by the community of Rhondevous people...who have been known to return dropped wallets without a single penny missing. These were strangers! Yes it seems very silly now, but this is how i reacted. And single handedly, I made the trip be rather miserable.

It took me quite a while to realize why i was acting so controlling, but eventually i managed to explain to Boyfriend Jon. We agreed that we would try again, and we would do things very differently, next time.

So the changes changes we're making this time:

1. We're staying two nights, not one. 
2. We're not going in October (another big mistake)
3. We're purchasing our own camp gear. Chairs, possibly our own tent, and we bought foutons, not an air mattress.
4. My dad gave me a coleman grill. Not that i can't cook over an open fire, but just that it's easier to do so over a stove.
5. We're making a menu and sticking to it. 
6. Oh yeah, and I will NOT go freakishly controlling again. 

Here's to hoping for a smoother trip this time. 

Quite frankly, I consider where we're going to be a luxury anyway. Its a state run campground. They have hot showers! Now that's just plain ole FANCY! 

Crazy Week

So just this week, I've already had my sister's birthday, and today is my father's birthday. On top of that, my counterpart at work, Diana, is out of the office for two and a half weeks while she goes to Hawaii on vacation. So this week has been beyond crazy. Boyfriend Jon was a sweetheart and mercifully rubbed my feet since i had hardly sat down all day.

I made my sister a cake, which was decorated in less than an hour and a half with icing that was too thin, because i couldn't cool it properly before i started working with it. So rather than covering her cake in icing roses (which decided to flop off the rose nail), i settled for leaves trailing down the sides, and hot pink rosebuds around the top perimeter. I ran out the door and was a few minutes late to dinner. And i was SO rushed out the door, i forgot my camera and cell phone....which could have been used to take a picture. I'm sorry.

My dad, the baker in the family, was very impressed at what i had managed to throw together, and he says he has passed the torch onto me. But for his birthday, he has requested cupcakes. If you read back to my friend's wedding last summer you'll know that i swore i would never do cupcakes again. After two hundred and having to borrow cupcake pans.....yeah, never again. And i'm not breaking that stride yet. Dad doesn't know this, but i'm purchasing cupcakes from a local store instead. We only need three. The thought of having to clean my kitchen, make two dozen cupcakes, make icing, decorate and clean again....i don't have the energy.

This week at work i've been doing the work of two people who are already overloaded. Not to mention i'm helping people who seem to leave their brains at their desk when they come to see me. There is a bright florescent orange arrow on my desk at the entrance that is labeled and points to my inbox. They are still putting things on my chair or on my keyboard...and it's stuff that can wait. When i asked them if they saw the arrow, more than one said "Yes, i saw it, but i didn't understand what it meant". Tell me...does this look like they need the Rosetta Stone?

Yes, this is true. And no, i don't understand it either. Someone reminded me..."no matter how idiot proof you make it, somewhere there's always a better idiot."

The plans for the weekend involve being out in the sun at all times. FINALLY, we're getting a sunny weekend in the Pacific Northwest! Hallelujah! I'm going biking with or without Boyfriend Jon. If there's sun i intend to be out in it.

Catching up with a memory

I remember my grandmother's summer visits vividly. She and my great aunt would travel from hot and humid New York to warm yet mild in comparison Pacific Northwest. They lived with us, babysat us, and played with us all summer long. There were card and board games, crossword puzzles in the sun, making cookies, walks in the park, and they would sit on lawn chairs and watch us ride our bikes up and down the street cheering us as we went by. 

As time went on, my brother and I became the caretakers. Slowly, dementia took hold of the once vibrant and sharp as a tack Grandma Anne (for whom i am named) and she became easily confused. At times her inability to recall things that should be simple, infuriated her so much that she would lash out at us. Thankfully we were young and quick to dodge the cane and forgive the outbursts. She never stopped loving us, of that we were sure. But every subsequent year, she would arrive....diminished in some way. 

After she passed away, my Great Aunt Clair (with whom i share many characteristics) continued her visits for several years until we began to see the glimmers of dementia again. Soon after, it took a strong hold and she stopped visiting in summer. There were no more marathons of Uno games (where she would cheat, even against us kids) or sitting on the piano playing one hand correctly and flapping the other against the keys just make noise while she and i sang at the top of our lungs in sheer glee. No more phrases in other languages that were dubious in origin, no more random jigs of happiness, and no more tea and cookies while we watched Perry Mason. She also died about seven years ago.

Since then I've tried to shove the trepidation to the back of my mind as my father has gotten older. I've always worried that he might follow in their footsteps. But if i didn't think about it, it wouldn't happen right?

Rationally, I know my parents aren't immortal. But to the eyes of Daddy's Little Helper, Dad is mightier than any superhero, impervious to any ailment and stronger than any machine. 

So when it takes him twenty minutes to solve a problem even I can do in mere seconds thanks to what he, himself, taught me....that trepidation creeps back to the forefront of my mind. Will he diminish the way the Grandma and Aunt Claire did? Will i have to face that again? Am I ready to do things without his wisdom and insight.

The answer to the last question was a painful "Yes". My father was becoming frustrated by a problem with my end tables. It vexed him so much that he told me he needed a break and went upstairs. I had already been on hold with the tables for a month and was far from tired with the project for that day. I already knew the answer, almost instinctively. The years of working by his side on various projects made the solution light up in my mind light a spotlight. I knew what to do and how to do it. But I was scared to do it without him. 

I left and proceeded to wrestle with myself for a couple days. The rational side of me demanded that i not delay on the end tables any more. The emotional side of me felt like just sitting down for a good cry. Finally, i mentally gave myself a good shake and went back when dad wasn't there. My mom offered to help if i needed it but i was determined to stand on my own two feet. 

In the next hour, i churned out the remaining cuts needed to complete the legs of the tables. This included complicated angles, setting up angle jigs, and drilling holes. This was the part that i had convinced myself that i would need my father's help for. I thought maybe, if i did it alone, i could banish this feeling of inadequacy at filling his role. When it was done, i had hoped i would feel better, but i didn't. I missed having him there to make doubly sure i didn't make a mistake. In the end, i didn't but i kept thinking i had done something wrong. I didn't feel the "right-ness" that usually accompanied my furniture building. When I told dad the next day where the tables were at now...he was genuinely surprised. He kept saying "That's great!" but it still didn't make me feel better. 

Even after the weekend, I'm not sure how i feel. 

A square table has 4 legs

I absolutely love the smell of sawdust. I can smell it from far away and am drawn to it. I feel a sense of wonder and excitement when it hits me. I'm magically transported back to standing on the other side of the table saw ready to grab the ends as my dad pushed them through while sawdust fills my nose.

Woodworking is a skill all of my siblings and myself have. My sister has the patience to carefully remove and sand every inch of a piece to refinish it. My oldest brother has the perfectionist who will make sure everything is square and fits perfectly before saying it's done. My other brother knows how to make the sturdy structures. And I am the designer. I see a problem and figure out what would be perfect to fix or help it. That and my pieces look delicate and beautiful.

My end tables are no exception. They will fit custom measurements, the drawers already have a purpose, and the legs will detach so that when i move in the future, it will make life easier.

Except for the fact that i can't seem to get my hands on the brackets for detachable legs! I found them. In two local stores none the less. However, both stores have quantities that don't work for me.

Store #1 has them sold individually. They have a total of three brackets. And since these brackets are designed for 90 degree corners.....what would be the point of having three brackets when square/rectangular tables have four legs!?

Store # 2 thankfully made a bit more sense. They had them packaged in groups of four. But they only had one in stock and no plans to order more in the near future. Is it a sin to build matching tables?

Finally I've located them, they have the right quantity and they'll hold them until i get there.

45 minutes away....and it's rush hour. And they close at 6........crud.