Happy Christmas

Its techically still Christmas Eve here in Alaska, but I won't have time tomorrow to post a holiday post, so here is my post for Christmas.

Basil loves snow.

Yeah. I took her over to S's house for Christmas Eve (because without any prompting S said I could) so I packed up my puppy in her red sweater and took her over there. After dinner (which Basil was PERFECT PUPPY) we headed downstairs. After making the sniffing rounds, she began to whine. So I asked, "Do you want to go outside?"

EXPLODING PUPPY DANCE.

I asked S if she had a fence and she assured me she did. So, I put Basil Bea out on the deck. Basil was unsure what to do. She sniffed the deck, but because she couldn't find the stairs, she had no clue how to get into the yard and she did not seem to want to jump. She came back to the door, so I put my boots on and S grabbed a shovel to clear the stairs, as she seemed to think I was evil to toss Basil into the huge pile of snow that is their back yard.

I went out and tossed Basil in. S stared in amazement as Basil ran around in pure joy.

"She looks...happy," S said, sounding amazed.
"She is. I told you she loves snow."

Basil danced around and then came back over to me and got into play mode. S had the best type of snow too: fresh, untouched snow. That is Basil's favorite kind.

"You weren't kidding. She loves to run in the snow," S commented.

After Basil did her doggy business, we came back in and Basil was READY to play. She also was finally in an area with carpet so she could run and play. No one, though wanted to play as we were watching a movie. Basil calmed down, went to bed, and fell asleep.

Moral of the story: Toss the puppy in the snow for the holidays. She will think it is THE BEST PRESENT OF ALL TIME.

Nothing makes Basil happier than fresh snow and being tossed in. I am serious. She loves snow drifts. And loves shoving her head in the snow.

She is zonked out behind me right now and I think she has the right idea.

Happy Christmas and Merry Holiday All.

Oh and do not forget that tomorrow at 9/8c DOCTOR WHO CHRISTMAS SPECIAL.

Last night, I tried to think of amusing Christmas stories I could share in the days leading up to the holiday.

I came up with nothing. I am so average and boring it was not even funny. ::hear crickets::

As a child, my Christmas's were drama free. I acted like a normal child. I got up super early, woke everyone else up and we opened gifts,  one year while it was still dark out. As I got older, I got up later. And it'd be a while before we opened gifts. Then as I became a teenager, I became self aware, so I began doing my hair the night before so I'd look wonderful in the morning opening shots. Which is kind of strange, as I did not own real pjs till I was 22. Nothing remotely exciting happened at the holidays except for warm fuzzy feelings. At some point, my dad would get mad and yell, but as we got older (by we I mean, me mostly) we figured out how to deal with dad better to make him warm and fuzzy.

For awhile, after Christmas Eve service, we'd look at Christmas lights and then watch "A Christmas Carol" from the 1930s and then I'd go to bed. Then they stopped showing "A Christmas Carol" and I was sad. And we stopped driving around at lights. And I forgot.

The strangest Christmas I had was in Edinburgh, Scotland. My friend John (he has no nickname, I am sorry and I all ready have too many Js in my life) invited me to his uncle's house for the holidays. I was actually planning on wasting away in my dorm room since E had abandoned me for the holidays and our plans to spend Christmas in the South of France (which just sounded cool to us). On Christmas Eve we road the train to Edinburgh and met his uncle. (Whose name I cannot remember. Sorry.) We went to his house, met the rest of the rag tag group and ate soup. In the morning there was a socking (seriously it was a stocking sock) at the foot of the bed. I was like, WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM? It was filled with very random objects. And it was clear the most random ones were mine. Presents time was awkward because no one had gotten me anything. So they wrapped up random things for me. I got a CD and a jar of apple jam. They made us go for a walk through the hills. I learned my mint coat wasn't wind proof. We ate dinner and then I spent two hours standing in the hallway talking to my family and J (see, how confusing if I had two Js in this story?) Afterwards, I spent two hours playing with the little girl of the house till John threw up. I spent the rest of the trip worrying I was going to throw up. Boxing Day was dreary and we took the bus back to Glasgow because all I wanted to do was go home. We got home, got to the store before it closed and ate ham sandwiches.

It was the oddest holiday ever. I felt like I was on the outside looking in the whole time. Like I was invading. I had never till that point spent the holiday with anyone except my own family. I knew I'd be okay with Pilot Boy when I spent Thanksgiving with his family and I didn't feel like I was invading. I was picked on the whole time for not eating enough and I thought I was going to explode because of the lack of planning and never knowing left from right, but I have learned to deal with that aspect. I feel at ease with Pilot Boy's family...they also never gave me a CD of someone I had never heard of or an open jam jar because they felt sorry for me. I would have preferred to just stand there and stare at my feet than open presents when they clearly had not been expecting me. I didn't bring them anything.I honestly did not mind not having anything to open. I was more than happy to free the Bratz dolls for the little girl. It was like opening twenty presents just to free them from their packaging.

The first year we had Basil Bea Dog, I was paranoid she'd attack the tree. We got her at the start of December, before we put the tree up I think. I was worried she'd get into the tree and gifts. She was more interested in socks, ear plugs, pin cushions and bras. She never showed interest in the tree or the presents under it. She never has.  She ignores the tree for the most part, as I assured my parents last Christmas. Basil had no interest in their tree and did not knock it over because it was no in front of a window. I'm pretty sure that is why it fell over this year....it blocked her view of the window.

As for the gifts, Basil has no interest in them unless they are for her. Her presents always smell good to her. Last year, she got REALLY EXCITED when we opened presents. She tired to help destroy boxes. She also thought the rolls were for her to play with, so she'd take them to Allin. Oddly, they were presents for him, so she brought them to him. This year, the only box she has shown much interest in were the two boxes containing her gifts.  Grandpa got her some rawhide bones and my aunt and uncle got her cookie (I opened them early for her. Well I tried to have her open it, but she was too excited.)

This Christmas I'm going to friend's houses for holiday parties. One told me to bring a swim suit because they have a hot tub. After I hung up the phone I was like, "AHHHH!!!!!! I don't think I can get my butt into my suit!" Plus, hello, it is winter. I don't even have a razor blade. TMI? More than likely. Anyways, I knew I should have ordered that one piece suit with the control panels in it...

Containers of Presents

Holiday season means boxes.  Boxes are usually addressed. So you see said box and are like, "OMG! THEY SENT ME A PRESENT! THEY REMEMBERED ME!"

Then, since the invention of the internet, you get random unmarked boxes. By unmarked, they are from places like Amazon, Kohls, Bed Bath and Beyond or Target. You stare at the box and think, "I did not order that....or did?"

So, duh, you run into the house and rip it open and then stare at the object inside and think, "What the hell?"

I have done this a few times, especially since moving away from home. A few times I stare at the thing for a while, then remember there are these things called recipts and they usually tell me who paid for the item. Usually these types of boxes come from my mother. Or brother. Or my father. Okay, I could have just typed my "Family" there, couldn't I? Oh well.

I got a box like that today. I came home from finishing my shopping for Pilot Boy (YAY SALES!) and saw something on the front stoop. I was like, "OH MY GOD. THERE IS A PACKAGE ON THE FRONT STEP!" I figured it was Hubert coming back from his extended vacation in Georgia. (Herbert is a laptop that was parted with Pilot Boy in Georgia. Pilot Boy hated him so much (Herbert, but Georgia) that he simply decided to leave Herbert there and took Hewie (my laptop) and got me a MAC, who is nameless. Sorry MAC. Anyways, the other day, Pilot Boy announced Herbert was returning, as the person/people/place that had Herbert was like, "Hey, we've got your laptop. We're going to send that to you now." BTW, they wouldn't' send it to him before, which is why he was like 'WTF, I am buying a MAC.")

Seeing I live in frozen Alaska, I was like, "OMG IT IS FROZEN!"

So, after falling down the driveway in the Monstrosity (I had to use the 4Wheel drive to get IN the garage) I ran to get the package, only to find Kohls has sent me something.

"I didn't order anything from Kohls..." And if I did I would not have addressed it as PILOT BOY IRELAND SCOTT. Seeing it is that time of year, I was like, OH CHRISTMAS PRESENT!

Upon arrival inside, it was indeed a present, so thank you present giver.

However, one time, I got something and I had no clue who sent it to me (this has happened twice, but the story I am going to share isn't creepy, like the red ball incident of 2006.)

I was living in Glasgow. It was September, and I was still dating/not dating/having no idea what was going on with Not Boyfriend. (That is what I call him.)  L and I were walking up the stairs after getting our mail and I suddenly realized I had no idea who had sent me this small box and pen. I opened the box while we walked up the NEVER ENDING STAIRS OF DEATH. I was like, "Its a bracelet?"

"Yes, it is. Why are you asking me if its a bracelet? Who is it from?" L asked.
"I don't know. There is no note." I shoveled the papers in my hands.
"Do you think its from Not Boyfriend as a way to say sorry?" L asked.
"I don't know."

I kept looking at the receipt, trying to find who it was from, but it didn't have a bill to address on it. It was a very lovely bracelet too. And it had a matching fancy pen with it too. As we neared the fourth floor where we lived (Or the third floor as it was called), I was still trying to figure out who had sent it to me, because Not Boyfriend would never do anything like that. (Hence the Not Boyfriend.) As we were nearing our rooms, I finally found (in micro-print) at the bottom a note that read: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, IRELAND! LOVE, MOM

"My mom sent it to me!" I said, feeling relieved.
"Why do you sound so relieved?" L asked. "Wouldn't it have been sweet if Not Boyfriend had sent it?"
"Its from my mom. For my birthday," I announced. "Plus, Not Boyfriend would never send me anything. I'm pretty sure I only exist in the moment the phone rings."
L stared at me funny for a moment and then said, "Your birthday is in November. Did your mom forget?"

Later, after asking my mom about it, she said because the egg poacher she had ordered me from Amazon was taking forever (it never reached me, it went to Australia or something?) she ordered the present early, to make sure it arrived.

To this day I am VERY thankful she sent it to me and Not Boyfriend, mostly because it would have been so out of character for Not Boyfriend and by that point in time, I was so confused by him, him doing something like that would have made my head explode.

I still wear the bracelet and announce to people, "LOOK WHAT MY MOM GOT ME!" The pen, though, tragically, dried up from too much use. I am serious. It was such an awesome pen, I used it all up!

How I Know People Read This

1. My mother randomly tells me information about things I talk about in my blog. For instance, the last sentence of her email to me this AM ended by telling the post office still tracks things, they just don't share the information with you unless you ask them to at the post office. So, go crowd the post office to track your boxes and shipments daily!

2. People keep calling my husband Pilot Boy. I don't even call him that...to his face...

3. Sometimes there are comments.

4. Sometimes there are checks in the interesting/random/funny things at the bottom.

5. I would love to hear what President Union has to say on the state of the Bush.

6. That last one has nothing to do with how I know people read this, but whatever. My blog.

7. I look at the stats and see hits. Sometimes, though, they are just to my "Stargate Atlantis" post that I used pictures in. Those usually come from France.

8. I made up a song yesterday while watching "Robin Hood." It goes, "I go punchy, punch/You go punchy, punchy/ I go kicky kicky, you go kicky kicky/I push you down the hill and you fall/I run after you so I can go punchy punchy and you go punchy punchy back. Kicky kicky, punchy punchy." Then repeat till fist fight is over.

9. I just broke my CD stand I use as a foot stand because this stupid desk is 3 inches too high. Oh well. There are no CDs in it because CDs are so last century.

10. Pilot Boy told me I was going insane because I wrote down "I go punchy puchy, you go kicky kicky" on a piece of paper. I only wrote it because I wanted to use this micro sized pen he had left on the bed and that was in my head.

11. I did not have to rewrite the "Our Luck is Running Out" song I wrote for the Bears lost to the Giants. I didn't have to do much to it when they failed at life with the Patriots, just changed Giants to Patriots. They attempted to fail at life, but then they all suddenly remembered, "Hey, wait, we're playing football! That is why we're standing here freezing to death on this fake grass field with all these purple people!"

Okay, those last few had nothing to do with anything in particural. I just felt like sharing. Its nice to share, especially at this time of year. I share. I'm nice. At times. I'm evil at others.

::diabolical laugh::

Watch out...

Dear Post Office,

Why do you after tracking numbers? For the past month or so, anything I get or send out with a tracking number NEVER shows anything till the bitter end. This means there is no way to TRACK anything.  Did you know this? Everything just shows "Electronic information received." Which is totally helpful.

This whole thing used to show when it was scanned when it arrived at the post office, telling me the post office HAD THE PACKAGE. Next, it'd tell me when it left the first post office. Now, since I live in Alaska, it usually went through Seattle, before going where ever else it was heading. Then it reached the main post office in its destination, and then it went to the local post office and finally it went out for delivery.

I know this still happens, because duh, that is how boxes move from point A to point B, but your SCANNERS DO NOT WORK. I sent out a box 5 days ago, and it stills says "Electronic information received."

Thanks Post Office.

Get your act together, Post Office. I'm paranoid you LOST MY PACKAGE. People I sent things to are PARANOID I DID NOT SEND THEM.

So, please fix your scanners. Or do something. Or don't offer tracking. Just tell us, "Well, we're poor and broke, so we threw out the scanners, so no more tracking. Sorry."

Then it'd be like in the old days where you just had to hope and pray you got the box you wanted....

I am a 06 Alum. No matter what you do. So there.

Beloit college turned off my alum account.

I am serious. I realized this was why something was not emailed to me. And why I have less emails. I just thought my spam blocker was working better. But, no, Beloit decided I didn't graduate or something lame.

Or because I refused to tell them where I was. (I am not calling some 800 number to verify I am an alum and tell you where I am. Plus, that email looks like spam, hence why it keeps ending up in my spam folder.)

I am not a terribly proud graduate. But Beloit, do not feel bad, I am not full of school spirit for any place I have attended. Even Glasgow University, which I loved, I don't have much school spirit towards them either. I just don't like academics in general at this point in my life and I am very, very jaded towards the whole system. Why? I don't know...maybe because after I graduated I realized I had a useless piece of paper and the brand name on it wasn't the right one.

If you are going to spend money on college, go to one people have heard of. I have decided going to a major university gets you farther in life. It is like...say you show up at a designer purse function carrying a tote you got by 5th Avenue at JCPenny's while everyone is else is carrying Marc Jacobs, Prada, Hermes, and Coach. You kind of look out of place and people look at you funny when you say you're carrying 5th Avenue. Or, a childhood fear of mine, showing up on the first day of school wearing no name brand clothing while everyone else is wearing Abercrombie.

When I was tossed out into the job market, I learned quickly, no one had EVER heard of Beloit. I had gotten the free alum forwarding account because I thought it'd look prestigious and impress people, plus show I had graduated. Hard to be either when no one had heard of the place. No one has any idea what Beloit is or where it is. I have had the following conversation too many times to count.

"Where did you got to college?"
"Beloit College."
Blank look. "Where is that?"
"Wisconsin."
"Oh." Blank look. "Where?"
"50 miles south of Madison on the board with Illinois."
"What do they study there?"
"Liberal arts."
"What?"
"Everything. They do everything."
"Oh. So what did you major in?"
"Politics."
"Oh, interesting. What college was it again?"
"Beloit College. Its a liberal hippy school that pops out Socialist Fascists Communists."

This might be why I have no friends. Or didn't get a job.

Or why they decided to disown me. Because they realized I was really a non-existent Socialist Fascist Communist.

(Which cannot exists. I spent four years learning about all three things and they are not the same thing. Hence, why our president cannot be a Fascist Communist like Glen Beck keeps saying. Our president is also not a Socialist. But I all ready did a soap box post on that tirade.)

ETA: So, I guess Beloit turned off ALL alum accounts on 1 December. And at some point they told the whole world this information. They have moved to Gmail accounts that operate as actual email, rather than froward. Same basic address, but you have to reapply, and I'm over it.  As stated before, no one has heard of Beloit and someday I will go to a designer college to get a useless masters degree! (more than likely not. What do I need a masters for?)

Start Your Day With a Laugh

I've taken to watching "Craig Ferguson" every morning since he had his "Doctor Who" special. Mostly because I remembered how funny he was and I did not have to sit up till his show was on because I have a DVR. So now I tape it and watch it in the morning instead of watching the morning news. Mostly because CBS replaced the morning team with a whole new crew of people and it kind of made me mad. And the "Today" show kind of makes me mad as well. Mostly because they annoy me. So now all morning shows annoy me, so I just watch late night TV in the dark in the morning.

I find Craig funny and he's Scottish, so its a win win for me. Well, except when I loose the clicker and I cannot fast forward through the commercials. 

I recently finished watching all Netflix has to offer for "Eureka." I love that show, but I started in the third season. Hence why I was so confused when Allison suddenly had this teenage kid named Kevin and she seemed to know him and everyone else seemed to think she had this teenage kid. But, now I am all caught up and Pilot Boy even kind of likes it! (When he actually likes a show, he can sleep through it. He cannot sleep through "Monarch of the Glen" and hates that show. Go figure.)

I have finished with the holidays. The cards are mailed out and the boxes of gifts are sitting in the freezing cold waiting for the post man to pick them up. I cannot carry all the boxes, so I decided to try the "pick up" at home the post office offers. Hopefully it will go well and Basil Bea Dog will not knock the tree over.

Our dog knocked the tree over yesterday.

I came home and she was NOT sitting at the door waiting. This means two things: 1) she's in her crate or 2) she did something wrong, like sitting on the couch, and is hiding in her crate. I walked in and called, "BASIL! I'm home! I brought Pilot Boy!"

Nothing. I walked in to see if she was sitting on the couch like a bad puppy, but all I saw was a mess of pillows. A mess of pillows meant she had a barking fit on the couch and messed them up. She is not supposed to be on the couch when the cover is on it and the pillows are on it. I put the pillows so she couldn't get on the couch, but she recently took to sitting ON the pillows.

Yesterday, though, she had messed the pillows up, knocked a few on the floor. As I walked further into the living room, I noticed the TREE was on the GROUND and the ornaments were ALL OVER THE PLACE.

I went up stairs, dragged Basil out of her crate and brought her downstairs and showed her the tree and couch and said "BAD DOG! YOU ARE A BAD DOG!"

She ran away from me crouching low to the ground and ran into Pilot Boy. He also told her she was a bad girl and then we went about trying to put the tree back together.

She got on the couch at this point and Pilot Boy took her down and she fell flat on her belly when he yelled "BAD DOG!" Her little heart broke when he called her a bad dog. She slunk away and went to give herself a time out in her crate.

We managed to get the tree back up (neither of us are sure how it is standing, as the stand is lame and after Basil knocked it over, its more lame). We cleaned the downstairs at this point because there were fake tree needles all over the place. Basil came down at the sound of the vacuum. She took one look at me, then ran back upstairs and hid for a while. The rest of the day, she looked pathetic when ever she looked at me. After Pilot Boy fed her dinner and we were watching TV, she tried several times to make up with me, but I refused to let her. We had been working hard to stay off the couch, but all the FUR I found on the couch when I cleaned it, told me that when we were gone, SHE WAS ON THE COUCH. There was two weeks worth of fur on the couch. So, now, tragically, Basil Dog doesn't get free roam of the house when we all leave. She will be crated like she was for the first two years of her life. Till she learns to stay off the couch again, she will be crated.

I am not sure when she decided she could sit on that couch, but her cute face got the better of me and I let her stay there for awhile. I've been working for about a month now to get her to stay off that couch (it is only one couch she gets on too). It is not going well. I thought we were getting somewhere, as every time I caught her on there, she jumped off right away. By the time our relatives got here, she was pretty much staying off. I only caught her twice, one time she wasn't on the couch, she was on the pillows. I no longer laugh or smile at her when I catch her. She gets a scolding. I would have simply scolded her if she hadn't KNOCKED THE TREE OVER.

To knock the tree over means she was 1) on the couch and then 2) saw something to bark at and 3) was making such a hissy fit at the window she knocked the tree over and then jumped on the tree to get a better view (that is the only way all the ornaments fell off, she had to knock them off, as they were on there good. Trust me.) Since it is FREEZING here, we keep the window closed except for the part in front of the tree, so she can't really see out too well, unless she is ON THE COUCH. For the last three months, I've been trying to keep her from looking out the window and barking at nothing.

Least to say, not going to well.

Today, she's been in her crate since I got up, except when I made coffee and she came down to see if Pilot Boy's dad had returned (she loves him). Pilot Boy's dad made coffee every morning and I'm pretty sure since I didn't ground coffee before he showed up, she associates that noise with him. He was her buddy while he was here. He fed her, took her outside, and pet her a lot. She LOVES him. She was super excited to see him when they walked into the house. (She is no longer allowed to go for rides with me alone, after trying to KILL ME when I went to get Pilot Boy at the air port at Thanksgiving. She climbed into the front seat and INTO MY LAP TWICE on the drive there and then when we got her seat belt out, she BROKE FREE and LEAPED AROUND THE BACK the whole ride home, barking the whole way. Basil is too big to sit in my lap while I drive. Plus she doesn't sit still, she moves the whole time, making driving hard. So, no more rides alone with me.)

Well, that is all. Hopefully Basil will be a good puppy today. I think she will be, as she knows I'm not her best friend at the moment. Hopefully we will make up and she will be my puppy again. It is now ten, and I ought to get ready to face the day. I figured I'd sew today. I have an itching to sew and make some new bags.

Your Face is on a Billboard

Oh  god. What the hell happened to Decemeber? I was so organized and early and ready for it and now its like 11 days till Christmas and I still have all my cards (in envelopes, ready to go...just lacking postage). I still have all the presents in their flat rate boxes, just not packed to ship anywhere.

AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I went to Fairbanks for a few days last week. Word of advice: Fairbanks is COLD. (Insert choice word) COLD. And kinda boring. I had heard from some people it was kinda lame in Fairbanks, but I figured I'd give it a chance, but it was pretty lame. Frozen, lame and kinda unfriendly. Pilot boy's parents are here and his step mom kept commenting she thought Alaskans were really unfriendly. I had not put much thought into it, as me myself am kinda unfriendly while out and about. But, I guess compared to what she is used to in the Midwest, us Alaskans are kinda unfriendly. (I say "us" because I'm an Alaskan with  brown eyes now.) I don't really notice when people are unfriendly verse friendly because when I'm out and about I'd rather be left alone in all honesty. But, the people of Fairbanks, were kinda not very friendly, especially at the post office. I think (with the exception of the lovely lady at the Midtown post office here) post office works are made cranky here in Alaska. I have yet to meet a friendly one (besides the Midtown lady, hence why I usually drive all the way up to Midtown to mail boxes and things that need postage.)

Well, I think that is it mostly. I haven't gotten anything done because my in laws have been here. I realized on Saturday when I attempted to keep up with Pilot boy's step mom while shopping, I wanted to scream because I suddenly realized how behind I had fallen. When they arrived at the start of December, I was a head. Now I am behind. I guess its okay that my holiday season has been so damn slow. I honestly thought by this point I'd be up to 50 sales. I'm only at 25. Blarg.

In other news, we've gone to either REI or the grocery store every day since the in-laws arrived. I am serious. I'm not sure why, but one of us has gone to one of those stores (or both) since December started. Our fridge is PACKED with left overs, which no one seems to be eating or willing to eat. I HATE leftovers. When I cook for myself, I almost never make enough for left overs because I hate left overs. They are just boring. The first night they were here, the step mom made the WHOLE BOX of newly opened angel hair pasta. No one, even she, could figure out why she did this. Then, we had stew, and Pilot boy's dad told him to mix it in with the left over pasta. And no one ate it. Its still in there. Then Pilot boy made brisket and no one ate the left overs from the night before.

I hate left overs.

Pilot boy did realize that his standards for eating out here are way too high as every place we've taken his parents, they have loved. He admitted his standards might be too high. I told him that was right. To hold all places to the standards of Charlie Gittos in St. Louis is just stupid.

Well, it is almost 10.30 and I have the whole house to myself the first time in....12 days!!!!!! Well, I have a dog with me, as no one took her with them this morning, but I am on my own! I am a total loner. Seriously. The step mom was surprised how well I do being left on my own while Pilot Boy flies around the world over and over. I told her I do not need much attention, which I do not. I've always been fine on my own for the most part. I was on my own as a child a lot (talking to myself constantly and playing with screw drivers) and as an adult, I've been on my own a lot (still talking to myself, but pretending I'm actually speaking to the dog).

Pilot Boy hates Christmas Carols. We do not get along at Christmas time because I LOVE CHRISTMAS MUSIC. Yesterday, he left the room because I was singing, "Basil Dog is coming to town." Over and Over. I add my own lyrics in. So sue me.

Oh, we had another earthquake the other day. It claimed it was only a 3 point something, but I swear it was a strong as the one we had over the summer.

I should be running...

Things that have happened since I last posted:

1. It snowed. A lot.
2. Basil threw up.
3. Pilot Boy smoked a turkey for Thanksgiving.
4. I saw Harry Potter and it was the best movie yet. They should have split all the movies in two.
5. They would make more money that way. I bet they didn't think of that till the end. They suck.
6. Pilot Boy helped me put the tree up the day after Thanksgiving. Or the day after our Thanksgiving. We celebrated at day late because he got lost.
7. I then went to Target on my own and have a Christmas decoration over load.
8. I can light my house inside by Christmas lights becasue I put them all inside and not outside.
9. Have you been outside? It is cold. I'm not hanging lights out there.
10. Basil ruined my Christmas sweater. She and I were no longer friends.
11. I can listen to Christmas music and no one can tell me its too early.
12. All my christmas presents are wrapped. Except one. Which I haven't bought yet.
13. Oh, wait, Pilot Boys presents are still at the store. Don't tell him that.
14. The windows are always forsty when I get up. Its kinda cool. Or cold.
15. I made another batch of Martha cookies. They still do not look like her cookies. I'm not sure how she gets her cookies so flat. Magic?
16. I had a custom order for a purse! It was totally awesome. Even though I had a fight with the purse. I won, btw.
17. Basil loves snow. She has carved out paths to walk in. And poop in. I'm pretty sure she's not clear on the concept of having one spot to poop in.
18. I watched the leak footage of Craig Ferguson's song to the original "Doctor Who" theme. It was AWESOME.
19. Relatives invade tomorrow. I have to clean the house today. For some unknown reason I thought it was Wednesday. Not sure why. Its not like I didn't turn the calender. I did find a clock I forgot to turn back. Hence why I didn't feed Basil or myself till way after seven. I thought it was only after six, people.
20. The sun doesn't fully rise till after 10 am here. Then it is i annoying. Super annoying.

I am Cheap and Economic

Ha ha ha ha ha.

At some point in my life, I figured out how wrap boxes and decorate with ribbon. I became the wrapper of all packages not belonging to me in the house and I grew to hate wrapping items. Mostly because it was CONTINUES and everyone (save my mother) forgot how to wrap anything. My poor father (bless him) finds presents constantly. He buys year round and "hides" them. Only he hides them from himself. I'd have my big wrapping party, make a huge mess, clean it up and four hours later he'd appear with a pile of books.

I won't have that this year, as they are far, far, far away and I have no wrapping paper!


I HAVE NO WRAPPING PAPER?! HOW CAN THAT BE?

Well, I have wrapping paper, I just have no clue where it is. Plus, I have to ship everything. So, I was staring at the paper all the things came to me shipped in and had a brilliant idea, if I say so myself.

MAKE YOUR OWN WRAPPING PAPER!

(It also works as padding for those glass items!)


 It is so simple, its kind of funny, but here is how to make your own wrapping paper:

Find a pile of paper. I'm using the packing paper that came with the presents.

Collect some stamps. I had these from last year. The stamp pads also are left over from last year.  I am making Christmas wrapping paper if you can't tell, but if you have any other sort of stamps, you can make wrapping paper year round!

Flatten the crinkled paper out flat. Try to get it as flat as you can, but it is not that big of a deal, as you're going to wrapping it up around items. Just make sure you can stamp it. And make it look goodish.

And then stamp it in a random pattern. Or not, its up to you. I like random. I do everything randomly.

And BAM! You have a piece of wrapping paper! It is festive, it is cheap (in my case free!) and everyone will think you spent all day on it (except if you're my family, or read this, as to stamp and wait for it to dry takes like maybe 20 minutes.)

After the ink is good and dry, wrap up your presents for shipping (or giving). I am shipping mine, so they are wrapped for shipping rather than being pretty. I might add some stickers or something. Just to make them festive-i-er. I made that word up.

I am not Martha Stewart

A friend of mine for a house warming gift got me a subscription to "Martha Stewart Living." I was kind of like, "Oh, cool." She also got me a subscription to a Vegetarian magazine, as I hate raw meat. But the Martha Stewart was what got me.

I have never been a Martha fan. Mostly because everything strikes me as overly complicated and time consuming and while I might sit around and wait for Gadot to show up, I do not have the patience to play with glitter.

I hate glitter.

With a flaming passion.

I really hate flitter and gorilla glue, but we'll get to that later.

So for the past six months or so I've been getting "Martha Stewart Living." It first began showing up when there was no one around to play with raw meat for me, so I just mostly stared at it and was hungry. Also, a lot of the recipes in it have things I don't know what they are.  Or they have a small amount of something I have to buy a lot more than the recipe calls for, like cream or whipping cream. Or heavy cream. Or lamb. We can't figure out where one gets lamb in Alaska. Or a kumquat. What is a kumquat anyways?

Anyways, a couple of days ago, the December issue showed up. There was a separate holiday cookie issue you had to buy separately. I stared at the cover. I drooled over the things in the issue I had, as that is all I do with "Martha Stewart Living," I simply drool over it. I drool over the food pictures and the decor pictures. I despratly want to paint my front door dark plum, but I don't think anyone would go for that really. Anyways, I sat in bed and drooled, wishing someone would come home and handle raw meat for me so I could have steak.

The Cookie Grail

Then, a few days ago I was standing in a store buying some primer for my face. (Alaska lacks a Sephora and I lack the foresight to order it before I run out.) This little old lady was having a wonderfully detailed conversation about cold with the cashier, so I was looking at the magainzes. I usually just read all the headlines and move on with life, but then I saw it. The "Holiday Cookies." Chocolate, ginger, peppermint, sugar, cream, frosting, ice cream....I was on over load just thinking what was IN IT.

Of course I walked over and picked it up. The moment I saw biscotti in it, I was going to buy it. By the time I had begun to drool in the store, the nice old lady motored away and I walked up silently and set down the face primer and the magazine. After telling me how silent I was, the lady checked me out and I left spending about what I would have spent had I bought the primer at Sephora rather than the special store I visited. The face primer might have been discounted, but the cookie grail was still seven bucks. But I was so EXCITED.

Text picture sent to Pilot Boy

From the Cookie Grail

 I came home and began to really drool over the pictures. I began to send text messages to my husband with pictures of cookies. I was so EXCITED. I was going to become a cookie making machine! I'd make all these complicated COOKIES! Then he got mad at me, as he had no junk food and I was making him hungry and kind of cranky with all the pictures of cookies I was sending his way.

So, two days later, I was like, I'm going to make these Mexican Hot Chocolate cookies. I've got almost everything to make them right?

No. I did not. I lacked cream of tartar. So I was like, welp, I guess I won't make those. We'll do these espresso ones. They look like the Mexican Hot Chocolate ones.
 

How Cookies Should Look

So, I looked at the ingredient list and I was like, "Well, I don't have bittersweet chocolate, but I have unsweetened and I have espresso powder. I'll just put those chocolate chunks in! It'll be fine!"

And I went to work. I actually followed the instructions pretty much. I mean, I didn't use the right sort of baking chocolate and I melted it in the microwave, but I did use three freaking bowls and mix things separately, which I never do because I hate doing dishes. I even whipped the dry ingredients with a whisk like it said. (Not sure why you had to whisk them together, but whatever.) I DID EVERYTHING IT SAID. I followed the directions to a T when putting the ingredients together.

Least to say, for some unknown reason, while Martha's cookies look like round, flat cookies...while mine turned out looking like round mounds. 

How my Cookies Look

Similar things happened the year I decided to make gingerbread men with a Paula Dean recipe. I went out and bought everything (as I didn't have anything except ginger) and for some unknown reason, they were the WORST GINGERBREAD cookies known to man. They were super stiff, almost all of them burned and I had the worst time rolling the dough out to cut the little burnt buggers. This is why I usually do not try things out of magazines. This is why I also just make things up as I go along. When I make things up as I go along, things turn out better. Like the crazy dark brownies I made over the summer.

The mound cookies do taste okay. A little bitter, but at least I'm not consuming a ton of sugar, right?

Morning Bird No More

I used to get up early. I was one of those crazy college students that went to bed at a reasonable hour and got up usually before 8 am. (For awhile to go to the gym, but then just because I couldn't sleep.) My senior year of college, I'd get up at 6.30 and watch the sun rise. (Well, kinda, my window faced west...) I was always more of a morning person. I never really "slept in" as a teenager. I usually did not stay up past midnight and getting up was never that hard for me. I never used an alarm. And I grew to hate people who did. (Especially those that set it and then hit snooze a million times before getting up. It annoys me. Pilot Boy does it and I HATE IT. I just get up usually after the first buzz, even if I do not have to. Or at I used to. We'll get to that.)

I worked for a year and had to get up early to get ready and drive through traffic. I then got married and had another job where I had to get up early and go to the train. Then, I went to the dirt hole. I still tried to get up by 8 am so I could get to the gym by ten. I felt like if I didn't get my errans ran before noon, it was waste of time to do anything. I moved back to Chicago for four months and started sleeping till nine. I wouldn't get going till 11 or later, but I didn't care. Chicagoland was always in traffic, so it wasn't like in Del Rio where everyone decided to get in their cars at three pm and drive around for no reason.

Then I got to Alaska. I got up with Pilot Boy for awhile, but then he went away and I started sleeping in. I mean, really sleeping in. Till ten sometimes. Then I'd take two hours for breakfast, then shower and by the time I was ready for prime time, it was one pm. In the summer, this did not seem so bad, as it was light till midnight. But since the new "winter" light season has began, I am finding issues with it.

One, the sun doesn't rise till nine. This makes getting up early very hard, as there is no light (or reason to get up). I tell myself I will get up at a reasonable hour, but it hardly happens. Mostly because I don't look at my clock and just assume by the amount of light its two am.

The other day, I got up at seven am. I was so proud of myself. I then managed to eat and drink my tea before nine thrity and was in the shower and ready to go at what I thought was early. By the time I got into the car to go to Target, it was 11.30. I was like WTF? Where did my morning go?

I have no clue. I never seem to able to get going in the mornings anymore, even when I think I am "going." I am not sure what it is. Is it the fact my hair is long? Is it the fact that what I think is "quick" makeup isn't really? I haven't timed myself getting ready in a very long time. I usually a lot an hour to do things when I do not have to take a shower. I do not have a clock I can see in the bathroom, so I'm not sure how long it takes me to shower. I do not know how long it takes to blow dry my hair and do my makeup. I ought to time in case I ever get a job....

I am still a morning person at heart, though. I like to get everything done in the morning and have the rest of the day to myself. I still think my "day" is over at three pm and I don't want to do anything after three pm. I start thinking about dinner, evening TV and bedtime at three pm. Even if I have only been up since 10. This, my people, is a problem.

This week I decided I was going to get up at seven and try to go to the gym. I never went to the gym and I think I only got up at seven twice this week. Both by complete accident. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish Basil would get me up. But she knows better. Today, she got out of her cage and walked around and attempted to get my attention but I was like, "I'm sleeping. Go away." I rolled over and ignored her. She went back to bed. Then, I don't know how much time passed, but Pilot Boy called and was like, 'What the hell are you doing in bed still? GET UP!"

I hate getting up in the mornings. But I like getting up in the morning. Its an odd battle. I like having a new day ahead of me, but at the same time, I like my nice, cozy, warm bed. I like the bed. I don't like the sleeping part so much, mostly just being warm and cozy (says the woman sitting in a tank top while staring at snow out a frozen window....)

I would like to blame the lack of light for my problems rising in the morning. However, I know this is only part of my problem. The other half of my problem is the fact I like the bed so much. If it wasn't so nice and comfy, I'd get up. Or if there was a barking dog in my face, I'd get up. I think, starting tomorrow, I might set the alarm on my cell phone to blast the "Doctor Who" theme at me at seven am. So I'll get up. I know I will get up if I set an alarm. Then I can get up, get breakfast and do something productive with my day. Like getting the vacuum fixed. (Also, I managed to get Pilot Boy to tell me where the spare bags were!)

Well, it is almost 12.30 and my hair is still wet. I should do something about it and go about what I had planned for the day: Watching Doctor Who on BBC America. I am a geek.

The Wrath of Carpet

I hate carpet.

I am dead serious. Who ever thought carpet was a good idea should, well, be forced to vacuum it with a vacuum cleaner that 1) doesn't seem to pick up dog hair and 2) cuts out because the cord if frayed.

I think my husband has a deep mental connection to the vacuum cleaner we have. When it needs "help" he just ignores it and says its fine. When I first married him, he had an Orek vacuum cleaner. My mother has two Orek vacuums. She got one for her wedding and like it so much, she got another one. (I think after we moved into a two floor house? I don't remember. I was three.) They have lasted and I never hated using them. I thought it'd be fine with Pilot Boy's Orek.

Hell no. I couldn't PUSH THE THING. Our first apartment was all carpet. I was trying to be nice, since I had no job, and clean the joint. The vacuum and I DID NOT GET ALONG. It was very hard to push and I was pretty sure it was not picking anything up.

Pilot Boy just said I was weak. I yelled at him and said he could vacuum.

So he did. (This often happens. I announce I am no longer doing something and he can do it, and he just usually does it.)

When we lived in the Dirt Hole, my mother came to visit me. She had heard me complain about the vacuum and couldn't believe an Orek would suck. (And not in the way it should.) She took one look at it, flipped it over and proclaimed it needed a new rubber band thingy. (She used the right name.) Oddly, the vacuum cleaner came with this little slot to keep a spare, so she put it on, while chiding Pilot Boy. I think she also cleaned out the brush and said we needed a new one.

Pilot Boy said we did not need a new brush, so we never got one. I would look online, I would contemplate going to the Orek store in the Dirt Hole (so surprised there was a Orek Store in the Dirt Hole...) But I never got one. I never ordered one because the shipping cost more than the brush and most places that were not HEB or Walmart freaked me out in the Dirt Hole. (Well, actually HEB and Walmart freaked me out, but they were so big, I felt like if I vanished, someone might notice, or at least a CTV camera would catch it.)

So, then I went home and my mother yelled at me for not ordering one. She tired on several occasions to get me to order one, but I had all ready decided I was going to get a new vacuum cleaner when I got to Alaska. I dreamed of a day I would have a super sucker. I also wanted to get one that was also a hand held vacuum, as I did not have one and with Basil Bea, I figured it was time to get one to clean the couches she dearly loved.

I got to Alaska and got the old vacuum back. The first time Pilot Boy got it out and turned it on....it started on fire and blew up.

I was THRILLED. (Other than the rancid smell.)

However, after telling my mother it blew up and telling her the familiar smell of yucky vacuum had appeared, she informed me that Pilot Boy had just broken the belt or something and I could get it fixed. Unfortunatly, PIlot Boy saw this email, so he sent me to get a new brush and rubber band thing. I took the parts with me to the shop and the guy said, "Yeah, you have a dog dont' you?"

I  nodded.

"I bet you have long hair too?"

I nodded again.

"You're going to have to clean this brush out or its going to get stuck and blow up again," he told me. He then told me I should bring my vacuum in for a tune up.

Pilot Boy scoffed at the tune up. "Its a flipping vacuum cleaner."

Our whole house is carpet. I am surprised they did not carpet the kitchen, in all honesty. Our dog is a shedding wonder. I have mysterious allergies. Least to say, I am not a happy camper in this house in the winter when I can't go outside and sit there for two hours to wait out a sinus headache.

Today, I was vacuuming. Yesterday I vacuumed. It takes an hour to do the upstairs. It takes another hour to do the downstairs. It takes almost a half hour to get the stairs really done. I was doing the stairs today and realized the tiny hand held I had gotten from my grandpa for free (it had come with the new vaccum my Grandma had ordered and she had stashed it away even though she could have given it to me since she all ready had a hand held vac that worked...but I digress.) was no longer sucking up anything. I changed the bag. It was kinda full (not full, but kinda full). I put a new bag in and tried again. Still wasn't really picking up dog hair, but the stairs look clean(er). I vacuumed the downstairs and sat down to look at the floor. Still had dog hair.

I do not mess with the vacuum. Mostly because I tend to break things when I mess with them. I just sat up, looked at Basil and said, "We're getting a new one."

She still looked freaked out. She hates the vacuum, but still follows me around looking freaked out. At least she doesn't throw up in front of it any more like she used to.

But, this whole vacuum drama just makes me hate carpet a little bit more. I haven't like it since the Dirt Hole, but I knew I was in trouble when we walked into this house and it was ALL CARPET. I saw hours and hours of my life drowning in dust and hair while I fight with the vacuum. Recently, its been cutting out randomly and turning itself out because the cord is frayed at the top. I could tape it, but it just makes me mad that I have to put this stupid thing together all the time.

I just want a new one. I want one where I can just dump out the crap at the end of my time. I want one that will suck up the dog hair on the first go and I do not have to spend an hour vacuuming my home. (Well, two hours. But I never do both on the same day.)

I have dreams of Dysons. I am serious. I have dreams about vacuuming with Dysons. I also have dreams I have wood floors and just have to swiffer up the dog hair. Which would never take me an hour and I would not have a dog barking at me while I was doing it.

Confession

I've all ready started listening to Christmas music.


Mostly because my iTunes player on random, mostly plays Christmas music. Any computer or music playing devince, when set to random, always seems to play Christmas music.

Well, that is, if is owned by me. I bet your player actually plays regular music more often than not. Mine just seem to like Christmas music. I gave in and since it looks like Christmas out there and the world has given up on Thanksgiving, I decided to be British and just celebrate Christmas after Halloween.

So there.

Basil Writes a Post

Hi! I'm Basil Bea Dog. I'd just like to tell you that I LOVE SNOW. It is like the greatest thing on this earth. I am totally serious. It might be better than Yummy Chummies. Or carrots. Though, not better than Turkey. Nothing trumps Turkey.

But it snowed a lot FINALLY. To the point where I can shove my head into it. No one is sure why I do this and I think I'd like to keep it a secret.

But, Alpha Dog let me outside yesterday morning and there was SNOW! And A LOT OF IT! I ran around leaping for joy! Then to make things better, she took me out and PLAYED WITH ME!

IN THE SNOW PEOPLE! IN THE SNOW!

I think we had a lot of fun. I'll share with you some of our fun.

 I found the kong in the yard. It was full of frozen snow goodness!

 It was also fun to run around with it in my mouth. I threw it at Alpha Dog a few times, but she never picked it up and ran around with it. She just doesn't get it.

 She fails to realize the fun you can have carrying things around in ones mouth. I mean, that is how I carry everything. She never carries things in her mouth. Except pins. I'm not sure why she does that.

Alpha dog likes to throw snow at me. She threw a snow ball at me there. I kinda wish I could throw a snow ball at her, but all I can do is jump on her with my snowy paws and make her wet. She doesn't seem to like that, but oh well.

Well, all, that was our play session in the snow. Today she only came outside for a few minutes and followed me around for a while till I went potty. She then went back inside, after telling me she didn't have any socks on. She had boots on. I hate boots. She told me I might have to wear my boots again if I didn't let her wipe my feet off. I let her wipe my feet off. I hate those boots.

And those dumb coats. I hate those too. I haven't seen those yet...I hope they do not make an appearance. Maybe I should stop shedding so much?

Love you!
Basil Bea Dog. (BARK BARK BARK)

Why You Should Not Buy a 2010 or new 4Runner if you plan to drive in Weather.

I drove up to Eagle River the other day. It wasn't snowing, raining, or anything, but the highway was wet, so there was junk flying at the windshield and I had to use the wipers to see.

During my 20 minute trip, I remembered another reason to hate my 4Runner. Never mind that it is huge, bulky and drop dead ugly, you cannot for the life of you DRIVE THE THING IN THE WINTER. Why? Because, you cannot see out any pertinate windows except the front and passenger side. The back windshiled wipers only clears a TINY portion of the window and not even where YOU NEED TO LOOK. The dumb ass spoiler on the back also adds insult to injury because it just adds to amount of junk that gathers on the window. Currently, I cannot see anything worth while out the window and if the cars refuse to use their lights, there is no hope of me seeing them at any given point. And not just because the back window is so caked with grime, no, that isn't just the issues any more.

When we traveled up here, we learned that when traveling at speeds of 50 or higher while using the wipers, kicks back grime onto the driver side window. Since the back window has been uselsess since any rain/snow/sleet/dirt/wind has been going on, I've taken to using the mirror to see what's behind me and make sure I'm not going to run anyone over in the Monstrosity. Well, during my 20 minute highway drive, this became almost impossible to do because the window was caked in grime from the front windshield. This occurred on our drive up here and I had forgotten. This isn't an issue when it rains. Just snow and ice and grime. In the lower 48, where they salt the living daylights out of things, this is a BIG PROBLEM, as the salt just sticks and is hard to get off the window. So, basically, when we drove up here, daily cleaning of the window took place because we couldn't even SEE the back window due to our belongings. Once we got here, and cleared the car out, we were like, Dear God. There is like five inches of grime on the back window. More than the rest of the car.

So, Mr. Toyota Car Maker, you SUCK. And I HATE YOU. HOW THE HELL DID YOU MANAGE TO MAKE A CAR "BETTER" AND NOT TEST DRIVE IT IN WINTER CONDITIONS? YOUR REDESIGN OF THE 4RUNNER SUCKS AND YOU SHOULD ALL...WELL, BE FORCED TO DRIVE THE 4RUNNER IN ALASKA ALL WINTER AND NOT ALLOWED TO WASH IT. I GARANTEE YOU WILL CRASH AND DIE.

In other news, till I get a window washer thingy, I will have to risk my life in the Subaru, which has no winter tires (we thinks studded tires are lame and do not understand why the people of Alaska are holding on so hard to studded tires, they just ruin the roads. They make winter tires. The 4Runner has those. They work brilliantly).

That is all.

::steps off soap box ::

Total Winter Wonderland

It snowed on my birthday. I don't think its ever snowed on my birth date before in the location I have been located to celebrate it. But it snowed, like a real good snow fall.

And I shoveled it.

And then it snowed again.

And again.

Today, while waiting for the sun to show itself in the cloudy sky, i realized my back yard tree (the one I hate almost with as much flaming passion as the tree in the front), looks like it needs to be on the front of a Christmas card. The trees in other people's back yards look similar. The tree looked like this when we first moved in (granted it was burried in at least two feet of snow), but I loved the tree then. It was not till I began mowing the lawn in the spring did I grow to hate the tree.

How can I hate a tree? Easy, it attacks me. I am serious. I always looked horrible after mowing the lawn due to my battle with the trees. The tree in the front always bashed me in the head with its branches as I tried to mow under it. The tree in the back yard pulled my hair, threw bugs on me, threw leaves and other things on me and scratched me numerous times. Thus, I hate the tree. Both of them actually. Then, after beating me up all summer, they lost their leaves. SLOWLY. But they had so many leaves. I was not sure where the tree in the front got so many fracking leaves. Two WEEKS. TWO FREAKING WEEKS of raking and FOUR TRASH BAGS EACH WEEK. SERIOUSLY.

WE never raked the back yard. By the time we did the first week of raking, we gave up on the back yard. Pilot Boy mowed it, but then the next week, we just stared at the pile and told Basil Bea to go have fun.

Basil refuses to use the yard for fun unless it is covered in snow. She is my snow puppy and I love her. She ran at least a mile in the yard yesterday while I was out trying to clear the deck. Round and round Basil Bea flew, snow flying everywhere. She loves snow. What this poor snow loving dog was doing in Texas is beyond me. She hated Texas. She loves snow and cold.

Businessy Post

I've been working to re-write the copy on some of my gift bags and card sets. I'm not getting many hits on the site. I keep telling myself I am going to "advertise" and "market" myself, but then I do nothing because, well, I have no clue where to start. It is one of those drive things again.

Last holiday season, I had a "rush" of sorts. I actually was steadily selling a purse a week from late November till December. I think I sold one more purse before I closed up shop to move to Alaska. I felt "busy" during this time and I spent a lot of time driving my little Volvo to the post office. I never had to really stand in line when mailing off purses, because the boxes fit into the drop box.


This years I got my holiday items up early. I thought maybe I would have done more sales if I had gotten going on my holiday bags before November. I actually made holiday bags as an afterthought in all honesty. I was walking through Hancock Fabrics and they had a 50% sale on their holiday prints. I was like, "OMG! Christmas BAGS!"

And that was when I began making the bags. I think I bought most of the material a few weeks before Thanksgiving. I do remember I was working on them before the actual "holiday" season began, so my mother didn't want to hear Christmas music while I was working on my holiday stuff.

This year, I have a stock pile of stuff. I have the bags I had left over from last year and the paper items I made in...late September - early October. I will tell you this: Christmas stuff is hard to come by in September. Or early October. Most of the paper stuff was geared at Halloween and the fall. I remember when I wanted that sort of thing (when I made my wedding scrapbook) I was hard pressed to find ANYTHING like that. I was in the dirt hole and only had Wally Martinos to shop at, but still. Last fall I desprately wanted to re-do the scarpbook with the fall theme colors I wanted.

I never redid it. Because I realized how much it'd cost me. Paper is expensive.

Which bring me to another issue I have had with my card sets: price.

The stickers I use on them are EXPENSIVE. Like four bucks a set for most of them. The paper I used all came in a set or cost 75 cents a sheet. I wanted to faint when I bought the supplies. Last year when I made the gift bags for my family, everything I got was on sale. Also, things are cheaper in the lower 48. So, I priced them a little higher than I wanted.

I didn't sell a thing. They even had low hits. I mean, the cards and bags never did get many hits (except the Love Bird Bag, which I didn't want to post because I felt it was kinda lame). I have actually only sold one gift bag. I don't know if the person got it because they were an international customer and they never left feedback. But the convo response I got after I sent out the notice I had mailed it, it sounded like the person was excited. But the cards and gift bags kind of seem to be a small bust.

Which I expected. If I needed that sort of thing, I'd just make it myself. I just like making those sort of things a lot. And, well, I had planned to make my own holiday cards, but one of Pilot Boy's relaitves got us cards to send out this year. Kinda of like last year when my mom appeared with Christmas cards last year. But god, those were cute. They had a picture of Basil Bea with a big red nose and hat. Well, the dog looked a lot like Basil Bea. Basil Bea wrote the holiday letter too. I think I'll do something like that again this year for our holiday cards. I guess I should be working on that too...

Well, that is all.

I brace myself, I know it will hurt...

I turned 27 yesterday. Serious.

I kind of dreaded turning 27, as it seemed like such a large and old number to turn. I then began thinking what my 17 year old self would think of me....I'm pretty sure she'd be rather unimpressed by me for various reasons.

1. When I was 17, I was still under the delusion I was going to "be some one important."
2. I thought I'd be a writer by the time I was out of college. Or sooner.
3. I figured I'd be married.
4. I thought I'd gotten over my fear of giving birth.
5. I figured I'd be rich and have nice things by now, like a Prada purse.

At 27 I have....
1. Given up on my delusions of gradure.
2. Am not a writer and have nothing published passed what I had published in high school. In its own literary journal, both pieces which I was never that crazy about. I have no clue where to even start. And I have looked.
3. I am married. But not to who I figured at 17. I had no self esteem at 17. None. I might have been 105 pounds at 17, but I had no self esteem in the least. I might secretly wish I was 105 pounds again, but I do not wish I was anyway my 17 year old self. She had issues.
4. I am terrified of pushing another living being out of me. It actually makes me want to puke and clutch my legs shut. Clear sign: not ready for baby.
5. I do not have a Prada purse. I do not have designer shoes or clothing. I realized yesterday, most of my clothing comes from Old Navy of all places. My 17 year old self has nicer clothing. She at least wore Abercrombie and Guess?

The world keeps turning and I will continue to get gold. At some point my ten year views for myself and what I am will match up. (Like when I turn 33, my 23 year old self knew what I'd be, so by that point it won't be such a gap...lol.)

For my brithday, I did the following:

1. I got the oil changed in the Monstrosity. It took an hour and a half. Because it snowed.
2. I voted. Whoo hooo! My mother will talk to me!
3. I went shopping at Old Navy. (I am serious.)
4. I ate three cupcakes.
5. I shoveled the driveway in a sweater (from Old Navy) and no gloves. (I haven't found any at Old Navy I like.)
6. I shoved the deck and threw snow at Basil. (Does Old Navy make dog clothes?)
7. I watched True Blood.
8. I got mad I couldn't watch Indecision 2010 live. So I watched MSNBC and annoying CNN. Till ten.
9. I watched Indecision 2010 and then I watched Buffy. And then I went to bed.
10. I forgot to eat dinner. I had crabnerry sause and then I realized I hadn't eaten dinner, so I had crackers and lunch meat. And some organic cheese.
11. I was awake this A.M. by a phone call from some spanish speaking robot from West Virgina at 8 am. And I was 27.
12. As a new 27 year old, I will go to the gym and hopefully remember my gym shoes.

I tried to get my butt in gear....

We had no door bell ringing at our house. So either the not turning on any lights for two hours worked or no one was trick or treating around here because of the secret hours. Basil Bea was quiet for most of the night, her only barking fest taking place when I let her outside at four. She really doesn't light our neighbor in his own backyard. I usually have to physically go get her when he's out there. She then runs into the house with her tail between her legs because she knows she's a bad puppy dog.

So, Halloween is over. And I have no candy to eat, which might be a good thing. I am currently dressed to go to the gym, I have just yet to actually go.

I really ought to go to the gym more. When we lived in the dirt hole, I went at least three days a week to the gym. I always felt better after I went. It was easier to get to the gym in the dirt hole because it was just a few blocks away. I could walk to it. I usually did, till the summer and then I drove and felt silly.

Since arriving here, going to the gym has been a hard habit to pick up. I usually go one or twice in a week, then don't go for a few days and then I just stop going all together. I also don't like the gym here too much, as there is no nice, quiet place to stretch and do crunches. The dirt hole gym had nice quiet places for stretching out of the main area. This gym just seems to be all main area. Everything is located in a central area. There is no hiding. Personally, I like hiding. I spent at least an hour hiding in the gym in the dirt hole doing weights, stretches and crunches. Usually all alone by myself. Sometimes there were people in the area I used, but mostly it was just me. The area where the mats are here are out in the open and I hate using them. I don't like people watching me stretch if I am honest with myself. That was the issue I had with yoga classes. It was okay when it was just me, the teacher and R, but when other people started showing up (and R stopped), I stopped going. I told myself it was to save the 4 bucks the class cost, but that was a lie. I just hated being in the room with all those people who could see me stretch. I am lame, I know.

But, I am dressed to go to the gym. I should find my gym ID and just buck up and go. Also, the morning rush should be winding down now, so it won't be crowded. I hate crowded gyms (another reason I loved the dirt hole gym....it was never crowded).

Man, I am hard to please.

Cranky Post

I'll start off by being honest: I am not a huge fan of Halloween.

I never really was. As a kid, I did not do the whole costume and trick-or-treat thing till I was about maybe four, when I was in preschool and lived on a block full of kids. And I don't think my mother ever took me trick-or-treating. She might have, but I do not remember it. Other kids moms took me trick-or-treating, or as I got older, I just went with a group. I do not honestly remember having fun. I mostly remember I never was something I deemed "cool" for Halloween. The last time I had an actual costume, I was Kirsten the American Girl Doll. It was an elaborate costume my mother made and I do not honestly think I appreciated it too much. I never did. But I was always cute. Everyone always told me I was cute. Well, except the year I was Bonny from Bonny and Clyde. No one knew who I was that year. That was the first year my mother did not sew me a costume, as she spent most of her time on my brother's and neither of us knew what to do with me. After the fifth grade Kirsten costume, I never had another costume made for me. I never bought one or made one. In sixth grade, I did not dress up and everyone thought I was strange. So I came home and spray painted my hair pink.

The last time I went trick-or-treating was in sixth grade. I only went because a girl in my class showed up at my door by herself and said, "Hey! Come with me!"

My mother (who believed that I was too old to trick-or-treat) actually pushed me out the door.

And that was the last time I went trick-or-treating. I spent most Halloweens hiding in the family room or my bedroom, as kids from my school hit up our block because it was the place to trick-or-treat. In high school, I started answering the door again and my senior year, I did put candy in pillow cases of people in classes with me, but they failed to realize who I was. Except one guy, who always seemed to know who I was, even when I was hiding.

Then I went to college and dressed up only one time. I was Buffy. I had a white dress and a leather jacket and clunky knee high boots. I also had blonde hair and a lot of cross necklaces. So, because I never had the guts to wear that sort of outfit on a daily basis, I wore it for Halloween and said I was Buffy. After that, I never dressed up again. I would wear orange or black, but I never dressed up as someone. My senior year of college, I was going to dress up as Rory Gilmore, but the plaid school girl skirt I had, was WAY too short, so I just wore a brown skirt and a orange sweater. I think I told my friends I was college Rory, but I was dressed in an outfit I would have worn on any day.

Since I got married, I have never been in a place that get trick-or-treaters (or been home). The first time, we were on our honeymoon on Halloween. The second time, we lived in the Dirt Hole and no one rang our bell before we walked down the empty street to our friends out, where she got maybe three people while we were there. Last year, I was in the middle of nowhere OK and missed Halloween at home. Basil Bea was locked away in a room upstairs, but still barked and wined. This year, I cannot find out ANYWHERE what time tirck-or-treating is. It is not listed anywhere online. None of the news stations have it anywhere on their web sites. It is a secret.

I don't have any candy. I have no idea what time the events are, so why would I have candy? (It was one of those things where I got mad and thus decided I wasn't going to take part.) Plus, Basil hates doorbells. Then, I'm not that crazy about Halloween myself. I do not care if other people take part, but just don't make me. I'm like the Scrooge of Halloween.

A Soap Box Kind of Post

I think everyone has body issues. Its a fact of life. When I was a twig, I had body issues. I thought I had a tummy, my legs were fat, and my arms were saggy. I was 16 and thought I had fat legs since I was 10. Or younger. I cannot remember a times when I did not think my legs were fat.

My legs were never fat. Never. I was never fat. I just thought/think I am. Because I am surrounded by images of skinny people and in my warped head I think everyone looks better than me. I am not a size negative zero. And I never will be a size zero. Why? Well, for one, it wasn't healthy when I was a size zero (which confused me because size zero people don't have fat legs and tummy fat....)My doctor kept telling me I needed to eat more to put on more weight. I ate. I just never gained any weight because of the stress I was under. Since I stopped being stressed out on life, I've gained a ton of weight and am at a healthy weight level, which I am trying to maintain, but its hard because of my warped head and body image. I want to be that smaller size because that is what society tells me I should be. I should be skinny and have very long blonde hair.

I don't want to have blonde hair again. It did not work for me. And being skinny did not really work for me either, as after I began gaining some weight people told me A LOT that I looked SO MUCH BETTER.

"You no longer look like you might break," someone told me.
"Hey! You have curves!"
"You look good, what did you do?"

I gained fifteen pounds. I gained fifteen pounds and people suddenly started telling me I looked good. Go figure.

I don't think most people are fat. And if they are, it doesn't bother me because that is just how they are built. What matters to me is how they behave and treat me. I don't want to be treated like crap. I also don't really care what other people look like around me for the most part. I mean, I kinda get upset when people's clothes don't match....or they wear PJs in public all the time. (One or twice is okay, or if you're just running to the store, but when plaid PJ pants are your staple pant, I have issues, I'm sorry. Its just me. I'll still hang out with you, but I might tell you to buy some fleece pants or some solid colored warm up pants.) But other than the matching and plaid pjs buttons, I don't give a crap. I mostly care about myself because I am kind of self centered like that. If I look good in my head, then I don't care about much else going on around me.

I like seeing people of different weights on TV. It makes me happy to see non-skinny people on TV. I keep forgetting to watch "Mike & Molly," but I did stumble across this article that mentions the show.

I have never seen the show, but by the time I finished reading the article, my ears were burning. (They are burning right now as I type this...so I guess I am still mad.) For the life of me, I cannot think why Marie Claire would POST THIS. It is completely intensive and, well, gross.

Twitter is abuzz with information on the matter. Which was how I found out about it. I swear to god I saw the article in my google news feed and just ignored it because I thought the title of the article was...gross.

However, here is a good response that kind of sums up why I was so pissed off when I did finally read it this morning. It also helped me process my head to why my ears burned. When I get mad, I can't think straight so all I could think of was a string of curse words and well, I mostly thought this: (#&(@#&(#*$&(#$&((*@#(&@(#$&(#$^(*. I am serious, that was in my head.

Blarg. I hate society sometimes. The masses are sometimes kind of stupid. If we all looked the same, life would be a total bore. Being all sorts of sizes and colors allows us to be unique. I just wish the media/Hollywood/fashion would get that.

Best Dressed Hermit

For about an hour today I felt rather worthless and jealous. Why?

I don't hang out with people. I don't really have anyone to hang out with, if I am honest. I know people here in Alaska. I know a few, but the key word is KNOW. These people are not ones I feel comfortable texting/calling/emailing/contacting in any way. If they contact me that is find and dandy. I might go somewhere with them.

Or not. Depends on my mood and if my hair is done.

For an hour today, I felt like there was something wrong me me.

Then I took a shower.

I'm a hermit and have always been a borderline loner. (I say borderline because I get lonely sometimes and feel the need for human contact.)

I'm a really well dressed hermit too. I am serious. I get dressed almost daily and I get "overdress." I have outfits I put together and I wear them. I put makeup on and sometimes I do not leave the house. This always confounded my mother, my getting dressed up to go nowhere (the makeup thing started since I began paying big bucks for makeup, figure I should use it.) I feel better when I am in an outfit, dressed up. There are a few times where I just wore bum clothes and had to be social in them. And it did not go well. One time that jumps to my mind is when my husband had his "solo" flight. He took the keys to both cars, so I figured I wasn't going. I took a shower, tossed on some junk clothing and let my hair air dry. Then, D called and PICKED ME UP and I had to stand around in my junk clothing with my crazy hair and no makeup. Least to say, I was totally embarrassed by the photo of me as I look squat and fat. I work hard to conceal the fact I am short legged and fat. That is why people do not think I am 1) short or 2) fat. (My husband thinks I am sort, but that's because he's almost a foot faller than me, or so it seems when he puts things on the top shelf and I can't reach it.)

So, I get dressed daily. I do my hair. I put on makeup. And sometimes I don't leave the house. Because I don't like to leave the house. And if I do leave the house, 95.5% chance it is by myself. I shop by myself. I entertain myself. I cook for myself. (I lie. I can't cook.) Tragically, though, I have this crazy idea I need to be wild and crazy and popular. As a child I always wanted to be the popular girl, but I would never be popular due to the fact I was quiet and awkward. I learned in college I was awkward because I had no self esteem. As I learned more about myself, I realized I could be fine on my own and I actually kinda liked being on my own.

Well, kinda.

I like having my dog to talk to. As a kid I talked to my clothes. (I pretended they were people, so in my own head I had a lot of friends. Oh, and I had screwdrivers as friends too. Yeah, I didn't play with dolls, I played with screwdrivers.) I was on my own as a child often, as I remember a lot of the neighborhood kids parents worked, so they weren't around during the day. So I played myself and I could do this for hours. I entertained myself with my own imagination till high school when I had a demanding friend. I never had to entertain myself after that and after she was gone I realized I had no idea what to do with myself. I had to re-learn how to entertain myself. Luckily, I still know how to entertain myself since I decided to become a professional hermit.

What do I do on a daily basis?

I get up, let the dog out, feed the dog, feed me, watch TV, sew/craft/write, feed myself, feed the dog, be creative, play video games, text, text, text, talk on the phone, feed the dog, feed myself, write/post purses/blog/surf internet, shop, eat, chase the dog and then go to sleep.

I find putting on makeup entertaining and creative by the way.

I'm a well dressed loner hermit who wants to be popular but has no desire to try.

Interesting huh?

Advetures with Brother Unit

Yesterday, the Brother Unit and I drove up to Wasilla. I have yet to venture over there, mostly because I was not sure what was there other than Sarah Palin.

There was not much there that was not in Anchorage. Well, other than really nice houses in the various neighborhoods we drove through while trying to get back on the main roads. Downtown was...well, almost non existent. It was really a small town. We drove around the lake Palin lives on and went to a park across from her house. (We weren't sure we were at her lake till we got home and Brother Unit looked it up.) The park we were at was the highlight of the trip, as it was a very nice park and I wouldn't mind heading back there when I was more properly dressed. Brother Unit and I only stayed at the park for a little while before running back to the car because it was rather...brisk outside. I was wearing a thing sweater and a trench coat. Brother Unit forgot his hat. As did Ireland Unit.

We then ate at McDonalds, the same one Pilot Boy told us to eat breakfast at because all the workers knew Sarah Palin. "They all know her. You should go there." No one was talking about Sarah when we were in there.

We then drove to downtown Anchorage and walked around downtown. I actually went to a gift shop. I have yet to be to an Alaskan gift shop aimed at tourists, but we went and it wasn't totally tacky. Plus, downtown was as brisk as Wasilla, so my ears hurt. Later, since it was so brilliantly sunny, we tried to Seward Scenic drive again to see if Brother Unit could see Denali from the car. He could. After that, we got Basil Bea and went to Earthquake park to watch the planes land and take off. (Exciting, I know, but we like this sort of thing, even though you'd think we'd be immune growing up near O'Hare...)

Today, we did not do too much, mostly because I sliced my foot open the day Brother Unit arrived and the past three days did a number on my foot. I blame Pilot Boy. Neither of us can really remember what we did before yesterday....we tried to do the Scenic Drive, but the clouds rolled in so you could not see Denali, but the other ones you could see. It was really windy too and I hate driving in general, so a lot of people passed me. And we went to Earthquake park twice. Both time with Basil Bea. She enjoys Earthquake park. We also went to the grocery store every single day Brother Unit's been here.

I am serious. We've been everyday, its like we think we're European.

My foot is throbbing so I think I'll go take my boots off and collapse till we start grilling steaks for dinner.

Dear GCI, I hate you

So, today, my brother came downstairs and informed me that GCI was moving to only capped plans and doing away with the unlimited plans. This upset me for various reasons, one being they never told me. I never got an email. I don't remember seeing anything in the bills they keep sending me even thought I signed up for paperless billing. So, basically, I hate them with a flaming passion. I can't even tell if they moved me to a capped plan and I can't get into my bill because the site doesn't work. I can't even log into see what useage I use because evidently the log in I use to pay my bill ISN'T WHAT YOU USE FOR THE MAIN WEBSITE. How lame is that. Even Time Warner wasn't that lame. So I tried to set up an account, but the website TIMED OUT. THIS IS SO LAME IT IS NOT EVEN FUNNY.

So, basically, what this boils down to is, I'm going to have to cancel Netflix. Why, you ask? Because I actually got Netflix to stream movies and TV shows. I didn't actually get it watch DVDs. Mostly because its kinda lame, as I only get one DVD at a time. But I thought, I can get unlimited downloads of what they offer online, this is worth the 8 bucks a month. On a daily basis, I usually watch around five or more TV episodes, and more if I am working. I watch less when Pilot Boy is home, but then we watch movies and stuff. Seeing I don't know what my cap it, but from what I've gathered tooling around Twitter and the Internet, I will no longer be able to stream what I usually do and NOT GO OVER this "new cap" they put me on. I have no idea what my usage is, and no way to figure it out because GCI is so lame. What will more than likely happen, is that I will cancel GCI, get a dish and slow ass internet and cancel Netflix. Dish is cheaper. Slow ass internet is cheaper. Netflix is only 8 bucks a month, but I won't be able to stream it in the least with slower internet. I mean, I have a pretty fast modem now and I still sometimes have issues with streaming stuff.

This was not a good way to start my day, so I strongly dislike you GCI. Before now you were the best internet/cable company I had dealt with, now, you suck.

Smelling April Fresh

My senior year of college, the fabric softener in my walk in closet decided it wanted to see if it could fly, so it took a leap. This leap, some five feet off the ground, informed the bottle of fabric softener that it could not fly, as it broke into a million little pieces and its guts went everywhere.

I was sitting at my desk, more than likely not working on anything important, when the bottle tried to fly. I heard something fall in the closet. I turned around and saw nothing, so I turned back around. However, in a few minutes, I began to smell fabric softener. Granted, my room was above the laundry room, but usually I did not smell laundry, dirty or clean. The only time my room smelled was during the weekends when the trash got out of control, then it smelled horrible. Other than that, it was the first time I had a smell free room.

I stood up and followed my nose to the walk in closet and discovered the floor was covered and soaked in fabric softener. The whole bottle had shattered (even thought it was plastic) and there was a whole bottle worth of frabic softener all over the carpet. It was a brand new bottle too. Brand new, shiny and broken.

I had no clue how to clean up the massive puddle of fabric softener. All I knew was it smelled REALLY strong and I was getting a headache. I think I used my towel to clean it up and then ran down to the laundry room with a pile of quarters and washed the towels and anything else I had used to clean it up. For months, though, there was a dark spot where the bottle had fallen. For months, the room totally reeked of fabric softener. You'd think after smelling the smell for months, I'd remember the sent. I do not. I have no clue. All I remember is that when Pilot Boy came to visit me the first time he commented how nice it smelled and when I moved out my dad asked me what had spilled on the floor.

Last Monday, I was doing laundry. Pilot Boy was home and I had been rather angry at him because he refuses to put his dirty clothes in the basket and thus I never know what is clean or dirty. I was doing the last load for the night and picked up the bottle of fabric softener to shake it. (Its the fancy stuff you have to shake for some reason.) I guess I had failed to put the cap on right because one aggressive shake and I was covered in pink goop. I had been talking and ceased, so Pilot Boy came to check it out. I was standing there, covered in pink goop. And of course, he laughed at me. I began laughing too, as it was totally my fault. My sweater was soaked in fabric softener, as was the shirt on under the sweater. I had it all over my face and in my hair. I went upstairs, washed my face, changed my clothes and cleaned up the mess that did not get all over him.

Throughout the night though, I kept getting wiffs of the fabric softener. It seemed to have seeped into my skin. I was worried I'd smell like fabric softener for weeks. I don't. Skin doesn't hold fabric softener like fabric does. In college, when the bottle fell in the closet, my clothes forever smelled like fabric softener. I no longer needed it to make them smell, because they just smelled like it. It over powered my perfume it was so strong. I have yet to see how my sweater fared after I washed it. I bet it'll forever smell like spiced whatever.