Driving Miss Dallas

Notes on Motherhood

2011-11-08T08:25:00.000-06:00

I've been writing this post in my head for about three months, so here goes:

1. The first two weeks of being a mother are incredibly difficult and incredibly rewarding, and every time someone asks me if we'd consider having another baby, I think back to those two weeks ...

2. I cannot believe how many raised eyebrows I get over the whole cloth diapering business. It's not that hard, people! Civilization has been cloth diapering for a lot longer than we've been throwing them away.

3. Buying organic cotton disposable diapers is a slippery slope. It lets your in laws know what brand of disposable you would buy in the instance that you are traveling/going to a day-long event, which leads them to buy a huge package of them and leave them at your house. (I'm considering hiding them so we won't think about using them. Fer crissakes, just do the damn laundry, Jo.)

4. Breastfeeding is very hard. This has been my biggest disappointment after having to have a C-section. From the start I was dead-set on breastfeeding exclusively (much like I was dead-set on having a natural child-birth ...) But you know what they say: Man plans, God laughs. I've tried myriad things but haven't been able to produce more than two ounces at any one pumping session. I still haven't exhausted all of my options, so I'll keep trying. Still, though, it makes me feel like a huge failure.

5. Before, and even while I was pregnant, I never thought I'd want to be a stay-at-home mom. And while it's not economically feasible for me to stay home, it's all I think about sometimes.

6. Cooper has the most amazing little personality. At almost 3.5 months, we're finally getting him figured out. He learns new things at an astonishing pace, and he's growing so fast. He was never really tiny, but it's incredible how big he's gotten so quickly. And he's so quick with a smile. These things are really what makes parenthood worth it.

7. If I ever had a hard time keeping up with the chores before we had Cooper, I am now in a permanent state of behind-edness.

8. Also, I still feel like I have pregnancy brain. "Behind-edness?" GOOD LORD. USE YOUR WORDS, WOMAN.

The Unexpected Birth of Cooper Conoly

2011-08-10T16:38:00.001-05:00

I was pretty confident that I'd be able to pull off a natural hospital birth, especially considering how much I had prepared. I took a Bradley class, hired a doula, created a detailed birth plan, and made my wishes abundantly clear to my OB. Top it off with the fact that on the night of Aug. 3, I was already having some early labor contractions. To me, at least, there was still hope!

And then, on Aug. 4, I went to get Prostin gel administered to my cervix as a last ditch effort to avoid an induction scheduled for Aug. 8.

Everything started out pretty routine. I was strapped onto the monitors in the maternity observation ward at the hospital at around 10 a.m. The nurses started a 20 minute strip and said that the whole thing would likely take less than three hours. I was pretty happy with that, thinking that I'd be home shortly after lunchtime, with plenty of time to try taking some castor oil.

Then, the OB on duty came in to check my cervix. I was a little disappointed that there was no change — I was still "a very soft but long 1 cm." Then came the news that would change everything: The monitor was showing I was already having several mild early labor contractions, and the baby's heart rate was slowing during each one. "Decels" they called them. I was kind of confused at first. I thought that it was something that happens at times during normal labor, but the OB said that it would be common during perhaps Transition and Second Stage, but decels in Early Labor meant that something wasn't right.

So, he called my OB, who then came down and gave me the news. I was going to have a baby today, likely within the next couple of hours. I was going to need a C-section if we were going to make sure the baby and I were both going to be safe.

Immediately, I burst into tears. To me, this was the worst possible outcome. Not only was I going to have to go through a C-section — the exact opposite of everything I indicated in my birth plan and against everything else I'd planned for — but my baby boy was in somewhat eminent danger, too.

It took my husband and I a while to soak it all in. We were finally going to meet our boy, but it was in the absolute worst conditions. We were at the whims of doctors and nurses who were trying to comfort us with sterile explanations and jargon.

We were both elated and heartbroken at the same time.

The only real comfort came from our doula, Lara, who rushed to the hospital to attend the birth. Although she'd never attended a C-section, I really don't know what we would have done without her emotional support. It was such a whirlwind, and I felt so out of control throughout the whole thing.

They hooked me up to an IV and wheeled me into the OR, where I was given an epidural and then prepped for delivery. Everything after that was kind of a blur until I heard our boy's first cries. I was so incredibly grateful to hear his voice, and know that things were getting at least a little easier to handle.

But it was so agonizing to see him moved to the warming table, just a matter of feet away, and not being able to hold him, nuzzle him, or have his skin against mine. It wasn't until he was already swaddled and cleaned off that he was placed on my chest with the help of my husband and Lara.

Hot tears streamed down my face as I looked at my boy. He was so beautiful and amazing. I fell in love with him instantly.

It took what felt like forever for them to suture me up and dress my wound. It was an eternity, or at least it seemed that way because I desperately wanted to hold my baby.

Soon enough I was moved to a gurney, and my boy, Cooper, was handed to me. I stripped off the top of the gown and placed him on my chest. It was like a powerful drug, his smooth skin against mine. We then moved to post-op observation, where our journey began. We started breastfeeding as soon as we could, and that's when they told me his stats: 10 pounds, 3 ounces, 20.5 inches long with at 15-inch head. When the OB came in to follow up, she told me that not only was his distress likely caused by his size, but he also had his cord wrapped around his neck twice and there was some meconium staining in the amniotic fluid.

In any case, while I'm still mourning the birth I didn't get to experience, I'm glad I have my amazing son in my arms.

Keeping Busy

2011-07-24T16:18:00.000-05:00

So, our little bundle of joy (OLBOJ) is technically due tomorrow. HOWEVER, I doubt he's going to be here before the end of next week. I'm just lucky that way.

We had another sonogram last Friday and, according to their measurements, OLBOJ isn't all that little. In fact, they're estimating him to be a whopping 9 pounds 2 ounces.

Yes, this scares the ever-loving beejeebus out of me. Yes, I know that sonograms aren't entirely accurate.

So, after the appointment I did what I normally do, which is call everyone who has asked to be updated about OLBOJ. While I was talking to my father, he mentioned that he was born at 9 pounds 11 ounces.

WHAT???

I have a whole new realm of respect for my late grandmother. That is a big ass baby.

Otherwise, OLBOJ is healthy, and quite content to stay in the climate-controlled environment of my uterus.

There was a bright spot to the appointment: I am 1 cm dilated. That's more than the previous week, but still not exactly huge progress.

To distract me from my lack of cervical progress, I've been knitting. In fact, I've finished a few things!

Our not-so-little one's baby blanket (rav link)

A sweet baby cap (rav link)

A pair of socks I started during our trip to Chicago last year (rav link)

And a pair of baby booties and a pair of baby socks.

I guess I should get back to knitting. Maybe something will happen?

Still Pregnant

2011-07-14T20:55:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow we are at 39 weeks.

I feel like I have been pregnant forever.

The end.

Patiently Awaiting

2011-07-04T15:58:00.000-05:00

I probably don't say this often enough, but I am very lucky to have tremendously talented friends. They run the gamut from analysts, to scientists, to painters, to furniture makers, to therapists, to sculptors, to writers, editors, and photographers.

I am also lucky to be able to take advantage of their talents from time to time. In the most recent case, the lovely Emily Stoker offered her talents to help us capture the last few moments before we meet our son. If you are in need of a portrait photographer in the Dallas area, I cannot recommend Emily more highly. She's easy-going, professional, and open to ideas. And wow, is she talented!

View the whole Flickr set here.

No One Looks Good in a Hospital Gown

2011-07-01T11:53:00.000-05:00

Since we started going to our obstetrician, the appointments have always been a little nerve-wracking. You never really know what's going to happen, but the routine is at least predictable.

Sign in, wait for the nurse to call you back, get weighed (eek!), pee in a cup, get your blood pressure taken, and head to the waiting room for God-knows-how-long until the doctor can see you.

Usually, to pass the time in the waiting room and then the second waiting room (also known as the exam room, however I spend a good 5/6 of my time in there waiting, not being examined), I knit on a blanket for my little guy. It's just soothing garter stitch. Knit, knit, knit, and turn.

When the doctor comes in, we quickly chat, talk about how I'm feeling, and then she measures me. After that, she uses a little doppler heart monitor to get the baby's heart rate.

Usually, this takes five seconds. Yesterday, after the most excruciating minute of my life, we couldn't get an accurate reading on the monitor. The doctor said that, perhaps the monitor was picking up my heart rate, but it was showing about 140 beats and then would waver to 80-some-odd beats. Dips like that, the doctor said, could be signs of fetal distress.

This is where I promptly freaked out.

So, just as a precaution, I was sent down to the Labor and Delivery triage area and on to the Maternity Observation ward, where I had to go through the VERY EXACT THING I DID NOT WANT TO GO THROUGH: I was strapped to a fetal monitor for three-plus hours.

It was agony in more ways than one: First, while I'm laying there, scared shitless an unable to see the monitor, all Dave could do was stare at the monitor. This is why I want the very bare minimum of fetal monitoring during labor. I'm having the baby, and my emotional well-being and ability to move around and get comfortable and be supported is just as important. It's what'll help the baby get out faster, and who doesn't want that?

When the nurse returned, I begged her to tell me what was going on.

"Everything looks fine," she said. The baby had a stable heart rate, and I was having very, very mild contractions, or Braxton-Hicks contractions.

We filled out a shit ton of paperwork and then remained hooked up to the infernal monitor for another three hours. Then an OB resident came in to do a brief ultrasound to check our fluid levels (which makes this sound like I'm a car in the garage for a tune-up). There was very little change, which was good.

And then we left. After all that emotional crap, after crying and freaking out, we just left. Everything was normal. We were fine. The baby is fine.

And now, more than ever I am so ready to have this baby. Hopefully he'll be ready soon, too. Real soon.

Recovering

2011-04-14T12:52:00.000-05:00

If you've been reading my twitter feed (it's right there in the sidebar, y'all!) you probably know that I was pretty darn sick for the past week. It wasn't until just yesterday that I felt like I was going to live through this.

On Thursday of last week I had no choice but to go to the doctor. A sore throat, congestion, and cough had been keeping me up at night. Having a near constant, hacking cough when you're pregnant is not comfortable at all. Your abdominal muscles are stretched so tight as it is, that when you cough, the muscles become tired and achy quickly.

So, I went to the doctor. And, after a Strep test, she confirmed that it was an upper respiratory infection. While I was glad it wasn't Strep, I was kind of irritated that she didn't have any other solution for me. I'd exhausted the hot tea/Tylenol route. I needed some relief!

Which brings me to the paradox I discovered just two days ago: I've cut out alcohol and caffeine and bottled water and some of my favorite cosmetics to make sure I'm not poisoning this kid. But when I get sick, I'm begging the doctor to give me a prescription.

Five days after my first trip to the doctor, I couldn't take the sleepless nights and hacking cough any more. The doctor prescribed a Z-pack and just 24 hours later, I tell you, I'm a totally different person.

It seems kind of ridiculous, doesn't it? No toner, moisturizer, or scented lotion, BUT YOU BETTER HAND ME THOSE ANTIBIOTICS RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND!!!

Ready or Not

2011-04-05T17:57:00.000-05:00

Lately people have been asking me if I'm ready for the baby to be here. If I'm being particularly truthy, I respond with an emphatic "JESUS GOD NO!"

I understand that hardly anyone is ever really ready for the kinds of curveballs that having a kid throws your way, but I feel particularly unprepared. We have a few ideas about what we want to teach the kid and how we want to raise him. We've picked out paint chips for the studio/nursery. We've purchased some furniture, but it's not yet assembled. Most of my yarn and fabric stash remains unpacked. The baby blanket is not yet done.

I guess I feel so unprepared because there's so much I want to have done RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND, and it's causing a lot of anxiety. Is that normal?

Memory Lane

2011-04-05T08:00:00.000-05:00

Ever since we got pregnant, my mother has been telling these great little stories about what I was like when I was a wee one.

I sometimes call my mother when I'm on my way home from work and I know she is, too. We both work pretty late hours, heading home at 7 p.m. more often than not. She works in a Texas DPS drivers license office, so she often has great stories about the random people who walk into the office.

I'm probably telling this wrong, but a customer approached her window with some rather tattered looking paperwork, which included a rather illegible birth certificate. He was aggravated, and from what my mother tells me, not so bright.

She asked him if the birth certificate was the origninal, and he said no, that there was no original, because he was born years ago at the "new hospital." This caused my mom to burst into wild laughter, so much so that one of her clerks had to take over.

The man's statemant was so hilarious to her because of something I once said when I was a tot.

My mother has had all five of her children with the same obstetrician. By the time I came along, he had switched offices to a more modern facility that was closer to downtown Conroe. No big deal, right?

Well, all of my brothers and sisters had birthmarks. Me? No birthmark at all. When my sisters asked my mom why I didn't have a birthmark, I piped up and said, "It's because I was born in the 'new hospital,'" and my mom just laughed and laughed.

I hope that the memories I make with my little one stay just as fresh.

Reactionary

2011-04-03T08:00:00.001-05:00

So, we've decided not to spill the beans on what we're naming our little guy until he's born.

For us, it's saves us a bunch of headaches, both emotionally and literally.

What we're trying to avoid is the reactions people have to certain names. I've heard so many stories — from friends and bloggers — about how people reacted to potential names.

"Oh, I knew a guy named Soandso. We hooked up during spring break and he gave me the clap."

"You're going to name your son that? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

"My uncles named Soandso. He smelled like soup."

And so on.

But in the process, it turns out some people have been offended by our choice. Which leads me to my question: Is it really any business of anyone besides me, Dave, and the boy? Should I really care?

Somewhere in The Middle

2011-04-02T15:52:00.001-05:00

After a short jag of finishing projects, I've stalled out. No finished item for March, it seems. I need to get back my knitting mojo.

I did, however, start a very important project: Our little dude's baby blanket. Knit in seven colors of Knit Picks Swish DK and using this pattern, I'm so excited to see it turn out!

And, of course, we do have another very special work in progress...

Isn't he the cutest little blob of black and white you've ever seen?

Making Progress

2011-04-01T23:38:00.001-05:00

Today is the start of April, which means I have just four more months until our little guy is here. That also means our home is locked in a frenzy of improvement projects we've put off for a while.

I've been begging for new tile in our kitchen and mud room. Begging for tile, people. And, lucky for me, I got just what I asked for! We also had some new recessed lighting installed in the kitchen, which isn't NEARLY as sexy as new tile, but is still awesome. Next on the list will likely be a new range, then new countertops, and then we paint!

Until then, this is our much improved kitchen and mud room!

Putting Off Plans

2011-02-04T12:39:00.000-06:00

Right now, we were supposed to be on vacation. The weather, though, had other things in mind. After having most all the city iced over since Tuesday, last night Dallas was on the receiving end of 5 to 6 inches of snow. In fact, right now, there are still some big fat flakes falling from the sky.

Yesterday, before all of the pretty snow, we had to run Hornsby down to the vet. Dave and I think he slipped on the ice and got jabbed by something, which punctured the vulnerable skin between his right thigh and groin.

I know I wouldn't want a puncture wound there!

The wound was superficial, and didn't require suturing, so we went home with antibiotics and an E-collar.

Later, though, we would find out that he was in quite a bit of pain, and that there was too much swelling for him to be comfortable in any position but standing. So, we headed back to the vet's office for anti-inflammatories/pain relief.

Today, he's back at it, playing in the snow in the backyard!

It's like nothing happened, right?

There are two other photographers on my block, and it's so fun to see them haul out their camera for photos, too. Here's what the rest of our winter landscape looks like through my lens:

I love how snow accumulates everywhere! The surface doesn't have to be flat or large, either!

The nandina bushes are still giving us a little color amid all the white.

{love}

Our cozy little cottage! <3

The trees look so striking with snow on their branches.

Snow Day in Dallas

2011-02-01T16:01:00.001-06:00

We don't get many days of cold-as-hell weather, so until last night, I had never really seen the need for full-on mittens. I was fortunate enough to find a wonderful bulky mitten pattern (rav link), and in a matter of hours I had a pair of cozy wool mittens.

Those mittens (which, if you're keeping track at home, makes THREE FINISHED PROJECTS so far this year) came in handy today, considering it's about 24F right now. This guy, however, loves the weather. He wishes every day was a snow day.

Finished Objects

2011-01-30T19:50:00.001-06:00

I know, It's been a long time since I've posted some finished projects here. This won't be a long list, but it should be an interesting one.

First, I'll just go ahead and say that I've probably got more things on the needles than I need to. It's really kind of sad that, I'm almost two times more likely to start something new than I am to actually finish a project. If I just count the project bags in my direct vicinity (living room knitting chair), there are NINE UNFINISHED OBJECTS. That's not even digging into what's holed up in my studio, which is actually soon to be the nursery/studio, which I am actually not bitter at all about. No, not even a little.

So, you'll probably understand at least a little why I've only finished THREE THINGS since the last update.

The first is a wonderful lace slouch dubbed the Spring Beret (Rav link).

That's right, folks. This project was finished while the grass was still green.

The second, and I am calling these finished despite the fact that they still don't have ties and poms (ties and poms are not knitting, so there), are some tres cute baby booties. I started these pretty much just after New Years Day, and I'm not going to officially reveal these until we find out the sex of our little nugget, which will be on Feb. 25. Then I'll make gender-specific ties and poms and whatnot. And share them here, of course.

The third, which was just finished today, is Just Enough Ruffles by Laura Chau.

Don't you just love my model?

Me, too.

There should be more finished objects soon, considering that I'm on a wild finishing spree. I'm going to try to finish two things for every month this year. Considering that I'll be enormously preggers for more than half the year, and that sitting will become a sport to me, that doesn't seem like too much of a challenge.

Hope I can hold myself to it!

Homemade Doughnuts

2011-01-30T12:26:00.000-06:00

Being pregnant is so weird. For instance, I dream about some of the craziest things. Last night I dreamt about doughnuts. Strange, right? Who dreams about doughnuts? Me, apparently.

So, I got up at about 8:45 this morning, ready to have doughnuts. Then I remembered reading a doughnut recipe somewhere, and the light clicked on: "I'll make my own damned doughnuts, thankyouverymuch!"

All of the recipes in my cookbook collection called for frying. I DESPISE FRYING. It makes the whole house reek. So, I went to the lovely interwebs and found the perfect solution. Using Heidi Swanson's Baked Doughnut recipe, I dove right in.

A few things to consider: These doughnuts take about 2 hours, so don't plan on having them for an early breakfast. I imagine they'd be great brunch food. Also, they're tremendously rich, just like their fried brethren.

Don't roll the dough out too thin, either. If you do, you'll end up with wimpy little doughnuts. I didn't cut the holes out for my doughnuts, and I ended up making 22 of the little suckers. If you make them, be prepared for the overabundance of doughnutty goodness.

My Favorite Models

2011-01-27T13:54:00.002-06:00

Got My Hurr Did

2011-01-27T13:52:00.000-06:00

My lovely sister Kara visited us (and our menagerie) last weekend. She was such a pleasure to hang out with. We went shopping at my new favorite store: IndieGenius.

Also, I got a much-needed hair cut.

Thoughts?

It's Contagious

2010-12-30T01:03:00.000-06:00

There are a lot of things in my life that have been unexpected. While I call myself a planner, in action, it always tends to be a short-range concept. It's taken a while, but I've come to embrace the temporary, the transient, the unplanned.

I'm not actually sure when it happened, but "unexpected" has grown to have a rather equivocal connotation. "Unexpected" can often be construed as "unplanned," which, more often than not, is considered negative.

So, when we found out in November that I was pregnant, Dave and I realized that while, yes, it was unplanned, it was a halcyon-type moment in our lives. It was something utterly defining. It was auspicous. It was positive.

And it still is. Right now we're just at 11 weeks and baby England is growing just right and has a strong heartbeat. Everyone asks us if we're excited, and we can honestly say we're thrilled, stoked, and sometimes just amazed at how our lives are changing so quickly.

It seems, though, that everyone is pregnant these days. Just today, in fact, a family friend announced she was 12 weeks along via facebook. The Maiden Metallurgist is at 25 weeks today. About three other friends are at various stages of incubation, as if your proximity to pregnancy makes you more likely to "catch it."

Regardless, we're excited about all of the little unexpected things life is throwing our way these days.

I know it's been a while...

2010-11-30T15:22:00.000-06:00

... but there are lots of things going on behind the scenes.

Work is keeping me incredibly busy, and our schizophrenic weather in Dallas has my head turning. It's ridiculous how one day you'll need an extra layer for warmth, while the next day might be tank top weather.

In any case, life is pretty good. I dyed yarn, finished a couple of things, and started several new projects.

Hopefully I'll have more to share soon!

Random Sunday

2010-10-10T21:39:00.000-05:00

1. We woke up late (10 a.m.) and had to hustle like you wouldn't believe to Arlington, only to watch the Rangers lose (again) to the Tampa Bay (death) Rays. Also, I just don't understand how people can drink 5 or 6 beers when they're $6 a pop. Six bucks for Bud Light out of an aluminum bottle? No thanks.

2. After putting it off for forever, I finally counted all of the yoke stitches for my February Lady sweater. If you really want to know, I'm going to be doing some serious ripping. Ridiculous.

3. I'm this close to finishing one of my Nutkin socks that I started in May. FREAKING MAY.

4. I did finish an alpaca neckwarmer while we were in Colorado. Too bad it's still in the 80s here.

5. It's pretty much a given that I'll have to work from home at least for a couple of hours every weekend, but I need to figure out how to get out of the office earlier than 7 p.m. on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, because, people, that's not fun.

6. Dave and I took the dogs to the playing fields at Hexter Elementary today to run around and act like goofballs. It makes me wish we had a huge backyard where they could run and play and just be puppies.

7. Jane is laying eggs again, so now we have egg cartons full of regular ol' brown eggs and these lovely greenish-blue ones. It almost kills me to actually crack and eat them, but I do it anyways because they're delicious.

Another Finished Object, And a Trip to Colorado

2010-10-06T01:56:00.000-05:00

We've been back from Colorado for two painful weeks. They've been painful because, after visiting Denver, Colorado Springs, Manitou Springs, Pikes Peak, Fort Collins, Boulder, Estes Park, and Aurora, we've seen what we've been missing by not living near the Rockies.

First, there are views like this:

This was taken from the Eastern edge of Aurora on our way back to our friends' house. We ended up taking several day trips because my dear childhood friend allowed us to use her car. She wasn't headed anywhere, considering that, just a day before we arrived, she gave birth to my sweet "nephew." Which is awesome, because that meant he could model the blanket I made for him!

It's from hand-dyed Lion Brand Fisherman's Wool (You're actually looking at the "wrong" side of the blanket, but what the heck). I used four different shades of Kool Aid to dye the yarn in a many tones of red. I love how it turned out, and hopefully it will get many years of use!

On our first day, we tried to take it easy to avoid altitude sickness, so we went to downtown Denver to visit a couple of book stores, a yarn shop, and a Mexican restaurant all recommended to us by the ever-lovely Colorado native, The Maiden Metallurgist.

First, though, I visited the state capitol building, which was pretty cool. I mean, it's no Texas State Capitol, but it did have some neat features, like the stained glass portraits:

The walls were suffocating witha beautifully veined stone, too:

And you could take a trip to the tip-top of the dome:

And soak up the vista:

Wow, right?

And then we went to La Cueva. Seriously. Do not pass "Go," do not collect $200 without La Cueva's chile rellenos. It's two Anaheim peppers stuffed with Jack cheese and fried to a pleasant texture. They're then smothered in your choice of red or green chile sauce, a la so many joints in New Mexico. If you're a wimp like me when it comes to spicy foods, the red chile sauce is a safe bet. The rellenos go perfectly with the fresh-made flour tortillas.

The folks at La Cueva were even kind enough to show us how they make their tortillas. Two women work the tortilla press until each bit of dough is thin, round, and uniform:

As they day goes by, a single cook mans the griddle, turning out tortillas by flipping them almost constantly until they're just a little bubbled and browned:

And folks, that was just the first day.

You can check out our travels though my flickr feed, which has some pretty crazy photos of rocks (never thought I'd say that).

Enjoy!

Win vs. Fail

2010-10-05T23:48:00.000-05:00

I was in a wedding this past weekend. It was a really beautiful ceremony, with really beautiful people getting married...

Lovely friends...

And the food (cake) wasn't too bad, either.

Wrapping up the wedding weekend with probably the worst stomach bug I've ever had?

Fail.

Done

2010-09-06T18:21:00.000-05:00

Finally, something that is finished. It's a Christmas gift for a family member, and she already knows she's getting it, so there's no risk of surprise or anything.

The shawl is Ishbel by Ysolda Teague in Ella Rae Lace Merino, here unblocked.

And here she is blocked:

The difference between unblocked and blocked lace always shocks the shit out of me in the very best way. It's like watching a baby chick hatch — kind of riveting and hopeful.

I have so many other projects that need finishing, so it's especially great to finally get done with one that has languished for a while.

Fall Fast Approaches

2010-09-02T12:11:00.001-05:00

Well folks, we made it through another August in Texas.

I won't say we enjoyed the weeks of 100-plus-degree heat, and I'll admit that we cursed the great state a few times, often saying, "FUCK THIS! I AM MOVING AS SOON AS I CAN!"

But Mother Nature, in all of her charity, granted us a reprieve yesterday in the form of an epic rain shower that drenched us (edit: is STILL DRENCHING US) and brought temperatures down to 74 degrees.

Yes, people, it is 74 degrees and rainy. In Dallas.

The weather has got the idea of blessedly cooler temperatures stuck in my craw. Which also means I need to edit my knitting projects for fall accessorizing.

Things I will be knitting include:

A new slouchy hat (maybe lace)
A new pair of fingerless mitts
Legwarmers
A cowl

I really wanted a pair of legwarmers last year, but I got caught up in holiday knitting for others. This year, I will not be giving handknit gifts outside of ones I have already started. I find that there is such an investment on my part with these gifts, and that investment is rarely appreciated.

But fall, and boot weather can't come fast enough. (I have my eyes on these boots in brown, by the way)

What's on your brain as Fall approaches?

Too Much of a Good Thing

2010-08-28T18:43:00.000-05:00

Cooking makes me feel normal. I love to make things, and cooking is often a solitary sport.

However, it is totally possible to go overboard.

18 Dark chocolate coconut cupcakes

16 Chocolate chip peanut butter cookies

Anyone need a snack?

The One-Eyed Man

2010-08-27T21:38:00.000-05:00

I have been deaf in my right ear for more than a decade and I have never worn a hearing aid.

That is, until today.

Let me tell you something about hearing aids. They are not the same as hearing. Not at all.

But, I know I should at least try one. And I am. But the doctor said that the hearing aid would be good in situations with a lot of background noise, and playing music.

Yeah, not so much.

I guess it's all trial and error. Especially where, in the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.

An Epic Disappointment

2010-08-26T12:42:00.000-05:00

I try to not let being deaf affect my daily life. The sun will come up and go down, the wind will move tree branches, and traffic will suck regardless, and I should keep moving on, too.

But, about eight months ago, something changed my attitude about being deaf. My ear doctor delivered me a new hope in cochlear implant surgery.

I've been exploring my options since then, and finally went ahead with a surgical consult yesterday. The office manager who scheduled the appointment told me they'd get a jumpstart on the insurance paperwork and it should be smooth sailing from there. I might even have a new ear by the end of 2010.

I doubt many people could understand how excited I was.

All of that changed yesterday, though, when the a different ear doctor than I usually see greeted me in the exam room, did some rudimentary tests, and then brought the other ear surgeon in.

Suddenly, the surgeon was backpedaling. He told me that I wasn't nearly as good a candidate for the surgery as he initially estimated, and that if I did elect to have the surgery, he wouldn't do it unless I couldn't hold him liable for the consequences if it wasn't successful.

They wanted me to try the Baha implant demo, which is less invasive than a cochlear implant. I just about burst into tears from stress and confusion. I thought to myself, "Why would you string me along, tell me that there's hope, and then take all that away?"

It's still hard for me to write about this. Just thinking about it has made tears well up and a caused a tightness in my throat. More than that, I'm ashamed of myself. I did exactly what I shouldn't -- I pinned all of my hopes to this procedure. And now that it hasn't worked out like I had hoped, I am terribly disappointed.

I cried and cried yesterday. I couldn't eat. I could sleep despite being exhausted. And now, I have to just move on.

I wonder if I still can.

Tomorrow's High: 90 F

2010-08-24T22:48:00.000-05:00

Folks all over are posting about autumn's slow arrival. I read this tweet just a second ago by @thematesofstate:

thematesofstate

Weather on Trash Night: it's raining and about 67 degrees. Autumn makes her first showing of the year, and I welcome her per-ushhh.

Here, we're just happy to have days that don't hit triple digits. In fact, today it got ALL THE WAY DOWN TO 89F DURING THE DAYLIGHT HOURS.

Meaning: I had to take the dogs on a W-A-L-K, which is how we say "walk" in our house, lest we not get puppies over-excited.

On Saturday, though, we went to a wedding. It got up to 107F. Initially, the bride and groom planned to have the ceremony outside. In August. In Texas. With people wearing satin and tuxedos.

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH!

I love weddings, though. Put a check in a card and get dolled up, amiright? Only, there was no dancing or booze at this wedding. It was ceremony then thanksforthecheckpeace!

That's OK. I got dolled up anyway.

Then, we had some friends over. They were awesome. Well, they still are awesome.

Tomorrow, the high is 90F. Sounds like puppy-walking weather to me.

A Break in the Heat

2010-08-19T15:01:00.001-05:00

After 18 straight days of 100-plus degree temperatures, we got a delightful, breezy reprieve. I think we didn't hit more than 95 degrees yesterday, and of course, we managed a very rewarding sunset after a hard Wednesday.

Taking Inventory

2010-08-10T21:42:00.000-05:00

"Count your blessings," they say. And I do, often in fact.

I have a house. I have a nice car. I have a wonderful husband. I have sweet pets and dear chickens.

Fitzgerald says he is a blessing. (We agree!)

It's a blessing that Mr. Orange and Hornsby get along.

But sometimes, even the blessings can be a challenge. Like the house, for instance. We just had a significant amount of plumbing done, only to discover that we need more electrical done. It never ends.

But, I hope that even as things are challenging, we can still rely on our family and friends to lift us up when we need it.

(And puppies, too!)

The Change Game

2010-07-29T20:19:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I think about how far I've come in the five years since I moved to Dallas, and nostalgia has crept up on me over the past few weeks.

I can't deny the fact that my life drastically changed when I moved here. It was a lot like having an original Nintendo, and hitting the reset button: It was like you never even played the last game.

I moved to Dallas from Madisonville, Texas. I didn't grow up there, but circumstances from a previous relationship forced me to move into the mouse-infested home of my mother's childhood in a small, lackluster town, a place whose claim to fame is being the mushroom capital of Texas.

It wasn't all bad. It taught me exactly where I didn't want to be, which was reinforced during the 45-minute commutes to College Station, where I still had an internship.

Just a little over a month after graduating from Texas A&M, I had a job at Texas' Leading Newspaper. My family helped me pack a U-HAUL once more, and off to Dallas I went.

If I'm honest with myself, I'd say that before I started looking for a place to live in this city, Dallas had been little more than large letters on a highway sign pointing north from Houston. Before I decided to move here, I had visited Dallas all of once, and I didn't stay long. In fact, it was for a metal concert in Deep Ellum that I didn't really want to go to in the first place.

The first month was trying. I was alone in a foreign land. I tried to learn the landscape on my own, but it was difficult.

I'd read newspapers, try to find something to do, but it was a lonesome existence. It was made worse by the fact that Dallas was in the middle of a tumultuous political upheaval, with Laura Miller in office and "Strong Mayor" on everyone else's minds.

It was July 29, a full-on month since I'd moved there, and I told myself that if I didn't get out there and do something now, then I was just wasting my time. I'd might as well live in Madisonville.

I decided to go to a bar called Muddy Waters off of Greenville Avenue. There was an ad in the Observer pushing the place as a live blues joint with cheap beer. Good enough for me.

So, I packed up my black leather handbag, threw on a resale-shop T-shirt, and headed down to the bar.

I still remember that night like it was yesterday. In fact, I told the entire story to a group of my drinking buddies last Friday. The details are still fresh. And they should be.

Today is, after all, the fifth anniversary of the night I met the man that would become my husband.

Muddy Waters has burned down. I'll be married to Dave for four years in September. I was laid off from The Dallas Morning News on April 9, 2009. I am a homeowner with two dogs, two cats, and five chickens.

And although I feel like I've changed so much since that night on July 29 in a seedy blues bar, I feel so much more like myself.

Sleep Deprived

2010-07-07T23:33:00.000-05:00

I am not a morning person. At least, I'm not one right now.

In high school I would wake up at 5 a.m. every day to do my hair and makeup before class started at 7:15 a.m.

Now I am lucky if I wake up before 8 a.m.

Here I am, of course, posting at like 11:30 at night and after three glasses of wine. It's no wonder that I have a difficult time getting up.

But, before you accuse me of complaining of sleep deprivation, every time I think I'm tired I consider all of my friends that have kids and never sleep.

Suckers.

While I'm Still Up...

2010-07-07T02:20:00.000-05:00

I've been doing work for work. It's late. I'm tired. Right now, the weirdest things are bugging me:

When you drink a lot of coffee, your urine smells like coffee. When you eat a lot of asparagus, your urine just smells weird. Why?

Why does peanut butter make just about anything taste better?

Why do muscle relaxers make you drowsy? Is there an awake muscle that gets really relaxed?

OK. That's enough brain purging. Good night.

Step One: Grow Your Own Mint

2010-06-29T14:05:00.005-05:00

There have been a few requests from friends and blog readers (hello, texpat!), so I'll let you guys in on my mojito recipe.

The Best Pitcher of Mojitos You'll Ever Wrap Your Lips Around

You'll need:
A huge, preferably 1 gallon pitcher
3/4 cup Turbinado sugar
2 large limes
Two large handfuls of very fresh mint leaves
4 ounces of Don Q Cristal Rum
2 liters of club soda

Step one: Grow your own mint. It's easy and it's crazy rewarding. After your mint is grown, harvest about enough to fill a small colander. Let it soak in a sink full of cool water, and then remove the leaves from the stems. Set aside.

Step two: Dump the sugar in the bottom of your pitcher. Grate the zest of one lime into the pitcher, and then juice both limes in there, too. Dump your fresh mint into the pitcher. Muddle the mint in with the sugar and lime juice with a large wooden spoon or, if you are so inclined, a muddler. The leaves should turn very dark and saturated. Add the rum and stir until the sugar is mostly dissolved.

Step three: Once the sugar is dissolved, pour in the club soda. Be sure to pour slowly. You want to preserve as much fizz as possible, and because of the carbonation, you won't be able to stir the mixture.

Step four: Fill an enormous glass with fresh, clear ice. Pour a mojito. Relax, instantly.

There's Always Something

2010-06-28T22:02:00.000-05:00

You know what the problem is with buying a home you see a lot of potential in? There's always some improvement that you want to make.

Right now we're trying to decide what we'll to with the practically blank slate we've made in the back yard. We've been working hard on the front yard, and that is paying off, but now we've got to deal with the back.

And then we want to paint the brick.

After that, we'll probably finish putting up the privacy fence.

And I'm not even going to talk about the kitchen and the bathroom.

One thing after another.

I'm hoping that, maybe someday, we'll get to live in a finished house with nothing left to do.

Drinking it in

2010-06-24T18:08:00.000-05:00

While I was visiting my family a couple of weekends ago, one of my sisters remarked that I hit the bottle a lot.

"Every time I see you post on Facebook, it's always about drinking mojitos."

Can she blame me? Mojitos are delish and it's fucking hot outside. (And we've got to do something with all this mint growing in our front yard!)

In fact, it got insanely hot in Dallas insanely early. Average temps for North Texas are inching up on 102 degrees F.

And if the heat doesn't have you reaching for a bottle and ice, the swarms of bugs will.

I have to water my garden every day or risk all of my plants turning into crispy critters. I don't mind watering when I get home, I just have to make sure that I'm holding a glass of something cold and boozy. But then, while I'm in the middle of gardner's nirvana, the mosquitos strike. I swear to Jeebus, my legs look like a Jackson Pollock.

Now, the weather will sometimes drive you to drink. It's how the Russians invented vodka, right?

But, the weather getting in the way of getting your drink on? That's fucked up.

Yes, I said it. Weather, don't you get between me and a cold one. Ever.

After two-plus weeks with no rain, it looks like we're going to have thunderstorms for the next THREE FUCKING DAYS.

If that means that I can't get on a patio and booze it up with my drinking buddies, then me and Weather, well, we're going to have words.

Also, I finished a knitted item. It turned out much to tiny for my huge noggin, so I gave it to my uber-cute sis-in-law. She definitely pulls it off.

(Pattern is Felicity, yarn is Bernat Softee Chunky)

Race to The Finish

2010-06-11T14:48:00.000-05:00

My boss went on vacation this week. When he's out, I'm the boss.

Trust me, this is less fun than it sounds.

When I'm in charge, it's like pitching with no backstop -- when there's a wild pitch, you're going to have to run after it yourself.

So, I've been trying to let this week fly by, and it has just been CRAWLING. And I've been so busy trying to publish work, edit stuff, and manage crises. I did find out, though, that I'm wildly efficient when under pressure. It's like being one of those mothers that lifts a car to save their baby -- It doesn't matter how it gets done, I just get it done.

That's the long way around my excuse for not posting here lately. Also, I haven't taken ANY PICTURES lately. At least not fun, non-work-related pictures. I plan on remedying that this weekend.

In just a few moments I'm going to cash in a few comp hours and head down to Houston to hang with my family. Just my luck that the Scottish branch on our family tree will be well represented (HI DAVE AND DOROTHY!!!). I'm bringing a lot of knitting with me, but only stuff I can work on and chat with family at the same time.

In any case, everyone, have a great weekend! Grill some tofu! Have some mojitos! Hang out with family and recharge your batteries!

When Mondays Turn Into Sundays

2010-06-01T00:01:00.000-05:00

Dave and I were talking about it, and we still can't figure out why America hasn't moved to a four-day work week. It'd be like having a three-day weekend every week.

Sunday is usually the day we run errands, mostly because Saturday is spent sleeping in and recovering from Friday. This weekend, However, we partied quite a bit on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Oy.

Friday, after work, we met some buds at Rusty Taco. The veggie taco is good, and the guac is so-so. The beer is pretty cheap, though. It's summer in Texas, and we're getting triple-digit temps pretty regularly now. So, the cold beer helps with the hot sun, but man, Rusty Taco needs to put some fans out for the peeps!

House of England, keeping it real...

From there we went to one of Dave's old watering holes back when he was the Mayor of Greenville Avenue, and long before foursquare started doling out mayorships to any old drunk.

When we walked in, Dave knew at least half the joint, including the bartender, which served us some lukewarm beers. Otherwise, it was a great place to hang out.

Dave with an old friend from high school.

And after that, we crossed the street to get to the Libertine, which is one of my favorite bars, mostly because of the beer selection, but also because they have some great bar food. I ran into the sister of a knitting friend, and Dave ran into some old bar buddies (of course). From there, we made our way back home.

Saturday was kind of a blur. Dave suggested we take a long walk in the afternoon heat to "sweat out the toxins." I brought a water bottle with me on the hour-and-a-half trek, which is probably the only thing that kept me from tossing my cookies while jogging down a hill.

Later, we went to a friends' house in North Richland Hills, which is ridiculously far away from us, and yet can be considered in the same vicinity. It's like north Fort Worth. Everyone there had at least two children, one of which had one on the way (Congrats, Rob!). Dave and I, childless as we are, enjoyed several beers and the gracious hospitality of friends. I whipped up a pitcher of mojitos, drank several beers, and was done in by 9 p.m.

The next day, I was beginning to feel the two-day binge twinge.

I did have to do a lot of grocery shopping to do. Thank god for Target and Newflower Farmer's Market.

As soon as I got home, I made ANOTHER pitcher of mojitos!

Sunday night I made Chicago deep dish pizza and waxed nostalgic about our trip to the Windy City (which, I learned, is named as such because of politics, not actual wind [Thanks, Maiden!])

I also made a thin-crust pizza with grilled Calabaza squash and green peppers, onions, and queso fresco. I highly recommend it!

After that, I slipped into a food coma for the night.

We've been watching The Pacific all weekend, and I really love it. It's like getting your history credit and watching a good war flick at the same time.

And today, well, let's not talk about today, shall we? Let's just look at another cool picture from Friday night:

Time Off

2010-05-19T01:04:00.000-05:00

I am lucky to have a relatively flexible employer. It lets me get some time off in when I need it.

Boy, did I need some time off. Dave also kept telling me that I needed to take him to Chicago for his birthday, so that he could be in Wrigley Field on his 38th.

So, we went, and we watched the Cubs lose on his birthday and then the next day.

We also went to visit some pretty amazing people. Namely, The Maiden Metallurgist and berg with fries. They are just as fun and easy-going as they seem.

There are lots of pictures from our little trip. So many that I'm having a difficult time deciding which to share here. Instead, I'll leave you with one of my favorite things I ate while in Chicago (and I ate a lot): A CB&J at the Hopleaf Bar, which is a cashew butter and fig jam sandwich with melted manchego cheese between slices of toasted sourdough. It was served with bleu cheese mac and some crazy crispy chips. I washed it down with a couple of Atomium Premier Grand Cru. Delish!

Sifting

2010-05-10T08:29:00.000-05:00

When Dave takes time off work, he usually does it for one or two weeks. During opening week of the baseball season, he took off the entire week. I was jealous.

Now, since we're going on a little vacay to Chicago to see the Cubs and these fine folks, Dave took off TWO ENTIRE WEEKS.

Two. Weeks.

Can you tell that I'm a little jealous? OK, maybe more than a little.

Because, you know, up up right now, getting ready for work (and blogging) and Dave is asleep. And do you know what he has on the agenda today? Going through boxes of baseball cards and stuff from high school and college that was stowed at his parents' house. That's something you can do drunk, which means it's not really a chore, right?

Also, the contents of these boxes is kind of shocking. There was a toy wookie in one. In another, there were notebooks labeled for college courses. Only the first two pages had any writing in them. Do you realize how much that bugs a nerd like me? A lot, let me tell you. (Also, now that I just used "a lot" I am reminded of this, shared via The Maiden.) And Dave had two entry-level guitars stashed in his parents' attic. They need to be restrung, though.

There was also old yearbooks and stolen street signs, the usual ephemera. And then, the motherlode: Old Beverly Cleary books. No. Not kidding.

Dave did, though, find his diploma from Texas A&M, which reminded me that I need to get mine framed...

Oh, and did I mention that we're going to go on a little vacation? And did I also mention that I think it's completely unfair that Dave got a head start?

The Payoff of Frustration

2010-05-09T15:25:00.000-05:00

If you're a crafter, you probably have dealt with project frustration.

You pick the project, the pattern, the yarn, whatever. You say to yourself, "This is going to be SO EASY." No big deal, right? You've got skills.

Well, what often looks easy, when it's your first attempt, doesn't usually work out right.

I have been wanting to make one of these cute boxy bags to stow my knitting in while I'm out and about. I use plastic baggies, and they don't have a particularly long life span. They're OK for storing the yarn and pattern together, but not so much for being crammed in a purse or tote bag.

Well, I got started with the tutorial, which was OK, but not very explicit. Like, it doesn't say which end to place the zipper, or whether or not you're to do a 1/4 inch seam, stuff like that.

So, after much swearing, I gave up.

Then I had lunch, a cup of coffee, and made this:

I'm off to make a few more! Maybe I'll put handles on those...

Critical Update

2010-05-06T23:17:00.000-05:00

1) Baby possum came back tonight, only it showed it had far more nefarious plans in mind. The sinister little bugger was in our chicken coop when we went out to close it. I re-homed the little sucker down the next block. SIYONARA.

2) I am probably way to excited to be visiting these people. That makes me feel a little silly, but hey, they're really awesome!

3) Dave lost his ID while jogging. A neighbor found it. Considering that we would have a pretty hard time flying out to Chicago if he didn't have his ID, I'm calling it a miracle.

Cranky and Judgmental

2010-05-05T22:17:00.001-05:00

First, it annoys me when people misspell "judgmental." There's only one "e" in that word, people.

Obviously, I'm being very judgmental. I'm also very cranky. I am usually this way when I'm on my cycle. And by the way, I hate that euphemism, too. It makes my reproductive organs sound like a dishwasher or something.

In other news, there was a baby possum in our backyard just minutes ago. Dave heard Hornsby barking like Tom Jones was in town and we took our handy-dandy rechargeable spotlight to the backyard to go investigate.

Lo and behold, a baby possum had his little tail all wrapped up on the chain-link fence. He was growling and hissing as loud as his little baby possum body would let him. I told Dave to take the dogs outside and bring me a broom.

Now, if I were my parents, I would have just taken the dogs inside, got a trap, baited it with catfood, and waited until the next morning. That's often the case with large possums, but babies? Babies are easy. You just get them to climb onto the end of a broom and you move 'em to a safe spot. If you've got a pushbroom, you can probably get them up on a tree limb and safe from predators. If not, a neighbor's home is your best bet.

Weird thing to happen on a Wednesday night, no?

Oh, and we had our first 90+ F day in Dallas today. We turned on the A/C. Thank God for refrigerated air!

If It Makes You Happy

2010-05-05T00:27:00.000-05:00

So, I've been on a kick.

It's a music kick.

Specifically, it's the music I used to listen to in high school and junior high. Sheryl Crow. Sarah McLachlan. Nirvana. Lots of Tori Amos. Alanis Morissette. Lenny Kravitz. Live.

And I started to think, "My God. How embarrassing! These are all mainstream acts! What would people say?"

And really, I should only be concerned about what my elitest husband will say. He'll likely turn his nose up at what I've been jamming lately.

But, for me, I'll keep jamming because it makes me feel good to sing along and remember what it felt like to have so few cares.

And isn't that what music is supposed to do?

May Showers

2010-05-03T21:56:00.001-05:00

A few days ago, someone asked me how my new job was going. I've been at my current workplace for about six months, so I have a hard time believing that it could still be considered a "new" job. In any case, I usually tell the truth: It's completely different from my last job.

And different is good. I'm writing, and I'm doing photography, which is awesome. I'm editing, too, which is excellent stuff. I guess you could say that different is a happy place.

The only thing is that I park pretty far away from my office building, and the commute to work can be a bitch. On the way in, I saw the prop cars they're using for a TV series filmed in Dallas called "The Good Guys." I also got stuck behind production vans and was late to work.

Do you see the fake cop car? It's the one with black fenders.

It started to rain just before I was about to leave the office. I had two umbrellas and managed to leave both in the car. I managed to get quite damp between the office front door and my car. But when I got home, I was treated to this:

It was one of the biggest rainbows I've ever seen. If I were on Flag Pole Hill, I bet I could have seen it from end to end on the horizon.

The storm and the setting sun left the sky a weird orange color. Weird, but beautiful.

A good end to the day.

Pseudonyms

2010-05-02T18:38:00.000-05:00

I work in the garden a lot when the weather's like this. Sometimes I'll spend all day digging in the dirt. It's not a chore when the high is 82 F and It's nothing but clear skies.

I'm beginning to think that the work i'm putting in is starting to show, too.

So, our mailman has nicknames for us. I love the fact that he delivers our mail, so he knows who lives here, and yet he has nicknames for us. Dave is Mr. Baseball. Kind of self-explanatory, right?

Me? I'm Mrs. Green. Because of my garden. Which, might I add, is fully organic.

Cute, right?

So, we're all out enjoying the beautiful weather, either gardening with a cold one or watching a ball game.

Hope you're enjoying spring, too!

The chickens are!

Two-Day Respite

2010-04-25T23:07:00.001-05:00

I love to hate weekends.

Two days of rest. Just enough to fuck with your circadian rythym. And yet, if we only had one more day then maybe things would get done.

But the rest, the respite in what is the middle of my publishing cycle, is always welcome. It's often used to recharge your batteries. To relax.

I'm sure I've said this before, but I tend to overcommit myself on the weekends. I plan on doing things at a break-neck pace, but the truth is, I like to take my time.

Long story short, I didn't end up re-caulking the shower. I did, however, almost finish something I've been working on for a month:

After several glasses of wine, I finally have a garden border!

(Just kidding, Mom! I didn't drink all of that. Only, like, half?)

No, seriously, my sister and Dave were both a HUGE help. Lots of Pellegrino bottles in there, too. And Ommegang beer.

We often wonder what the "Reuse" part of "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle" looks like. Here you go.

Also, the chicken coop is still cute.

And so are the chickens...

And Hornsby, too.

Here's to weekends...

Plans for the weekend

2010-04-23T23:19:00.000-05:00

1) Feign an effort to go to the 9 a.m. yoga class tomorrow morning.
2) Sew a handbag (I might make one for a giveaway, which I've never done before (!) so stay tuned)
3) Knit
4) Re-caulk the shower
5) Weedeat the alley, get rid of the poison ivy without contracting it.
6) Play with my camera

I think that about does it.

I may or may not shop for chickens, too.

RIP, Gloria Steinem

2010-04-20T21:54:00.001-05:00

We had a pretty rough winter this year. It was hard on us and the rest of the household. The heater was always on, and the snow kept falling. And we were always worried about something.

About three or four months ago, one of our chickens, Gloria Steinem, was slow to come out of the coop. She looked as if she'd lost some weight and she had some runny bowel movements. We brought her inside, gave her some antibiotics and plenty of warm food, and let her have the run of the bathroom for about three weeks. She definitely improved, so when it was warm enough, she went back outside.

Everything seemed OK for a few weeks. She was hard at work finding her place in the pecking order. She ran around the backyard with the rest of the flock and had lots of grapes.

However, she never really put the weight back on.

We did a preventative course of antibiotics with the rest of the flock to make sure that no one was infected or re-infected. Everyone else seemed fine.

Then, on Friday, Gloria couldn't stand. Dave and I worried that she didn't recover fully from her winter illness. We brought her inside, gave her a warm towel, some water, some lettuce and some cat food (they love cat food for some reason), and we went to bed.

The next morning she was still with us, but when we got done with some Saturday morning chores, and I went to check on her, she was dead. Her body was cold. She was gone.

I cried so hard, harder than I thought I ever would for the loss of a chicken. It was something for which I was completely unprepared. But it really affected me. I lost a snake about four years ago, and that was hard. During the winter, as Gloria spent time inside, we got to know her.

I didn't always like her, though. We got her from a former friend that couldn't keep her. She came with a sister and a buddy, Audrey Hepburn and Effa Manley, respectively. All three of them have attitude problems, and they picked on the three chickens we already had raised. She did win second place in her breed in the State Fair of Texas year before last, though, so she had that going for her.

But just because she was pushy, didn't mean that she couldn't be sweet. She was always the first to run up to me during treat time. And she loved eating from my hand. She was a good chicken.

And I miss her.

A Time For Looking Back

2010-04-12T23:20:00.000-05:00

I can't believe how much weight I gained since last year.

How do I know it's been a year since I piled on 12 pounds?

Well, a year from last Tuesday I was laid off from my job at The Dallas Morning News.

Interestingly, several of the people who were laid off at the same time held a party or get-together. Maybe it was media networking. Who cares. I didn't go, and for a damn good reason:

I don't want to hear other people's misanthropic crap stories.

I want to remember my time at The News as good. I got a job there right out of college with no major newspaper internship. That doesn't often happen. But it did for me.

Not only that, but I was working with some of the smartest people in the business. The Editorial Department at The Dallas Morning News is second to none. They are about so much more than the editorials you see in the second-to-last page in the A section every day. They work hard to generate ideas and make a difference.

Now, I haven't agreed with all of their ideas or the way they've been implemented (like, can we chill out on the number of blogs already?), but when they decide to get behind something, to do something right, they almost always succeed.

When Keven Ann Willey took over the Editorial Department, that was probably the best thing to happen for them and the voice of the newspaper. The department became more about doing and less about talking.

First it was recorded votes in the Legislature. They ended up Pulitzer finalists in 2008 for that effort (the Pulitzer jury did not award a prize for editorial writing that year. It was also the year that Willey was a jurist).

Now, The News' Editorial Board has won a Pulitzer. And I have to say, it's for a lot better cause than recorded votes (although that's pretty cool, too). The folks over there have done some excellent work, some real and tenacious journalism, about the systemic poverty that exists in much of southern Dallas, and how the city has ignored the problem for much too long.

Congratulations to them. I couldn't be more thrilled.

Good Deeds Gone Wrong

2010-03-31T21:55:00.002-05:00

I'm a big fan of old ladies.

They've got experience. They've lived. They're comfortable in their own skin.

Maybe I'm too much of a fan.

Last night I was driving home from a late meeting and I saw an older woman that lives one block down from us lying near the sidewalk in front of her home.

Any time I see an older woman on the ground, I think about my granny, and how she had osteoporosis and broke her hip, then got a blood infection, and then was wheelchair-bound, and then died from complications due to lung cancer.

So, I stopped. Well, technically, I backed up after I stopped, and I asked her if she was OK.

She then PROCEEDS TO STAND UP AND TELL ME SHE WAS WEEDING HER FRONT LAWN. IN. THE. DARK.

This would be clue No. 1 for most people. For me? Not so much.

So, she walks over to my car, and says all sorts of "Bless you, Jesus, thank you." And then she starts asking for my information.

All I wanted was to make sure she didn't break a hip, and now she's acting like I'm captive in one of those secret prisons.

So, then she asks if I have a husband.

"Yes."

"Can he push a lawnmower?"

"Uh... he has back problems."

"Oh, well, can I have your phone number?"

"Uhhhh... here's my card. You can call me if there's an emergency."

"What house do you live in?"

"Well, I need to get to dinner."

And I drove off. I immediately began to regret giving her my card. Dave said it was a stupid idea, regardless of whether she was the grandmotherly, lonely, break-her-hip, I've-fallen-and-I-can't-get-up type. He said I should be more discreet.

And folks, he's right.

She called me while I was at work today. I was on deadline with a million things up in the air. I told her I didn't have time.

"YOU MEAN, YOU DON'T HAVE THE TIME TO TELL ME YOUR HOUSE NUMBER???"

"Uh, yes, and I'm sorry, but I do have to go."

And I hung up.

And so, my good karma streak ends.

One more good deed

2010-03-28T23:17:00.000-05:00

Last Friday, after I had parked in one of the lots downtown, I pulled down the driver-side vanity mirror to put on my mascara and noticed that a grey Mustang still had its lights on.

I craned my neck to see if anyone was still in the car, but I couldn't tell. I finished putting on my face and went to check on the car.

Luck would have it that the car still had dealer temporary plates. I called the dealership, described the car and left the VIN number with them. I asked them to call the car's owner and tell them that they left their lights on.

I know what it's like to leave your lights on and end up heading to a dead car at the end of the day. It sucks. It's like the universe took away the one thing you wanted at the end of the day: To blast away all the shit with some Garbage/Avett Brothers/Lenny Kravitz or whatever your tastes are that day. And then there's the tow truck or the wait for a friend to come by and give you a jump.

When I left the office, the grey mustang was already gone. Good for them.

Good Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

2010-03-25T10:43:00.000-05:00

It's a chilly and wet morning here in Dallas, a true sign of spring. The birds are chirping and puddles are everywhere, and the thought of gardens and late sunsets is stuck in my craw.

With spring comes renewal. I am much more in tune with the idea of turning over new leaves in spring rather than on Jan. 1. There just seems to be more energy and motivation to do what you want to do, to capitalize on intentions.

So, I'm striving to be a better person in a more general sense. To pay it forward. It seems like, every day presents an opportunity to give, to be a little less selfish, to attend to more spiritual needs. Sometimes that opportunity falls from a car right in front of you.

Like on Tuesday.

I was leaving a work meeting at around 7 p.m., and I was in the Park Cities. If you know anything about this very posh area surrounded by Dallas, and yet unincorporated, it is that there are many people who are image-conscious and perhaps more than a little self-absorbed. Money is rarely an object in those parts.

I was walking to my car and saw an older man and a women getting into theirs. The man had set his jacket on top of the car while he was stowing other things. They were dressed as if they might have attended a funeral that had just concluded a few blocks down.

They took off a bit before me, and just after they turned to head down a busy street, I noticed that the man didn't retrieve his jacket from the top of his car. as they went farther down the street, the jacket slowly slipped from the top of the sedan to the trunk, and then floated off.

I immediately drove toward the jacket, hoping I could get to it before the fast-moving tires of any one of the myriad Mercedes and Lexus SUVs on that street could. A woman in a Land Rover got to it before I could, but when I drove up to it, it didn't appear to be any worse off. So I plucked it from the roadway and hoped that the couple hadn't gotten too far out in front of me.

I spotted them at the intersection of McFarlin Boulevard and Preston Road. Preston is a pretty significant thoroughfare in the Park Cities. Other cars were whizzing by, but by the luck of a protected left turn, I kept them in view.

I must've seemed like a crazy person, honking my horn, windows rolled down and bright headlights flashing. None of this, though, got the attention of the older couple in the car in front of me. And my heart nearly broke as they accelerated through a yellow light at Preston and Mockingbird Lane, turning right into Highland Park Village, almost assuredly lost.

I had come this far, though, and I wasn't giving up.

So when the light finally turned green, I followed suit.

I drove up and down the crowded lots of Highland Park Village, unable to find their car so that I could return the lost jacket. No luck.

Frustrated, I was just about to leave when I saw the pair, walking toward a restaurant.

I pulled up quickly, cutting off a Maserati driven by an expertly coiffed woman in enormous sunglasses. I shouted, "Sir! Ma'am! Excuse me! Excuse me please!"

They turned their heads in every direction, wondering if it was them someone was shouting at. Finally they spotted me.

"Sir! You dropped this back on McFarlin. I wanted to make sure it got back to you."

The wife, who appeared to be Korean and in her late 50s, fired off a quick smack to her hulking husband's arm.

"He left it on top of car, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did. I was able to get it though. I tried to signal to you both back on Preston, but I don't think you saw me."

They both thanked me profusely, shaking my hand and saying "Bless you! You're so kind!"

It was a small gesture to chase them down, but in all, I felt so much better for doing that. I was happy that the man got his jacket back, and that he wouldn't spend hours later that day retracing his steps and wondering where he dropped it. His wife wouldn't lay into him with anything more painful than the playful prod she gave him earlier.

And now I wait for the next opportunity to make someone's day a little better.

If you give a homeless man a banana...

2010-03-11T17:30:00.001-06:00

Do you remember reading that children's book, "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie..."?

Well, what happens when you give a homeless man a banana?

I had to go home for lunch today, and Dave decided to meet me there. I was a little late, so dave already had veggie burgers fixed up. All I had to tell him was whether today was a mayo day or a mustard day.

So, we finish lunch, we let the dogs out (every time one of us says this, out comes that stupid song "WHO LET THE DOGS OUT? WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!"), and Dave hands me a banana for an afternoon snack. I take it and I head out the door.

I'm walking the three blocks from my parking lot to the office and I see a homeless man sitting on a bus stop bench. He's hastily eating what looks like dried cornbread stuffing right out of the box.

This, of course, kills me.

I know I have plenty of food (maybe too much, if you were to look at the size of my hips) and I know that there are lots of people out there who don't have enough. I've felt lately that I'm not doing my part in being charitable, in giving back.

So, as I'm walking by the obviously hungry man, I smile. He smiles back, which to me is so graceful considering that his life is obviously rough right now. He hasn't had a good meal or a bath in a while.

I reach into my bag and I pull out the banana.

"Would you like this?" I ask.

He takes the banana. "Thanks. I haven't had anything to eat all week. Bless you."

I smiled again, but I walked away, wishing I could do more.

So, if you give a homeless man a banana, he'll thank you. And perhaps you'll thank him, too.

Bad Dreams

2010-03-04T22:23:00.000-06:00

I used to have pretty scary dreams when I was a kid. You know the ones, of the vampires (not the sexy kind) chasing you through the woods, and you wake up just as they catch up to you and not a moment too soon. When you're 10, it's absolutely terrifying.

I'm older now, and I'm not scared of much. What's extraordinary to me is that my nightmares are often of the most banal stuff. Like running out of toilet paper.

I had a dream the other night that I was doing my Clinique three-step (with 7-day scrub, thankyouverymuch) and I was reaching for a cotton ball for my toner. No cotton balls.

So I looked for a couple of squares of TP. The roll was bare.

Initially, I'll admit, I swore at my husband.

And then I looked under the sink for more TP, and the cabinet was completely empty. No TP, no toilet bowl cleaner, no Windex -- nothing.

And then I sprinted to the mudroom. "There has to be some toilet paper in this house!"

The mudroom was completely empty. No washing machine, no shelves, no folding table, no cubbies, and no coat rack.

Even the cat box was gone.

And then I woke up.

This morning I realized we were out of cotton balls. Coincidence?

Well, that's up to you to decide.

A Good Teeth Cleaning

2010-03-04T09:59:00.000-06:00

I go to the dentist about once every six months for a cleaning and a check-up. It feels like I havent blogged since my last dentist visit, although I know that's not true.

Shitloads have happened since the last post on Dallas' epic snowstorm (I almost typed "snotstorm" which is what's happening right now in Dallas, considering how many people in my office are sick).

But I did go to my dentist today, and they did this crazy-ass x-ray where you stand up and there's this thing that rotates around your head to get a 360-degree picture of your teeth. It was straight out of 2001: A Space Odyssey. I almost expected to hear Hal's voice telling me about the status of the image capture.

Turns out, it's one of those crazy digital x-rays. And, they let me see what my mouf looks like from all directions:

Now that, my friends, is fucking boss. You can see my two crowns and ump-teen fillings. And, I found out today that my teeth are more cavity prone than other because of whitening toothpastes. I had no idea. The hygenist said that using the little strips on a regular basis is better for your enamel than using a toothpaste twice a day. Crazy.

The best news so far today: NO MO' CAVITIES!!!

Also, our fridge is on the fritz. We're having it fixed this weekend, which is a tremendous relief!

Baptised by Fluffy White Snow

2010-02-11T22:27:00.000-06:00

There are people in Maine, in Massachusetts, and Montana (and perhaps other states in the US that don't start with the letter M) that will laugh at me when I say this, but for me, it is true:

Snow is so fucking amazing.

And you know what, there are people all along the east coast right now that are griping about how much snow there is, and how cold it is, and how they can't go anywhere, and I have two suggestions for them:

Learn how to knit or get netflix on demand.

And sometimes there are people in Dallas that go a little crazy when we have a "weather event" (not even fucking joking, some weather girl called the snow in Dallas today a "snow event") and traffic comes to a dead stop and it takes an hour to get anywhere when it would normally take 20 minutes, worst case scenario.

But for me, it's worth it. We got 6 inches of snow today. The fluffy white stuff came down in huge flakes and flurries all day, and it was beautiful and magical and wholly amazing. We let our Great Pyrenees mix, Hornsby, frolick as much as he wanted in the crunchy mass. We were delighted by the impromptu snowball fights and snowmen and cardboard sleds. Heck, as soon as we got home, we made one ourselves:

(That last one, well, I was racing back to Dave and "Norman" before the camera timer went off and I slipped. Notice that I'm laughing.)

It was such a beautiful day. I have no regrets, well, except for the meltdown Dave and I had as we tried to navigate traffic out of downtown Dallas while everyone was driving like the road was made of eggshells. I regret that.

Otherwise, it was wonderful, it's still so beautiful outside, and it's still snowing.

Tomorrow is going to be like Anna Wintour, though -- an icy bitch.

I think I'll take a snow day.

Winner, winner, chicken dinner

2010-01-31T01:42:00.000-06:00

I have a bird in my bath tub.

Gloria Steinem, one of our more attitudinous Delaware hens, has a serious case of the runs. This can be dangerous when it's below freezing outside. So, she's been camping out in the chicken sick-bay since yesterday. Here's hoping she can go outside tomorrow.

So, the other five chickens are still outside. It's been pretty cold the past couple of days.

(Side story: I was headed to the parking lot after work on Friday and I saw these two dudes taking pictures of buildings downtown. They looked like tourists, not terr'rists, so I asked them where they were from. They said Austria. I immediately thought that they must be so disappointed that they came to Dallas and the South in the middle of a cold snap (it was snowing). One of the men said, "We are going to Las Vegas. There will be warm sand there." I didn't have the heart to tell him that it might be just as cold there as it is in Dallas. Poor dudes.)

Anyway, I feed the chickens in the morning and give them fresh water. I had to bundle up to make the trek outside this morning. I had my hat pulled down tight, my fingers warm in my mittens, and my scarf tucked into my pea coat. I was mostly focused on not freezing my arse off.

So I opened the coop, and a few of the girls hopped out and ran out of the run. On the weekends I normally dump a few cups of chicken scratch on the ground, since they like to forage more than they like to peck at lay pellets.

Just as soon as I dumped the scratch and Effa Manley came running, out from over the roof of our house comes this huge effing bird. At first it didn't seem that big, but that was because it was far away. As it approached, and seemingly aimed for one of my girls, I could tell that it's wingspan was between 8 and 10 feet. It was either a really big hawk or it was an immature eagle.

Whatever it was, it was hoping for a chicken dinner.

Effa managed to escape unharmed, but as the bird beat its wings while trying to take off from the backyard, all manner of leaves and dust went flying. In the confusion, I panicked and I screamed, "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"

Gradually, the chickens came out from their hiding spots, and the eagle did return later to survey the yard (the hens were safe by then).

We'll probably put up some kind of net over the yard to keep this from happening again, but boy was it exciting to see something that big and dangerous that close.

In other news, I finished a hat.

A perfect explanation, and discovering a part of yourself that you may have forgotten.

2010-01-28T23:19:00.000-06:00

I think it's hilarious that I have like, six posts that I haven't finished. I'm not big on quitting, per se, but I'm totally OK with hitting the pause button. Which brings me to my big issue:

I haven't knitting anything for about two weeks.

This could be a pretty good respite. I mean, It is still January, and I am still reeling from Christmas knitting. I like to knit, and I'd like to still enjoy knitting for years to come instead of getting burned out. Then again, I also like movies, music, and the Internet. I like reading, talking, and drinking coffee. I like hanging out, sleeping in, and goofing around.

So, I'm cutting myself some slack.

Which is good, because I think that everyone deserves some credit. Some slack. We all have shortcomings, and no one likes to constantly hear about how they don't measure up all the way.

I'm used to not measuring up, too. Being deaf makes a lot of usually simple things very difficult. That's why I like knitting. It's simple in and out, and it doesn't involve hearing.

Which brings me to my second point:

I'm considering cochlear implant surgery.

I had an appointment with my ear specialist yesterday, and the picture he painted was pretty bleak: My hearing is getting worse, and after the steroid therapy, my tinnitus is much more advanced. The constant ringing in my ears has made it impossible for me to get restful sleep and to understand conversational volumes.

It's kind of debilitating.

And what makes things even weirder, is that for the longest time I was told that my kind of degenerative hearing loss made me an unlikely candidate for the implant surgery, which kind of resigned me to the fate of going deaf over a long, drawn-out period. It's depressing.

But now, there might be hope, which is great. But it's also terrifying. I've never had so much as stitches before. THIS IS SOMEONE IMPLANTING SOMETHING INTO MY HEAD.

That's fucking scary, people.

But, it's hope for improvement, which is something I didn't have before. That's pretty awesome in itself.

Look, there I go cutting myself some slack again. You should try it, too.

Three days

2010-01-25T23:14:00.000-06:00

K,

When you came to visit me in Dallas on Friday, I'll admit I was a little nervous. I love houseguests, you know, but the preparation for guests sometimes seems daunting and I often feel incapable of keeping a clean house. It's just dull, the vacuuming and dusting. But I wanted to impress you.

And not only did I plan on having an impeccably clean house (it wasn't) I also planned on taking you to see the sites and taste some of my favorite foods while you were here. It's too bad that it was overcast on Saturday, and rainy, thusly shattering my plans.

But we made good on it. Photo safari or not, I'd like to say we had fun while you were here. We went to a thrift store, and I scored an awesome new sweater and a cool mug to store my knitting needles. Then we bought provisions for that night's party in honor of your visit.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed meeting and hanging out with a few of my favorite people in Dallas. The food was tasty, and the wine and beer was flowing, and I reveled in every last bit of the party until the last couple of people went home. I had too many champagne cocktails, but you know the details about that.

The next day, well, I had the worlds worst hangover, and we had a DVD marathon planned. It was the first time in a long time that I got to make omelets, drink coffee, put on several pots of tea, munch on homemade granola and let my ass get to know my couch better. It was awesome.

Seeing you leave this morning was terrible. Going back to work after that much fun and festivity was worse. But I must say that for those three days, while I was laughing as hard as I could and savoring every moment of your company, I didn't once wish I was anywhere else.

Thanks for being a great big sister,

Miss Dallas

It's just a number

2010-01-20T23:29:00.000-06:00

Marrying someone who was born in a different decade has some distinct advantages and disadvantages. The advantages are obvious: No matter if the decade is more or less aged, you're marrying into the right amount of maturity for yourself, regardless of how old you are.

There are a few less obvious disadvantages: If you marry someone older, just go ahead and resign yourself to the role of tech support.

Tonight I had to help my dear husband with his blog. I do admire him for having a blog, considering that, when we first met, he was doodling on my computer and asked if he could be on the internet and play music at the same time. It was cute.

My husband, however, doesn't know the first thing about how the interwebs work. He can Google with the best of them, but he doesn't know the first thing about HTML, ASP, what a host server is, or even what an ISP is. That's OK, too, because I've resigned myself to tech support.

I figure that it's easier to just fix the problem than to teach him to fix it himself, which would likely be far more complicated than it's worth.

The easy way

2010-01-16T12:42:00.001-06:00

I think it was one of those really crappy Kurt Russell action movies that coined the oft-used phrase.

"We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way."

You hear it all the time now. No matter the situation, two sides often find themselves with two choices: "the easy way" or "the hard way."

When it comes to headache-inducing circumstances, I often choose "the easy way." And I look at those who choose the hard way as complete morons. Why? Because they don't have the sense to do things "the easy way."

Right now, a couple that we've been friends with even before Dave and I got married are going through a ridiculous, nasty divorce. It's an epic battle of he-said, she-said. The worst thing is that there are three children hanging in the balance.

There are many people who choose to go through divorce that take "the easy way." There are all different kinds of divorces nowadays, many of which are used to avoid expensive legal costs and protracted decisions that make no one happy. These are good options.

Unfortunately, my friend's wife has fallen off the deep end. Any shred of dignity or sanity she had left has been washed away in the wake of her own scorched-earth campaign of a divorce. In what I've heard of what's going on, she is the kind of woman that gives women everywhere a bad name, like Courtney Love, only with worse taste in lipstick.

It's bad enough to fabricate situations that paint her soon to be ex-husband as an asshole, but in all of this, she's using their children as weapons so that she can get what she wants. It's all awful, and it makes you look at your own life and what measures you can take so these things never happen to you.

And make no mistake -- there is room for "the hard way" in some situations. However, I wish she had the sense to see that in this instance, where her family and friends hang in the balance, there is a reason that "the hard way" is the path less taken, and that going that route is no badge of honor.

The only people you can't choose

2010-01-14T23:07:00.000-06:00

The person that says they have an effortless relationship with their family is full of shit.

It's taken me a long time to get to the point where I am with my family. It took a lot of hard work and compromise, and most importantly, forgiveness. Lots and lots of forgiveness.

My sisters and I used to divide ourselves like political factions, and we were just as cutthroat. There was so much infighting and backstabbing, and physical and emotional harm that seemed beyond repair. My brother had his share of bad judgment calls, too, when it came to dealing with the very delicate dynamics of sibling rivalry.

My father and I have our share of differences (we agree more than he realizes, only I don't think we speak the same language all the time). My mom and I are super close, but I think that's mostly because we have an understanding: she doesn't take any of my shit, and when she thinks I'm being an ass, she says so, to my face. With my mom, there is no drama.

But when you get older, things change. Priorities change. I left my hometown to get a degree, and that distance made my relationships with my siblings and my parents a lot easier. I also helped me find my convictions and the courage to fight for them.

And then later, when you get even older, you get married. Then, your family grows like bacteria on a toilet seat. All of the sudden you have twice as many siblings as you did before, albeit there is a different dynamic. In-laws don't have the same shared history you have with their spouses. They will never experience the things that you've shared first-hand.

And then even later, when you're freaking ancient, you or your siblings might have kids. Then you're like a bunch of fucking lemmings. You're seemingly inescapable. Family is everywhere, and like I said before, family relationships need a lot of water and sunlight.

Eventually you'll have a disagreement with a family member, like I had today. It could be one of those knock-down-drag-out fights that end in a family feud. It could also be something less severe, something that stews. I have more experience with the latter than the former, especially considering how many sisters I have. (My dad encouraged his girls to settle disagreements "like men" on the condition that we took our glasses off first. Cuts and bruises heal, but glasses are expensive.)

Needless to say, I won't be settling this argument with a brawl. Instead I'll opt for forgiveness.

That and plenty of water and sunshine.

Plans for the weekend

2010-01-14T14:25:00.000-06:00

How sad. It's only Thursday and I'm talking about the weekend. And even sadder is that I'm not even talking about this weekend, I'm talking about the weekend after that.

What makes it an occasion worth planning for is that my sister K will be visiting. Every time she comes to town I try to take her to someplace special in Dallas. Last time we went on a photo safari, and that was fun. So we'll do it again, and of course eat, drink, and shop while we shoot.

Some sites I have in mind include:

The Traveling Man installation at the Deep Ellum DART stop.

The Arts District

The Bishop Arts District

The Design District

And Overlooking the Trinity from Oak Cliff.

Any Dallasites out there with suggestions?

I'm lazy, so here's a list of FOs

2010-01-11T23:55:00.000-06:00

Completed in 2009:
Baby Antennae Hat

Basic Earflap Hat

Zig-Zag Scarf

Basic Chunky Watchcap

Cozy Vacation socks

Trendy Beret

Vine Lace Baby Hat and Baby Monkey Socks

Noro Stripey Socks

Ishbel Shawl

Traveling Woman Shawl

Green Leaf Hat

Half of an awesome pair of Broken Cable Socks

Another plain pair of socks, two Lambswool cowls, and a partridge in a mother effing pear tree.

There and back again

2010-01-09T20:07:00.000-06:00

It's easy to remind yourself why food is so satisfying, especially the food you make yourself.

You consume it, you really get to enjoy and taste it. You can savor it. It is quantifiable.

I have several recent culinary adventures I've wanted to share, but all of the knitting (which I still haven't posted about!) took precedence.

Tonight we dine on green beans amandine in a white wine and butter glaze with this amazing baked macaroni and cheese.

Bon apetite!

When looking for a job, beware of Facebook

2010-01-08T09:53:00.000-06:00

So, I can't remember if I mentioned this, but I ended up getting my current job through Facebook. This was before their recent privacy fubar. I adjusted my settings so that the only thing people saw about me was that I reside in Dallas and that they could send me a message. Too bad they changed the options.

If social networking via facebook wasn't such a critical part of our media these days, I would probably have deleted my account the moment they changed the settings. I think they know that they have us by the balls now, and that's likely why they made the change.

In any case, if you're looking for a job, be wary of how your profile appears on facebook. It's a lesson the idiot discussed by alexa at cleveland is a plum never learned.

A-list vacation

2010-01-04T23:07:00.001-06:00

-I had a boot crisis a couple of days ago. I had lusted over this wonderfully plush and yet affordable pair of boots at DSW.com (by the way, I love DSW.com, and I'm not getting paid to say that. I also dig Zappos and PiperLime, but DSW has a spectacular rewards program AND good clearance prices!). The only problem with it is that someone else apparently had their eye on the same pair of boots, and they sold out before I could snag them.

I was, in a word, dejected.

Lucky for me, my wonderful mother-in-law dropped me a c-note for my b-day so everything was A-OK (see what I did there?).

I went to REI and got the boots I was trying to find a discount substitute for at DSW (why all the acronyms, retailers?). The thing I love about REI is that if you're a member, you get a dividend each year based on your purchases. That means that my boots were a flat $100 after our dividend.

Without further ado, check out the awesomeness.

No break-in required. Cute and comfortable. I love them! I was happy for all of like an hour.

-Then, I had a closet crisis.

I had worn all of the clothes in my closet to the point of exhaustion, and even more sad is that none of them really reflected my style. I wanted some cute and flirty outfits that weren't pencil skirts, or trousers, or suits I had worn so many times I was sick of them.

Also, now that I'm working, I needed some outfits that could transition easily between work and weekends.

I should also add that I'm not exactly rolling in the dough. I would be impossibly expensive for me to go to a retail or even discount store and refresh my wardrobe.

So, we went to the thrift store and got three skirts, a dress, and three sweaters for $27. It doesn't get better than that.

-Then, after washing up, we headed to the Avett Brothers show at the Granada. Seriously, it was amazing.

-Also amazing is The Saffron House. Now that's an Indian restaurant that easily won me over, and I'm pretty picky. I had the Shahi Paneer Makhana, and I have to tell you, the paneer was perfect. I've had some bad paneer before, but this was wonderfully creamy and firm. DEEEELicious. The mango ice cream was great, too, but the only disappointment was the roti. It was overcooked and very stiff.

And today I went back to work, and I am going to shock the shit out of y'all: I missed going to work. A lot.

Also, I don't give a crap what the CDC says, kombucha is amazing.

The End

Am I a planner or a worrier?

2010-01-02T07:00:00.011-06:00

Yesterday I was mapping out our spending for 2010. There are going to be some significant financial changes for us this year, and I want us to be ready for them. When I think budgeting, I think about spreadsheets and calculations, but it can be simpler than that. It can be as easy as making a list of necessities and luxuries and deciding what you can live without.

Because we have never taken the time to really look at our discretionary spending, our list of luxuries is pretty long. I didn't realize it, but we do go out and spend money on concerts, bars, restaurants, travel, and yarn.

But our expenses are going to increase this year. I bought a new car and our income taxes are going to be ridiculous, too, because my unemployment benefits weren't taxed. Not to mention that our insurance premiums will likely go up.

Dave says that thinking about all of this stuff on a vacation day makes me a worrier, but I'd consider myself an expert planner. What do you think?

Out of the Gates

2010-01-01T15:24:00.000-06:00

So, I'm promising myself a few things this year. I'm not going to call them "resolutions," per se, but they're things I want to commit to this year and I'm going to work on them and share my progress on DMD (Driving Miss Dallas).

You all may know that I am an expert goal-setter. However, I am very amateur with the follow-through. I didn't do ANYTHING on my 2009 resolution list. As a matter of fact, I went backwards. I drank more beer, ate more cheese, slacked off from the gym and have love handles and chub of epic proportions. I didn't commit to my yoga practice. In fact, I think that in making an effort to commit I turned myself off to it. I did knit a lot, but I made several false starts when it comes to sweaters. I now have enough yarn to make about 8 or 9 sweaters, but due to a bad combination of pattern and fit, none of them have been completed.

Oh, and getting organized? We did a little of that. Now our house is less of a huge mess, but we have a lot more animals than normal people, so I'm good at cutting myself some slack.

But, I don't really want to sound like I'm blaming myself on missing the mark on many of my goals this year, because 2009 was a real doozie for me. I lost my job at the beginning of April. That turned my whole world upside down. I spent six months on unemployment, feeling worthless and tired and very depressed.

I finally got a great job, though. Finally doing what I wanted to do in the first place, which is write, photograph, and edit.

Did all of this change keep me from meeting my goals? No. It didn't help, but I know that there were several days that, after doing interviews or applying for jobs I just sat and read blogs and baked bread and sat around. I should have taken that time to focus on making myself a better person, a more employable person. I didn't. I got a great job anyway, though.

This year is going to be different, obviously. Every year has it's share of challenges and complications. This one will be just like that, only hopefully easier. So, I'm going to commit to only a handful of things:

1) Knit

2) Run

3) Be happy

I'll let you know how it works out.

Also, make sure you have your hop 'n' john and cabbage. See you here again, soon!

What 2009 means

2009-12-31T10:55:00.000-06:00

At the beginning of this decade I was a junior in high school. I cannot believe how much I've changed since then, and I don't mean just hair colors.

At that point in my life, I still felt like a big fish in a small pond. I was still smart enough to do whatever I wanted and young enough to make mistakes and not fear the consequences. I wanted to be a veterinarian, I wanted to double major in music performance (violin), and I wanted to move far away from Texas. Of these things I was absolutely certain.

At the beginning of my senior year, I hung a poster of the aerial view of Randolph Macon Women's College in my bedroom. I was going to go there, or somewhere like it, and I was going to thrive. I just knew it. It seemed inevitable that someone would burden my dreams with reality, though.

I would break up with my significantly older boyfriend of two because he refused to go back to school. I would also get accepted to Texas A&M University's Biomedical Science program, which is not at all Randolph Macon, where I was accepted but couldn't afford even with my $20,000 scholarship from a golf charity.

I graduated, said good bye to my friends, and moved to College Station. Turns out that I didn't need to be in Lynchburg, Va., to find out who I really was and what I really wanted.

Several idiotic college relationships later, I felt smarter, but I wasn't necessarily. I decided to move in with my then boyfriend, and I made one of them most significant life decisions ever: After two years in the Biomedical Science program, I switched majors to journalism.

I got into photography.

And I set out to change the world in my own way.

I took a few environmental policy and law courses and really felt that advocacy and publications and the business of changing people's minds was my destiny. I'd always felt a connection with the environment, and to really work to change our culture's perception of it was a noble cause.

So, I graduated, dumped my long-term boyfriend who admitted he was dead weight, got into some really hasty love affairs and then got a job in the Editorial Department of Texas' Leading Newspaper.

It was my dream job.

I moved to Dallas, which may have well been Lynchburg to my family in the Houston area. It was hard to be a 3-hour drive away, but it was also liberating.

At the end of July in 2005 I went on my first night out alone to a small blues bar on Greenville Ave. near Ross called Muddy Waters. I sat at the bar, drinking Lone Star and smoking Camels. I met Dave. We've been together ever since.

We got married the next year, which is my second most life-changing decision. The third followed soon after: We bought a house in East Dallas, cementing my status as a Dallasite.

You've read about everything else in between, so I'll spare the details. But it's safe to say that as 2009 ends, so does the most turbulent decade of my life. I can't believe the number of changes I've been through since then, but I'm so glad I ended up where I did. Even though this year I've dealt with unemployment and the real difficulties of making ends meet and keeping your pride in check, I can say that this decade has been the most humbling, gratifying, amazing, and optimistic years of my life.

I hope you and I both have many more ahead. Happy New Year!

When Movie Romances Go Bad

2009-12-30T15:43:00.000-06:00

So, I just watched Twilight. For the first time. I've never read the books. Don't plan to, either.

As you can figure, from watching the first movie, I have some stunning cultural observations to share:

1) No matter how ridiculous they seem, you know that you can relate to the whole teen-angsty budding relationship. And, you know that even though you're now what legally passes for an adult, you kinda miss all of those pit-in-your-stomach moments when you're undressing the other person hastily with your eyes as you kiss somewhat tentatively.

And even though you miss it, seeing a movie FILLED with these moments can be really exhausting.

2) Edward and Bella will make you wonder what the fuck is going on with Mormons these days. You know that in 75 percent of the teens out there confronted with some of the situations in this movie would have been buck naked and on top of each other in .0125 seconds. The fact that Edward and Bella barely even kiss is ridiculous. This is an adult movie with the sex scenes deleted, that's what it is.

3) Also, from watching this completely whack (yes, I said "whack" and I mean every bit of it) romance, you will feel like your relationship is somewhat inferior to what the two pasty teens have going on. This is crazy, especially if you read the Cliffs Notes version of the books (thanks for saving me time, Twilight wiki!) and discover how this whole story ends. SO. EFFING. STUPID.

Vampire/human hybrids? Werewolf imprinting? Sex after marriage?

All poppycock, I say! Poppycock!

My 27th on the 26th

2009-12-27T21:59:00.000-06:00

Here I am, cruising on the couch at my sister's place, watching some inconsequential football game, sitting next to my husband, doodling on my new macbook pro, and being entirely grateful.

Yesterday was my 27th birthday, and I feel so lucky to have spent it with my family and close friends. I feel so tremendously lucky, mostly because for the last several years my birthday was spent driving from one place to the next, or at work, where some people forgot. In all, last night was my first-ever real birthday party, and I have my family, especially my mom and my sisters, to thank.

And, even awesome-er, I got a set of Harmony Wood Knitpicks interchangeable circular needles!!!

So exciting!

I hope you had a wonderful holiday and are hanging close to the people you love. Let's all get ready for 2010!

Plans for 11 days and nights away from work

2009-12-23T14:17:00.000-06:00

Miracle of miracles, I get a winter break this year.

At my former employer, we didn't even get Christmas Eve off. Bah Humbug!

At my new and fabulous employer, we're taking off from Dec. 24 to Jan. 3. That's 11 days people.

A ridiculous amount of vacation if you ask me.

So, what do I plan to do?

Knit.

Sleep.

Walk the dogs.

And blog.

Keep up with what's going on in my little world on my twitter feed. I should be posting pics of knitted gifts soon, too!

Happy Holidays and Merry Vacations!

When it comes to Fox, you're darn right I'll be picky.

2009-12-23T14:09:00.003-06:00

This just in from Fox News' story on the Congress' health care reform mess:

As the Senate prepares for a crucial vote before final passage of a massive overhaul bill that Democrats argue will reduce the deficit by $132 billion over 10 years, Sen. Jeff Sesssions, R-Ala, said the nearly $500 billion in cuts to Medicare actually will add $300 billion to the deficit

Makes me think that Jef Sessssssions might be a member of Slytherin.

My Preciousssssssssssssss.....

Jesus is the reason for advertising this season

2009-12-22T13:45:00.000-06:00

I have been meaning to post about this, but, you know, life gets in the way.

Those ridiculous financing ads you may run into on news websites have sunk to a new low. Yes, lower than the dancing clown crap. Lower than the "Follow this one rule to erase belly fat" ads.

They're using Jesus.

Un-freaking-believable.

A Day Late to the Christmas Party

2009-12-20T21:08:00.000-06:00

Yup. I forgot to mention that I guest blogged over at Wonju Wife!

Go, read!

Every day like falling leaves

2009-12-01T20:07:00.001-06:00

Our front yard is covered in crunchy, gold and brown leaves. This happens every year as the entropy of fall sets in -- usually just before Thanksgiving -- and I am loathe to rake them. Dave and I don't hire out landscape work. It often seems like a big waste of money to have other people do a task of which he and I both are completely capable.

But, if we ever decided to (and believe me, we've talked about it), I would not hesitate to hire out the ridiculous amount of raking that needs to be done in our small patch of East Dallas.

Then again, I've always fantasized about hiring a maid to come every two weeks to dust and shine our house (Especially the bathroom!) so that it doesn't become so unmanageable (our level of untidyness is often unmanageable).

Speaking of lazy asses, since I started my new job a month ago, I've ordered takeout more than I did in the six months I was unemployed. This, however, has rekindled my love of area restaurants.

When we moved to the Casa Linda area of Dallas, we left behind some really great restaurants in the Lakewood/Munger Place neighborhood. We order takeout from them sometimes, though. Bangkok Inn off of Oram is one great little spot (Try their curries!), but definitely get takeout, because the inside of the restaurant will just trip you out. I also miss La Calle Doce, The Goldrush, Garden Cafe, Piggie Pies (off of Greenville) and The Tipperary Inn (Closed because of a greedy landlord).

Speaking of bars and restaurants (I was speaking of them, wasn't I?), have you ever heard of the "Two glasses of wine" theory? The gist: Everything is a better idea (even the worst ideas are measurably better) after two glasses of wine.

You're at a bar and talking to some of your friends about a tattoo you've always wanted to get, and suddenly, after a couple of glasses of wine, you're all at the tattoo shop.

One of your pals said that she likes the way Sinead O'Connor looks, but shaving your head is a big committment. After two glasses of wine you at least start to wonder what you'd look like with some scalp showing.

You're cousin isn't bad looking. After two glasses of wine you he's Brad Pitt and the idea of making out with him is still repulsive, but, hey, he looks like Brad Pitt...

Speaking of family (I was kind of speaking of family right then, right?) Thanksgiving was just last weekend, and like most of America, I spent it with family. My in-laws (lucky bastards!!!) hosted Tofurkey Day this year, and Dave and I went to their house for the day.

Now, my mother-in-law still doesn't get the whole "vegetarian thing," so I made a couple of dishes that I knew I would be able to eat. One of them was mushroom risotto. The other was this fantastic pumpkin bread pudding.

The risotto was a huge disappointment. This was mostly because I used a brand of dried mushrooms that I hadn't ever used before, and, for the record, I will never use again. They had the worst texture, and really, mushrooms are all about texture. A mushroom that is limp or gummy, no matter how savory and delicious, is unappetizing. Imagine a perfectly cooked risotto full of gummy mushrooms. I seriously ate my way around them, and I never do that.

The bread pudding, on the other hand, WAS RIDICULOUS!!! So good! I made some whipped cream to go with it, and guys, it was effing delicious. It was so tasty that my mother-in-law called the day after Thanksgiving (also known as "Hell on Earth" for people who work in retail) to tell me that she absolutely needed the recipe.

Speaking of Black Friday (See what I did there?), I have never really known anyone that actually shops (or should I say, "makes it into stores without getting trampled to death") at 4 a.m. on the Friday after Thanksgiving. Thanks to Facebook, I now know at least 8 people that went out to malls and big-box stores at four fucking o'clock in the morning, ON A FRIDAY DURING A FOUR-DAY WEEKEND!!!! Idiots.

Oh, and I watch 3.5 movies this weekend. The Wrestler (depressing!), Revolutionary Road (also depressing!), Margot at the Wedding (funny and depressing!), and half of Che' (LONGLONGLONG! (but thorough)).

Man, I want some Thai food....

PANDEMIC COLD SWEEPS DALLAS!

2009-11-22T22:34:00.001-06:00

My boss was the first one to catch a malignant strain of cold. It quickly spread to a nearby coworker, which was then vectored (allegedly by a poorly washed glass) to another nearby coworker, which then infected my husband and infected, most recently, me.

If this isn't pandemic by default, then the word has lost all meaning.

Now all it needs is one of those flashy backgrounds for the 9 p.m. local news and one of those scary-ass lead-ins:

A woman with over-blonde helmet hair, too much cleavage, and pink lipstick stands infront of a banner that says "PANDEMIC COLD SWEEPS DALLAS!"

"Is your head cold trying to kill you? Find out at nine..."

Having said that...

2009-11-22T21:14:00.000-06:00

I love Larry David.

There, I said it.

Tonight, though, was the last performance the world is likely to see of his. Tonight was the final episode of HBO's Curb Your Enthusiasm, which was, in effect, a Seinfeld reunion (or the closest you'll get to one).

Having said that, it was classic.

------------------------------------------

In other news, I have a lot of sisters.

I was born into a big family, and there were already three girls, but it seems as though I tend to accumulate big sisters. Most of my friends are over 30, and quite a few are near, if not over 40. I respect all of them. That's kind of a prerequisite for friendship in my book.

I am still friends with a lot of the women I used to work with. I look up to them, I take their advice. I didn't realize how much they meant to me until I noticed that I pinned a note one of them wrote up on my dresser. It was one of those encouraging things that a person might give to you when you're going through a strange, difficult time.

It's still up there, even as I'm making my way to the other side of that terrifying time. It still means something. I still know she's there.

That's what a sister is, right? Someone that will tell you that you are better than that. Someone that will keep watch over your standards and never let you accept less than your best. Someone to help you pick up the pieces.

I am really blessed to be so flush with sisters.

Reasons why I can't get on the skinny jeans bandwagon

2009-11-10T21:54:00.000-06:00

1) I live in Texas. It never really gets cold enough to tuck skinny jeans into UGGs. The people that do this during one of Dallas' 70 F winter days deserve universal disdain.

2) I have a rather large posterior. I did not look good in the 90s style tapered leg jean. I will definitely not look good in a ultra-tapered, ass-and-thigh hugging pair of stretchy jeans.

3) Tunics make me look pregnant. The only way I would be able to wear skinny jeans is with flats and a tunic.

Friday comes fast

2009-11-07T10:02:00.000-06:00

I don’t really remember ever being this happy about having a job.

Nix that. I don’t have a job.

I finally feel like I have a career, which everyone knows is more than just a gig that pays the bills.

To say that this is exactly what I needed would be an understatement. I know a lot more about myself and my goals now than I did four years ago from the vantage point of a newbie corporate serf. I know now what it takes to be dedicated, what it’s like to grow, and what it means to take advantage of an opportunity and not letting the opportunistic take advantage of you.

That’s not to say that I have it all figured out. I know for a fact that I do not. I’ve just grown enough to see that no one else does, either.

Regardless of all that, today capped my first full week of full employment. A lot of people asked me what I thought about my new position and if I feel OK in my new job. In as many words, I told them that I was pretty confident that I was made for this job.

But there’s something that still eludes me.

I doubt myself a lot, and I think that has a lot to do with my hearing loss. I’ve learned a lot about being humble and embracing the other things that make me special, but I always feel like I’m missing something by being partially deaf.

But I learned this week that even that might be temporary.

Next week I start steroid therapy for my hearing loss. I will get 3 cortico-steroid shots in my eardrums in a 10-day period. My new otologist feels that this might be the first step in getting some of my hearing back.

So, maybe soon I won’t have to rely so much on my other charming qualities. Maybe soon we can sit and chat and I won’t miss a thing. Hopefully you won’t, either.

Games People Play

2009-11-04T22:58:00.000-06:00

Dave and I have this little game that involves a small plastic civil war figurine and a modified game of hide the saltine.

Here is the guy:

Here are the rules:

1. On your turn, you must hide the guy in plain sight (cannot be behind anything).

2. The guy must remain within the boundaries of the house.

3. You must acknowledge finding the guy before it is your turn to hide him.

This has just been a fun, cute little game between Dave and I. We both wonder where the guy will turn up next or where he will be perched, however precariously.

I was waiting in an exam room of the otologist's office and I was very shocked to see this:

Looks like someone plays the workplace version of hide the guy.

My first day, second-first day and learning the difference

2009-11-03T23:57:00.000-06:00

I remember my first day at my new job just like it was yesterday.

That's because it was. (Well, it will be for about 5 more minutes.)

I was hoping to hit the ground running and start learning a new work platform and new programs. That would have been a good start. Only, I didn't have a computer on my first day. Urgh.

I did, however, have lunch at Carmine's. Best New York-style pizza in Dallas.

I then filled out an assload of HR paperwork.

And then I played Doodle Jump on my iPhone and checked my e-mail and facebook a gazillion times and then twiddled my thumbs until I could go home.

And then, when I got here this morning, still no computer. Urgh.

So I borrowed the computer from a person who was out today. Hopefully she wasn't out sick because I gave her iMac a big sloppy kiss for being so fast. The computers at my old job were allergic to fast. You had to wait 5 minutes to read a plain-text e-mail.

And for some reason, today was a long day. Both days, though, were awesome. Wouldn't trade them for the world.

The end of "funemployment"

2009-10-30T11:38:00.002-05:00

Texas has an unemployment rate of 8.2 percent, and in September alone, 44,700 people lost jobs. According to the Federal Reserve Bank of Dallas, for every 5 unemployment claims in the D/FW area there is one job opening.

If you're unemployed in Dallas or Fort Worth, or even Texas, you better just get used to it. The average length of unemployment is 6 months, which I attribute to the crazy amount of competition for the very, very few job openings.

I was laid off from The Dallas Morning News on April 7, 2009. Yesterday, Oct. 29, I finally got a job.

Not only that, but I found my dream job.

No matter how much I may gloss over my time at The Dallas Morning News, I knew that there was a ceiling on my professional growth (and salary growth, too, considering that about two years into working at The News there were two layoffs and a salary freeze). I started in the Editorial Department at age 22, fresh from graduation, and promptly went to work with a staff that was mostly twice my age. I only had one peer in the office, and she eventually buckled under the strenuous demands of daily deadline work.

And yet, I loved working there. I loved the sense of tradition and respect that working for a Texas legacy carried with it. My parents were ridiculously proud, too. Anytime anyone that knew of me would come into the Drivers License office to get a new photo or renewal, my mom would tell them that her youngest daughter ("You remember her, right? The storyteller?") was working for The Dallas Morning News. She expected them to be VERY IMPRESSED. If they weren't, then they were just ignorant.

When I lost my job, I lost a little bit of that pride and confidence. It took a big chunk from the armor of my ego. In truth, though, it was a good for me. It really helped me figure out what I wanted from my next job.

I thought that I might have found it a couple times in between April 7 and yesterday. I interviewed once with a local university's publications office, and when he told me that over 100 people had applied for the job within the first few days of its posting, I was more than a little disheartened. That is way too much competition. I made it to the first interview round, which was roughly 10 percent of the applicants, but I wasn't chosen. That's OK, though, because the commute to Arlington is a BITCH.

I also learned that I have a whole system of support in my family and friends and former colleagues. I really wouldn't have held up so well without them. The Editorial Department of The News is full of great people with big hearts, bright minds and great ideas. I feel so privilged that I got the chance to work with them. My mom and dad were there to help and just to talk, and of course to tell me that I needed to visit more. My in-laws helped to lift us up when we were down, too. My brother and sisters and their spouses always lended an ear. There are too many people to thank, really, but they all know that I love and appreciate them.

This has a happy ending, though. For that I am so thankful. I start my new job Monday. I get a chance to start over, too.

Stiff competition for worst day ever.

2009-10-28T22:57:00.001-05:00

If I don't put too much effort into considering it, today very well qualifies as the worst day ever. Worse than the early-morning, guerilla-style move from my ex-boyfriend's shitty apartment. Worse than the day I found out that my boyfriend threw a kegger in his dorm room and hooked up with the local slutface.

It's been awful.

I woke up a menstrual case today. Emotional, defeated, in pain and tired from a night of tossing and turning. Then I went outside to check on the chickens only to find out that my favorite girl, Jane, wasn't handling her molt so well and needed to be brought to the chicken sick bay (the shower enclosure in our bathroom) for some warm feed. I though that maybe the day could be salvaged, so I took the dogs on a walk.

I came home, let the rest of the chickens out of the coop and started cooking dinner. Soon after that a wave of nausea hit me like a string of tequila shots, and I spent a good 10 minutes dry heaving.

Folks, it gets worse from here.

So, I make dinner, we eat and watch game one of the World Series, and Dave suggests that we should pick up the remaining chicken feed and close the coop for the night, and I obliged.

I went out there only to realize that we were missing a chicken. Effa Manley, one of my favorite girls and the flock's benevolent dictator, didn't make it back that evening. We searched all over the yard and there was no sign of her.

Then, while I'm crying about Effa and trying to floss, my temporary crown pops off.

Now it's raining, there's still no sign of Effa and I can't drink any liquids because it fracking hurts my exposed tooth.

Worst. Day. Ever.

Update: Effa turned up this morning. Thanks for scaring the living daylights out of me, bitch!

Being missed

2009-10-21T11:12:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time, I went to yoga class four days a week. I was comfortable in the fact that a dedicated practice would help me grow, that it could help me be the person I wished to be emotionally, spiritually and physically.

Slowly over time, I let other obligations eclipse my yoga practice. Sometimes I wouldn't have enough time to make it to Tuesday or Thursday classes. I'd admonish myself for putting work before my personal health, but at that time I was so scared of losing my job that I was willing to make myself unhappy twice-over to keep it.

In April, the job dissolved. Surprisingly, so did my yoga practice. I sunk into a depression, and tried to get myself together in fits and spurts, but ignored the fact that I knew what was missing. I knew that my regular yoga practice made me happy and helped me hold the pieces together before.

It wasn't until last night that I realized what I had been avoiding. To me my absence from class had been shameful. I had no excuse except for my own emotional withdrawal.

One of my Iyengar teachers saw me after my Tuesday Iyengar class and was very shocked to actually see me alive. She asked, rather puzzled, "Where have YOU been? We've missed you!"

I didn't know exactly how to answer that question. I just told her that I'd had a rough bout of adjustment after being laid off, but I'm just now finding time to come back to my regular practice. I told her that I was thinking about striking out on my own. Come to find out, she was doing the same thing after a job loss.

How ironic is it that the one person I had been afraid of dissappointing in this whole dynamic, the one I'd been avoiding, was the person that could understand my situation the most?

Needless to say I'll be coming to class more often. And I'll let go of the shame that doesn't belong.

I am not a morning person ...

2009-10-20T11:30:00.000-05:00

... and I don't think I ever will be. However, my sleep schedule is out of control. Today I woke up a little late for a week day. How late you ask? Not telling. That's how embarassing it is.

I think sleeping late runs in my genes. My B-I-L Brent says my sister Sara is half woman, half mattress. Then again, Brent wakes up early on weekends only to crash on the couch after breakfast to take a two-hour nap. It's not like half man, half couch is without precendent.

But lately, the late sleeping has gotten worse. I think it's mostly because my alarm clock is too ambitious. It rings even before Dave's does, and that mofo has to get up and go to work by 8 a.m.

I'm going to try to set it later, and maybe even follow a schedule so that I can stop feeling as if I'm spinning my wheels.

Good news, though, is that I'm making headway in crafty endeavors. I made a pretty awesome knit cardigan yesterday (I've already had three requests for said cardigan!) and my holiday knitting/crafting is shaping up. Thank God I started early, right?

And, in a couple of weeks we're going to Houston to visit my family and go to the Texas Renaissance Festival in Plantersville (Side note: if you've ever made the drive from College Station (Texas A&M) to The Woodlands, you've driven by Plantersville and my favorite speed trap, Montgomery).

I haven't been to RenFest since college, so it should be fun to take Dave. Although, there are some pretty interesting people at RenFest, so it might be eye-opening for him.

Also, I just put some late-season veggies in the ground and some winter crop seeds, so here's hoping we have plenty of veggies!!! In other gardening news, we fixed the compost container last weekend so that I can turn the compost more easily, but the pile quickly became a bug buffet for the chickens. The've been digging through the pile for three days and are still finding yummy insects (never thought I'd use those two words in the same sentence!).

All in all, things are great here at the casa, but if Santa is listening, I hope that bastard knows that I need a MacBook Pro like, yesterday, buddy.

From the Mississippi, with love

2009-10-07T00:05:00.000-05:00

Dear Dallas,

I hope you know that I thought about you a lot when I was on vacation in New Orleans last week. I thought about what the weather might be like where you were, and how the house was doing. I tried to not miss you, but I did a little, and on the drive home up I-49 through the most boring and beautiful parts of Cajun Acadiana, I couldn't wait to see your skyline and know that I was almost home.

But I'll be honest: Rarely do I consider myself at home in your arms. Dallas, you can be downright inhospitable. From the searing heat to the fricking terrible drivers and endless strip malls, most of the time, you aren't much to look at. You're no city on a hill, that's for sure.

And yet I live with all of your flaws, and I'm happy to be home after a great week in The Big Easy. I saw a lot of things that you don't have, like a kickass Audubon Zoo and Aquarium and a downtown that people actually flock to after hours. And, get this, people actually USE PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION in New Orleans in lieu of driving. Why? Becuase there are things to do and wonderful bars and eateries in the places with rail access. What a novel idea!

I bet it would be a sore subject to talk about the fact that there is not just one major university in New Orleans, either. In fact, there are THREE!

And then there's the local cuisine. And the plethora of cute French cafes on sidewalks, which are perfect for people-watching, because, get this, THERE ARE PEOPLE AROUND.

But, Dallas, I'm glad to be back home. I have puppies and kitties and chickies that all need me to be here, and a garden that needs to be tended. This is all just constructive criticism, of course, and perhaps you should take it to heart.

Much love and stuff,

Miss Dallas

When hot coffee is welcome

2009-09-24T09:31:00.000-05:00

Dave and I drink coffee every morning. We make 12 cups from fresh-roasted Sumatra beans every day (sometimes twice a day on weekends) and we drink it as quickly as possible.

But, in the summer, that scalding cup of coffee makes sweat bead up on my forehead. I drink it anyway.

But something remarkable came with all of this rain we've had lately. While we were doggy paddling to stay afloat here in North Texas, Mother Nature granted us a meteorological reprieve with stunning results: It was 72F in the house last night and all we did was leave a couple of windows open.

This morning, the cool temperatures are sticking to my skin, making the first cup of hot coffee seem so teriffically indulgent.

Karma's balancing act

2009-09-23T11:04:00.001-05:00

I find it easy to relate to Buddhist principles. After all, the teachings aren't all that different from Christian principles, the most obvious dichotomy is that Buddhism puts the burden on the individual, while Christianity often puts the burden on dogma or the Messiah.

But the thing about Buddhist and Hindu philosophies that many people understand is Karma, or the idea that good or bad acts will be returned to you, respectively.

I totally believe in Karma, but I am having a hard time figuring out where my Karma is balancing right now.

I may seem like a total misanthrope, but there are a lot of good things happening in my life right now:

-My niece just learned how to walk

-I am almost finished with my first shawl

-I have plenty to eat (maybe too much, in fact)

-Dave found the perfect bottle of red wine (Twisted Old Vine Zinfandel)

-I quit biting my nails

-I had my first of two major dentist appointments, so I'm halfway through remodeling my mouth

-I'm feeling more connected to my yoga practice

-I have decided to get a hearing aid

-I'm about to go on a trip for my THIRD ANNIVERSARY! (Can you freaking believe that I've been married for THREE YEARS already? I CAN'T!)

-We've been on the receiving end of a lot of rain, which means that cooler temps have come with it, and, thusly, I wore a sweater yesterday

-I have a great husband, a wonderful family and some kickass friends.

So, all of these things are good things. These are things that, by no small measure, make me happy to be alive. If you were to read this list without any context, you would think that Karma is paying me back for good deeds. I would think that, too, except:

-I am about to reach the 6 month mark of consecutive unemployment

-I have very few job prospects

-I miss my sisters, sister-in-law, brothers and brothers-in-law

-I miss my mom and dad

-I am a big steaming pile of lazy and depressed

Although I feel that the second list, which is really short, is outweighed by the first, I just can't shake the horrible feeling that hangs out in the back alley of Club Jobless: Lack of worth.

It's a good thing that I have a husband that really tries to support me. I know it's hard for him, because feelig this way for what has become half of a year can't be easy for a chronic optimist.

In any case, I hope that I get more hits in the win column soon.

When the time is right

2009-09-16T10:03:00.001-05:00

If there is one thing that is true about life, it is that you cannot rush it. God knows I've tried. God knows, too, that I've failed. Everything happens for a reason, and good things will come in time.

Which brings me to my most current realization: Every job that I apply/interview/audition for will not be the right fit. Only one of them will.

I just have to make sure that the right job and I find each other.

I also may need to work on toning down my language. I just noticed how many F-bombs I dropped in the last post. Good thing my mom doesn't read this blog. Not that she would be offended, but she would definitely say, "You're better than that," or "Try harder."

And she's right.

This situation I'm in reminds me of a visit I got from my mother when I was in my second semester at A&M.

It had been a really rough semester so far, and I was flat broke after buying books and replacing some boots that got screwed up in a particularly heinous rainstorm. I also lost my graphing calculator, and didn't have the dough to replace it. So my mom drove up to College Station to spend some time with me and to help with taking care of my situation. She took me to lunch to cheer me up, too.

My mother's visit had been just the intercession I needed to pull myself out of my funk. She didn't know it, but I had been seeing a therapist and was treating some pretty severe depression after I lost my only uncle the previous October.

We had so much fun hanging out with one another, and my mom did something she doesn't do very often, which is surprise me with something she knows that I want, but don't need.

I had coveted a little plush Reveille VII, and my mom presented it to me that day just to cheer me up. It was like there was a light at the end of the tunnel after that. I knew that everything was going to be OK because I had people in my life like my mom.

It was time for my mom to make the trip back to the Houston area, and I gave her a kiss and a hug before I exited the car. As I was hoisting myself from her sedan, the littlest bit of my first tattoo peeked up from my pantsline.

My mother was furious. She said "Dammit, [Miss Dallas]! I thought you knew better!"

Even though the tattoo itself was a something I had done to have a permanent reminder of what my mom means to me, I felt ashamed. I felt like I let her down. I felt like all of my shortcomings were immediately transparent and that everyone could see through me.

My mom called me after she returned home and we both calmed down. Now, she still didn't understand the tatt, but she still accepted me. She let me know that it didn't matter what changed on the outside, but as long as I'm the same person on the inside, as long as I never gave up on myself, I would be OK.

I am hoping that this same attitude applies right now. I'm going through a difficult time, yes, but I've got people that I love and who love me back, and as long as I don't give up, things will work out for the better, when the time is right.

Working hard:Hardly Working, why my MIL puts me to shame and all of the ridiculous things that you see on 1980s exercise tapes.

2009-09-15T00:52:00.000-05:00

First things first: I am back at work this week, but like the perennially resurfacing McRib sanwich, it's for a limited time only. I'm filling in, basically doing my Old Job back at The Newspaper. Geez I miss those people.

Now, don't anybody get your hopes up, but I am also working on getting a New Job. Hopefully I find one of those soon, because GOD KNOWS I AM SO FUCKING TIRED OF BEING UNEMPLOYED.

Seriously. I have become the laziest, most resentful, angry and onery human beings to excoriate a slow driver since Rush Limbaugh. Although, it was pointed out to me by some far-right-wing dillweed that he recently lost something like 80 pounds, so, good for him. Maybe he can shed a few more and, you know, maybe be less of a douchebag. THAT would be an improvement.

So, since I'm unemployed still (NOT FOR LONG, HOPEFULLY. Keep your fingers, toes and every thing else you can twist into an uncomfortable position crossed until I say otherwise), I keep comparing myself to other people. People with jobs, no less. I would say something cliche like "The grass is always greener," but the person I compared myself to the other day was my mother in law. Yeah. I don't want her job.

You see, she's about as close to a fucking saint as you can get and not have to bother with all that Catholicism crap. She is a special needs teacher that works with the kids that the education system considers "unteachable." The kids with no family. Kids with learning disorders. Kids with bad attitudes and/or dyslexia. Most of these kids are black. Several of these kids think that my mother in law is racist.

WTF?

She spends ALL DAY, EVERY FUCKING DAY, trying to give these kids what no one else wants to give them, which is an education, and they have the nerve to call her racist because she doesn't let their copious bullshit get in the way of their own education? RI-FUCKING-DICULOUS. You couldn't pay me enough to do what she does, and knowing that the school district pays her less than a prostitute with two teeth and a heart of gold makes the woman next in line for cannonizing in my book. Jeebus.

And, now for a Callanetics update:

My masochist friend and I just completed our fourth session. My ass is still a pear, my abs are sore and I'm loving the hell out of eating toast and jam after working out.

This also means that I am probably not going to look good in a swimsuit, like, ever.

MMF (My masochist friend) took some pretty crude video of one of our last sessions, and I am loathe to post it. Mostly because I look really masculine in all of the videos, and I prefer to believe that I am not as butch as I may look on camera.

Also, I am a fat ass and I tend to bitch a lot while working out. There are more than a few FUCK YOUs shared with the TV during the course of the Callanetics video, so the video is NSFW.

Also, the more I watch the tape, the less I like the before/after shots, which are DISGUSTING. MMF loves them. I always fast forward when she's not paying attention.

Callanetics: Day 2

2009-09-10T00:22:00.000-05:00

Dear Callan Pinckney,

I just wanted to say a few words to let you know how I'm doing with your workout tape.

If you're dead, that's too bad. I hope I'm not disturbing your long rot in hell with this note. If you're not dead, you're probably busy seducing young boys in scrunch socks and matching outfits back to your lair to probe your perfect peach. In any case, we need to have words about your "health regimen," which can also be considered a "fact extraction technique." (I hear that's what Homeland Security is calling torture these days.)

After doing two days of Callanetics, I need to tell you something: You're a total fucking bitch. I would call you a sadist, but you do the "gentle movements" too, so I guess that makes you a masochist and me stupid. Also, I cannot stand your voice (or your face, or your really ridiculous leotard and wacked out hair).

And another thing: how did shots like this one make it into the final video:

Do we need to see that much vagina being suffocated by hideous shades of spandex? No, we do not.

Also, WTF?

And another crotch shot?

You really should've run a background check on that camera man.

Anyway, my ass is sore and I hate you.

-Miss Dallas

P.S. I wasn't joking about the "peach" thing.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!

2009-09-09T16:38:00.000-05:00

I'm sure that lots of folks thought I was dumb or silly for starting my Christmas knitting in August. These people are either in denial or non-knitters (sometimes both).

In any case, I started my first pair of Christmas socks a couple of weeks ago. Good thing, because now that I'm transitioning to the heel, I found that while I was drinking beer and knitting among friends on Saturday, I totally effing effed this sock up. Stitch counts on this sock are completely crazy pants. All over the place. Nuts.

So, I'm glad that I started early because, in most cases, a mistake of this proportion would mean a store-bought gift for the recipient so that I might salvage a few extra grains of sanity during the holiday season.

"The perfect peach"

2009-09-09T09:59:00.001-05:00

It's amazing what you'll agree to after several beers. I've agreed to write a huge, in-depth magazine article about a subject that is so pervasive and difficult to fathom that no one wanted to talk about it. More recently I agreed to do a daily regimen of Callanetics with an also-tipsy neighbor.

If you follow the link above, you'll see videos of young, blonde, attractive women in modest exercise garb. That's not footage from the "Beginning Callanetics" VHS (!) that my friend procured at a thrift store. There is a lot of gratuitous lingering around the pubic areas on camera. The guy who filmed this was likely a lecherous weirdo.

Get a quick sample of the video:

In any case, there is a loyal and dedicated following of this crazy lady and her torturous regimen. So, my friend and I proposed an experiment: We'll do Callanetics every day for 14 days, mostly to see if this crazy bitch is right, and that after doing Callanetics I can transform my ass into "the perfect peach."

FREE DAY OF YOGA!!!

2009-09-04T12:37:00.002-05:00

Just a quick reminder, Dallas yogis and yoginis! This Monday, Labor Day, is the National Free Day of Yoga. That's right: FREE YOGA.

To take advantage of the free yoga and meet new and interesting people and teachers, go to the Dallas FDOY site and take a look at the schedule.

Want to meet your dear author and indulge in some free yoga? I knew you did!

I'm probably going to go to three or four classes on Monday:

9 a.m. Tree Yoga in Highland Park: www.treeyoga.org

1 p.m. Dirt Cheap Yoga at the Trinity Audobon Center: www.trinityriveraudubon.org and www.dirtcheapyoga.com

6 p.m. Hatha flow class at Dragon Fire Yoga: www.dragonfireyoga.com

See you there!

Getting to know your adopted hometown

2009-09-04T12:27:00.003-05:00

Dallas and I haven't always gotten along. Sometimes I hate this city. I usually feel this way after a municipal election or some kind of terrible political news. In any case, I could have put more effort in to finding new things to love about Dallas. That's where a few really neat Web sites come in, like the very spot that introduced me to Lee Harvey's: PegasusNews.com.

Another site that helps me find new ways to love Dallas: iliveindallas.com.

There are other ways to find out more about your communities, like interest groups and meetups. I guess I haven't put too much effort into exploring my adopted hometown. I'll get to work on that.

Little things, big joy

2009-09-03T10:05:00.004-05:00

I've officially kicked off my 3rd annual Christmas Knitting Binge. The list is finalized, and if you didn't make it on there this year, you should try to bribe me extra next year if you want something beautiful, luxurious and handmade. Note: I like chocolate and jewelry.

This year, I actually feel like a real Knitter. Get that? A "capital K" knitter, as the Yarn Harlot would have it. I am actually making one wee gift from my own handspun yarn this year. Very exciting stuff. I have also caught the shawl bug. I have plans to make *cough*three*cough* for either myself or gifts.

Another thing that makes me feel like a knitter: I came home from my LYS (Shabby Sheep in the hizzouse!) with a few new treasures and some circular needles to more easily crank out the shawl madness. I really had a hard time narrowing it down, but I came home with a skein of Malabrigo sock, a skein of Misti Alpaca Baby Alpaca Chunky and a skein of Classic Elite Silky Alpaca Lace. Not a lot of yarn, but all of it is pure luxury, and is, therefore, not cheap. After hearing how much I paid for yarn, my muggle husband said, "OK, no more yarn shopping until after our anniversary." And a little lightbulb went off. This was the very first time anyone has attempted to rein in my yarn budget. I am finally a "capital k" Knitter.

You may also notice I'm starting my 3rd annual Christmas Knitting Binge much earlier this year. And they say I can't learn... You may remember what happened last year.

No more knitting marathons (only to then rip out an entire sock and half of my hair) for me. No sireee. I like my sanity intact, thankyouverymuch.

But, if I can help it, as many loved ones as possible will be keeping warm in handknits this winter. All two weeks of it.