Time Munching with Wiggles

A year ago, I was exhausted, elated, freaked out, exhausted, anxious, and exhausted. Why?

I'd just had a baby.

By this time (roughly 7pm), I'd adjusted to the fact I had this small being dependent on me and I had peed the three mandatory times required for me to be able to go home the next day. I'd been fed, drugged, and was looking forward to sleeping. As I might have mentioned, I was exhausted.

A year later, I'm no longer exhausted, but I am constantly tired. It usually hits at about 7pm. I just get utterly exhausted and desperately want to go to bed.

However, someone who no longer really Wiggles doesn't wish to sleep at seven.

Or much.

That much hasn't changed in the year of life. My kid still doesn't like sleeping much. She does, though, seem to understand she needs it and will do it. For some stretches. She takes one nap, sometimes two hours long. She sleeps from about 8 till 12, then 12 till 6.30, 7 if we're lucky. On bad days, she wakes up at 4 am ready to get up and face her day.

Crazy child.

She walks now more than she crawls. She's into everything and I'm not sure how she sees as her hair is always in her face. (She won't wear barrettes and yanks out elastics.) Her feet are not big enough for most walker-shoes, as she wears a 2.5, not a 4. She wears a size 12 in length, but a 6 in with. Everything still makes a trip into her mouth and she loves to chew on books. Unloading the DVD bins is a daily activity, as well as handing Mommy all the DVDs as if they are precious jewels.

My days speed by at the speed of light and by the time we put Time Muncher (formerly known as Wiggles) I cannot for the life of me figure out where the day went. While I might not be able to explain to you what I exactly did today, I'll will have either gotten dressed to leave the house or dressed to work out. If I dressed to work out, I almost always get it down during nap time. I might not unload the dishwasher, but I will work out. Days I work out AND unload the dishwasher are REALLY AMAZING DAYS.

The past year as seen Time Muncher go from a squirming, funny looking newborn, to a pretty little baby, to a long, lean walking machine. Her hair went from just on her head to everywhere, and her teeth went from zero to four. She laughs, cries crocodile tears, and claps her hands for Elmo. She always stops what she's doing when Frozen starts and will attempt to dance to any music she hears.

She takes her socks off, tends to loose one shoe, hates for you to put things over her head, but will always help you remove her shirts. She likes to give people things and then stare at them while they hold them. She usually doesn't want them back. She love to knock things over and hates when Dad leaves the room when she's cranky.

Everyone tells me she's beautiful, she looks like me, and she's utterly adorable (especially when she waves at them or claps her hands). I tend to agree with all these assessments and I love that she loves almost all food we give her (except cheese and spinach ravioli). She drinks water, love wheat puffs she can share with Basil Bea Dog, and rolls around on the dog bed like it's her own.

I know life has changed with the addition of Time Muncher, yet I am still me. And I am proud of this. I did not loose myself. I changed-- I no longer spent two hours to get ready to leave the house. I can get ready to go somewhere in under 30 now, including a shower! I still write, still do art projects, and still bake sugary things I shouldn't likely be eating. I sewed a diaper bag, painted half a bedroom, wrote several stories, edited several stories, scrap booked, and got into oil paints. I still love clothes, buy too many pairs of shoes, and adore designer purses. I just also love buying shoes, clothes, and toys for TM. I love building block towers for her to knock over, reading books to myself while she chews on another and is clearly not listening to me, and walking her down the mean streets and not get hit by cars because the town lacks sidewalks. I like taking TM shopping. She likes to get out and see the sights.

I am less house bound since TM and will likely remain that way as she's super social. And now that she's walking and playing, she'll likely like some friends.

A year ago, I had a baby. A year ago, I didn't know what was going to happen, yet I was looking forward to it. I'm looking forward to the next year of development and every year after. Will I miss her being a baby? Being a newborn who didn't do anything except lie there and stare at the ceiling?

No. I'm one of those weird people who will not miss those days because they were boring and frustrating. My child didn't want to cuddle, she wanted to be independent. She was so happy the day she figured out how to move on her own. I do cherish the moment she wants to cuddle, when she sits in my lap and happily sucks on her two fingers and ceases moving.

Those moments...those I like.

The World Turns, I Get Older

Last year, I kind of freaked out about turning 27. And by freaked out, I spent the whole day feeling old and...unaccomplished. Or I guess disillusioned would be a better word.

Well, I'm 28. And...I'm pretty much in the same spot I was last year. Only, I have more hair. And five pounds around my middle. (It comes with getting old, or so I am told every time I complain about it.) We also have more snow on the ground than we did a year ago. And I didn't shovel it. Unlike last year, when I went outside in a thin sweater and shoved the driveway without gloves. I whined this morning I can't find my gloves, so I can't do it.

Like last year, I am thinking about ten years ago. Why? Because I remember being 18, just as I remember being 17. When I turned 17, I honestly didn't remember being 7, as I don't remember much about being 8. Other than I had long hair. Useful, I know.

Anyways, when I turned 18, the following happened:

1. Monsters Inc came out. It was the ONLY thing I wanted to do for my birthday. Really, I want to go see a movie? On opening night? That's a cartoon, fine. It was all I wanted. I didn't get it. Due to teenage drama, the showing I wanted was sold out. So, I didn't see the movie till the following weekend and I was cranky. Because...of teenage drama. Today is Wednesday. No movies come out today I want to see. I have no desire to see movies. Because...I am old. And I am a hermit, so I'd rather stay in my house and use Netflix.
2. My best friend gave me a SUPER SIZED Hersey's bar. Seriously, it was like two pounds of Hersey's bar. And I kept it under my bed. Why? Because that is where I kept junk food when I was 18: under my bed. Gross, I know. Now days, at 28, I keep plastic bins, suitcases and boxes of junk that never got unpacked because it should have been left in Del Rio. (The Hersey's bar remained under the bed till the spring when my mother was like, WILL YOU DO SOMETHING WITH THAT?! So I made cookies. Or something. I don't remember. I just remember it was under my bed for the longest time and I was honesty tired of chocolate by the time I finally smashed it up to make cookies.)
3. I got my blue book back. Which I am currently staring at. Because a few months ago I had my mother send it to me along with all my other journals. I was a writing fiend as a teenager, especially at 18. I don't keep one now. I tried, but, I'm so boring and...not filled with teenage angst. I find keeping this blog hard enough.
4. I remember what I wore that day. And the fact I spent three hours curling my hair into tiny, tiny cork screw curls. The very ones one of the teachers asked me, with a look of awe on her face, "How long did that take you?" It took three hours and by the end of the day, my head hurt from the tug of the ponytail I wore my hair in with the complicated rolls I wore on top of my head. It was a very complicated style and I only wore it twice in my life. It was a total pain. And actually, kind of looked stupid.
5. I had never been in love. I thought I was in love at 18, but I really wasn't. I read a book last night that described falling in love perfectly. (Well a few, but this book really resonated with me, I'm not sure why, but I'm going with it.) You fall. You do not think about it. I just happens and requires no thought or doubt. At 18, I was filled with thoughts and doubts (I have five volumes of journals telling me so much). At 28, I just know. The first time I fell in love, I just knew. It wasn't dramatic. It was the simplest thing in the world. (The falling part, after that, not so simple.) At 18, I felt no relief, only angst and drama. I worried. I was paranoid. I listened to songs and the more angsty the lyrics, the more dark, more drama...the better. I...don't do that any more. I don't see relationship with Pilot Boy in angst-ridden, dark, dramatic songs. Now, I just see CHARACTERS that are in my head in songs I like. Seriously. I no longer have songs, my characters have songs. Stories get songs. My life, not so much.
6. Point six is mixed in with point five.
7. 18 was the first birthday I viewed as a total disaster that I remember. I honestly don't remember turning 15, 16, 17 or anything before that. Those just happened. 18 is the first birthday that burned itself into my mind and refused to let go. And until I turned 21, I had horrible birthdays. They were just...horrific. I always had a horrible day, there was always some sort of drama that unfolded that left me feeling like total shit by the end of the day. When I turned 21...nothing happened. I am serious. I was also deliriously happy, but on the actual day of my birthday, honestly nothing happened. Well, things happened, but nothing that happened due to the fact I was turning 21. I got up late, missed my first lecture, walked to my room in the early morning cold, changed for lunch and then just went about my day till I returned to my room on a hill and fell face first into my bed and fell asleep for an hour. I then woke up, made a Chinese instant meal, ate it in my freezing cold room, was dragged to a party downstairs for like five minutes and then fell asleep. It was...the best day ever. It was the day I fell in love with Glasgow. From that day forward, Glasgow was the best place on earth as far as I was concerned. So much so, I still write love stories about it. And...it's Glasgow.
8. I have something in common with my 18 year old self, though. At 18, I still thought, deep down, I'd be a writer some day. I was beginning to give up this goal, as I had realized sophomore year there was no money in it and I wanted lots of money, but I didn't really give up the writing dream till much later on in my life. And I didn't pick it up till roughly a year or so ago. And since then, I've been working. While Pilot Boy might not think I am "working" I think I am working. I might not be getting paid at the moment, but I write, edit and revise daily. I read for research. Hell, I do research. I never did that before. I just wrote. I thought writing was just about writing the story. I always wrote what I knew, but even doing that...research is needed. I have spent the past year researching colleges, cities, staring at maps of Glasgow, London, Dublin and Chicago. I research names, last names, first names, middle names, back stories, houses, floor plans, and meanings of words in dead languages that no one knows how to speak. I draw maps, I look at maps, and I create entire universes in my head. I spent a whole day figuring out the Scottish schooling system and then another four hours making a freaking class schedule for a character. I spend time scouring the internet for snip its of Scottish/English/Irish/French/Southern American/Etc in order to be able to write out what I hear. I read books I would never read in the name of research. My 18 old self...read Harry Potter.
9. I didn't feel any different when I turned 18. I was an "adult" and yet I did not feel very adult like. I honestly felt like I was not old enough to do the things that 18 year old kids are allowed to do. I didn't think I was old enough to be voting in elections and I had no desire for cigarettes or any of the other things 18 year old kids can buy. I still don't honestly feel like I am old enough to do some things. Something happens after you turn 25, though. You forget how old you are. I walked around this past year, when I was 27, thinking I was 28. Pilot Boy tried to convince me the other day he was only 25 and I was 26. I had to actually do the math to figure out how old I was. And was really confused to find out I was 27. I did the math like five times. At least, this year, while thinking I am 28, I'll actually be 28.
10. 18 year old me burned herself with the curling iron. Often. 28 year old me burns myself, but not usually with the curling iron, as I don't use one as much as I used to. I do, though, usually burn my fingers because I refuse to wear that stupid heat proof gloves that came with the rod thing I bought and use because it makes the most natural looking curls. No, 28 year old me (who was 27 when most of these things happened) just burns herself on the oven, the stove, and the iron. And sometimes the hair dryer. But not as bad as when I was 15 and I dropped it on the back of my neck. I used to balance it in a tissue box over the side of my dresser and then sit under it and blow dry my hair straight and flat. (This was before I knew what a straightening iron was.) One day, the blow dryer fill, right on my neck when I had my head bowed to dry the back of my head. (This was the year of the mushroom hair cut, so I had short hair.) Least to say, I had an ugly red mark on the back of my neck that looked alarmingly like a hickey. And I had no boyfriend to give it to me. I had to go to church and everyone saw it, as I didn't know it was there till I got to church. No one believed I had burned myself either, as it was on the back of my neck. How do you drop a hair dryer there? I had no clue why no one believed me, either, as I thought it was rather well known I had no boyfriend.

Well, there. My birthday entry. Today has nothing speical in store. Other than some eating. I ought to eat lunch today before three pm. Which was when I ate yesterday. Because I forgot. 18 year old me always ate lunch at 10.30 am. As I had fourth hour lunch. 28 year old Ireland, has no lunch time. Sometimes she forgets to eat lunch.

We Don't Match, but We Always Go Together

Four years yesterday, I married my best friend, with whom I have next to nothing in common. I like to read, he hates books. He likes to do crazy things like climb mountains and run. I'd rather stay in the house and get fat. I like to talk about nothing in general, he never opens his mouth except when I'm busy. He likes really, really bad movies that I cannot stand. I like really bad pop music he cannot stand. Most of the TV shows I like he cannot stand. I like to be alone, while he likes to be surrounded by people. (He will deny this, but it is true. He is a little social butterfly, while I am a well dressed hermit.) But, for some unknown reason, we cannot get enough of one another, so we got married.

And we didn't have a rough first year. Our first move - from IL to the Dirt Hole- was kind of rough, but only because he wanted TO MOVE HIMSELF. Pilot training was easy. Once we actually got in the car to move to Alaska, it was very easy. The first deployment was actually not as horrible as I figured it would be. I only cried because the dog freaked me out by getting sick. At midnight.

So, four years ago, after forgetting his passport and birth certificate (both items claimed to be needed to get married most places) we got married. And five years after he broke my Fossil watch, and four years after I started begging him to replace it, I finally got a new watch.

I loved my Fossil watch. It was blue leather, had a medium sized cuff and a rectangular face. It went with everything and was perfect.

Till the battery died. Some three years after I got the watch off of eBay. (It was my first eBay purchase too.) And, for the life of me, I could not figure out how to change the battery. Now, I am kind of dense, but there was no real way to get at the back of the watch due to the leather cuff. The way the watch face was connected to the cuff band, there was absolutely no way on Earth to get to the back of the watch face to change the battery without ruining the gorgeous, blue leather cuff band. This was tragic on many levels, so ended the days I wore a watch.

But I missed my blue leather cuff watch. I loved wearing it with all the little blue seed bead bracelets I made to go with it. I missed knowing what time it was, as when I owned the watch, I was in college and I never carried my cell phone with me anywhere on campus. Tragically, this meant I never had a clue what time it was.

After I met Pilot Boy, I noticed he wore the most gorgeous watch. It was a Swiss Army watch, but it was elegant, not bulky and....sporty. Now, Pilot Boy has nice things, but his nice things always seem to have a hard life. By the time I showed up in Pilot Boy's life the watch had all ready been busted once due to him shoving his hand in a gigantic magnet or something and the battery was...flawed. At some point, the watch began working again, only the stop watch function does not work any more. Not that he uses it. Then, shortly after I met him, the band on his watch broke and for the life of him, he could not find a band for it. How hard is it to find a brown, leather watch band? Evidently hard when you want it to fit the Swiss Army watch face he has. When he finally got a new band, he then wore the life out of another battery. This was three years ago. I began to steal his watch last summer. It's way too big for me and Pilot Boy kept telling me, "That watch is too big for you. The face is HUGE."

I did not care. I reminded him he broke my beloved Fossil watch.

Pilot Boy never did like my Fossil watch as he viewed it as junk, so he wasn't too bothered it broke the day he decided to pry the watch back off while keeping it connected to the cuff band. He managed to get the back off, keep the band intact, but the hands on the watch....fell off. I am serious. The moment he got the back off the watch, the hands both fell off. So, I chalked the poor watch up as a lost cause and began to demand he get me a new watch.

He refused to buy me a new Fossil watch.

"Those are junky. Why do you want one of those?" he asked.
"My watch is not junky."
"It fell apart when I took the back off," he reminded me.
"Your stop watch function on your 300 dollar one doesn't work!" I countered.
"I put my hand into a super magnet."
"Why?"
"I don't remember."
"I want a new watch."
"Then buy a good one."
"I'm not paying 300 dollars for a watch!"

During this conversation, I had no idea where he'd found 300 dollars to buy a watch, as he was still in college and I didn't have a job yet. Well, I had a job, but I didn't even clear 300 dollar a week.

After we got married, I told him I wanted a watch for Christmas. I sent pictures. I sent links to watches. In return I got back all sort of ugly Swiss Army watches. I pulled him to look at watches in the stores when we'd go to the mall. He's roll his eyes and tell me to stop showing him junky watches.

Since we've been married, if there isn't something pressing I want, I have always told him I want a watch. One like his. Especially after I stole it and started wearing it, wishing the band had a few more holes so it'd fit my wrist.

I gave up hope after year three of not getting a watch. I wasn't even suspicious when I got an email a while ago asking me what I thought about white watches. Now, you might think this would set me off, alert me to what he was up to, but you do not know Pilot Boy very well.

I get asked random questions like this all the time and usually, they have something to do with someone he knows. Or sees on the street. I actually thought he was asking me what I thought about white watches because someone in his office was either wearing one/getting one/or talking about them. It's happened before. And usually, Pilot Boy does not ask me what I want. Or if he does, he ignores it completely. (This is how I wound up with a iPod, a heart necklace, a stainless steel tea kettle, a TARDIS cookie jar, a WWII pilot sweetheart bracelet, a jumbo sized photo of the inn we were married at, fleece socks, and mug of Queen Elizabeth's jubilee.) The only time he's listened to me was when he was trapped in OK for the fall and I got the pants and sweater I requested from Victoria's Secret. The other times when I get what I request, I drag him to get it. (This is how I got my Oakley sunglasses and Basil Bea Dog. Though, if he hadn't gone that day with me, I more than likely would have come home without a dog...I was overwhelmed. And he wouldn't have gotten Basil Bea if I hadn't wanted a small dog, as he wants a HUGE one.)

Other than that, he never listens. Or pays attention. Or remembers.

So, I was rather surprised yesterday when he handed me a paper bag with abstract artwork on it and said, "Here. Happy Anniversary."

It was heavy. The weight made me feel guilty (I got him underwear. I almost always get him underwear or something practical because...he never buys these things himself). By the time I pulled out the heavy box, I felt really bad. I still had no idea what it was till I unearthed it from the box with in a BOX it was in. OMG. The container the watch showed up in...is insane. It is so complicated and....a lot of packaging. After getting through the layers I found a....white watch. And then I felt horrible. I'll level with you, my anniversary sneaked up on me. I mean, I knew it was coming, but suddenly it was the day of and all I had was underwear to give Pilot Boy. My presents always fall flat next to what he gives me.

iPod - Woolworth's fleece blanket
WWII bracelet - chocolate and card telling him I am a monster (Because I hadn't gotten him anything for Valentine's Day because I thought we were going to dinner at a fancy restaurant. He woke me up before work and asked, "Do you want your present now or later?" Small panic, I chose later.)
White gold necklace - shampoo and socks
Jumbo photo - kitchen utensils.
Queen Elizabeth mug - nothing (I hate Valentine's Day. I've never wanted to celebrate it, so I had told him since we were moving to AK, we'd just forgo, but as usually, he didn't listen...)
Stainless Steel Tea Kettle - sweater
Fleece socks - a cardboard chest to keep things ( he had told me i couldn't spend more than five dollars on his first v-day gift after he gave me the sock the weekend before and I was like, WTH? We weren't exchanging gifts!)

I SUCK at getting gifts for Pilot Boy. Seriously, I really suck. I remember, at some point, I was really good at getting gifts for people. I would just walk into shops and WHAM, something would strike me as so (Fill in the black). And now....I just see things I like. It is horrible and self centered, but I try to go into gift mode and it never works. I also no longer know what to tell people I want. And now I'll have to think of something other than a watch to tell Pilot Boy...as I have a new watch now.

That is white and huge. Just like his watch, only in white. And with a smaller band.

I Like Rain

So, its 14 Feb. Last year, I was somewhere in Canada. I have no idea where I was, but I know for a fact we were travelling on this day last year.

Last year my husband gave me a mug for V-day. I didn't give him anything. I told him not to buy me anything, but he NEVER listens.

I liked Valentines day till I got to junior high. In sixth grade there was no making boxes for cards, no party, no requirement to bring little pieces of cardboard to hand out. Thus, by the time I got through 8th grade, Valentines days was just another day as far as I was concerned. No one every gave me a card in junior high. I did not have any friends throughout most of junior high who would think about the silent girl with the glasses and braces. So, I was like, "Whatever."

Once I got to high school, I never once did anything remotely romantic on Valentines day. I don't remember any presents or anything. I kind of thought it was dumb, and it usually made me kind of cranky when everyone was walking around in red, hearts were everywhere and everyone was giggling. This was also why I hated spring with a flaming passion till I was 22. Valentines day began the "spring fever." What is that? It is when people "get together." Everyone holds hands, people make out in the halls, etc. It annoyed me to no end, even when I had a boyfriend. Till I met Pilot Boy and I became one of those people that annoyed me. And TRUST ME, I annoyed myself.

When I was a freshman in college, I had a boyfriend for Valentines days. I didn't really like him any more, and I did not want him to come up, he but was kind of sappy and thought Valentines Day was a big deal. So he showed up and we had a fight and I thought we broke up. I didn't feel upset by the whole breaking up (his throwing things at me upset me more). Anyways, after he finally left, I took a shower, put my face on, and met B, C and M for dinner. I was never in my life so thankful to have friends. I am totally serious. I ended up watching Disney movies all night.

The next time I had a boyfriend for Valentines Day, it was the last day I ever saw him.

When I was a senior in college, I had no boy on the actual V-Day, but someone sent a red ball to my house. Yeah, it was a red rubber ball, that said Happy Valentines Day from You Know Who.

I did not know who. I had no clue. And there was no way to trace it in the least. My mom had seen the balls on a news story the day before and was more than surprised to see a ball arrive at her house for me, while I was at college. She sent me an email to inform me it had arrived. I asked everyone I knew if they had sent it to me (confused on my they would not mail to my box at school). No one knew what the hell I was talking about. When I went home the next time, my mother showed it to me, and I had no clue who had sent it. But my mother and I had a pretty good idea who would do something along these lines.

I made a big point when I met Pilot Boy that I didn't like Valentines Day. I also told him I hated flowers. He kind of stared at me. But, to his credit, he's only given me a flower once that was alive. He gave me a black plastic rose and a plant. Yeah, he gave me a plant when I had my appendix out. And he gave me a rose...I can't remember why. But I remember not being upset in the least when he handed it to me and apologized for giving it to me, but he felt like I needed a rose. I took it home, put it in a vase and it lived FOREVER. I am serious. It lived forever.

I do not think he got me anything when we lived in the Dirt Hole for V-Day, and our first V-Day as a couple he gave me an antique bracelet from WWII that was made for girls who had pilot boyfriend. I wear it daily. I had told him not to buy me anything, as I wanted to go to this fancy restaurant in St. Louis for dinner. So I had not gotten him anything. He woke me up that morning and said, "Do you want your gift now or later?"

So, I ran around town all day trying to find him something. I failed. He got a handmade card and a box of chocolate and I felt like total shit when he handed me the bracelet. Kind of like when he handed me the Queen Elizabeth II Jubilee mug while we were in Canada. I was like, God, I suck.

This year, we both got our presents early. I got him a new black backpack and he got me a TARDIS Cookie jar.

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

Holiday Cheer

I used to work retail when I was in high school. Right after Thanksgiving the Christmas music would start and it would not end till after the new year. I loved Christmas music till I listed to the same loop of songs for two Christmas's. I also hated working during the holiday season and grew to hate Christmas all together. The magic was lost on my 17 year old self.

I did not get it back until later in life. It still is not all back, as I do not enjoy wrapping presents as I once did, nor do I enjoy decorating for Christmas as I once did. I also dread shopping at Christmas time. I seriously dread going to the post office or stores in general.

This is why some relatives fail to get gifts in a timely manner.

This year as seen me making holiday theme purses. I have been up to my eye balls in the holidays since right after Thanksgiving. I should have been before, but I failed. I just could not get myself into the spirit. I actually started making the holiday theme purses before Thanksgiving, but I did not start soon enough. I guess at least next year I can get going before Halloween. I'll be in my own house next year, so I can get in the spirit with music. This year, my mom wasn't too keen on holiday music till after Thanksgiving.

I think I might have screwed up the iTunes installation. I might have to...make new play lists. Oh no. It might be good for me, in reality. I've had the same play lists since I got my first laptop, also known as Jess, when I was 20. I'm six years older now (Oh no!) and don't really need the play lists that are mostly centered around guys leaving me, being depressed or being over zealously happy. The lists are still on Jess, so I might just transfer over the useful ones.

Oh, holidays. I think I am tired of you all ready and you haven't even started yet.

major bust-a-mundo

Well, the whole sale was a bust. Only one person used the code, and that one person had all ready ordered a purse, thus I "technically" had the sale all ready. Such is life.

I spent the whole day running around from fabric store to fabric store in look for what I had in my head for the next custom order. (I heart custom orders, they give me a challenge!) I finally found what I was looking for at Hobby Lobby and happily told the cutting lady there. She guessed right away what I was making. I lost track of the people who told me they like my festive purse (which in all honesty is pretty crappy, as the interfacing I used wasn't thick enough for the size of the bag I made, but I was going to carry it, so it was okay. I think the print distracts people.) Anyways, I've been working on more purses, but I think the holiday ones aren't going to sell. I should have gotten them up earlier. At least they'll be around next year early!

A few days ago, my mom and I drove out to a near by suburb to go to a spice store (I can't remember the name, it begins with a P). We were shopping for sprices for my husband, as Pilot Boy likes spicy things. Also, the store had just come out with a taco spice, and we could use some taco spice. Who knows how our spices will be after spending all this time in a storage unit in the Dirt Hole. However, the highlight of the trip was the pet botquie I got my mom to go to. Called Two Bostons, it was SO COOL. I loved the place. The lady came right up to help us after she was done doing what she was doing when we came in. She was totally helpful with finding a toy for Basil Dog that would keep Basil Dog happy. I ended up getting Basil Dog a huge gingerbread man chew toy that is made for super chewers. O.M.G. Basil Dog LOVES IT TO DEATH. She even took it to bed with her last night. Later, she kicked out the Gingerbread man, but she loves it. And for a soft chew toy, its still in one piece, which for Basil Dog is real good. She usually unstuffs soft toys in a matter of hours. She did get a hole in the head, but she mostly just attempts to run with it, and fails because the toy is as big as she is. But she will play, and play, and play with it. And she loves when you hold it up above her head and she's gotta jump up to get it. God, does she love that! I haven't enjoyed the holidays for the past few years till this year. All sorts of doors open up when you've got a dog and you make purses. I also realize I love buying fabric today, but I sort of knew that all ready. Part of the reason I began making purses.

It sort of attempted to snow the past two days here and the cold weather is really here. Basil was rather confused by the snow, but for the most part she ignored it. She LOVES the cold. My parents took her for a walk today while I was shopping and she was SO HAPPY. My mo was worried about her little paws, but she didn't seem to notice the cold sidewalks or anything. I met her after she was done with her walk (she was pulling so hard, my mom let go of the leash to advoid another dislocated thumb, yeah, Basil dislocated my mother's thumb....) She ran up to me and was SO HAPPY. But, Basil B Dog has had a very good day in general.

We had roast chicken. Basil B Dog loves chicken. She is a chicken loving dog.

Black Friday Bust

Well, I got my sale notice up, posted several new purses and has hardly any hits. I know there are a few more hours left in the day (not to mention the weekend), but this whole Black Friday thing has been a major bust for me. And not just sale wise.

I've been tired and freezing all day long. I fell asleep on the couch for awhile, woke up groggier than before. My back aches (still) and I seem to have come to the end of the internet. I just don't know what to do with myself.

I don't do shopping on Black Friday. I have never really been shopping on Black Friday. I think maybe once or twice I've ventured out. Once I went to Carsons on Black Friday. I remember freaking out and leaving. Last year I went to Wally Martinos. There was like no one there. I cannot remember why we went there, but we did. I remember we had a large conversation about whether to go. And one year, the first year I knew my husband, I spent Thanksgiving in Indiana and was totally bored the day after. We went to the outlet mall and I bought a Coach Wallet for 80 bucks. I also did my Christmas shopping for the most part. Also, this time, there was hardly any one around. But I've never gotten up early to go shopping on Black Friday. I went to work early once. There was a huge line. For Best Buy. Where I did not work. We were busy that day at work, but not as busy as Best Buy. That was also my first day working the service desk. Someone threw a check at me. I can't remember why.

Well, my dog zonked out on the carpet in the family room. I'm thinking she's got the right idea.

Rain, wipers and pressed rawhide

The past week has been rather cloudy and rainy here. On Monday, I ventured out to mail off my first international shipment (yay!), then to buy new wipers for the "new" car. My husband didn't think it needed new wipers and I knew they sort of were bad, but I thought they were okay. Well, while I was on vacation, my mom and my brother drove the car and complained heavily about the wipers, so I went to get new ones. Just to get them all to shut up and leave me alone.

Normal car stores don't sell wipers for s40s. I have to go to the dealer or some speciality store to get them.

Uh, no thank you.

So I came home (after ramming my knee into the auto shop door on my way out), and cleaned the wipers. I thought they were okay. Then I drove. In the rain.

They were fine at first. Then, as it rained more and I drove more, they began to suck to the point I could not even pretend I could see. I could not pretend. I had to pray I didn't crash. It was bad.

It was epic bad.

So, I came home and said I was going to order new ones.

Instead I went to the pet store. This only makes sense if you know what happened after I came home and annoucned I was going to buy new wipers. First, my mom was thrilled. Then went to get Basil B Dog a greenie. She was running low. Earlier that day, she had run out of "waste" bags. So I needed to go buy those. So I made some comment about needed those and greenies.

This excited my mom as she needed a Turkey and the local PetsMart is located near the food store that sold the kind of turkey she wanted. Also, I learned, my mother likes the pet store.

So instead of buying wipers I bought: a new collar, greenies, pressed rawhide bones, kitty litter and dog food. At the food stores we got: a turkey, pudding, organic lemonade, cheese, orange juice with calcium, lemons, pasta sauce, pasta, ice cream, and chipolte powder. I have been dying for chipolte powder since I got here and discovered the house failed to have any. I just kept forgetting to get it. But I've got it now.

Basil B Dog enjoys her pressed rawhide bones.

Black Friday Sales

Would you believe it had not occurred to me that the actual holiday season was upon us? I know this is hard to believe due to the fact that even before Halloween was over, the Christmas decor began to come out. And never mind the fact I've been doing my Christmas shopping since September.

But it had not occurred to me that the actual season was upon us and that I should have a huge sale. I joined the Etsy Black Friday fan page on Facebook yesterday and have been inundated with sales announcements. I should put one out there, I know. I am still only on my 3rd sale (which happened on the day my life took a direction north). The summer sale I began at the end of July or at the start of August has done nothing. I haven't sold a single sale bag. Due to money, I can't really afford the 15 bucks to put an add on Heartomatic through Craft Cult. I hate the forums, mostly because I never have anything to say. I have tried many times to become "active" in the forums, but that usually leads to me obsessively checking the forum and nothing becoming of it other than it takes up all of my time. I hardly ever get an opportunity to hand out business cards, as no one ever asks me where I got my purse any more since I began carrying my own designs. Seriously, no one asks. Before, I always got asked where my purse was from, even once what my purse's name was (when I carried a Coach bag, the Coach bag).

I am at a loss.

So, I guess I will have a huge Black Friday sale and maybe I'll just bite the bullet. I've been tossing ideas around on what to do. Free shipping, 50% off second purchase, 30% off all bags? I'm not sure yet.

exciting places

Last year I celebrated my first anniversary in the Dirt Hole. I spent a majority of the day at Wally Martinos. In keeping with my odd tradition, I am once again located somewhat in the middle of nowhere and once again I went to a Walmart today. However, this time it was not to buy my husband a present (or another present, which was the case). This time it was to buy things the two room flat he's living in currently lacked.

At first, upon my arrival here in southern Oklahoma where he is doing the final leg of his training before we ship off to Alaska, I was appalled at the little flat they gave him to live in. However, after spending two days here I have come to realize it is not that bad. The bed is bad, but the rooms themselves would seem spacial to someone say in New York City. The bathroom is good sized and the closet is large. The bed still sucks and the kitchen sink is too small for the facet its got, but other than that its fine.

I am currently planning my winter line. I created a new purse design before I left to come here and am currently carrying it. With the exception that the strap is way to long, the bag is great. It is a large hobo type of bag. Pretty cool. I bought some plaid print corduroy and wound up using it for the prototype, as I usually carry the prototypes and I like plaid. The bag actually turned out better than I expected, well except I over judged the strap length. I wound up making a smaller version of the bag with the remaining material and was really pleased with the result. I have been making the drop on the bags I've been working on recently a lot longer to be able to wear over winter coats and such, but the strap on this new hobo is just a little long. Well, unless you want to throw it over your body like a messenger bag, which it works well for, especially in airports. I am thinking of calling the bag the Dublin Hobo and hopefully, once I arrive back home, I'll get cracking on making more! (If my mother isn't quilting up a storm again, lol.)

Now, while I am here, Halloween is going to happen. My puppy, Basil Dog, is at home with my parents. She, due to her barking at doorbells and simply freaking out at the people on the other side of the door, is going to have to spend the evening in the basement, as we live on a very popular street for trick o treaters. I did, though, buy Basil Dog a costume, even though she will not wear it as my mother won't put it on her. She'll wear it for Thanksgiving.