Vincent Van Goddammit

Starry bluearrgghhhhh!

The White Tree (of Gondor)

 

My coworker lent me one of her trees!  I should have taken the small pink one.  Sheesh.  I forgot what these things are like to put together.  Or rather, I forgot that I never had to participate in actually putting the tree together.  I just put ornaments on it.  This was such an ordeal that if it hadn't already involved hauling the box up the stairs, I might have given up on it.  I put the middle section on the bottom first, and marveled at how wide it was.  Imagine my consternation when I realized that wasn't the bottom.  That's when I called Tracy and Mom in a panic.  They both immediately knew exactly where the tree had to go, and made some helpful suggestions about how to decorate it.  Only SOME helpful suggestions, because somebody's been watching too much Martha Stewart.  But the tree is up, pre-lit, and post-decorated.  It's resting on furniture sliders because I had to drag it across the living room and I was afraid I'd set the carpet on fire.  That sucker is heavy.  The sliders come in handy when I need to close the blinds, so I'm leaving them there.  Tracy wins Christmas for her tree skirt this year- mine will not be nearly as clever.  When she posts a picture of what she's doing, I'll post it here so you can see.

 

Why does the urge to write so often strike late at night when I'm supposed to be getting ready for my real job?  Shouldn't this be my real job?

 

I'm glad I got a tree.  I'm glad I was able to borrow one, I'm glad my friend has a Christmas tree addiction, and I'm glad she was willing to haul one into work for me.  I'm also glad it fit in my car, because I thought my back seats folded down to make a hole into the trunk and found out that they either don't or I have forgotten how.  I'm also glad her fiancé remembered that the green one was 9 feet tall before she brought it in.  This tree is the perfect height, and it is lovely.

 

I did only have eight ornaments, but then I found the box that Chris brought me.  I have a good start there.  I also have a ton of icicles all over the tree, not that you can tell.  I didn't want to buy any Christmas stuff, but I may have to hit the dollar store to find something ridiculous to put on top.

 

Oh- and Dad will be here right after Christmas.  Perfect time to sit and admire the tree for a couple days before he gets to help me dismantle it, pack it back into the box, and get it into my car.

 

I'm suffering from face-splitting yawns and Solo is trying to sleep with her face in my hand

 

so I need to go take the dogs out and get to bed.  Goodnight!

 

Sunday Night Ramble Tamble

It has been an evening of purging and cleaning.  The dogs are chowing down on their kibble and steamed broccoli, and I am feeling capable.  I am looking around at all this stuff and wondering what I am going to do with it.  I am mentally sorting it into categories: Toss; Donate; Store; Bring; and Oh God, What The Hell Am I Going To Do With That.

I found my little pot of random puzzle pieces that have shown up over the years: wrong pieces that showed up in thrift store puzzles, pieces that did not make it back into the box.  I liked my little pot of puzzle pieces, but today my eyes fell on it with a different look.  I tried to throw them out, couldn't do it, so I glued them to the plain red cover of a journal I am about to start.  Ha.  Now, did I do my research on fabric and types of glue first?  Of course not.  At least I didn't use Elmer's, and I currently have the journal in a makeshift press.  Perhaps they'll all fall off anyway.  This journal is huge, so I think it's probably likely, considering that this last, reasonably slim journal has taken me five years to finish.  Well, maybe I'll have a lot more to write about now.

I hate feeling like there is so much to do and never having enough time to do it.  I'm going to chalk a lot of that up to Netflix and Blockbuster.  Last night I made banana muffins; tonight I'm going to make tons of little meatballs.  I filed/recycled a lot of paper.  I had lunch with a friend.  Thanks to the snowstorm Friday night, I am trapped by the ice on the roads when the sun goes down.  I need no more financial obligations, as we've already established.  I didn't get to run around as much as I would have liked today, so I am going to try to get a day off this week.  I want to have my Christmas stuff in the mail ASAP.

And speaking of Christmas... Dad's coming up the weekend after, which is nice.  We'll celebrate Christmas then, and I am looking forward to spending Christmas Day doing only things I enjoy.  But I got a little revved up, thinking of decorating for Christmas this year.  I recently saw a bin marked Christmas in my storage shed and got all excited, thinking maybe I'd brought some stuff from the house after all.  Sadly, no.  There are a few ornaments I received last year and some gift wrap.  I'm going to ask my coworker if I can borrow one of her trees, as she said she has a tree-buying problem.  There's no sense in buying anything that I'll just have to get rid of or store.

Ok, I'm going to get back to cleaning and throwing shit out, before I get all melancholy over here.  Counting Crows are not helping.  Onto Creedence and getting that kitchen clean.  Down the road I go.

Begot Till

I've got to go to bed soon because tomorrow's going to be a busy day, but I just had to tell you that I just watched Word Wars: Tiles and Tribulations on the SCRABBLE Circuit.

Read that again.  Tiles and tribulations, ah ha ha ha ha ha!  And now I know that An Endeavor is an anagram for Reno, Nevada.  I also learned that the people featured in this film are completely crazy, but still really impressive.  The four people featured have no jobs.  All they do is play Scrabble.  They play in tournaments for prize money and they play each other for money.  The dream they all share is to win the national championship.  Guess how much that pays?  $25,000.  And that was in 2002.  There was some discussion in the movie that maybe someday Scrabble tournament winners will get $50,000 and be on Sportscenter, and the players could make a living at what they do best.  Wouldn't that be amazing?  Well, according to the final note in the movie, ESPN put on the first SCRABBLE All-Stars tournament in 2003 with a first prize going for $50,000.  Isn't that awesome?

Forbes says the minimum salary for an NFL player in 2013 is $405,000.  I think that can't be right.  Maybe I think that shouldn't be right.  I tried to find out what ESPN is paying their SCRABBLE All-Stars these days and shockingly, I couldn't find any after 2003.

I just googled this year's winner of the National Scrabble Championship.  He looks a little less than enthused in the picture with his giant check, perhaps because he only won $10,000.  How did that reward decrease over the last ten years!?!?!

http://investor.hasbro.com/releasedetail.cfm?ReleaseID=780147 

Look, he's not even touching that check!  This is his fifth win!  He is the reigning World Champion!

This is why the aliens only come here to anally probe us.


This blog was written by an anagram of Neck Ripen Jelly

Dear Bloggy

I was just talking to Dad yesterday about the possibility of trading in my car.  I want a different car because waah.  I could spell out all my reasons, but that's about the gist of it.  Dad went into research mode, and we discussed as many pros and cons as we could come up with.  The results are pretty much what you'd imagine: pay it down enough to where I'm not upside down, THEN trade it in.  Poo.

It's not right for me for many reasons, but Dad reminded me that it was exactly what I needed at the time, and it will continue to function well as long as I need it, and it will hold its value.  Not what I want, but what I need.  What a good metaphor for the moment.  I have dug myself a pretty deep hole, and I need some patience to get out of it.  But patience is avert you, as I thought Mom was saying all those years.

It's odd having the three girls and me together again- oddly familiar to be alone with only the animals and Lord of the Rings.  My stomach is uneasy these days, probably because my decision is likely made.  I feel like I will waste opportunities here, and I will waste opportunities there.  I feel like a wreck, and I don't feel like things will be fine.  But I also recognize that that's how I feel right now, and that will change.  (That, and 9:15 on a Wednesday night is probably not the best time to assess things.)  So, ok.  Clean up, read, go to sleep.  Keep plugging away, because small victories do mean a lot, and you are absolutely capable.  Hang in there.

Broke Saturday

They got evicted from the floor so I could vacuum. Jasmine is in town this week so that she can go to the vet. She's had problems with her back leg and she's got some lumps that need to be checked out, and she needs her regular shots and check up. She's been a little upset with all of the moving around that's been going on, and I thought it might be good for her to spend her days with Riley and Solo rather than being alone while Chris works.

I'm trying to get all my house cleaning done today so that I have nothing to do but puzzles tomorrow. I've done pretty well so far and it's only 10:45. Of course, I'm already ready for a movie nap. Once my towels are dry, I'll take a shower, take the dogs for a long walk, then we'll go for a ride to get a Diet Coke. I think I'm going to try to bake some rolls today.

Laundry's done! Time to go!

Nice job, little girl.

My whole budget spreadsheet is mysteriously gone, so I am suddenly flying blind.

Fortunately, I'm so awesome that I was able to rebuild it almost entirely by memory, since I stare at it damn near daily.  And I got to reorganize it so it made more sense!  Oh, I love rearranging anything!

Ok, hang on a minute.

Whew.  Had to go change into some jammies.  I ate way too much for dinner.  Mmm, stuffed shells.  Blllarrrrggggghhhh.  Mini had Mariner's Catch Pate, and Riley had some Shredded Beef, Carrots, and Barley Entrée mixed in with her kibble.  I'm pausing my silly movie to tell you about why Riley got an extra special dinner tonight, and no, it's not in celebration of her weigh in at the vet today.  (She's down to 20 pounds!  Woo-hoo!)

When I took her out after I got home, she checked the dumpster while I checked the mail.  She started sniffing the grass, but then made a beeline towards a woman at the mailboxes.  I tried to call her off, because usually when she randomly does that, it's to bark purposelessly at whoever's there.  She was not to be deterred, though, and went right up to this woman and started wiggling her butt and sitting at her feet, like she was waiting for cookies.  The woman didn't mind, and reached down to pet Riley, who normally is not all that inviting to strangers.  Riley sat and accepted love, and the woman started telling me about her mail problem.  I got the sense that she needed to talk.  She said that she had been hoping to catch the mail lady, because one whole section of mailboxes has been deemed unacceptable for mail delivery.  Everyone who uses that section has to go to the post office to pick up their mail because it's apparently possible to pop the door off the whole section.  She said it's been about a MONTH now.  I was properly horrified.

We also talked about Riley, and she said she had been thinking about getting a dog.  She was hesitant because her granddaughter's dogs are very yappy, but I told her that the Humane Society could probably help her find a quiet dog suitable for apartment living.  Then I learned that she and her husband moved to Reno to be near their son, who died unexpectedly soon after.  If that's not enough, she sold her house in August and moved into these apartments to be closer to her husband's assisted living facility.  He had Alzheimer's, and the drive to visit him from Sparks had gotten to be too much to deal with.  He died three days after she moved in.  Good grief.  She said she had been thinking about getting a dog because this is the first time she's lived alone in 52 years, and the noises are unnerving her.  I know the noises are hard enough to get used to after living in a house, let alone the losses she's suffered.  I had already agreed that a dog might be a good idea, but now I was convinced.  You need a dog.

We talked a little longer about Riley and breeds, then we introduced ourselves, she patted Riley again, and we said goodbye.  I was immediately impressed with my little goat.  She is an old lady dog, but maybe in a different respect than we thought.  Now this nice old lady in my neighborhood has two new friends.  "Nice job, Riley," I told her, my heart beaming, and she made little whiny noises in response and scampered toward the car.  She sat in my lap on the way to Petsmart, where I bought her the Beef, Carrots, and Barley meal.  She sat in my lap on the way to her weigh in and whuffled my sleeve as I told her how much I loved her.  My good girl.