Busy!

I've been neglecting my blog--and my blog-reading; I promise to catch up!--but I have a good excuse: I've been busy.

No, really.

What have I been doing?

I've been taking care of a garden for a faculty member (from another department) who's been in Bulgaria. Since she has a lot of plants outdoors in big pots, and no outdoor faucet, this entails filling a large watering container, lugging it out to the patio, watering 2 plants, refilling the watering can, lugging it out to the patio... etc., until everything's been watered. The house plants didn't need it as much. I started doing pushups--not real ones, but standing about 2 or 3 feet away from the sink, putting my hands on the edge of the sink, and doing pushups that way, trying to keep my body straight. I could do 20 pushups while the can was filling, so there were days when I did 80!

I've been cat-sitting, but that hardly counts, since that was only for two days. I think this is the last time for this cat, which makes me very sad. Her people are moving to Chicago. I'll miss her, and I'll miss their lovely house. Also their tomatoes and raspberries. And esp. the people, who are a very nice couple. *sigh* Things change and life goes on.

I've been knitting. I've gotten to the back of the baby sweater and am now aiming toward a length of 13", to start decreasing for the sleeves. Have you ever been working on something and you knit row after row after row after row, and when you measure, it still says the same as it said last time you measured? This is the long part--both sleeves and the entire body--once I get the sleeves cast off and am just doing the body it will go a lot faster. But meanwhile--I begin to doubt I'll ever get to the point of casting off those sleeves!

This weekend I did 7 loads of laundry. No, it wasn't all clothes. There was a load of towels, and one of sheets, and one load of clothes was actually stuff I found hanging in one of those hang-up plastic wardrobes you store clothes in, and they look like they'll fit me, but since they were hanging in the basement, I wanted to wash them before I tried them on. I'm sure the folks at work will be glad to see me in something besides a t-shirt. Did you know I have enough t-shirts to wear a different one every day for 3 weeks? I still need a couple more GSD t-shirts to have enough for every day of the week, though. :) Anyway, these are (mostly) madras plaids in ice-cream colors. I remember buying them, but can't think why I bought those colors--very different from what I usually wore at the time I bought them.

I've been gardening. Mostly pulling maple seedlings (I hate NOrway maples, have I mentioned that before?), but I also planted 9 Casablanca lilies (of which so far 3 are coming up--buy cheap, you get cheap), moved a tiny hosta to a place it's not likely to get walked on, planted some more ageratum (that's not spelled right), realized I wasn't going to put the pentas and petunias out front, so potted them up with some blue angelonia and set them near the blue and yellow violas, which will be quite pretty if the pentas decide to bloom again and the yellow violas get over themselves and bloom.

I'm planning to take Wednesday and Thursday off--when it's supposed to get back into the 90s, of course; I swear, whenever I take a vacation, it's too hot or a tree falls on the house or one of my animals dies. I think the only time a vacation worked out just fine was the trip Stella and I took to Stratford, Ontario. Anyway, the Asiatic lilies have started to bloom, so I'm going to dig up the cream-colored ones and move them to the east side of the house. They'll probably hate it, but too bad. I don't want them where they are. Then next year I'll have to look for the yellows, golds, oranges, and reds that I really want.

And I picked up a couple of odd jobs--one is an editing job, which won't be too hard--I've done jobs like this before--it's an older guy who's written about his life for, I guess, his family and friends. They don't like you messing with their words or structure; all he wants is for me to check his ms for stuff like spelling, typos, punctuation, and the like. I had no idea what to charge him--in the past I'd have charged a dollar a page. We settled on $12.50, which is probably too low, but it'll be some income.

A friend also paid me $50 to print some labels for her. I screamed that it was way too much, but she was obstinant. And actually it is kind of a long job. She collects quarters, and wants labels for them, but she doesn't want like one label per quarter--she wants 27 for this one and 32 for that one and 12 for another one. It's not at all hard, just a bit time consuming.

This weekend I got the dogs out 4 times a day. I was pleased, and they were happy, and I got a lot of knitting done. And I got to musing on how much I miss "nature," but that's another post. When we were inside I was watching Ken Burns' The Civil War and got interested in Grant and Sherman and Lee, so I went looking for books on Amazon. I picked out 5 that, new, totalled $88 plus shipping. Then I looked for used ones, and got the order down to $24 plus shipping. And THAT is one of my favorite things about Amazon. When they come I can leave off JRR Tolkien writing himself into a hopeless corner trying to fit his Christian values onto the Elves of Arda (Elves can only have one spouse--but Elves are immortal--and if one is slain or dies of grief, they go to the Halls of Mandos until they're ready to be reborn as their own children, when they remember the details of their past life--but meanwhile how is it fair for the spouse to wait 500 years or 1000 years to have children esp. since Elves only procreate during their (relative) youth when for all practical purposes the spouse is dead... He never did get out of that, but just kept digging himself in deeper and deeper until he broke off in midsentence, realizing, I suspect, how futile it was to sort it out) and the total incompetence of the Valar. A classic case of showing being more powerful than telling--he keeps TELLING us how powerful and loving and wise the Valar are (with the exception of Melkor), but the tales SHOW us self-absorbed, easily-duped beings who get their feelings hurt and wall themselves off (literally) from the world they're supposed to create and rule. Sheesh. Why am I torturing myself with this stuff? Well, partly because this series of Christopher Tolkien's shows a writer at work, how the mythos changed and grew and put out branches and roots. And what a tin ear the guy occasionally had. The same man who gave us beautiful words like Galadriel and Beleriand could also come up with Solosimpi and Tinfang Warble. And Bingo Baggins as the hero of his sequel to The Hobbit.

At any rate, once my books on Grant and Sherman and Lee come, I can leave behind the torments of Arda for the torments of the War Between the States.

And oh yes, I've been searching for more information on my 3 Civil War ancestors--in vain, I'm afraid. One was with the Army of Northern Virginia, one fought under Joe Johnston, and the other fought under Sherman. It's kind of thrilling, and terrifying, to see the names of famous battles associated with their units. What I wouldn't give for some old letters or diaries associated with them to turn up, along with a picture of each. Well, I have a photo of one either before or after the war--probably just after, since it's paired with a photo of his first wife and they weren't married until 1866 or thereabouts. And I suspect the Yankee looked a good deal like his younger brother, my great-great-grandfather, since his Army papers describe him as having dark hair and eyes like his brother. As for the Virginian, I haven't a clue. He's the younger brother of the wife mentioned above. (This really belongs in the genealogical blog, but you know, having names and faces--sort of--associated with the things being talked about in the documentary makes it real-er and more tragic. None of them actually were on the same battlefield, but that's only because one got wounded just before the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain.) My mother's mother was the granddaughter of the man who served under Johnston and great-niece of the Virginian and the Yankee, and I understand she had the uniform of one or the other of them for many years, but I never saw it, darn it, and I don't know what happened to it after she died. And boy would I like to know if there were any personal papers associated with that uniform.

The Virginian got himself promoted to 2nd Lt., so I keep wondering if he might not appear in some orders or battle report or something, but so far no luck. Ah well. One of the little joys of genealogy--you just keep looking and poking around and asking and posting on boards and sometimes something pops up. Maybe I'll get lucky.

fingerless mitts

Ta da!

No, I'm not finished with them, but I've found a pattern: http://www.eunnyjang.com/knit/2006/11/endpaper_mitts.html (home, btw, of the ineffable Bayerische Socks, which I actually cast on for some months ago).

You'll note she's done hers in stranded knitting with 2 different colors. I, of course, am going to use left-over sock-yarn-club yarn, but I wonder how it would look in a k/p version of that diamond pattern. What's it called? I think King Charles' Brocade is what I'm thinking of. http://knitting.about.com/od/stitchglossary/g/charles_brocade.htm

After thinking about it last night, I went back over to that garage sale and got the book-end dealy with the woodwork from that old house. I'm happy to have a little of it in this house. I hope the whole room wasn't painted that color, and yes, that's a big honkin' nail hole or bolt hole or something down there, although at least whoever did it put it in the center of one of the little circles; I suppose it could be filled with wood putty. But look at how delicate it is. The two 5-petaled flowers look like chip-carving to me--I bet someone did it all by hand.



Here it is from a slightly different angle. I wish I could have seen it intact around the door or window. I imagine this is a corner piece, and the molding under the zigzag part continued around the rest of the frame.



I also got a couple of large but inexpensive baskets. One has a label and the other a stamp that says "Redman Baskets." Here's a little bit about the company. The label in the top right hand corner is the same as the one in my basket. http://users.zoominternet.net/~basketc/redman.html. What I like about mine is they're handsome and utilitarian, and they have a history.

One is like a cake-carrier--it's tall and square, with a removable insert. It looks more recent than the other one since it has some kind of man-made liner inside the wicker exterior. You can see the Redman label in the picture with the lid up. I have a big cake of lace yarn beneath the insert, with the yarn running up the gap on the side and out the lid, and then I have various sock projects stored on top. :)






The other one is, I think, older, and made out of slats--ash? oak?--rather than wicker. I was going to store yarn it it, too, but wound up putting my hand-knit socks in it since my sock drawer is getting too crowded. Now I've got the K-Mart socks in the sock drawer and the hand-knit socks in the basket.






Just what I need, more junk in the house, right? But at least I don't have to feel guilty about spending the money; it was only about $25 total.

Still no titles.

I've e-mailed the Blogger folks--let's see if they can fix it.

One totally lost and useless day. Woke in a foul mood and did nothing but lie on the couch in the air conditioning.

Thank goodness for Ts. We went out this morning and I ran the sprinkler in the puppy pen while they played. They're so much fun to watch. Taenzer loves the water, drives her ball right into the spray, bites the water coming out of the sprinkler, gets gloriously, soaking wet. Timber isn't such a water-puppy, and he's got it mastered. When he did get wet, it was on purpose, to cool down. Otherwise, he brought me his tennis ball to throw, which I would do, and he would dash out and get it, then watch the sprinkler like a kid getting ready to run into a jump rope being spun by two other kids, and run back by zigging between the sprinkler and the moving line of water. He had his timing down perfect.

And he's SUCH a good boy. As usual, there's no food in the house--Minute Rice and mustard and peanut butter--so I went out to McDonald's to get some dinner, and took them with. We got back, and I parked. The driveway is between the house and the puppy pen, so when I pull in, the passenger sliding door faces the puppy pen. The rule is that they have to wait in the van until I get their leashes off, then they can jump out and run in to play.

Well, Timber, who's usually VERY good about it, forgot, and jumped out without the okay. I turned around and hollered "Timber! You come back here!" And darn if that sweetie boy didn't stop dead, right there in the gate, and turn around and come back and jump back into the van. Gave me this look--"Sorry, Mom, I forgot." He is SO sweet; I just adore that dog. Of course I whipped off his leash and gave him the okay and off he went. Then I let Taenzer out. But actually I was more impressed that he stopped and came back when I called even though he was right there at the very edge of the playpen than if he'd waited like he was supposed to.

It was unusual, too, because he catches on to that kind of thing much faster than Taenzer does. We always have to wait for Taenzer to sit to get her leash on, or to remember that she's not supposed to pull once she's on leash, and it's usually Taenzer who has to be reminded that she's supposed to wait for the okay to get out of the van. Timber caught on to all that stuff really quickly. "Doggie Zen," as they call it on the clicker-training list: "You must give up the treat to get the treat."

On the other hand, it's Taenzer who's been my devoted companion all day, staying right by my side all through my funk and giving me kisses whenever she sees an opening. "It's okay, Mom. Really, it'll be okay."

They are both treasures. She's so sensitive and at the same time so full of intelligence and zest; and he's so serious and intense and sweet. I'm always trying to define what I mean by that, and I can't to save my life, but he just has to look at me to melt my heart.

Weirdness on the CD front: After listening to the Carter Family yesterday, I decided to listen to the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's classic, groundbreaking LP Will the Circle Be Unbroken. I've got the 25th anniversary double CD, so I got out the case and opened it up and--CD #1 wasn't there. I was just like--"What the--???" because I don't play CDs in my desktop computer, and I had a Band DVD in the laptop, and the only CD I play in the van is the Traveling Wilburies, and I don't have one of those Walkman-style CD players. I couldn't imagine what the heck had happened to it. Imagine me with one of those black clouds over my head that Calvin gets in Calvin and Hobbes.

So I got out my Riders in the Sky CD--Best of the West--and put it in and started looking at my e-mail. About 4 songs in, I realized I was NOT hearing Riders in the Sky. Stomped over to the stereo, pushed the Open button, got out the CD. Yup, says "Riders in the Sky: Best of the West" and has 21 songs listed on it. Put it back in the CD player, push start, and the CD player only reads 14 songs. So now I'm paying attention, and the first song is not the song on the back cover. So I jump to #2. That's not right, either. Neither is #3. I get the CD back out. Baffled. Finally put in J.D. Souther--thank goodness, that CD is in its case and it's the right CD.

Meanwhile, I fired up my laptop and stuck the CD in. I'm using Windows Media Player on it, and if you're hooked up to the Internet (I've got dial-up), it will connect and match the CD with info from--I dunno, whatever Windows Media Player is hooked up to. Well, up pop 14 songs, and a cover that is NOT the Riders in the Sky cover. It is, however, titled "Best of the West"--but it has like Gene Autry and Bob Wills and the Sons of the Pioneers on it. I'm still baffled. I think I ordered this as a used CD from a dealer off Amazon, but it's been such a long time ago that I can't return it and demand my money back. I can't believe I never listened to it before, but obviously I didn't. It does have Drifting Along with the Tumbling Tumbleweeds on it, so I guess I'll just put a label on the case that says this is NOT Riders in the Sky and keep it. I wish it had Ghost Riders in the Sky (one of my spooky favorites).

And I did finally find the NGDB CD. I've got this boombox I got to replace my old one because the old one doesn't have--you guessed it--a CD player. It's just lucky I didn't throw the CD out, along with the player, which either eats batteries in 30 minutes flat or else the terminals don't connect properly; it sounds great when I can get it to play, but every time I go to turn it on, it needs new batteries and it takes like 6 Ds. I keep thinking I can figure out how to fix it which is why I haven't thrown it into the street to shatter into a zillion pieces yet. Anyway, I was glad the CD hadn't just vanished into the thin air, although I was beginning to question my mental state (which is questionable at the best of times to start with)...

Depressed into the Mud (pity party)

I can't seem to get away from stuff, so I'm venting here, hoping it will help.

1. My friend who had the pancreas transplant is recovering very, very slowly and losing weight.
2. I have a friend with tracheal stenosis going in for surgery this weekend.
3. Another friend's mother has had a recurrence of her cancer and it looks like this may be it. They're going to sell their house, move into a rental, and devote as much time as possible to taking short road trips and doing all the things she likes. My friend and her mother are such *pals*--it will be so hard on my friend to lose her mom.
4. Yet another friend has a dog with bone cancer. He's had surgery and is now in chemo. She has the worst luck with her dogs of anyone I know. The one before this had mega-esophagus--she kept him alive 5 years through unremitting devotion and hard work--and the one before that had severe allergies and lick granulomas.
5. The house. It's pouring rain. I expect to find water in the basement. I was looking at the place last night--all the walls and ceilings have little cracks, I'm sure it's from the foundation doing whatever it's doing and compromising the rest of the house. All the windows need repainting and caulking. Storm doors, gutters, downspouts all need replacing. Bathroom needs a total redo (toilet doesn't work, floor is cracked, paint is peeling, both taps drip). Electric needs an update; none of the outlets are grounded, and the adapter for my laptop gets really hot if I try to use it in the bedroom; I'm afraid it will catch fire. All the exterior wood needs painting. The garage is falling down. How can I possibly afford to fix all--or any?--of this? But how I expect to sell it in such a condition? And then what? I move to another house and run it into the ground?
6. The van. This morning when I picked the umbrella up from the floor behind the front seats, it was already wet. I think there might be a hole in the floor back there. Rusting spots on the doors and near the wheelwells. Needs brakework. Has a torn something or other that's leaking fluid that I hope the dogs don't geti nto.
7. Dogs. They need a place to run. They at least need a couple of daily walks. They need training. I spend so much money on them. I can't live without them, but I don't meet their needs.
8. My friend whose son committed suicide. I know so well how you lose someone, and people are nice to you for a week or two, and then they go on with their lives and you're still drowning. I call her and send her e-mails, but I don't feel like it's enough, and I don't know what else to do. I hate to ask her to go to Springfield or Peoria because I always ask her to drive because of the van (see 6 above), and I don't want her to think I'm only asking her because I need transportation. But I'm ashamed to invite her to my house (see 6 above and 9 below).
9. The house. So much stuff, nothing filed or put away; it just accumulates. Between its physical condition and the clutter, I'm ashamed to have anyone come in; people must think I'm terribly rude because I never invite anyone in and always talk to them on the porch.
10. Fridge. Already sweating. It will never make it through the summer. I'll have to get a new-used one.
11. Iraq. I knew George was wrong to do this from the very moment he announced it, and it's cold comfort to find out I was right. All those people killed and maimed, and for what? Some guy's egotistical religio-oil-based machismo. Or maybe I should change that to "some guys'," plural--Cheney and the rest of the White House cronies are up to their necks in this. We've ruined the lives of the people in that country. It seems wrong to leave after wreaking such disaster and havoc, but don't we just make it worse by staying? Every time Bush or one of his buddies starts talking about the Iraqis "taking responsibility for their country" I want to smack him. They have such a different culture than we do; we can't make them over in our image, esp. if they hate that image. And all the families here who have lost kids over there for this stupid "mission." All the soldiers who come back maimed and traumatized.
12. Work. Maybe I'm depressed enough to start being paranoid, but I feel like nobody in the office except Mark likes me. Nobody talks to me but Mark. I mean, just talks to me. "Hello. How are you? How are the Ts?" And I can't get myself hired anywhere else. I've had 5 or 6 interviews, and not been hired. That adds to my paranoia--or perhaps, rather, my conviction that I'm pretty worthless. And to tell you the truth, I'm terrified about actualy being hired for a higher-paid position. I couldn't handle it when I tried for the English department. Maybe I can't do it even for a smaller department.
13. Retirement. Want it. Sicksicksick of working. Can't afford it. Will never be able to afford it unless I also work a part-time job of some kind. And the state of Illinois is dead last when it comes to funding the state workers' pension fund.
14. Weight. I've gained--well, I don't know for sure how much I've gained; probably around 40 or 45 pounds. I was a size 14 this time last year; I'm 18-working-on-20 now. And it's just plain flab--there's no muscle under there. Ugly.
15. Old. Ugly. Fat. Poor. Worthless. And guilty--compared to the problems some people have, I'm fortunate. How dare I complain?
16. Exhausted, physically, mentally. Can't deal with any of the above. Don't know how to keep going. Can't stand myself.

I'm really pinning my hopes on my trip to the hormone doc Monday. And yes, I'm about to call EAP and see about talking to someone. Not that I think that will help any. It never has before. I think one thing that would help is to someone who could help me weigh the pros and cons and do the figuring to decide what to do about the house and van. The dogs, I'm afraid, are non-negotiable. If I gave up the Ts I wouldn't be able to get out of bed. Even though I'm failing them miserably and they'd probably be better off somewhere else--Taenzer with someone who'd help her cand Timber in a family with *nice* pre-teen kids that would play with him and throw tennis balls for him and take him to swim meets and soccer games to be admired and petted.