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.

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.

Weird Zombie Apocalypse feeling

When Boyfriend Jon and i first started dating, we would play a small game. In only minor seriousness, we would compare our various survival skills and try to figure out how we would survive in the event of a zombie apocalypse. Even now, when we talk about skill building, we talk about it in terms of if it would be "useful" and by useful, we both know what we mean.

No we don't actually believe that there will be Resident Evil style zombies, but more that there will be a distinct lack of all the modern conveniences, and that people will become desperate for the most basic things.  We both worry that if there ever is an apocalypse, that the knowledge and skills of our ancestors will be entirely lost, and humanity will struggle to survive. We both want to be strong contenders IF this were ever to happen.

Boyfriend Jon is a boy scout, avid camper, and gets really animated when talking about movies, books or tv shows that discuss how people's "real world" skills would be pretty much useless if there was ever a disaster. (Like a mechanic would be more valuable than say a tax auditor).

I grew up with a scouting family. Both my parents have been scout masters, both brothers were scouts. My parents never saw the need to put me in Girl Scouts since i pretty much went wherever the boys did anyway. We started primitive camping when i was seven and i never regretted it. Where else in this day and age do you learn how to live for extended periods without any modern conveniences?

We both love learning new skills that could increase our chances of survival if the world comes crashing down. Jon learned how to knit. I learned how to skin an animal. Knot tying, cooking over open flames, weaponry, fire starting without matches, extended first aid....anything and everything that could keep us alive.

This last week, everyone has been hearing about Superstorm Hurricane Sandy and the artic blast that followed it. There have been several earthquakes up and down the pacific fault lines. Weathermen are predicting a harsh winter this year. We've already had a few small power outages.

All that got me thinking. What do i have ready if there's an emergency?

I'm honestly not the hypochondriac kind. I don't think the world is going to end, I don't think that disaster is right around the corner. But there's a difference between being paranoid and being prepared.

Since moving in with Boyfriend Jon, we have almost no emergency supplies stored. When the lights flickered last month. I got a little worried and went on a candle buying spree. I thought that would be enough.

It hovered in the back of my mind. That constant whisper of What if there was a disaster now? Then there was a large earthquake up at the Canadian border. Earthquakes trigger more earthquakes. Then Hurricane Sandy hit, and i heard horror stories of flooding, power outages for days, store shelves completely empty. Gas, water and food shortages. Then that sparked the worry about what happens if the electricity is out for days? No refrigeration, no cell phones, no internet to tell you what's going on.

Maybe i should learn how to create a generator out of car batteries and alternators. Or is it possible to learn how to build a real solar panel?

One thing led to another and it all finally centered on this thought which i haven't been able to shake.

YOU ARE NOT PREPARED FOR ANYTHING

When i should be thinking about work, i'm thinking about what to include and where to store emergency supplies in our apartment. When i should be thinking about driving, i'm going over how to winter camp without getting frost bite. When i should be writing for NaNo, i'm researching how to build energy devices.

I'm trying to not be crazy obsessed about this, but the more i think about it, the more worried i get. About six years ago, the area was without power for a week in the middle of winter. I was lucky to be living with my parents at that point. We had fires going, bundled up, and in general were just fine. But would i be fine now, living on my own with boyfriend Jon? Or would we be one of the hoards of people looting for the most basic supplies because we were caught unprepared?


I think, as much as we talk about being prepared, that we would be hurting for some basics in the event of a disaster if it were to happen today. So, call me paranoid, call me crazy, call me silly....but I think now would be an excellent time to get prepared for the basics.

Esteem turmoil and Hawaii

I am a curvy girl. This has come with a lot of stigma, pretty much all of it painful and depressing. Sufficient to say, I grew up bigger in general, have always had issues with my weight and have spent lots of time agonizing over it.

A little while ago, I posted about my Great Aunt Claire. She was first to get me to see around the insults and look at it from another perspective. Which since i was a burly kid...usually meant pointing out that i could beat the crap out of them then sit on them and they wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. (apparently i had too many arguments against the old sticks and stones mantra).

So like all women of any size, i have good days and bad days.

I'm convinced my inner goddess
is played by Christina Hendricks

Most days, i am one heckova sultry vixen. I have a walk that naturally sashays and gorgeous chocolate hair, eyes that can change color, and i rarely get pimples. I know many women that would die for natrually clear skin that rarely blemishes. My inner voice defiantly tells anyone who looks down their nose at me - "This is the body i have, love it or hate it, it's me." And it's not like i'm anywhere near record size. Just a size 20 and a DD cup. Oh yeah, and my cholesterol makes my doctor really happy. Really, it's not that bad and Boyfriend Jon loves me unconditionally.

Then there's days when my insecurities get the best of me. Like a stone sinking in my stomach for every single stretch mark and jiggle. Jealousy for romantic scenes in movies where the guy effortlessly sweeps a girl off her feet. Terror when seeing someone pull out a camera that i have to clamp down on and smile through.

Or worrying about wearing a bathing suit in Hawaii.

Yup. I'm going to Hawaii! In a week! With my best friend and lover and favorite travel companion; Boyfriend Jon. It's our first real vacation where we're not meeting up with family. And i'm excitedly counting down the days. We even made a rip off calendar that is right next to the door and we rip off each new day together. How cheesy is that?? :)

I want to go. I've been wanting to go for over a decade. I know, with out a doubt that this is going to be an amazing trip. Also....there's an extremely good chance that when we get off the plane i'm going to revert to a four year old and be bouncing off the walls.

But talking with other (thin) women about tips for going to tropical locations....has the insecurities rearing their ugly heads again. Bikini waxing presents all sorts of challenges that skinny girls don't have to face. Spray tanning... i actually laughed at the size zero girl who told me to stand like this, then like this...be cause there's no way the spray would get into all the crevices. Some of the positions i get into remind me of human tetris!

And...there's more to it than just the suit.
There's the pasty white skin from never wearing anything shorter than capris
There's extra curves, stretch marks, cellulite...
There's memories of taunting calls of cankles (which i most assuredly do NOT have), thunder thighs, whale, and most recently "fat lady" (thank you children across the balcony who don't realize that screens aren't soundproof)

Boyfriend Jon has been wonderful (really ladies...i got hit the boyfriend jackpot with this guy), reassuring me every time i go into bathing suit panic mode, that there will be ample people of plus size around on the beaches...and that they will have clothes in my size. Probably more so than i can find here in Washington.

THEN
I went from feeling completely insecure to the opposite end of the spectrum.

My first crush, who became a long time friend admitted that he'd crushed on me for most of our teenage years. Say what???? Daydreams of him were constant for over a decade. But I thought given his complete inaction that he wasn't remotely attracted to me. Turns out, that i couldn't have been more wrong. The teenager still inside of me has thrown her hat down and started stomping on it. Why? Why now? Why didn't you tell me these things when something could have been done about them?

But that ship sailed long ago. Those daydreams laid to rest. That crush is just a friend on the other side of the world who i can talk about guns with. I care about him and want good things for him. But that's it.

I've been reminding that teenager part of my brain, that my relationship with Boyfriend Jon was a delicate balance of things falling into place at exactly the right moment. Change a single thing, and maybe i would never be with Mister Boyfriend Jackpot. So why dream about what could have been when what is, is perfect?

So what do you do when you swing from insanely happy, horribly insecure, never good enough, to a source of regret because you were more than good enough, to embarrassed, to conflicted, to excited beyond all reason, and back around again? I love roller coasters, but i want to get off this one!

I'm getting to the point where a good hearty emotion filled cry might just actually solve this crazy web of my feelings.

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.

Good news and Dinner

Today Boyfriend Jon celebrated a huge success. I am so proud to announce that he has self published his first book on Smashwords. Jon wrote this story originally before we met and I've had the privilege to watch it transform through several revisions. It's a sweet, but realistic (if you can call talking animals with armor and swords realistic) tale to kick of the Guineawick Series. 

I'm not saying this just because he's my boyfriend. This story is well written and he agonized over the plot and character developments for months. It's a short light read that will be worth your time. Besides...it's free. You can check it out here. 

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/130321

So to celebrate, i offered to cook a nice homemade meal for him. Whatever he wanted. Boyfriend Jon leaned back into the cushions of the couch and pondered for a moment with a goofy grin on his face, still riding the high of the 10 downloads so far. Then he grinned even wider and looked at me and said "Chili Dogs". 

"Are you kidding or being serious?" I asked dubiously. 

"No, totally serious." he responded, nodding decisively. 

I thought hard. My dad had made sure we all knew some decent basic recipies from his standard menu. But Chili Dog had never come up. I ended up having to ask Boyfriend Jon what a Chili Dog was. 

He was aghast again. This is not the first time a seemingly "normal" dinner meal was something that never graced our table. 

I was 18 or so before i had my first ever taco and burrito. It was at a friend's birthday party and i was amazed. I brought the idea back to dad and he agreed to try it. My mother was not so enthused. 

She has what we refer to as Food Allergies to keep it simple for waiters. Although she's not allergic to anything, she does get massive migraines based on the food she consumes. So our dinner table, never had any hot spices, too many onions, mustard, aged cheeses (mozzarella and american were fine but nothing else), no fresh baked yeast breads (she believes that the yeast is still alive after it comes out of the oven so she needs to wait a day for the yeast to 'die'. don't ask...i don't know where she got that logic), Lima beans (we as kids were still forced to eat them, but she didn't have to), citrus juices or zest, complicated gravy's, curry, sour cream or nuts. That's just the major things. She won't eat standard apples from the store because the peels have a "chemical" that organic apples don't. And other things like that. 

We were constantly hearing "i can't eat that" and having to check food labels against her list which grew every year. The food we got was plain and my brothers claimed it was tasteless. We learned to cope, mostly through garlic. 

I can't say i blame her for her caution either. I've seen her in the hospital throwing up, with the blinds drawn and we have to talk in whispers so her head doesn't pound. And my mom is TOUGH. She went through shoulder replacement surgery with no pain killers other than TYLENOL! 

So in the end when we parred down the burritos to food that mom could eat...it was tortilla round, re-fried beans, lettuce, plain cooked hamburger and some cheese. It wasn't nearly as appetizing as what i had tasted at the birthday party. 

So I know i missed out on a bunch of things, and sometimes Boyfriend Jon looks at me with pure shock that I've never had a Manwich or chili dogs, fried rice or chow mein, or something else that was a major staple of his childhood. To be honest i can't remember the last time i had a taco. 

And it's not a matter of being resistant to try things, but i don't automatically think of the same kind of celebratory food. For me, luxuries were Jeiger schnitzle, Eggplant parmesean, paprika chicken, and Perrogies. All in all i'm very interested in trying out chili burgers and seeing how i like them. We'll see how it goes. 

Quarter Century

In short of just two weeks, it'll be my 25th birthday.

Wow. Just wow. How the heck did i get here so fast? I feel like i'm still getting used to being 21! And then i start to think back over my life and i'm just blown away by all the things that I've experienced.

In my lifetime:

• DNA is used to start convicting criminals and free innocent people
• The Berlin Wall falls
• The first President George Bush was in office
• The Hubble Telescope was launched into orbit
• The Soviet Union collapsed
• Operation Desert Storm (where my brother would end up going)
• The official end of the Cold War
• Bill Clinton elected as President 
• the LA Riots after the Rodney King verdict
• The rapid growth of the World Wide Web
• The bombing of the WTC
• OJ Simpson arrested for double murder and later freed 
• Oklahoma City Bombing
• Mad Cow Disease hits Britan 
• The divorce of Princess Diana and Prince Charles
• The Unabomber arrested
• The Hale-Bopp Commet arrives 
• Pathfinder reaches Mars and sends back pictures
• Princess Diana dies in a car crash
• A sheep named Dolly is the first successful cloning
• President Clinton has the Lewinski scandal
• Star Wars is re-released with all new digital alterations (Han originally shot first)
• Kuala-Limpor bulids the tallest buildings in the world
• Titanic becomes the most successful movie ever (scoff)
• President Clinton Impeached 
• The Y2K bug causes worldwide concern
• Horrific shooting at Columbine school
• The ILOVEYOU virus causes a heck of a lot of trouble
• Reality TV takes off (forever dropping the bar on good tv)
• George Bush the second scrapes by a win for President (537 votes)
• September 11th happens forever changing America 
• I was walking past the old Junior High School library when they made an announcement. I went in and watched the smoke and chaos on a live feed on the projector wondering if my aunt was alive since she works in NYC. (much closer to central park i later learned)
• The Xbox is introduced and Halo flys off the shelves.
• The introduction of the iPod MP3 player and iTunes
• We go to war against Iraq
• Arnold Schwarzenegger becomes Governor of CA
• MySpace and Facebook debut, Myspace being completely public gains popularity faster
• The Mars Rover lands on Mars
• George Bush wins re-election
• Facebook no longer just for college students. Quickly outstrips Myspace
• Hurricane Katrina hits the gulf causing massive destruction 
• The Introduction of YouTube and Twitter
• The Introduction of the iPhone
• Barack Obama wins the election, the US's first black president 
• Chrysler and GM go bankrupt
• Charles Sullenberger lands a plane on the Hudson River instead of crashing
• Michael Jackson dies
• the Wiki Leaks
• Haiti and Japan earthquakes
• Osama Bin Laden captured and killed
• Prince William and Kate Middleton wed
• Space Shuttle Atlantis lands, marking the end of the space shuttle flights

It's hard to believe i was alive for the birth of Email, cell phones, electric cars, media that can reach you live from the other side of the planet, satellites leaving our known solar system....it's all stuff that just as far back as my dad's generation had no concept of. I mean, even my sister, just 14 years older than me, reminds me of a time when you simply memorized everyone's number that you would need.


I'm not trying to incite a political debate about which event is most important out of all the events of the last 25 years. I just am sitting back and marveling at the path the world has taken in my lifetime.

Yes there have been horrible events mixed in with extraordinary advancements in technology, science, the women's movement, equal rights amendments, and even art. But just thirty years ago, most of this was the filler of pure science fiction.

However, the bonehead that let Reality TV in needs to be slapped with a dead fish.

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! 

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.

Warm season hair removal - Preview

Here's another once upon a time story. But it's not for the faint of heart. 

Once upon a time, when i was somewhere near sixteen years old, i got the idea in my head to try waxing my legs.

Most likely this idea came from some of the more girly-girls in my choir class claiming it didn't really hurt. I figured that i had a pretty high pain threshold and could tolerate it. I was totally taken in by the fact that it lasted for at least a month since i was shaving my legs twice a week. It seemed like a perfect solution to me.

I knew my dad would be very unsympathetic to my desire to show my legs off, since he was completely entrenched in the "lock her in a tower and cut off her hair" stage of fatherhood. So, i went to my mother and begged her to let me try it. I detailed out how some of the girls i knew said it didn't really hurt and they'd been doing it for years! When she stopped laughing and realized i was completely serious she said "Ok, i'll do it with you, I've never tried it before."

So for a while, we didn't shave our legs to get the hairs long enough. We then purchased an at home hair removal kit and went downstairs into the big guest bathroom. Bravely, I opted to go first and my mother carefully smeared on the green wax. She firmly pressed the sheet on and then looked me square in the eye. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"Yup." I replied nonchalantly.

I was utterly unprepared for the searing pain that shot through my leg, up my hip, through my stomach, and straight to my head. I'm still surprised that i didn't pass out, but i did fall off the counter and proceeded to dance around the bathroom going "OH MY GOD, WHAT THE HELL, OW OW OW, HOLLY COW, WHO THE HELL THOUGHT THIS UP, THEY NEED TO DIE!"

I wouldn't look at my leg, convinced that i would see muscle and blood, not skin when i looked down. This went on for a few minutes while my mother was caught halfway between laughing hysterically and reprimanding me for cussing.

Finally, my brain decided blocking the pain would be a good solution and was able to check the results. About 90% of the hairs were indeed gone and several of the hair folicles were bleeding mildly. I'm not sure exactly what prompted me to do this, but i allowed my mother to do another strip. Perhaps for some bizarre reason, i thought the first one would be the worst. And as she ripped the sheet off on 2 instead of on 3, i began to dance and jump around again.

After that, i was D.O.N.E. My mother laughed at me and then told me something to the effect of:  "I gave birth to four babies. This can't be that bad. I'll do it!" I knew before this that everyone in my family was a little bit crazy, but this solidified my mother at the top. So i returned the favor.

She didn't cuss nearly as much, but she did do the dancing "Owwowowowow!" routine. And she lasted through about four strips before she said "You were right, the person who invented this is nuts. I'm done."

That was the end of the attempts to find a better solution to shaving our legs for spring and summer.

UNTIL NOW!

Perhaps i didn't fully learn my lesson, or i'm just a sucker for punishment, or perhaps like millions of other women, i absolutely HATE shaving my legs. Whatever the reason, i'm going to try something new. This one at least, i have very little to loose.

In the process of planning a trip with Lindsey, somehow we got on the topic of spas. This led to the conversation about bikini waxes and the "I'll do it if you do it" routine. Somewhere in my research, i came across another form of hair removal called "Body Sugaring".

Here's the schpeel: It's an 'ancient' form of hair removal originating in Egypt. It's made from plain sugar, lemon juice, and water boiled down into a thick taffy like substance. It's then smeared on and jerked off your skin to remove hair.

Pros:

• More like ripping off a bandage than a chunk of your skin
• Can be made at home for pennies
• hypoallergenic because it's all natural ingredients
• it also is edible and reusable for multiple areas 
• lasts as long as a wax job - 4-6 weeks
• I have a couple testimonials from REAL people that i know saying that it's wonderful. 

Cons:

• it still hurts
• i question it's effectiveness at removing all the hair
• can be a difficult technique to master
• sticky residue

So today after work, this will be my project. I will blog as to it's effectiveness soon.

Two dozen roses or a flash drive?

My father is quite the charmer when he feels like it. He can come up with the most romantic ideas and plans for them sometimes years in advance. My mother, is rather known for all but ruining them.

Take their 25th wedding anniversary.

My father saved all of his pocket change for 4 years, finally cashed it in and bought her a beautiful ring to go with her wedding band. He meticulously picked out all 5 diamonds for exceptional sparkle and personally chose the setting. He then whisked her away for a trip to Maui. He had his long time friend from the army and his wife join them. While they distracted her there, he did extensive recon to find a restaurant with a sunset view, and made the reservations. Just as the sun was going down, my father reached into the camera pouch to pull out the ring box. When he looked back up, my mother was already halfway out the door with the camera to take pictures of the sunset. His buddy and wife were too stunned to say anything. THe waiters who were in on it were shocked too. By the time my mother returned, everyone was trying not to chuckle as my dad finally handed her the ring box. She was immensely pleased...both with the ring and the pictures she took.

But nothing compares to the time he came home for no reason with two dozen red roses and a brand new flash drive back when those things were brand spankin' new. My mom promptly pounces on the proffered flash drive and takes it out of the package while my dad is still there holding the roses. The family got a good laugh out of that one.

I called my parents last night to let them know my brand new laptop had arrived a week early. My mother was excited and asked me all sorts of technical questions as i was only too delighted to answer them. My father in the background asked what was up. When she told him, there was silence. I think Dad has come to realize that given the presence of new technology, like mother like daughter...we tend to get a little over obsessively enthusiastic. And it's not really something he understands. I bet he was chuckling to himself remembering as I did the day when I got my first flashdrive and flowers on my birthday. I too...seized the flashdrive first.

So yes, my new laptop has arrived. My last one has served me faithfully for over 5 years through both high school and college. But lately i have realized that I'm growing out of it. I need more room, more capabilities, and most importantly, the ability to leave a wall for more than 10 minutes. I realize i could simply buy a new battery and call it good, but I made the investment anyway. It's time. I can only hope to have as good an experience with this one as my previous laptop.

When the girly bug bites

I grew up around all boys. I played GI Joe, not dress up. I made forts, not something in an EZbake. I played in the mud and dirt, not house. My barbies were Amazons, not Princesses.

No one would ever have described my childhood self as "Girly". When i grew up, I wanted to be strong, independent, and well....lets face it....not entirely grown up.

From Girls with Slingshots, webcomic

However, I learned that A) I feel exactly like the last panel in that comic now and B) it's tough to deny certain impulses.

90% of the time, I can walk through an entire store and not buy a single thing. My wardrobe is modest but still assorted. And most of the assorted-ness comes from what i call "Girly Bug Bites"

It's a brief shopaholic impulse that consumes me to the point where everything is pretty and i simply must have it! Usually only lasts a day or so, but i have been known to drop a couple hundred dollars in that time. That amount usually involves knee high black leather boots. My one true weakness....
Thankfully, my tight-pursed nature usually prevents me from buying things which are exorbitantly priced, or things that i would never actually wear. And even more thankfully...they only bite about 3 to 5 times a year.

At this time; my reaction to a Girly Bug bite is in full effect. Watch out stores.

In other news: I have a puppy for the next week. Prepare for massive puppy picture overload in my next post or two.

Another once upon a time....

Once upon a time...
there was a little girl named Anne who was only about 4 years old. Her much older sister who was a senior in high school threw a party in the basement of their house. Anne being a curious and wanting to see what all the noise was about snuck downstairs against her mother's admonishments. It was there that she ran face first into the leather clad thigh of Karla. Looking up at her sister's tall, brunette friend Anne found herself in awe. Karla was tall and very beautiful, wearing a Harley leather jacket and motorcycle chaps. Everything about her seemed regal and left Anne full of awe. Karla smirked at little Anne and took her by the hand. Instead of leading her back up the stairs away from the party, she led her into the living room where there were people dancing and talking. To little Anne, it looked like a grand party with colorful baloons floating on the ceiling and bright streamers strung all around.
Curious little Anne tugged on Karla's arm and asked her why she was wearing all black to a party. Black was a sad color and she didn't look sad. Karla pulled Anne up on her lap and told Anne about her motorcycle which she rode to school every day. She wore the black leather to make sure she was protected should she get in an accident. And black wasn't a sad color, it was just another color. Anne of course, understood what she meant right away (not).
It wasn't long before Anne's mother had noticed that she was not in bed where she was supposed to be and came downstairs looking for her. Her mother found her grinning like a fool drapped in the heavy leather jacket with a group of people around her chuckling as she tried to dance without falling down.
Her mother decided that was enough and untangled her wayward daughter from the jacket handing it back to Karla. As Anne was carried out of the room, she looked back over her mom's shoulder and saw Karla wink at her. Anne decided then and there that she wanted to be just like Karla when she got older.
However fate would have other plans. When a friend with some achreage offered to let her ride on the back of his dirt bike while he drove, Anne, now a teenager, practically leapt at the opportunity. They drove round and round his property going fast and slow and going over the bumps. Anne eventually got comfortable and decided to let go and just relax on the back of the bike, resting her hands on her thighs. Little did she know her friend had braced for impact as he hit a small ditch causing the back of the bike to buck and throw Anne off. No worries...Anne landed safely in a big pile of grass clippings which cushioned her fall and left her with only a few minor scrapes.
But the flying leap left her scared of motorcycles ever since. Her idolized persona suddenly slipped away.
It wasn't until last summer when Anne rented a moped (first 2 wheeled experiance in almost a decade) and realized just how silly she had been and after a while got so comfortable on it, she was topping out the small moped motor. But 40mph still wasn't fast enough.
She talked to her friend Mark, a "greasy biker dude" who had basically been riding bikes for his entire life. He could talk for hours about his biking experiances. He later let her ride on the back of his bike on a ride to the ferries last fall. She enjoyed herself so much that she began to make plans to "get back on the horse" ....bike that is.
She signed up for a motorcycle class, paid the fee and had to wait for the class on May 14th.

To be continued when I finish the class.....if I ever bring the motorcycle back.........

I can't stand

BULLIES. I hate them. In grade school, i was the one who bullied the bullies. Yes...this makes me a bully too, i'm not denying that, but i tried to always do it for a good cause. Granted i have one hell of a temper, but the injustice in bullying really gets under my skin. I've always had a need to defend

-The people that were a little on the slower side in development, wether it was mental or physical
-The meek and timid who couldn't find the courage stand up for themselves
-Those who were targeted for their body or a physical feature to be jeered, tormented, or ridiculed about.
-Those with quirks that were special to themselves but made to feel ashamed of thanks to viscious children.
-Those who are talked about behind their back because they're a little different than the 'norm'

I never understood how putting other people down to make yourself look better was a good thing in the end. And how talking behind their back in whispers is so cool. It's not brave, it's not honorable, and it's completely crule. Deflecting attention, only works for so long. Why do they have to fixate so intensely even after the kid being tormented is in all out tears. Following them when they run away.

All for the simple sake of making themselves feel or look better even for a moment. It's pathetic. The other thing i've noticed about bullies....is that they do it to cover up their own short-commings. They're jealous.
So, in response to what i heard last night that prompted this rant:
Yeah, they may have FINALLY made something of themselves....but the way i see it: They own their own business, are working in a resession and not afraid to get their hands dirty, dealing well with setbacks and problems, are still a nice person even when they dont' have to be.
WHILE YOU, BULLY, ARE A BUM, MOUCHING OFF OF OTHER PEOPLE'S KINDNESS, WITH NO INITIVE, SITTING THERE TRYING TO MAKE OUT LIKE YOU'RE ALL THAT WHEN YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO JUDGE OTHER PEOPLE'S CHOSEN PATHS.

Shut the fuck up, you're wasting air.

Experiance is what you get when you don't get what you want

The title is a line I got out of the famed "Last Lecture" that has been going around the Internet of a professor that is dying and he knows it. I like this line because it reminds me of a time when i was small and i had been trying to build something in my dad's shop while he was "thinking" (which generally consisted of him staring at the TV for an hour or so then getting up and finishing whatever he had been doing). I can't quite remember what i was trying to build, but i remember it fell apart and i started crying because by that point i had run out of ideas and i was completely frustrated.
My dad saw this and pulled me up into his lap and asked me: "OK, it didn't work, but what did you learn from this?" and by making me think about what parts of it didn't work and what parts did, he slowly let me realize where the flaws in my plan were. With his encouraging direction and a little help, eventually it worked.
Experience is everything. Knowledge is great and all and Wisdom is useful but Experience is what begets them both.
Experience is what i lack at the moment.
For those not able to read my Facebook status updates, my car has been overheating and leaking antifreeze (or water as i filled it up with that instead because it was cheaper). Three trips to the mechanic (the first two times he assured me that it was fixed)...and i find out that the head gasket has overheated and warped causing a crack. ......Shit. it's about 1000$ to fix it.........FUCK!......the car is 18 years old and when we bought it 4 years ago, it was for 3k$. damnit! it's not worth it to fix it.
So here is my only option now. Buy a car about 6 months sooner than i was planning. Can i? yes. I have the money and credit to go with it. But i hadn't exactly figured out what my budget for having moved out was either. Meaning i don't know yet what my new rate for the rent/utilities are since the just raised them. I haven't figured out groceries yet, and other such incidental bills, and i don't' know where my future car is. (Trust me i know what it is, just not where)
So now all of a sudden, i need to gain a hell of a lot of experience, knowledge and wisdom in a very short period of time. My insurance comes up for renewal on the 8th of September. So it looks like this new car is going to be my birthday present to myself. yay for barely being a Libra!

On a side note:
My roommate and i are well matched it seems. So far our only aggravations with each other, if you can call them that, is leaving a hairbrush and chapstick on the coffee table for four days, and leaving a sponge in the sink. Both issues were quickly resolved in a nice manner. Beyond that, we both take out the garbage, wash the dishes, and apparently I'm the first roommate she's ever had that vacuumed without being asked.