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Archive for November, 2006

What is absurd?

Absurd is emptying out my 70 degree refrigerator into coolers. The refrigerator that we called the landlord about over a week ago. The refrigerator that she was supposed to replace when we moved in 4 years ago. The refrigerator that she didn’t call back about last night when she said she would. The refrigerator that we had to call her back about tonight and about which she wanted to delay timelines because of price tags.

Absurd is all of my windows open, BF in shorts on November 30. Even more absurd is this with the Christmas tree lit while sit here typing, the slight breeze through the open window on my skin and the smell of evergreen mixing with the damp earth.

Absurd is suddenly realizing that you’ve now spent four and a half years with a person and how little the amount of time truly means. (Quality, however, an entirely different subject.)

Absurd is celebrating your sixth anniversary in a place you never wanted to stay. Absurd is also still referring to the place you chose to leave as Home.

Absurd is the bane of my existence who thinks that belittling and manipulation will make his way in the world. Even more absurd is having to call out another adult on those childish actions.

Absurd is the person who laments the lack of common sense in the world and touts her own finely tuned sense of this world as an attribute unattained in most others, and then turns on the toaster oven with the plastic bags on top and sends text messages at 8:30am on a holiday to “all her peeps” because she is awake.

Absurd is the feeling that I have to apologize because I am done apologizing.

Absurd is that one sentence, five words, 18 letters can leave you shattered.

Absurd is the portion of my personality and humor that is no longer appreciated by some. At least one.

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NaBloPoMo No.

Today is an exercise in ridiculousness. I’m silly. I’m tired. I don’t know why I’m so silly, because I’m not feeling overly exuberant, but I know why I’m tired. Sometimes tired makes silly, I guess.

I failed at NaBloPoMo. But I’m re-investing myself thanks to the lovely sistah sledge who I shall be able to link to shortly. Yay sistah sledge!

Seriously, today is punctuated with song lyrics. And not current-day, oh-I-know-that-one songs. I’m talking a conversation with one of the designers where bananas came up and suddenly it was bones in your ears and then it was Ahab the Arab. And a conversation with sistah sledge that turned into I can see clearly now the rain is gone—Oh hello Johnny Nash, how are you?? Yeah. I don’t know why these days happen, but they’re kinda fun.

Other big news in Beckyland—my mother got arrested on Friday night. Yes. You read that right. My mother has a record. Not an album, though she does get paid to do Patsy Cline impersonations (she really does), but a RECORD. She owns a bar. The music was too loud. The new neighbors complained. She got arrested. That makes two people I know and love having a nice visit with Mr. Handcuffs in one weekend. The other I’m not allowed to tell you about. Yes, we’re dripping with drama over here.

Oh, Dad got engaged too. But they’ve been together so long that my big response was, “WHY??” Oops.

We all survived Thanksgiving. You know, the holiday where the boy, dog and I drove 400 and some miles north to go stay with my best friend, her infant twins and three cats? Yes, that. And it was fun! Except for the part where I dropped the Corningware casserole dish (and my Tofurkey) on my foot. It’s a lovely bruise, really. And it did get me out of clean up while I sat on the couch with my ice pack. Well. I guess even that was ok.

So last I talked with you all, I was knitting mary-jane style booties for the infant twins referenced above. I got 2 DONE. Yes, done. For the second pair, I got one knit but not finished and one all but knit. And… THEY’RE TOO SMALL. The damn kids finally grew!! So now I re-knit them. And I ripped out the whole top-down bonnet because apparently I should have failed reading comprehension on every standardized test I had to take and am almost done re-knitting it. I did finish one tiny kitty hat, but all that needed was ears so is it really a feat? I mean, I did start it back in oh… March.

Maybe I’ll give the nephews and niece balls of yarn and needles and tell them to knit their own damn hats. (Love you, kids! Can’t wait to see you for Christmas!!)

*EDIT
We can add Why Does the Sun Shine to the lyric list, prompted by a discussion about Mr. Night, the euthenasia toy. “Our Mr. Night’s stars will softly glow as they lead children into dreamland.” Never to wake again?? Are you daring enough to find out?

**EDIT #2

The way-ay-ting is the hardest part! Especially when you’re waiting for pics of your niece’s newly pierced ears to come through.

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Camera rambling

Holy crap, it’s finally Friday. Praise god and pass the alcohol.I don’t know what happened with this week.

BF is getting me a digital camera for my birthday. I’m SO excited. I’ve had a super-old Minolta XG-1 since I was a senior in high school. It’s beautiful and takes crisp pictures. And completely manual too, so I can have lots of fun, but it’s not a snapshot camera. No siree. I’ve missed many a candids behind that monster. I love it, but I’m ready to move on into the modern age.

It’s crazy that kids now will never know what it’s like to have to wait to get the film developed before they can see the picture. They’ll never know that excitement and anticipation. I love ripping open that gummy envelope and having the pictures to flip through, hold, frame, put in an album, go back and touch. The tactile joy that I find in a physical photograph is something that a digital photo posted online will never be able to appease. I know that I can get a printer and print some out, but I won’t. I know me. I’ll have to resolve that, but there are many pleasures from the digital camera too (like a more interesting blog), so I’m trying to look at it as branching out, not giving something up.

No knitting this week. There needs to be some fancy needlework this weekend or I’m screwed. (Hell, I’m probably screwed anyway, but let’s hold on to the false optimism for another week or two, shall we?)

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I drive.

It’s been insanely busy at work. I get there, I look at my inbox and gasp and get some tea. I sit back down and look over at my to-do list from yesterday and decide that maybe I need to pee. I come back and start trying to figure out what to do next and start hitting the RSS feeds on the litany of blogs that I like to track distract myself and procrastinate with. I feel vaguely guilty and start to construct a new to-do list and go into a meeting, where my list grows but time to accomplish anything has diminished. I come back to more emails…

At the end of the day I’m supposed to be able to track my time to the closest 15 minutes for client billing. HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAAHA. That’s funny. To me. Because by the time that I realize that the room is now dark and there are few people left around and the phone has stopped ringing because it’s long after 5, I have no idea what I’ve done when and for how long. And really, who the hell wants to reconstruct days like this after you’ve lived them? I mean, I’m already dreaming about this crap. Do I need to go through it all again while I’m awake just for some accuracy in billing crap?? Sigh.

OH, and I just found out that the second in line to the LA transit authority or some hoo-ha is going to be the new manager of the DC Metro. Lemme tell ya, after reading Crazy Aunt Purl’s diatribe about voting for pothole relief and more buses, I’m a little nervous. I live 14 miles from my workplace. I tried taking the public transportation, folks. I tried REALLY hard. I tried taking the Orange Line all the way around to the Green Line and transferring there. I tried taking Orange to Red to Green. I tried taking Orange to the 52 Bus. Or 54 Bus. Or even taking the Orange Line, walking two blocks and taking the S2 or S4. And apparently, no matter which colors of the lucky charm marshmallows you pull out of the box and let dictate your route for that day, 14 miles in public transportation in DC equals oh, about an hour and a half. I was losing my freaking mind.

Now I drive. I’m not real proud of that, being that I’m an environmental non-profit dabbling, earth-loving, leave nothing but footprints thinking, farmers’ market working kind of girl. But I was Losing. My. Mind. And, if I do some work from home for a bit in the morning and then start driving after rush hour (ha ha! I said after rush hour! like it ends!), it only takes me 45 minutes on good days. That’s an hour and a half of my life back every day. That means that maybe, just maybe, someday BF will get a second sock, the hats will get finished and all the other projects might even get more than a dog ear in the magazine of my wildest dreams. And that’s good enough for me.

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It’s my birthday

You get nothin’.

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Acknowledgement

A big theme in my life—throughout my life—is acknowledgement.

I understand where it came from. I could name you the countless instances that instilled the need for acknowledgement in me maybe more fiercely than in others, but it is also a very human need.

What a difference it makes to hear that you have a valid point of view at the end of a debate. What a difference it means to know that your part in the big greater good HAS made a difference. What a wonderful feeling to know that your small act has somehow affected someone in a monumental way. And how completely disheartening when it is missing.

I have had bosses who have said, “What do you do here? Really! I mean it!! What do you even do???” I have firmly stated my unwavering point of view to someone that I thought respected me, only to have them say, “Whatever,” and turn and walk away. I have sucked up some nasty circumstances only to have it turn into an expectation that I would do so in the end. It’s disheartening. It’s demeaning. It’s disrespectful and it’s unacceptable in my life today.

I may not love all of the day to day details of my job, but my coworkers and I are often and sincerely praised for our parts in the company’s success. It is attributed to US. The whole. OUR work. I can’t tell you how amazing that is.

I may not have a perfect relationship with my mother or sisters, but we are finally coming to that point where we accept who the others are and live with that person instead of fighting for the ideal we have put on a pedestal for so long. We acknowledge the differences. We acknowledge the strengths. We are agog at the individuality that has brought us together—unique and connected at once.

I have come to a new level of acknowledgement with my friends that has had to exclude judgement and almost exclusively harness acceptance so that we can nurture, support, encourage and bolster each other.

I am working to incorporate this acknowledgement into every relationship in my life. We are individuals. We will never have the same experience to tap to form our opinions. We will never have the same dispositions to form our reactions. But we can acknowledge, love and respect those differences in each other and be better for it. Disappointment is a far less frequent intruder when we do.

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Dilemmas, dilemmas

It wasn’t my best day today. But then my client and I were talking, and she was saying something about people being mean for the sake of being mean. I told her that usually meant that the person had a small penis. She said that then this person must have a teeny, tiny va-jay-jay. (She really did. I almost bust myself.) I suggested that maybe the person had a HUGE va-jay-jay and that her man had a teeny, tiny penis and that’s why she had to be mean. She agreed.

Things like that just make you feel better. And laugh uncontrollably at your computer while your coworkers glance over their shoulders at you, brows all furrowed. But hey, that can make you feel better too.

I haven’t bought the yarn for the stocking hats yet. I’m so torn. I’d like them to be washable and sturdy. Swish? Swish does not come in orange. There must be orange. Dale of Norway Baby Ull or Falk? Baby Ull is not quite as heavy a yarn as I’d hope for. You know, to minimize the number of stitches due to the impending deadlines. Yeah. The Falk is nice and pretty close on colors, but also fine. Mission Falls 1824 Wool is heavier, but the colors are more muted and I was hoping for BRIGHT and FUN. Cascade 220 Superwash has a huge selection of colors, but maybe not quite *all* that I want. NephewA, 10, has an olive parka, NephewM, 9, has a navy parka with an orange stripe, and NieceK, 5, has a brown jacket and LOVES the color orange. I don’t necessarily have to buy the same yarn for all, but it does make life easier. That one swatch works for all thing. I like that. Suggestions from any of the like 6 people who currently read this thing?

OH! And I finsihed one mary jane bootie last night! WoooHooooo!!! Ok, well I knit it. I didn’t finish it, but I was damn impressed with myself. It don’t take much, folks.

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