I'm alive.

Really, I am. Just swamped with work and vacating. Well, on my vacations, I don't go anywhere. I've heard of these type of vacations being called "staycations." I think cutesy terms like that are stupid.

I'm on holiday. Not stupid, and doesn't need a cutesy term to define it.

I only have a few days left, though. I have to go back to work on August 13. Gack. I have been catching up on soap production, though, which is good. Sitting outside on the weekends in this heat is a bizarre existence, let me tell you.

Oh, and want to hear about bizarre? I set out to make a double-batch of liquid soap yesterday. Rule number one in soaping is to avoid aluminum tools. The pot I was using was aluminum, and I didn't know it.

Um. Now I know. For those of you who don't know, this means my batch of liquid soap reacted with the aluminum, and began crawling out of the pot at an enormous rate. I hollered at my husband to open the back door, and I trotted outside with it, placing it on the corner of the patio. There it sat, boiling and puffing of its own accord, fumes shooting 10 feet into the air.

I got the garden hose and diluted it. But damn. Talk about an adrenaline rush. I don't need that kind of excitement on my holiday.

So I took the rest of yesterday off. Today, I'll try to make soap and also go downtown to get some paperwork settled for my new business. If I manage that, then I can open my bank account tomorrow, and really get the ball rolling. Considering I've only got one week before school starts, now is my chance.

I think deadlines help me.

He's done it again.

Prepare to laugh.

The Return of the Lappy, Dysentery, and Why The White Pioneers Died

Point the first: I got my lappy back. Hooray! It appears that all my information is still intact, etc. etc. I'm thrilled!

Point the second: I haven't been around much because I caught the dysentery that my daughter had, then my husband had. Saturday morning around 3am is when it hit. I couldn't go to my Saturday farmer's market, which was a bummer, but I wasn't even bummed out about it, because I could barely move. I was in pain from head to toe. I didn't do anything but lie on the couch and watch tv, or sleep, or moan. Then, at about 3am the next morning, it was like a switch had been turned inside me, and I knew my stomach was better. I had to do the Sunday market, which was BRUTAL, because I was wrung out from the illness. It was good for my muscles, though--they were sore from all the vomiting and stillness. Moving around in the heat is good for muscles, apparently.

Point the third: The white pioneers died from dysentery because they didn't have Alka Seltzer or bananas. Or clean water, much of the time. They just writhed around on the floors of their dugouts, vomiting and shitting themselves and moaning.

Ask me how I know.

Expert, Shmexpert

If you are an entrepreneur, and also crafty, you might check out indiepreneur.org. I shared some info with a friend on a group, knowing it was for an article there. The "article" is my entire contribution! I had no idea.

Click here to read the very short article that makes me sound like an expert in photography of products to be sold online. I do not consider myself such, but whatever! :)

*sniffs*

My lappy! It's in "the shop." Apparently, it has a defect from its manufacture. The Apple gods are fixing it for no charge, which is nice, but they have my lappy!

I walk into the kitchen to sit down at the table, and no lappy. *sniffs* I feel very vulnerable. What if all my info is lost? I backed it up, but still! I want my lappy back!

Add to that the fact that I woke up before 6am today, prepared the coffee, wandered around, waiting for the water to boil, and then realized that I hadn't turned on the stove. This is the sort of behavior that is remedied by coffee! Hefty helping of irony, anyone?

*blinks slowly* *sluuuuuuuurps*

I made it, eventually. But not before discovering a puddle of pee by the back door. Happy Wednesday!

Millionaires Who Don't Feel Rich

I found this article to be an object lesson in living well. It's not an instruction manual, but rather a warning. When your stock in your company shows your net worth at $50 million? Yeah, sell it.

Sell it while you are ahead.

I mean, really! These people have 2-5 million dollars in the bank, and are lamenting, "Oh, poor Charlie, he'll never be able to retire." What? Poor Charlie? How about poor Public School Teacher, who has a negative net worth, and will never be able to retire? She'll fall dead on the floor in the middle of class.

Poor Charlie? In his million-dollar home in Silicon Valley?

I.
Don't.
Get.
It.

Beef on sale (Vegetarians look away)

My public service announcement of the week:

In Denver, in the Albertson's sale pages, there is a misprint. Family packs of bone-in ribeye steaks were $4.88/pound. But on one page, they printed the price as $3.97/pound. That's the best price you're gonna get on ribeyes, people. Go to Albertson's this week, and buy the limit! (They limited us to 10 pounds--even though it didn't say that in the flier. I don't think. I'll go look.)

Pack that freezer, people! It's summer, and time for grillin'!

Phones that are better than mine, Volume Only

WANT!

iPhone 3G comes out on July 11. I still can't afford it, and Kitt tells me that AT&T/Cingular sucks.

But I still want one! When will TMobile hook up w/iPhone? Ever?

Blogs That are Better Than Mine, Continued

This post made me laugh so hard, I cried.

I'm still crying. The tears are running down my cheeks right now. I have to blog this, people! I can't stop for frivolities such as tear-wiping!

That said, here's the post. OMJ.*



*Oh, My Jeezy

Blogs That are Better Than Mine

It's most of them, yeah?

So anyway, I went for coffee and conversation today with my friend Kitt. Her blog is better than mine, for starters, because of her prolific use of photos and snappy wit.

She told me about this other blog, though, which has me in tears. Tears of Snarky Laughter and Joy. Absolutely hilarious.

Go to The Psychopedia. Go now! The link is an example that is close to my heart, as I am self-published. Hee.

p.s. I do not wear costumes in my author photos. Much.

What Do You Want?

A friend and I are considering starting a Yahoo group, for women who want to be self-employed. After our chat this morning, it became apparent that I am the one who needs the support. I can visualize myself as self-employed, but it feels like a fantasy, not reality.

But then I think, why not dream big, if yer dreamin'?

And then I think, don't call it a dream, because dreams aren't real. Call it your vision for the future.

And then I think, I need a beverage.

Liquid Soap!

I have a great friend, Laurie, who agreed to teach me her way of making liquid soap. She has more than a few tricks up her soapmaker's sleeve, let me tell you.

Of course, I know the basic soaping process, but liquid soap is more than a bit different. It takes a lot of cooking, and mixing, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting. But the result is awesome! I now have some lovely liquid soap.

Whatever shall I do with it?

Flood of 2008

I am from Iowa, so I am very interested in the flood news. In case you didn't know, Iowa is under water. Cedar Rapids, Iowa, is almost completely devastated--a city of 100,000 people. The Paramount Theatre is pretty much destroyed, for those who understand that statement.

My hometown, Amana, is out in the sticks. I did a search today, and found this video. The highway they are standing on is very close to my parents' house, where I grew up. When they pan left, just briefly you can see a line of trees--their house is over there. To give a little perspective on the video, know this: NONE of what you are seeing is "supposed" to be under water. It's all cornfield and highway, usually. Now it's running water.

Absolutely insane.

Summer project

I would love to be an urban prankster. Someone email me and we'll do it.

The perils of a small bathroom.

So I was taking a bath this afternoon, to relax. I like to read when I'm taking a bath. It's pretty much the only time I take to sit and read, anymore.

Well, it was about time to get out, and my eyes were getting tired. My husband had recently come in to use the toilet. I hate this for obvious reasons. It will become apparent why this is important in a moment.

I closed my book, placed it on the toilet, and started to push myself up and out of the tub. What's that? Out of the corner of my very nearsighted eye, I saw my book take a tumble. Dang it! It fell on the floor. I took a closer look.

Um. Whoops. I threw it right into the open toilet.

I don't understand

I don't understand myself. That thing with the dentist the other day has put me in a tailspin. I am depressed. I feel sad whenever I think about my daughter there. I suppose I feel like I have failed her.

She was not harmed. She's fine. I was more harmed than she was. Emotionally harmed. But how can I get over it?

I think filing a complaint with the state board will help.

Open Letter to My Daughter's Former Dentist

Dr. S,

After our interaction today in your office, I have decided to fire you. These are the reasons why:

1. You were offended because I asked my daughter a question. I should be able to ask my child whatever question I want. I’m her mother. If you are offended by it, then it’s your job to get over it. I’m the client.
2. You expressed your offense by cornering me physically in your office. Do you know that when you scoot your chair down close to that parent chair, that parent has no means of egress? The way was blocked by machinery and your assistant, who was aghast at the proceedings. Furthermore, my first reaction to your demeanor and physical presence was fear. How can I bring my child back to a person who made me fear for my safety, even for one instant?
3. You became more incensed when I attempted to explain myself. I was not only explaining myself, I was advocating for my child. I will always do that.
4. Your office threw away my daughter’s file for no reason. Had that not happened, her history would have been there for your review. Instead, I got admonished for asking a question, and feared for my safety when you and your anger moved your chair to corner me like an animal.
5. You made me cry. What an ass.
   

Because of my shock at the entire thing, it has taken me a while to pinpoint exactly what angered me the most. In the end, there are many points, and not just one. I began crying when you talked to me while I was leaving, not only because of my anger at having been made fearful, but because I knew I would have to advocate for my daughter the way I did with you, over and over and over. Parents of children with disabilities deserve to work with people who are not only educated about these kids, but also care about their welfare.

I don’t believe you care. In fact, I now believe this is your way of being rid of one child with disabilities. You can’t discriminate openly, of course. But you can make parents feel really uncomfortable, can’t you? You’re good at it.

Unfortunately, being good at that means you will not have the opportunity to work with my daughter ever again. To do that, you would have to publicly get on your knees and beg my forgiveness. I don’t ever see that happening.

Do you?

It finally happened.

School ended.












*collapses*

Plug a Friend--Inkpets.com

A few days ago, I had the pleasure of reading a plug about me on my novelist friend Esri's blog. What a gal! I love that about her. Plug for Esri: buy her book. It's awesome!

In the interest of following a good example, or paying it forward, or what have you, I will now Plug a Friend.

Laura Hansen is a talented artist, currently residing in Boulder, Colorado. How talented? Well, she created that lovely picture featured on this post. Yes, that is an example of what she can do for you. Her website is: http://www.inkpets.com, where you can see examples of her work, and commission her to make some art of your beloved pet. Her work is truly stellar, as you can see. Give her some business, won't you?

Just Depression, I think.

I don't think a mid-life crisis is a real thing. Aren't we all just wandering around, in some level of depression, wondering if we're wasting our lives?

I know I am. I have been, ever since I had to go back to work after maternity leave, 5 years ago. Here we are, with my daughter about to enter kindergarten in the fall, and we are no better off than we were before.

Are we happy as a family? Sure. Do we love each other? Yes. Do we get along relatively well with each other? Again, yes.

But are we happy with our lives? Am I happy with my life? Do I really enjoy what I do, day in and day out?

I'm not alone in saying, "No." As Drew Carey once opined, they have a support group for those of us who hate our jobs. It's called, "...Everybody, and they meet at The Bar."

There is a couple I know of that are getting divorced. This has happened to several of my friends, within the last few years. Mid-life crisis for one of them, it has been posited.

I disagree. I think it's just simple depression. Chemical imbalance requiring meds? Maybe. But a good week of working out at the gym and going swimming with the kids would probably do a world of good.

But I digress. That's not my life.

I've said in the past, and I'll say again, more than anything I want to be self-employed. I'm throwing some money at that issue, and making something happen toward that end. I've sold some writing, and I'm going to do more independent writing (my books are selling well), and my new venture will be less work, with some automaticity as far as money is concerned. All good things.

I haven't been able to shake a depressed feeling, however. Of course, I've got two more weeks until vacation, and I'll be on my own for 11 blissful weeks.

On my own, in my mind. I'll still be here with my family. We're happy, and doing fine. I just don't understand how some people can fuck up their families lives because they aren't feeling jovial.

It's called Life, not Tea Party.

I can relax now.

Wanna have a little fun? Click the graphic and go see how rich you will be in 10 years. The best part is, they don't tell you anything about how they figure this. It's all based on their very scientific questions!

20,370,710
How much money will you be worth?

Lard, I love the interwebs.

First Saturday

This is the first Saturday in a long line of Saturdays that I actually have no obligations to anyone else but my family. And even then, my obligation there is to hang out with them. I think I can handle it.

The past 16 Saturdays, I got out of bed close to my normal time (6:00am--woo hoo! I slept in!), made coffee, waited for it to kick in, and then I wrote. And read. And did my homework. I did this for a graduate-level class that I was forced to take.

The school district had been avoiding their legal obligations to certain students, and waited until the courts said, "DO IT NOW OR ELSE," and they scrambled and came up with a plan. It involved partnering with a local university, and not letting any of us teacher know about it until it happened.

In fact, I got my registration packet in the mail before I knew I was taking a class. "Welcome!" it said. "We are so excited you are enrolled in this program!"

Um....I didn't enroll in jack.

The next day, I got the email from the school district, explaining that I had to take these classes, or I would have to switch to a school that didn't serve this special population of students. Since our school district has the majority of its schools in that category, it was clear that I would have to take the class.

I was not alone. More than a handful of the teachers in my building were taking the classes. They started last September, and just ended for me last week. Trying to be positive about it, I thought, "I can use these classes as recertification credit when I need to renew my teaching license. And I didn't have to pay for them, either." Since I just recertified in July, I thought that was a good thing.

Well, as luck/fate/plain ol' circumstances would have it, I transferred schools for next year. To a school where I won't have to take those classes. And I won't have to be the head of the department. And I won't have to do everything myself (my department was understaffed this year for the first semester--I was doing the job of 2.5 people by myself).

I'll miss seeing my friends' faces every day, but being healthy and a bit more underwhelmed with work is going to be a good thing. I'm really not that sad about leaving. I am sad that this year was so terrible. It almost broke me. But I've got some energy again.

Change can be good.

AHA Big Brew 2008 - Rock Hoppers Brew Club - Castle Rock, CO

Yes, that's Izzy in the cowboy hat. He's a brewer!

World Naked Gardening Day

Dang. I missed it.

Similar

When I read this, I immediately knew how that guy felt. Imagine that the original guy is a teacher, and the company that wouldn't pay up is the school district.

Discuss.

I am a horrible, horrible person.

So, I was just off reading a blog. One of my favorites. Over there, on the right.

Dooce.

I had read, a long, long time ago, that she was sued by her publisher. Apparently, there was a misunderstanding about what she owed a publisher who changed the editor on her. She wanted to shop her book elsewhere, but the publisher had already expended considerable money and time on her stuff.

Whatever. It told me she was having troubles publishing the book.

I have a friend who is being published next week, and I have published two of my own books. I understand a bit about the publishing business. I am a writer and publisher and business owner.

And I am also a horrible, horrible person.

You see, when I saw Dooce's book today, on her blog, I actually had this thought:

"Editor? Edited by? You've got to be shitting me!"

I had been led to believe, this whole time reading her blog, that she had written a book. I don't know why, because I'm sure, somewhere, deep in the recesses of her archives, is a post that says, "I'm compiling essays for a book that is my idea." I didn't read this post that must exist, however, so I had the crazy idea that she wrote the whole thing.

Nope. A couple of essays inside the collection, yes. Wrote the whole thing, no.

And so, I am a horrible person. I thought, "Just edited?" the same way that people think I'm "Just a teacher?" "Just a mom?"

Or how, sometimes, I might say, "I just make soap. It's not rocket science."

I am certain the effort she put into editing that book was profound. I am certain she spent a lot of time and concern into making sure her essays in there are perfect.

I guess I was just disappointed that she didn't write the whole thing. I can't put my finger on why, except I am a bigot, a snotty, elitist writer who thinks if your name is on the book, you should have written the whole damn thing!

Go ahead! Vilify! I deserve it!

Just because.

Karl Urban. RrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrooOOOOWWWrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Luddite no longer

Yay!

Thanks to Kitt, I can now see how many people are reading mah blog. Schweet!

It's not that I didn't know how--all the geekery is in full force out there, and I just need to harness it. But I sit here at my computer, and have fleeting thoughts, like, "I wonder how many people read my blog?" but then I never do anything about it.

And I was asked yesterday how many folks read this. And I responded with something like, "I have no effing clue."

Now I do! All two of you!

More Amazing Stranger Faves

Need somethin' to entertain you? Don't live in Manhattan or thereabouts? Just cruise on over to Normal Bob Smith's site and read about the Amazing Strangers he sees.

Some of my favorites:



What are these dudes doing in those neon clothes? And why must we squat when we wear them? Why?


This grrl caught Bob taking her picture. Uh-oh, Bob. That fist is menacing. You'd better scoot.



This lovely man is a newlywed. At least, he was when the photo was taken. He's got his own website and everything. I read it. Yes, it's disturbing.



Aaaand, this sums up why Union Square is so crowded every day. I am utterly baffled.

My Faves

I just posted about Normal Bob Smith's Amazing Strangers. He wanted to know what my favorites are.

While God is always a treat:





My favorite posts are when he fills a page with an in-depth presentation of one particular segment of the population. For example, click here, and read up on the Peepers.


God, Bob, you are hilarious.

Hey!

Hey, there.

Being somewhat of a Luddite, I have no idea how many people read this blog. I don't know how to find it out, either.

Therefore, I charge you, gentle reader, with commenting, so I can count how many of you hang on my

every

word.

Let me know,

Amy

Springtime

Ah, springtime in the Rockies. 75 degrees one day, snow the next. Wind blowing all the apple blossoms around, ruining the perfect vision of a tree in bloom.

You've heard it all before, you Colorado-dwellin' goobs. It's springtime!

It's time for you to hear something else. I know you are sitting there, bored, at your computer (why else would you be reading this right now?), and you want some entertainment. I've got it.

Not for the ultra-Christian, not for pedestrian, white-bread, don't-show-me-anything-scary-'cause-I-don't-wanna-open-my-mind-at-all, and not for those who abhor performance art and Goth girls, I give you Amazing Strangers.

Normal Bob Smith is an Internet friend of mine. He's a staunch athiest, so don't bother testifying, folks. It's what he does. He's a freelance artist, and is self-employed in NYC. If that doesn't impress you, nothing will. Do you have any idea what the rent is in NYC?

Aaaanyway, it's also springtime in New York, and Bob's got a new camera. He lives near Union Square, and highlights the day's activities on his website, telling you all about the Amazing Strangers he sees there. Reading about them and watching the videos of them gives me a taste of actual daily life in Manhattan. I've only visited there once, but didn't make it to Union Square. You had better believe, if I get there again, I'm going to visit and take my camera.

I will also seek you out and accost you, Bob. I know your face. I've seen your tattoos.

Don't worry. I'm harmless.

You are invited. Regrets not allowed.

My good friend, Esri Rose, is being published in about a week. Her novel, Bound to Love Her, is a wonderful tale of good elves fighting bad in transcendent Boulder, Colorado. It's got sex in it, too! You'll love it, even if you don't enjoy romance novels. I loved it and I don't read the romance. I got to read it because I am in the precious "inner circle," and saw the manuscript loooooong ago. It's awesome!

That said, you will now get your calendar ready, and mark it for Saturday, May 10, at 4:30pm. We will all trek to Boulder, to the Borders bookstore. There, we will buy her book, and she will sign it! Pre-order your book!

Book signing! Meet the author! Trek to Boulder! Hooray!

If you are a writer, you should go. If you are a reader, you should go.

That takes care of most of us. See you there.

My kitty

Yesterday morning, the fat kitty was crying for water. I was running out the door to work, but who can ignore the cries of a kitty?

So I trotted downstairs and saw that the water was the reason, and turned to look for the small kitty. There she was, in the other room, lying down on the floor, on her side, with her legs stretched out, like she wanted to play. I would "psst psst" at her, and her tail would flick.

"Psst, psst, kitty," I said.

Nothing. My heart dropped. I looked closer. No movement at all in her middle. I ran in and turned on the light.

My kitty was dead. Lying on the floor, as if she was soaking up a ray of sunshine. Stiff, so very, very stiff.

My poor, old kitty. I petted her, and cried and cried. I ran upstairs and pleaded with my husband, who had railed against the cats for the past year, saying he wanted me to get rid of them. Tears streaming down my face, as I filled the water container in the tub, telling him my kitty was dead and would he please have some compassion and not make jokes?

And my daughter. My precious daughter.

"Mama, what's going on? Why are you crying? Are you hurt?"

"Yes, baby, mama's hurt in her heart."

"Oh, here, " and she walked across the bed, and kissed the middle of my chest, right where I had pointed. "There, all better."

I had to go to work, then came home on my break to take kitty to the Dumb Friends League, who would dispose of her body properly.

I'll post a photo one of these days. They are all on regular photos, not digital, as most of the photos were taken during her first few years of life.

She was 16 years old, and I had her with me since my first month of teaching. My entire career up until now, she was here.

And now she's gone.

Mad

If I didn't use TurboTax, I would be abjectly insane right now.

Note to self: go to the post office tomorrow.

Success is all around

Hey there, all you Internet friends. An article I wrote for Writers' Weekly was published today!

You can read it here.


In unrelated news, my asthma is preventing my lungs from expelling a soylent cough. Soylent cough is infecting people. PEEEEEEEEEEOPPPLLLLLLEE.

*koff*

What Authors Will Do To Promote Themselves.

Oh, we'll do a lot. Just check out the video my friend Esri Rose made. To promote her book on her blog, she held a contest, and the winner won...well...a ring.

A possessed ring.


A ring that is supposedly possessed by an incubus resembling Colin Firth.


*shakes head*

Oh, just go read her blog and catch up. Then you'll understand why she's interviewing a piece of jewelry.

Hilarious!

Twitter

You, too, can twitter. I don't quite know how I'm going to use it, yet, but it's interesting.

You write very short posts. Others can follow your posts. My username there is: soapcrone .

Twitter is based on the following question: what are you doing?

I find it a little strange, still, but I'm willing to give it a try. It's another way to keep in touch. Or to write what I call "flash poetry." I'm sure I'm not the only one.

Are you willing?

Taxes

So I did my taxes.

Even with the businesses we have, even with all the medical expenses we have, even with all that--I still owe taxes.

So I am going to change my W-4 and I guess my husband will have to get a job this fall.

*sighs*

Definitely separated

The Internet is a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Okay, Kitt. This post is for you. And hey, all you Internet friends, this is for you, too, even though you probably know who Rex Smith and Kip Winger are. Kitt didn't know!

This shocks me a little bit, probably because I am egocentric, and think that everyone remotely close to my age knows every little trivial fact that I know. Imagine my shock.

So, in the interest of illumnating my previous post, I present to you, for your rock and or roll edification:

Rex Smith and Kip Winger are More Different Than They Are Similar, Even Though They Appear to Be Good Twin/Bad Twins--
No Venn Diagrams Needed

Here is a Rex Smith video found on YouTube. The made-for-TV movie Sooner or Later is a fond memory of mine. From when I was 9 or 10 years old.

Aaaand....

Here is a Kip Winger video, also found on YouTube. Also a fond memory, from when I was 18 or 19 years old. Please note that he would be, in my book, THE GOOD TWIN.

*cheshire grin*

Discuss. Extra credit will be given for anyone who can name a different Winger song in the comments.

Separated at birth?

So my husband says to me, "I bet you were one of those girls who loved Rex Smith."

To which I replied, "Rrrrrrowwwrrrr."

After which, it just flew right out of my mouth, I swear, "He's a cleaned-up version of Kip Winger. Rather, Kip Winger was a dirtier version of Rex Smith. Double-rrrrrowwwrr."

My husband disbelieved this. I found the images to prove it. Please cover your keyboards with anti-drool material before viewing.

I suppose these images are safe for work.





Rex Smith. Teen Beat Magazine. Perfect hair, perfect cheekbones, muscle shirt. Yummah.


Kip Winger. Perfect '80s metal hair, perfect cheekbones, muscle shirt. Leather pants. YUMMAH.


Now, scroll up and down, and just look at them. Rex, Kip. Rex, Kip. Rex, Kip.


See? SEE?

groovygrrl: the grammar police

I collect grammar errors like other people collect ceramic poodles.

From a "beauty tips" website:

"Vaseline applied to the feet helps to keep them soft and subtle."


Oh! Thank goodness! Overt feet are so unseemly!

Who Needs a Movie?

I do! I do!

I'm going to state!

*sighs*

Yesterday was an exhausting day. Part of me doesn't know why I did this, but I did, and so I'll see it through. It was a crazy, amazing day.

Yesterday was the Denver County Democratic Convention. I got to go because, as you might remember, I was voted in as a delegate at the caucus on Feb. 5. I went to that caucus because this election is important, and I wanted to be a part of the entire process. I learned how to caucus that night. (Hint: just show up and ask one of the organizers what to do.)

I didn't know what the county convention would be like, but I knew it would be bigger than the caucus on Feb. 5. It was held at the Denver Convention Center. That place is huge, but I can navigate myself--I'm both a city girl and a country girl. I figured I could handle it.

My day started with the light rail. My friends who were also delegates made a pact with me: we would all take public transportation to the event. I didn't want to park downtown, anyway. It's too expensive and too hard to find a good spot. The light rail has a stop at the Convention Center, so why not?

I crossed the street after my stop and was greeted by anti-choice protesters and their lovely pictures of aborted fetuses. Next to them were Clinton supporters, handing out signs. Where are the Obama signs? I pouted as I entered the building.

Immediately I saw one of the Denver Dems volunteers in a neon-green t-shirt. She directed me, "...clear to the back," so that's where I walked. This building is several city blocks long, people. Walk it sometime. The organization for this event was fabulous. I found my check-in table easily, and recognized Helen, the woman who helped me caucus before. She was checking folks in, and remembered me. It was nice to see a friendly face.

At check-in, I had to sign my name, and they checked the envelope I received in the mail. I got two papers, 1/4 of a sheet of paper each, one hot pink and the other yellow. They gave me a piece of string to put through the holes of these papers, as these were my credentials:




I put on my fancy necklace and went to the potty. That walk across the convention center was a long one! I also figured I had time now, and wouldn't later, as I would be soooo buuuuussssyyy doing politics.

Um, yeah. Parts of the day, later on, were very busy. Other parts, not so much.

Ready for action, I got in line. Some dude was HOLLERING AT US TO KEEP THIS LINE MOVING! LET'S GO PEOPLE! IF YOU ARE IN THIS LINE YOU NEED TO KEEP MOVING.

Dude. I'll get in line. Yes, you have an impressive voice. Chill.

There were folks along the barrier of the line, still politicking (is this a verb? *checks dictionary* yes it is.), holding signs of all kinds. This is the part that was exactly as I have imagined a political convention. Lots of stickers, signs, chanting, and general freak-flag waving.

No, I did NOT take my camera. Yes, I will remember next time!

We were only allowed to enter particular doors of the venue, as we were organized according to House Districts. I found my door, flashed my credentials (I feel so official!), and found a seat. I got there early, and despite all the politicking in the hallways, it wasn't too crowded. I think I sat down at about 8:15am for a 9:00am meeting. Not too bad.

But I couldn't find my friends! At my school, four of the around 15 Denver residents were delegates, so I expected to see them. Right away, I figured out I wouldn't be able to sit with them, as we had to sit with our House District, as well as use the same door. Go figure. I was too excited to sit and read, so I stood up and watched the doors, hoping for a glimpse of my friends. I talked to the few folks who were sitting with me, chit-chat. We were all appalled at the vast amount of paper that was draped over every seat. All of it was propaganda, supporting one candidate for something, opposing a horrible bill, etc. Amazing amounts of paper, and this is the party that's going green for the DNC? Anyway.

Right at the start of the meeting, I saw one of my friends! He's in the same House District as me! I jogged down the stairs to catch his eye, and he came back up to sit next to me. Yay! I have a friend.

The meeting was called to order by Jennifer Coken, the head of the Denver Democrats. She did a pretty good job of moving things along, giving us a refresher on the democratic process for meetings ("Can I get a motion?" "So moved." "A second?" "Second!" "All in favor say 'aye.'" "Aye!" "Opposed?" "*one guy in the back with a weird voice* Nay!" "The ayes have it."). We thanked volunteers, we were riled up by various politicians giving a "shout out" to their House Districts and such, we chanted and waved our little signs. We were led in very orderly rows to the voting boxes, where we cast our paper ballots for our preferences for presidential candidate and for U.S. Senate. I did have time to go to the bathroom again. I needn't have worried. This part was not so much "busy" as it was "entertainment."

We then broke for lunch/waiting time, because certain Senate districts had to meet. This is where it gets fun, people.

My friend and I went to 16th street to buy something to eat/drink that didn't cost an arm/leg. We came back and were seated in a smaller meeting room at the appointed time. We chatted and waited. And waited. And waited. AND WAITED.

We waited almost an hour. Apparently, in those Senate district meetings, there was a "contested race," so it was taking them forever. Some of the folks, but not all, were from our House District. (Anybody tired of the political demarcation jargon yet?) So we had to wait for them to finish and come to our House District meeting.

We had to wait, because we had to elect our delegates to go to the Congressional District 1 (Denver) and State conventions and assemblies. Some woman got on the microphone and said we had to wait for our House District organizer to get there, but that she could tell us a little bit about what we were going to do. We had to split into Obama-Clinton camps, for starters.

Okay. We did that. One to each side of the room. Obamas had to spill over into the back of the Clinton section (Gobama!), but whatever. We can handle that.

Then she said when our person got there, we would know the number of delegates we were allowed, and we could then decide on our delegates.

"How do we decide on our delegates?" one loudmouth asked.

"However you want," the woman said.

*poink* *poink poink* Those are my eyes blinking in the silence, into the realization that over 200 people, Obama supporters all, had to organize themselves and decide what was fair. Over 200 people who all wanted to go to the state level as a delegate. With no organization.

It doesn't happen often, but I was struck dumb for about 20 seconds. At which point, one loudmouth started shouting his opinion of what should be done. And then another loudmouth joined in, saying why that idea wasn't a good one. Camera cuts to me, mouth open, slight smile on my face, head shaking off the vision I just had. I could swear these guys were wearing tight pants, cutaway jackets, and white, powdered wigs, and it was 1776. Or some such date.

THIS is politics, folks. Where none of us could use the microphone, because the other camp couldn't have their meeting if we did, so we had to shout. And the person who shouts the loudest gets heard.

Our organizer person came in and gave us the numbers. Loudmouth Sensible had already got the Obama folks to vote on how we were going to decide on delegates: we should break up into voting precincts, since that would evenly distribute the delegates. We all said aye to this, so that was in my favor. You will recall that I am the only representative for my voting precinct. *big grin*

You would think my story ends there.

Since I knew I would be a delegate, I immediately relaxed. My friend had already left, as he had to pick up his kids. I moved to the front, since I knew I would have to sign my name again, to make sure I got on the list. The precincts were deciding, deciding, talking, not too much shouting, but it was loud in there. Then I heard someone (our organizer? some random person?) say, "We've got to write all this down."

There were a few seconds of nothing happening. *poink* I blinked again, then dove into my cavernous purse and retrieved what every good writer carries.

I grabbed my notebook and pen, grabbed the railing of the steps to the platform, and jumped up. I opened the notebook, clicked my pen, and then something really bizarre happened.

People cheered.

I said, "Okay, I'm going to write all this down. I will start with 301, then 302, like that. Tell me your delegate name..."

"We can't hear you in the back!"

*sighs* So I turned up my voice. To eleven. Please recall that I am a public school teacher.

"I AM GOING TO START WITH 301, THEN 302, AND EVENTUALLY EVERYONE WILL GET THEIR NAMES DOWN. WE HAVE TO KEEP MOVING BECAUSE WE ARE ALREADY LATE FOR OUR FAMILIES. 301! YOUR DELEGATE?"

I swear I saw people step back from me in shock when they heard my voice. Hey, sometimes you have to yell across a crowded gym in school. I can bellow with the rest of 'em. And I had a new respect for the dude who was herding us in the morning.

Some fine fellow jumped up on the platform with me and offered to assist. He said he would holler and give me name cards, and I could write them down. I am so grateful for his help. Thank you, thank you dude! What's your name? I'll see you at state. I'll thank you then.

It was a nuthouse. People were shouting at me the entire time. Asking me questions. Coming in late. Asking me how the whole thing is organized. My reply?

"I am just The Woman Who Had a Notebook. I'm sorry, but I don't know the answer."

Dude who was helping me kept making these comments, low, just for me to hear:

"This is a fucking nuthouse...this is fucking chaos...this is fucking insane.....I'm sorry if you are offended by me saying 'fuck."

"No, I am not. You are welcome to say 'fuck' all you want."

The lights went out several times. Why? It was so annoying!

I tried to be polite to everyone. And let me tell you something. In 16 years of teaching, I have not been thanked and shown such appreciation as I was during that hour or so. After I wrote their names, "Thank you, Amy! Thank you so much!" When I glanced up, and Hector said (why do I remember his name?), "Amy!" I looked at him, and got a big thumbs up and, "You're doing a great job!" Our organizer lady, Paula, whispering in my ear during all this chaos, "Amy, you are doing a wonderful job. Thank you so much."

At one point, our organizer lady, Paula, gave me a paper with new numbers. We got 4 more delegates than before! But I've already been writing all this stuff down!

Shouting! Chaos! Loudmouths! I move! I second! The nays have it! Discuss!!!

The Clinton camp in our room, bless their hearts, were waiting patiently through this whole thing. They only got 20 delegates, and they had less than 50 people, I would wager. Since they were done with their meeting, I got on the microphone.

I used my smooth, radio dj voice:

"Hello. My name is Amy Kalinchuk, and I'd like to start my campaign to go to the Democratic National Convention. As you can see, I'm a hard worker, I always carry a notebook, and

*pause*

I like puppies."

Big laughs! That's all it took! Even the Clinton folks laughed!

So I made a proposal, got a second, the ayes had it, and we started drawing names out of a bag. Dude with the white t-shirt who did the bag drawing deserves thanks here, too. I think his name is Stephen, but it's hard to say.

We finally got all the delegates, and we were only a few alternates short. I sat down to re-copy our list, neatly, so our organizer could reconcile that list with the signature list.

The lady who works in the seafood department at my Safeway, leaned over me, putting her head right next to my ear.
*pause*

*pause*

"Thank you."

*pat on the shoulder*

City Council member Chris Nevitt, District 7, sat with me, chatting, and thanked me. He is lovely. Nakia sat next to me while I was copying the names, just chatting. She was lovely to me, too, thanking me for doing this job. So many people, thanking me!

It was possibly the most energizing, wild, and affirming experience I have had with the general public. That includes all my public school teaching experience. I am not kidding.

House District 3 rocks!

So at the end of that long, crazy day, I am now a delegate to the Congressional District 1 and State conventions and assemblies. I am unavailable for parties and general counsel on May 10 and May 17.

I will probably be too busy writing down names.



(Please ignore the problems with the font size. Blogger has a problem with its system today, and I don't have the strength to deal with it anymore.)

Ah hayuve puhblished mah book.

Indeed, I have.

New book! New book!

Best Soap Recipes: The Companion to Making Soap In Your Own Kitchen. You can dig on the propaganda here.

Just another weekend in Denver

Here is what it was like yesterday:

Photo unabashedly stolen from kitt. Please go visit her vastly superior blog: http://kittbo.blogspot.com

75 degrees! Sunshine! Clear, blue skies! I couldn't get enough--I wanted it to soak into my bones. It was a lovely evening, too--not too cool, and breezy.

And we wake up to this:

That's my stoop. That's all the farther I wanted to go. But I have to meet Michelle for brunch this morning at 11am! I guess I'll just have to bundle up. Bah!

Take That!

79 words

Speedtest

Random Meme: 8 things about me

From Kitt.

1. I was born in... Iowa City, Iowa. Go Hawks!

2. I absolutely HATE...chewing gum. I hate it when others chew gum. I hate gum. If you're going to chew something, then it should be swallowed! It's called FOOD. Try it.

3. When I was a little girl...I wrote my first book. Age 6. The Book About Some, Teeth.Yes, I put in a random comma.

4. All I need in life to be happy is...to realize that what I have right now is enough to make a bajillion people happy.

5. I like...selling books.

6. I looooooooove...my new antique typewriter key necklace.

7. I am not...independently wealthy. Yet.

8. I have several mottos: "The harder I work, the luckier I get." "Love is all you need."

YES WE CAN - Music Video Barack Obama

"...in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope..."

Dreams

I have been having very strange, vivid dreams, and I don't know why. For a long time now, I haven't remembered my dreams much. I know they are there--maybe I've just been overtired.

Since I got a little sleep this weekend, perhaps I'm remembering my dreams again because I got some good REM sleep. Oh, bollocks. I have no idea what I'm saying.

Dream 1: I was in Paris for some sort of conference. It wasn't for my current job--it was for another business thing I do, which was not clear in the dream. The buildings and streets were all unknown to me in real life, and I remember saying to someone that I was in Paris. So I'm there, and I keep getting phone calls and emails and whatnot from my current job! People there kept sending me stuff to do! And I was mad, because I was about to have hot sex with...someone who shall remain nameless, as I don't want to hear it from you pervs.

Dream 2: I was in some strange school cafeteria, with children. I had them line up, and they would sprint from one end of the cafeteria to the other. I would time them, and they could never quite get there. At one point, I looked at myself in the mirror, and I had a blonde moustache and beard.

Dream 3: ...I have forgotten it. Damn. And I got up at 6am today, like on a regular work day. Coincidence?

Okay, let the interpretation begin:

Dream 1: Paris=vacation? Being somewhere else? I was also doing a different job. I was changing my direction. But the folks at my current work kept bugging me. My current work bugs me. It holds me back from the good life in Paris. Like having hot sex with...an actor. No, no, no...it holds me back from doing what I truly want to do. And I know this, and try to move forward in my life, but I still allow it to affect me because I kept answering their phone calls and emails. Hmm.


Dream 2: No matter what I do, those kids will only achieve as much as they want to, or are capable of. So I should just chill out before I grow a full beard.


Oh, it's all bollocks. Maybe dreams don't mean anything--they are just the brain processing the day's events. But these weren't the day's events---they were strange and weird, and I remember having feelings that were quite powerful. I was powerfully annoyed.

Whaddyou guys think?

Lame blogger

Overworked! Dang!

I slept 10 hours Friday night. That whole Saturday I was STILL TIRED. I left the house later in the day to take our cutie somewhere to run around. But that's about it.

Well, I did dishes, too.

To atone for my absence, I present this video. I don't think I've laughed this hard in a long, long time.

Keep in mind: it's a NEWS ITEM! Someone thought this was newsworthy! People got PAID TO FILM THIS.

Okay, you go watch it now.

I'm a delegate?

So I went to the caucus.

I've never done that before. And I grew up in Iowa! One would think we were taught at birth what a caucus is and what to do, and why. Alas, not so.

But I went anyway because this presidential election is important to me. I want to do something to help make good changes in our government.

And I was the only one.

OH, the school was full. Voting precincts 310 and 312 were packed. 301-309, as well.

My voting area is 311. And I was THE ONLY PERSON THERE.

They had a person from the Colorado Dems to help me. We sat alone in a room, called the meeting to order, and I was counted. I also voted for myself as a delegate. Unfortunately, 311 lost 3 delegates! We could have had 4! Oh, well.

I also voted myself in as the Democratic Committee Person for my neighborhood. That means I get to knock on all the doors of the registered democrats in my neighborhood and ask them why I was THE ONLY ONE at the caucus. And ask them to vote for Barack.

GObama!

The Handmade Life

Time to make the doughnuts!

That's what I tell myself on Sundays, when I have to make the soap. I've been making soap once per week for the past few weeks, and this has helped me to keep up with orders. I've been getting several soap orders per week! It's so awesome!

Sometimes it is difficult to rouse myself to make the soap, as it is physically demanding. However, I have my rhythm down to 1.5 hours for two batches of soap, so I just tell myself "it's just an hour, you can do it." I also tell myself, "Do you want to eat this month, or not?"

Big thanks to all my soapy supporters. You feed my family! I so appreciate your continued support and recommendations.

I am hard at work on my second soaping book, which I hope to finish very soon. Stay tuned!

Birthday fun

Yesterday was my birthday! It was also my daughter's birthday! Hooray!

My mom and dad are in town, on their way to St. George, Utah. It worked out this year that they would be here on our birthday.

To celebrate, we went bowling. It was my daughter's first try at bowling. They put up bumpers in the gutters so you can avoid gutter balls.

No, the adults did not all bowl 300.

Etsy!

As promised, I've created an etsy shop. Look down and too the right, below the links, and you will see the items in my shop! That little showcase is called an "etsy mini." I love it!

Go have a look at my stuff, and then look at everyone else's stuff, and fall in love with etsy. It's the worlds largest online handmade marketplace. A high-end craft fair, all day, every day.

***drools***

Blog for Choice

I am pro-woman, and therefore pro-choice.

I am pro-choice because when women are in control of their reproductive lives, the world is better because of it.

I am pro-choice because this stance recognizes women as human beings, able to think for themselves.

I am pro-choice because so many women have so many choices taken away, every day, due to patriarchal oppression--in America, and throughout the world.

I am pro-choice because I am in favor of every child being a wanted child.

I am pro-choice because I rebuke the patriarchy that would take my choice away.

I am pro-woman. I am pro-choice.

Not my day

Yesterday, I ran over some enormous nail-like thing, and got a flat tire.

Today, I nudged a bowl off the counter, and it smashed on the floor. One of my favorite, "special" bowls.

Later on, as I was admiring the swirl that I did in a batch of soap, the divider slipped, and ruined three of the bars' pretty artwork.



I'm going to bed.

Overheard at our dinner table

"What exactly is in Guinness that's good for me?"

"Alcohol."



*****************

"Milk is gross. I'd rather drink pee."



*****************

"My diet is simple. No bread, no potatoes, no pasta, no donuts. This leaves room for liquor and cookies."



*****************

Vacation Log: Day 13

Top Ten Things We Have All Learned From Sesame Street
(as summarized from a Yahoo IM conversation with Billings Steve)

1. Mammoths are our friends, if a bit slow.

2. If you live in a trash can, you have the right to be grouchy.

3. Birds are friendly and FREAKING ENORMOUS.

4. Maria is HOT.

5. Two men sharing a bedroom will sometimes sleep in separate beds.

6. uno, dos, tres, quatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez

7. C is for Cookie

8. It ain't easy being green.

9. The letter F in the distance, which approaches slowly while saying its sound to the rhythm of a military snare drum is FUCKING TERRIFYING TO A 3-YEAR-OLD HIDING UNDER THE KITCHEN TABLE.

10. I still can't tell you how to get, how to get to Sesame Street.

Vacation Log: Day whatever

I'm very into vacationing, so I can't be bothered to find out what day of vacation this is. Instead, I think I'll hang out in some forums, posting away.

Or maybe not.

Vacation Log: Day 9

Yesterday was busy and fun. Well, sort of.

I went shopping. I was exchanging some clothes--1 piece didn't fit, 1 piece was the wrong color but otherwise I liked it, and two things were just not me.

I met Jeepy Girl for lunch, with my cutie. It was nice to visit with her.

I took cutie home, got the mail, brought in the soaping oils from the garage that had frozen solid, and then planned to go out again. I had gift cards to spend, dangit!

Spent the gift cards. Note to all: Colorado Mills is HUGE. Don't plan on going to they gym--you'll get in your workout.

Today I plan on making soap (finally!), and maybe start sewing. For the etsy shop. Remember?

Vacation Log: Day 7

I have accomplished nothing today, except making bread. It's rising right now.

Today will be full of laundry. I woke up with a breakout on my nose--inflamed, red, weird stuff. After a few hours, it spread to my right cheek. I decided it was due to the new sheets that I hadn't washed before using them.

Yes, I am a genius.

Vacation Log: Day 6

Whew!

Yesterday was a little bit busy. We went shopping in the morning, for batteries and paper products, mostly. And don't think the paper products were wrapping paper, as I am still overloaded with christmas stuff. I don't need to buy any more--I have extra. No, we were out of basic paper products--toilet paper, paper towels, and tissues.Batteries were essential as well, as the cutie received several toys that needed them.

We came home and had lunch together, which was a bit surreal. We normally sit around the dinner table for the evening meal. It was nice. After lunch, Jeepy Girl came over with my last gift for dh. She stayed for about an hour, visiting.

After that, I went to the bank.

When I got home, we packed up and went across town to nephew J's birthday party. It was held at one of those indoor amusement places. My favorite thing was the go-karts. Too, too fun.

Today, I packed and mailed soap orders, went to the grocery store, cooked brunch for my family, baked apple dumplings, and now I'm blogging. I am going to work on my new book that I've been writing, and see if I can't put a dent in it. I also plan on taking a bath at some point, and shoveling snow. Again. It's snowing again, and has been since before the sun came up. It's a stay-at-home day today.

Vacation Log: Day 4

Happy Christmas! Denver got a white Christmas this year! I am up at 6:50am, and was greeted with such a lovely sight: a blanket of 2-3 inches of snow! It's still dark outside, so I'm sitting here in the kitchen, the tree lights are on, I'm going to light the oil lamps, make some coffee, and then sit on the couch and continue reading Harry Potter year 7.

It is already a great day. I wish the same for all of you.

Vacation Log: Day 3

Did you know that Clorox wipes are good for cleaning the bathroom floor? On your hands and knees?


I'm just sayin'.

Vacation Log: Day 2

Today is cleaning day. So was yesterday. I only got one section of the kitchen clean, though. It's the counter where we pile all the crap. I said to my husband, "Maybe if we keep it completely empty, then it'll stay that way."

He also thought that was a good idea. I don't know where we will put our piles and piles of mail, though. And our holiday cards from last year. And old birthday cards from two years ago. Oh, and how about 4 decks of cards, lids to bottles that don't exist, a pile of receipts, paper bags, and old birthday cake candles?

WHERE ARE WE GOING TO PUT THAT STUFF? I ask you.

Today we will continue with the cleaning. Today is "big cleaning" day. Although, yesterday was quite cathartic--I obviously filled a trash bag full of stuff. I am tired of all of the stupid crap we own. We own stupid crap! And sometimes can't throw it away! I hate that! We aren't "hoarders" as such. I've seen photos on the internet of people like that, and let me tell you, they have a problem. A big problem. Our hoarding goes in cycles of , "But we could use this!" to, "Get this shit out of my house!"

I think I just need to have people over more often. The house would be cleaner, more often, and I wouldn't have so much stinkin' crap!

Vacation log: day 1

Hooray!

No snow days to start the vacation this year, but I'll take it anyway. I haven't accomplished much yet today, except getting a banner and business card made for my new etsy shop! No! It doesn't have anything in it! You're right!

But it will.

"Oh, why, Amy, WHY are you doing something else? Why must you take on yet another business responsibility?"

Um...because it's fun? Yes, people, I have found some fun. I was sewing away, sewing all sorts of gifts for the holidays, when I stopped and realized: I'm having fun. Another fun thing for me is purchasing fabric. I don't necessarily have anything to make with it--I just want to look at it and feel it and have it.

And now I've discovered things to make with it, and I'm so excited! This will be another way to make a little bit of money, and to have some FUN.

WHAT A CONCEPT.

Sensible and Decent--lost from our vocabulary

I support the WGA strike. I suppose many might think that their opinions don't have much to do with the outcome of this strike, but I beg to differ. And as a blogger, you know you'll hear about my differ. And my begging. Oh, you'll hear it.

The Internet is a big part of the reason for the strike. The clever writers have taken to the Internet to prove their point, and I think it is a brilliant move. The corporations that run most of the media (television, radio, news) are saying one thing to their shareholders, and another thing to the writers. Their lie is obvious, and we know this because of the wonders of the Internet.

Writers should be paid a fair wage for their work. The residuals off of Internet downloads and streaming video should be shared with the people who wrote them. Just as a writer receives a royalty of some sort on every book sold, when an episode of a television show is shown in streaming video, the writer should receive some of the money that comes in from advertising that show. I suppose the book example isn't as germane as a music industry example: every time a song is played on the radio, the writer of that song is paid a royalty. WGA writers should be paid for their work being displayed on the Internet.

"If they get paid, we get paid," is a slogan I saw on one or more of the picketer's signs. This is sensible and decent. There is no reason they should not be paid for work that is, essentially, published again and again when it is viewed on the Internet.

I chuckled to myself when I thought of a media outlet that regularly pays this way--erotic ebooks. The most popular site, last time I checked, offered 38.5% of the list price of each book as an author royalty. I don't know how much they pay up front, if anything, but I do know that this site sells about 90,000 books per month. At an average price of around $4 per ebook. These are electronic sales, which incur no printing, warehousing, or shipping costs. They are selling ideas, just like the WGA writers, and the profit margins are much higher than for print books. This is the exact reason the media corporations want to get into the digital media arena. These are the very reasons they give for wanting to do it--lowest overhead costs possible. Highest profit possible. Why not share, if your overhead is so low?

On a personal note, and on a much smaller scale, I pay royalties every month. I am an independent author and publisher, and each month I tally the sales and send off the royalties. I worked out an agreement with my photographer and my web guy, and I stick to it. I will continue to uphold our agreeement, because I am a decent human being.

If an independent publisher like the erotica site can see clear to pay writers a residual on electronic sales, and still make a fine living, then why can't the huge corporations? They are talking about their Internet sales being in the billions of dollars.

They simply don't want to pay the writers. They just don't want to. It is indecent.

Furthermore, it's not sensible. Because of this Internet campaign, the members of the public who might use the Internet for their entertainment are being given all the information they need to make their decisions about whom to support. The clever, clever writers are using the medium in question to show the public the truth. I cannot imagine how difficult their lives are right now, since they don't have income for their families during this time.

They might start writing some erotica, as freelancers, to pay the bills. I hear the royalties are sensible. And decent.

Seen on a bumper sticker

HONK
if you slay monsters.

Day 23

It's just getting worse. At least I have prescription cough suppressant, but if I miss taking it every three hours, the cough overtakes me all of a sudden, ruining my life.

Day 18

I am on the 18th day of being ill. I still cough so hard I see stars, have shooting pains in my muscles, and often pee my pants.

So I went to the doctor at the behest of my husband and good friend. "Go to the doctor! What if it's serious? This shouldn't be hanging on this long!" Etc. Etc.

My reply, for the past week, has been, "What is the doctor going to tell me? Nothing! 'It's a virus, it will work itself out, there's nothing to be done." But I made an appointment anyway.

Can you guess what the doctor said?

Rampant Consumerism

Because I am insane, I went shopping on the day after Thanksgiving. My friend Jeepy Girl, the person who always lures me into a good adventure, has a budget for the holidays, as do I. We decided to look at the ads, and see what struck our fancy.

It turns out that Target had the deals, at 6am. But first, I had to drive to Jeepy Girl's place. Guess what kind of car she drives?

There she is, the Jeepy Girl. This would be at 5:45am.

We drove to Target, and parked as close as we could (read: not in the Target parking lot, that's for damn sure). The line was long, but as it was 5:51, we weren't worried:


Please note that I took this photo standing on the sidewalk along Bowles Avenue. The actual store is about 200 feet to the left of that sign. Those people are at the end of the parking lot, snaking around to the intersection. Also please note the tire tracks of some fiend who had to have a parking spot close-up. Come on, people! Let's not be cranky!

To stave off crankiness, one very slick entrepreneur was walking up and down the line. His name is Isaac the Breakfast Burrito Boy. He also offered hot chocolate. I love that he took the meaning of Black Friday and twisted it to his advantage...


...as can be witnessed right here. That woman informed us that the burritos were delicious. Good job, Isaac!



The line started to move and we all walked in. I am sure you have heard stories about attacks and mad scrambling and people being trampled on Black Friday. Let me tell you this: we walked in, and there were folks standing outside the doors, waiting for the line to go in first. That's shopping in the suburbs, yo.


Apparently, this is also shopping in the suburbs. Really bad hair bleaching choices. This is not the best shot of the crowd around the electronics department...

...but that one is. You will notice that beautiful plaid at the bottom of the screen is Jeepy Girl's hat. It was that crowded. I just put my camera up in the air and clicked. Luckily, we found the items JG was looking for, and paid for them. I also bought myself some meds for my cough. It was completely empty in the drugstore department, if you can imagine.

After battling the crowds, we got a Starbucks coffee:


And waited in the car for Office Max to open at 7:00am. This shot is from about 6:45am:


Starbucks coffee helps, when shopping before the dawn. As you can see, Jeepy Girl was interested in getting a new camera at Office Max, which she did. We went from Office Max to Kohl's which opened at 4am that day. Um...what? I can wrap my brain around 6am, because I've been known to show up at work at that time, but 4am? That would have meant me getting out of bed at 3am. Thank goodness Jeepy Girl wasn't interested in that.

At Kohl's we found JG some awesome sheets, and I found a couple of presents for my Cutie Girl. Here's one of them:

Hello Kitty earmuffs, with matching gloves! Shhh...don't tell.

Hunger struck right about at that time, but we were waiting in the insane lines at Kohl's. They had plenty of people working the checkout lanes, but they were just inundated with crazy-ass shoppers. Like us. The wait wasn't too bad in the end--about 20 minutes. I've experienced worse.

We swung by the video game store in search of Guitar Hero III, but had no luck. That meant one thing: breakfast. At Gunther Toodys!


Now people, check out that plate. This was a Friday, so they still had their weekday Big Bopper breakfast special going on: $3.99 for that whole plate of yummy goodness! Two eggs, 4 pieces of bacon, hash browns, and toast. *drools* It was delicious! We only had to wait 15 minutes for our table, and not even that long for our food. We ate every bite, having been up since 4:40am. Well, that's when I woke up on my own, anyway.

We traveled on, in Jeepy Girl's Jeep Liberty, to JoAnn's. This is a fabric and craft store, and since a person might call me Crafty Girl, their deals were exciting to me. I try to sew gifts if I can, because this is more cost-effective. I refuse to go into debt for the holidays. If folks don't like my handmade gifts, they have yet to tell me about it.

So we went in, and there were no carts available. This was not a good sign. Shop, shop, shop for fleece, on sale. Shop for zippers. For thread. For fusible interfacing. We then plunked all of our stuff down on a display of stacked tables, and rested. I found us a cart (grabbed it from someone who had just checked out), and put our stuff in there. We made good use of our time calling Montana Steve, who would be driving through on Saturday and wanted us to organize a lunch.

Still waiting. We had taken a number for the cutting table, but were still two decades away. What else is there to do when made to wait in JoAnn's? Of course, we strolled the aisles, letting our fatigue-addled brains think of ways to engage in petty vandalism. For instance, should we take the mini-Sharpie with the cute keyring...



...and write profanities on the entire stack of mini-chalkboards?


Maybe not. That's actually destructive, and while it would be funny, since we were surrounded by blue-haired old ladies and really cranky suburbanites, we just couldn't bring ourselves to break the law. So instead of petty vandalism, we did quasi-vandalism:




Because what says "whore" better than a red boa? I'd like to know. Hey, that's what JoAnn's GETS when they make us wait more than an hour to get our fabric cut.

After JoAnn's we spent an uneventful 15 minutes in Cost Plus, but our heart was no longer in it. We had exhausted our punchy sense of humor and were looking forward to a nap. It was time to say good-bye to the Day of Rampant Consumerism. We stayed within our budgets, laughed more than should be allowed, and grubbed on some serious breakfast. That's the way you do Black Friday, people.

Kiss My Ass, Scammer

Found in my email box:

Please Sir, with due respect to your personality and a big thanks to your help for humanity. I wish to beg for your help on this soapmaking. I have learned the work but not yet expert. For God's sake I kindly need your help, just a guideline for making a hard soap. this where my problem occur and how to increase the volume to making my profit. I like this work and I dont want to be roaming about looking for government work. Sir, I know that my request is unusual but kindly help me with a teaching note which can guide me. Thanks. from Nigeria.

My blog response:

Dear "Jeremiah Clement,"


You want to learn how to make soap? Buy my book.


Most sincerely,

The Author

The Crud

I've got it. I got it from my husband. He swears he got it when he went to the gym.

I hang out in a petri dish of adolescent germs all day, every day, and I catch The Crud from him?





*koff*


*koffkoff*


*koffkooooooooooffkoffkoffkoff*

*pees a little*

Loving the handmade

Love the handmade stuff? Lust after hand-knit and felted goods? Ache for handmade soap? Drool over funky, one-of-a-kind earrings?

You are in luck. This feature on etsy allows you to slowly (or quickly) scroll through the items that are most newly listed. You can sit there, eating your bowl of soup, as the internet's largest online craft fair walks across the screen, for your pleasure.

Enjoy.

It's the economy

I actually came back around the block to get a shot of this sign. And this is a "sign o' the times" if there ever was one.

Somebody had to sell her Hugh. Poor Hugh. Unwanted. For sale.

I hope he brought in a lot!

That Time of the Year

Part of the reason that I do NaBloWriMo in October is because November is too busy. Even though the farmer's markets have ended, the Holiday-gift-giving season is upon us in earnest, and people want their soap!

This is why it's taken me two weeks to blog. That, and Kitt's prodding. Thank you, Kitt. I've taken a page out of her book, and started taking my camera with me. It proved fruitful the other day.

However, as I am on the couch, comfy, and having some coffee, I'll have to post that photo later.

*slurrrrrrp*

I have needed this day off for a long, long time.

I did it!

I BLOGGED EVERY DAY IN OCTOBER!

HOORAAAAAAAY!

I'm the Queen of the World!!!! of blogging.