Baptised by Fluffy White Snow

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-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?

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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














Go, read!

Every day like falling leaves

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!

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...

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

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

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

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

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"

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.

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

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 ...

... 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

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

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

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

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.

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

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!

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"

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!!!

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

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

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.

O hai blog! Me? Avoid you? NEVAR!!!

So, I've been away from this page for a short while. It's been for good reason, though. Hopefully you've been keeping up with me via the little box at right, you know, my tweets. If not, let me give you a short summary of what my life has been like since the last post (there have been no more pirates, for starters. Tragic.):

-Did some work, in an office. It was an exciting change and it was so great to be around ridiculously smart people! Can you tell that I miss work?

-Started a pair of Jaywalker socks (rav link) in Lion Brand Sock Ease. Seems like almost the exact same yarn as Red Heart's sock yarn and Paton's Kroy Sock. This pair is going to be a Christmas gift (you can never start too early, people).

-Went to a book swap. Got a few new books to read and saw some lovely ladies I hadn't seen in a long time, which feels like a travesty. I also embarassed myself immensely by saying something trite. Stupid me.

-Realized I'm probably the only person not watching Project Runway this season. I can't help that I find the show more annoying than my neighbor's two yappy dachsunds. In fact, multiply the noise of the yappy dachsunds by however many cast members are on the freaking show and that's about how annoying the show is.

-Went to the Granada Theater's 5-year anniversary party. Watched Slobberbone play in Dallas for the first time in what seemed like a millenia to Dave. Good show, but it ran way too late for me. I turn into a grouchy old lady after midnight, so 1:30 is LAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE!

-Dave and I hauled our asses to Austin (Buda, to be precise) to spend some time with a fabulous couple who now tops our list of favorite people to spend a weekend with. They have two very cute boys, one of which is still fresh (6 months). The other is a 3 1/2-year-old terror. The whole family is crazy-charming!

-Went to Gruene Hall for a show and had dinner at the Gristmill. The restaurant is adorable, which more than makes up for the lack of vegetarian options on the menu. If you're in Gruene and looking for a good place to eat, try it!

-Drank a few Lone Star Beers. Don't hate on the national beer of Texas! It is so refreshing!

-Watched San Antonio kick some major ass in the Little League World Series.

-Ate tofu enchiladas with tomatillo sauce at Mr. Natural on South Lamar in Austin. Bought Yarn at Hill Country Weavers on South Congress in Austin. Went to Waterloo Records in downtown Austin. Started wondering why I don't live in Austin...

-Got hooked on Newflower Farmers Market (known as "Sunflower" in some states), thanks to our friends in Buda. If you like Whole Foods but prefer not to spend an ass load on organic and natural foods, you'll love Newflower.

-Started on a shawl by Ysolda Teague called Ishbel (rav link) and I am now confounded by it. The numbers aren't working out, and I am likely going to go crazy because of it. I want to make this shawl SO BADLY, but I am wondering if I have totally effed it up beyond the point of no return... Boo.

So, that's where I am, as of today. I will be returing to the office for one day next week, and I can't wait.

An evening with pirates, popcorn

I really like the company that Dave works for. It's a bunch of cool people doing good things and, hey, what's not to like about that?

I found out last Thursday that I also like a lot of the people that he works with. They are pretty funny and do cool things. And, like I said, what's not to like about that?

For instance, one of them does local theater. We went and saw him in the Pocket Sandwich Theater's production of "Captain Blood: A Pirate Melodrama." Hil-Freaking-Larious.

Every pirate stereotype was wonderfully used, even slutty wenches and ridiculous costumes. Good stuff.

The only thing that rivaled the actual production was the theater itself. Pocket Sandwich is a great place to see a show. It's very intimate, they serve plenty of food and booze (most notoriously the namesake pocket sandwich, which is basically a pita) and -- get this -- YOU ARE ENCOURAGED TO CATAPULT POPCORN AT THE ACTORS!!!

I love that.

They make a gazillion batches of popcorn just so you can launch them at actors. Of course, the fight is fair, and at some points during the production the actors fire back a few kernels.

Funniest thing? I wore the same brazier yesterday that I wore during the show on Thursday, only to find a popcorn kernel had stashed itself against the underwire. HA!

Birthday and birth stories

I love the little community that you can find in the Comments windows over on Lemon Gloria.

Go check out today's post, wish Lisa happy birthday, and be sure to read all the comments. There are some really great anecdotes there!

In theory it's funny, but it's completely embarassing in real life

Some people are turned off by yoga. It's not for everyone, but I strongly feel that everyone could learn something from yoga, even if they don't have a regular practice.

Yoga is about relaxing into the moment. It's about connecting the body and mind with the breath. Yoga is about becoming familiar with your strengths and limitations, and embracing them both. Yoga is learning to love who you are.

That's not to say that there aren't times in class that I wish I could dissolve into a small puddle of sweat and become invisible.

I've done inversions and fallen awkwardly into other people. I've tried to transition into backbends and collapsed noisily on the floor. I've embarassed myself several times in class, and I'm usually able to laugh it off.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

Tonight, in yoga class, I broke wind...

No, that's not true. I didn't break wind in yoga class. I really farted.

Loud.

(I'm laughing so hard right now that I am crying just thinking about the whole embarassing scenario.)

Falling over and collapsing, even knocking over a fellow yogini during a partner pose can be funny. Farting in yoga class? EMBARASSING.

Until you think about it later, sitting in front of your blog page. Then, my friends, it is fucking hilarious.

So, I totally ignored it. I didn't smile or even blush. I didn't skip a beat. I figure that's the way people would know it was you.

Or they could just read your blog after class. Whatever works.

In any case, I am never eating cheese before yoga class ever again. Water only, from here on out.

Today's drama is brought to you by the letter "asshat"

So, as it turns out, I didn't lose my iPhone. Someone stole it. It's been five days since the little time suck went missing, and in that time the asshat that now has a new iPhone 3G was on the internet quite a bit and called a local singles line.

I did everything I could besides spending a ton of money to get my phone back. I put an ad up on Craigslist, I sent a text to my phone offering a reward, I even asked nicely and prayed many times to St. Anthony.

At the end of the day, though, you have to chalk up your losses. You have to suck it up. You have to realize that not everyone was raised with the same moral code as you, and they will look at your loss only as their gain.

So, suffice it to say, I'm disappointed in humans right now. It's been a long time since I've had an object stolen from me. The last time was back in 2000, when my car was broken into and my stereo and some clothes were stolen. I was really mad about that for a long time. I got over it, though.

I'm sure I'll get over this, too. Heck, I'm already trying to find my way back to forgiveness. I don't know the asshat that stole my phone (DURING A CHARITY ART AUCTION, NO LESS) and I don't know the asshat's personal circumstances, but I'm trying to forgive said asshat.

It's a process.

You go, Hillary!

I'm not a fan of Hillary Clinton, but for this reaction, she gets big ups in my book!

Life goes on, or what I really did learn from Slaughterhouse-Five

I'm a long-time fan of Kurt Vonnegut. I'm not big on celebrity deaths, though, (hardly a reaction out of me when John Hughes died) but I did cry about Vonnegut's passing on. He was, and still is, a great inspiration to me. His writing really forces you to reevaluate your priorities, to think about your time here on earth as a very, very temporary existence. He introduced me to radical humanism, environmental stewardship and the many things that are uncertain on this planet.

The biggest thing he gave me, though, was an understanding of the adage, "Life goes on." In his vernacular it looked like this: "So it goes."

At the House of England, we always seem to be concerned about cashflow. This was even before I lost my job to the economic climate. I guess that's what signing a contract for a 30-year mortgage will do to you. In any case, money is tight, we're saving every way we can, and we are trying harder than ever to reform our spending habits.

This is a mighty long intro for what I'm about to say, so I'll just say it: I fucked up. Hardcore.

There is no more impulsive a friend than Christine. I guess that's what having 3 kids and a 30-year mortgage will do to you. On the rare nights that she's able to leave the kids with her husband and have a night out to herself, she tends to do it up big. (For the record, I like to have more sedate outings, with everything in moderation).

We decided to go to an art fundraiser and charity auction at probably the one venue in Dallas that I actually could be considered a regular. We settled into an evening of cheap beer and smiling faces, and cool art, of course. During the course of the evening we did the following:

- ran up bids on art lamps being auctioned
- drank several beers
- started a campaign to end personal space in Dallas (Seriously, everyone expects you to give them at least 18 inches berth when making way through a crowd.)
- buy a desk lamp for $225 (it's for charity?)
- lose my iPhone while paying for said lamp
- get a parking ticket

The night started out well, and it was fun at the beginning, but now I've put our budget in a make-or-break stance, which is really unfortunate because I'm the responsible one in this household. And I also managed to lose a $400 phone. Genius. I'm hoping that practicing karma will help reunite me with my lost object, but I'm not going to get my hopes up.

But, what I did learn from this personal tragedy is that Vonnegut could not be more right. The sun rose on Saturday, Sunday and Today. The birds and squirrels will still be hungry and feast on the suet and seed we put out for them. The sun will be hot, and it will make the leaves on the trees glow in a calm, majestic way. And we will still be here tomorrow even though I overextended our budget and made a whopper of a mistake.

So it goes.

Jellyfish: Why unstructured days are both good and bad, but may not always require urine to make it stop hurting.

I've been a bit of an unstructured mess lately.

In an odd paradox, the house has never been cleaner.

Although I used to bitch about getting up and going to work every day like it was some kind of redundant and useless act, I miss it. The deadlines and schedules and phone calls reminded me that daytime passes quickly. I used to have full days, and now I'm doing whatever I can to just fill them.

The truly sad thing is that I used to daydream about having my days to myself, and what I would accomplish, what I would get done, what I would build and make and enjoy. I suppose that kind of free time would be sweeter if the backdrop wasn't painted with the panic of job loss and loss of income.

Every day I think about it, about what I should be doing instead of marinating in worry and panic.

I am lucky, though, that I have a supportive family and husband. Dave keeps reminding me that I'm not alone, and that there are thousands upon thousands of people just like me, trying to make it.

And then I really think about it... If I was dreading 10-hour days and carrying two buckets at my last job, why would I want to do that again? Will things ever be different, or are we all just "human resources"? (I really hate that term.)

I think about that while Fitzgerald or Mr. Orange nuzzle me in my lap while I'm at the desk, writing or applying for jobs at places that are far away from them. And Fitzgerald rests his head in the crook of my arm as my fingers taps the keys, and I think, "That's so sweet."

This is so bittersweet.

I have no idea

I have a hard time believing that anything I've dreamt up hasn't been thought of before. It's one of my major obstacles when considering pitching freelance pieces. I might have, what seems to me at least, a great idea, but I won't go anywhere with it because I think to myself, "Surely SoandSo at WhateverMag has been pitched this before. I never think of anything new."

I guess this is a habit I need to break. I've been sitting on an idea for a few months now, but this is the exact reason I haven't taken it anywhere. And for someone who has worked for a newspaper, especially someone who at one time used to accept and reject hundreds of ideas, it is an odd problem.

I suppose it's more of a problem than I realized, especially since it's basically a symptom of self-doubt, which is nothing new to me. I've been trying to kick out it's ugly cousin poor body image for my entire life. I just hope I am able to get rid of self-doubt before it starts adding to poor body image's troll doll collection.

All jumbled up

When a relationship starts everything seems like a milestone. First date, first kiss, first ... ahem ... sleepover. Then everything starts to get smaller and smaller, to where all you have is minutae.

For example, say you've been seeing a guy for two months and you're so proud that the two of you have made it to at least one phone call from each other each day.

That's a milestone.

Two months turn into to years, and in some cases you marry the guy. In other cases you have a knock-down-drag-out-wake-up-the-neighbors fight that ends with one of you moving out of your one-bedroom apartment at 11:30 p.m. on a weeknight.

In the case of the former, you end up talking on the phone a lot in very brief conversations, not unlike a pilot checking in with a controller.

When relationships are still fresh, they're more like "conversationships," meaning that when you talk to one another during the day you're still finding out new stuff. When relationships get down the road a bit it almost seems like you're talking in code.

New relationship:

"Hey sweetie! Thought I'd call and see what you're doing before your lunch break."

"Awww! That's so sweet! I'm finishing up a TPS Report before I head over to Schotzky's with my cubiclemate."

"That sounds so fascinating! Well, I hope your day shapes up. Blah, blah, blah. I love you!"

"I love you, too!"

Down-the-road relationship:

"Hey babe, what's up?"

"'Bout to have lunch, you?"

"Nothing, applying for jobs."

"Sounds great. Gotta go. OKIloveyoubye."

"OKIloveyoubye."

Speed dial

Sometimes you have a problem that you don't know how to deal with. Often you know someone who can help you or has intimate knowledge of your desperate situation. Sometimes YouTube can help. Other times you feel like you're on your own.

Many times, when it comes to issues I can't fix or don't know where to start, I can find the answer in my speed dial list:

1) Mom: Recipes and gardening how-to's, and she can explain to me how husbands work (she's been married to one for 39 years, so she gets it). Also, she's my best friend and we can often bitch about stuff to each other.

2) Dad: Air Conditioning problems and golf or baseball and cars. Just yesterday I had to summon his awesome A/C power to figure out why condensation from our A/C unit was backing up into our closet. The man is a genius.

3) Sara: An ear for random bitching, also helps that she is usually the best at talking me out of bad ideas, like buying an outfit retail. She is a yarn hoarding enabler and also big on skincare and makeup questions.

4) Kara: If I have a problem with my hair I don't talk to anyone before I call Kara. Also really good at listening to me bitch about stuff.

5) Dave: Is on speed dial because I like calling him. We usually talk about random crap and how each other's day has been. He's good to talk to if I need a mood lifter and it's too early to mix a mojito.