Aw, Man! Quit posting all that crap!

If you are a Facebook user, and I am, you've noticed that there are several different types of people on Facebook. There are the ones that lurk, the ones that post on occasion, the ones that put their whole life out there and the ones who do very little else but repost the memes and jokes, banners and pictures that someone else already posted.

There are a couple of other types, but lets not get complicated.

I use facebook (to play candy crush) to keep up on the happenings of the people in my life. I love the personal stories, pictures, the life updates. I enjoy the occasional article shared with thought. What I don't love is all the political and religious stuff posted over and over. My politics and relationship with the almighty is personal. I don't need to hear about yours. It used to be that you didn't discuss politics and religion because you didn't know who you were going to offend. Now it seems that any platform is a good platform for evangelism.

I have blocked the photos of many friends and family for this, which is sad because I don't get the updates they send out their lives or pictures of their children. I learned recently, that if I can't see them, they can't see me. In some cases I'm okay with that.

I have one friend with a child with Autism. Actually, I have many friends with children who have Autism. It's frightening. But this friend is always posting memes about how wonderful her boy is, how special, how we need to understand Autistic children because they are special.

And they are.

But I was starting to get a little annoyed. Until I was reading the comments on this post. The post itself is poignant and heartfelt. It talks, more than most people do, about some of the difficulties attached to raising a child who redefines normal. But one of the comments made me realize...

My friend, she isn't posting randomly, she's reaching out. She may not have the community of people that she needs. Like me, she has moved away from our home town, away from her mom and the friends that were her support system when her boy was born.

Suddenly, I'm not so annoyed anymore.

I think there is a ghost in my house

If you have known me for any amount of time, you'll know that I believe wholeheartedly in the afterlife. I also believe in reincarnation and the unversal conciousness and all sorts of hibbity bibbity, but we aren't talking about that right now.  I don't talk about it often because most people think that I am nuts, but please understand that I was raised in a houshold where psychic skills were not only believed in but fostered. Otherworldly things existed. And the study of them was encouraged.

Adulthood has not dampened my belief in these things, in fact, experience has shown me that there's some crazy ass shit out there that can't be explained by "normal" explinations.

Like static on a digital recorder, recording in a basment with no other electronics. Doors opening, voices heard, faces in pictures, and smacks on the butt when no one else is in the room.

I don't talk about it as much as I used to because well, people think I'm nuts. And I am, a little, but I'm also okay with that.

Ghosts. Ghosts have been a part of my world since I was a very little girl. I am fortunate in that run ins with them when I was little were never pooh-poohed as my imagination. My parents asked questions and encouraged me to talk to them and about them.

So I do. When in the right company.

When I moved into the Elfin Cottage, I sensed there was something there, but I explained to it that this was my house now and that we would have to exist with respect to each other. Other than a few noises that can be easily explained by the settling of a nearly 60 year old house build on sand in an earthquake prone area with lots and lots of wind, well, I try to explain with the mundane first. Things have been quiet for quite awhile.

Enter Doug. Not long after Doug moved in, he complained on FB that he had "demon dreams". Not good. I've heard the sigh of a demon and it was chilling. Turns out he was experimenting with skills he shouldn't having only hard about them on TV read about them on the internet. I warned him to please be careful. That precautions have to be taken or bad things can happen.

The next night I heard, quite clearly from his room, a gravelly voice. It was late, the TV was off, and it was definately not Doug. My impression was not that we were in danger, but that he was being warned not to be messing with stuff he isn't familliar with.

Last week, I returned home from work and Doug told me he thought I had been home earlier, as he heard very distinct footsteps in the (ceramic tile) hallway. The next night, I was in the living room watching Dr Who when I noticed a shadow passing in front of my studio door. The light was on in there. The dog was with me. I thought Doug might be lurking, but he was in his room. I turned out the light. and decided to tell you about it.

The truth is that I am not as perceptive as I was when I fist moved to N Nevada. I realized that it's because I don't tell ghost stories anymore. The people I spend my time with aren't into that sort of thing and I get it.

I realized that it's time to start talking again. And maybe pulling out that little digital recorder and seeing what I can pick up.

Why I will never be a go-go dancer

Saturday night was full of all sorts of weird little stories.

Some of the casinos in town have go-go dancers for the entertainment of the guests at night. The one we were at was one of these and while we sipped our drinks, we watched.

There are many reasons why I will never be a go-go dancer.

It isn't the outfit, although I am too fat to wear what they were wearing. I'm not fat, and the gym is helping me slim down, but no matter how fit I get, I will always be too fat to wear a bra, underwear, and fishnets in public.

It isn't the age, although I do think I'm too old. One of my cohorts pointed out that if you're over 25 you're over the hill for a go-go dancer, and I'm okay with knowing that I'm too old to go prancing around on a mini stage.

No, the reason I will never be a go-go dancer is because I just can't do those deep knee bend dance moves. Every time she did it, I pictured myself going down and failing to get back up. Struggling to stand while teetering in my heels, finally duck walking about until I find something to grab hold of... Nobody needs to see that. Good thing I'm too old and fat to try!

A sense of entitlement

I met a new fellow the other night, a new friend who, in the course of conversation, said something really interesting. And really true.

He said that he dates a Japanese girl because he got tired of American women's sense of entitlement. (I'm sure she is lovely and wonderful in many other ways too) He mentioned with emphasis, that she is very respectful.

I don't think that this is the sort of man who expects a woman to cower and bow, I truly think that he just appreciates that she treats him nicely.

I don't think he is wrong.

There are exceptions to every rule of course, and I hope that I am one of them, but I do agree. American women sure seem to have a sense of entitlement. I hear them talk. I get the encouragement from people I know.

"He needs to do this or that for you"
"He better be taking me out for a nice dinner"
"I/You deserve a man who..."

It's not that I think that women should settle for a man who doesn't treat her right (which sounds so wrong coming from me given my history. There are many untold stories here). But when I consider what is "right" I think of the running list of things in my head that I DON'T deserve. For example,

I don't deserve to be treated like I don't matter.

I tend to think though, that this basic human kindness. No one deserves to be treated like they don't matter.

But back to the topic at hand. I don't think that there's anything wrong to desire a man who showers  your with gifts and dinners and his undivided attention if that's what you want. But I don't think it should be expected. Because no one really deserves it. There's a huge difference between wanting and deserving. American women really need to remember that. We don't deserve things because we were born women. We shouldn't expect things because we were born in a country where our worth is not measured in cattle. How is that any different than measuring a man's worth by the size of the diamond you made him buy you?

Biggest Little FurCon

It's unusual for me to be up at 3 am and even more unusual for me to be up writing at this late, late hour, especially knowing that clean sheets await.

Some things, though, cannot wait.

Tonight, I attended a Furry Convention.

Furries, for the uninitiated, are people who dress like animals. Think, high school mascot, only far more personal.

It was something the Wifey had always wanted to do, attend a Furry convention, so imagine her surprise when there was one in Reno. Since I tend to be up for a good people watching adventure, I agreed to go to the casino where it was being held and stare.

What I found was a really nice group of people in various states of animal dress. Some, just wore tails. Some, ears. Others were in full body costumes. Some costumes were homemade, some were custom. All exhibited a certain personality. You could tell that some of the people were more comfortable in their costume than they were in regular clothes.

Amazingly, I get that. Where I thought I would giggle and snort and roll my eyes, I found that I accepted their desire to dress as animals. I understood their need to wear a different skin. One of their own design. Who wouldn't want to be a purple giraffe? Who hasn't put on a costume and felt empowered? I feel that way every time I wear certain outfits or put on my referee jersey.

We ended up in a Furry dance party. I sat and watched while my cohorts boogied. I smiled at the unabashed joy of the revelers. I blushed at the Yiffing. It was, an experience to remember.

Where I'm at

At the beginning of this year, I started an intention board and wrote down all the things that I intend to accomplish this year. It's colorful, covered in stars, and has plenty of room to grow. I've only had to fix one thing so far, and that's the part where I noted that I would sell GREATER than "x" number of bars of soap but I accidentally put "less" than. Oops. Fixed that, all better.

Some things I knew would hurt a bit in order to accomplish, like knocking out 1/2 of my credit card debt, some things I knew would take some work, like growing a front lawn, and others, I just trust will happen, like getting my "Nevada Made" certification which will open doors to wholesale opportunities to businesses who believe in buying local. The certification will cost money, but if I sell greater than the amount of soap I set out for myself, I'll be able to afford it.

I've always believed that big things can happen with a little bit of effort and a good attitude, so even when life is getting me down and I am struggling with having someone else live in my house, I remind myself of that. Then I go to the gym which is WAY better than shopping for a stress relief. I don't bring home clutter and I don't add to my debt. My heart is getting stronger and my body might be shrinking. Either that or my clothes are old and stretched out. could be both.

The ball is rolling fast on my debt reduction. I'm really excited about it. Between the roommate's rent, my better budgeting, a higher than expected tax return, and SURPRISE! Two unexpected checks this month, I should have one credit card knocked out by August. AUGUST!! (Maybe sooner)That's almost 6 months faster than I expected. Since I know that sometimes unexpected stuff comes up, it's possible that it may take a little longer, but I'm super excited to be knocking out $5,000+ in debt in just a few months. Technically, I've already reached one goal on my board since I wanted to reduce each card by half this year and the Master Card is at about 50%.

I planted my front lawn on Saturday. I've never planted a lawn before. I'll tell you, it took less seed and more dirt than I expected. And I didn't do it the way I was advised to, but I've been out there for the last two days at 7 am watering (it snowed on Monday). Grass can't be harder than vegetables, right? And I grow those every year! I have a plan. I believe I can do it.

Focus. Belief. Some sweat and tears.

There are so many things I want to do and accomplish. So many more things than what is on my little list.

The Storyteller

I love to tell stories. Clearly. Sometimes I admit, that my zeal for a good story outshines the interest of the story itself. Maybe the trouble is that I just like to talk.

My father tells stories too. I have many fond memories of laughing for hours as he talked about his around the world adventures. Around the world is a place that I have never been.

Poor Bratty gets the brunt of my stories, you know, since we spend at least 8 hours per day together. Sometimes, I'll be right in the middle of telling her another one when she turns and asks if I am talking to her. That's when I realize that I'm speaking to hear myself speak and it's time to shut up. She isn't being mean, she really just doesn't always know when I am addressing her and not my computer.

A week or two ago, a friend told me something that I would ordinarily repeat. When I opened my mouth to mention it, you know, just telling stories and spreading the news, I stopped myself.

For the first time, I realized that I was about to pass along a story that wasn't mine to tell.

I would never call myself a gossip. Nosey, absolutely. I love to hear a good story as much as I like to tell them. But not a gossip. Gossip is malicious and mean, right? Something I don't want to be.

But it isn't always, is it? In fact, Merriam Webster defines gossip in three ways. a person who habitually reveals personal or sensational facts about others. rumor or report of an intimate nature. and chatty talk. What I thought of as chatty talk though, might have been a rumor or report of an intimate nature. And I had become a person who reveals personal or sensational facts about others.

Wow. That's some ugly lint growing in my navel.

So I have been making a concentrated effort not to be the repeater of intimate details that are not my own. I've caught myself several times. Funny thing is, while I'm not repeating the stories, I find that I'm also a little less nosey. I catch myself perking up at a juicy bit only to walk away with the reminder that it's not my business.

I can tell MY stories all I want. But I don't want to tell other people's stories anymore. It's gotten quieter around here.

The Country Mouse learns a lesson

During my formidable years, as I'm sure I have mentioned, we lived in a house in the country, or, as I often refer to it, in the sticks. It was about 45 minutes to the grocery store, and very little else but dirt, oak trees, and rocks.

Since we lived so far out in the middle of nowhere, we never locked our doors. There just wasn't a need. If someone was coming, the neighbor's dogs went nuts. If we were gone, the neighbors kept an eye on things. They were the kind of neighbors from whom you could borrow a cup of sugar or a stick of butter. And we did. Because the grocery store was 30 minutes away.

Because of this, I tend to trust my neighbors a little too much. Thus far, that's been okay. My garage door gets left open, no one messes with my stuff. During the summer, my front door is open. and...

Wait. This is no longer true.

My purse has been found. Not in the house, but in the neighbor's bushes. Everything was intact except for my video camera and ipod. Since whoever took it didn't bother with the multiple gift cards, credit cards, etc that was in there, I can only assume that it was one of the neighbor kids. This makes me sad. I'm happy that I got the purse back. I am blessed that they didn't steal my identity. But I am hurt that someone would steal from me at all.

And so, I learned, since they took it right out of my house, to lock the door, even when I am home. And to close the garage door and, for the first time, to distrust my neighbors. Clearly, whoever took my purse knew I had good stuff in there, which means they were keeping an eye on my habits.

I'm just simply not in Kansas anymore.

Lie to me

It's rare to meet a person who isn't going to lie to you. I can generally tell if someone is fibbing, I just won't say anything. 

Like that guy I dated who lied about just about everything. I knew that his stories didn't line up, but I like to trust people. However, despite my head-in-the-sand mentality, I knew something wasn't right and when the truth came out, I wasn't as hurt as I would have been otherwise. Suddenly, the stories made sense and I was able to see that the entire 5 month relationship had no foundation. I was glad I had refused to meet his kids. A few days later, Chango lay his little puppy head on my shoulder and I lost my heart to a far more reliable male. Dogs will never lie to you. Also, if you give away their children, they don't get upset.

I've learned to trust that instinct. That doesn't mean I always act on it, sometimes to my detriment, but I recognize it and take note. File the information for later use.

That is not the point of this story.

Last night, my gym lied to me.

When I signed up over a month ago, they told me that I would have to meet with a personal trainer whether I wanted to or not. Unfortunately, the soonest available time I could attend a meeting was a month out. I wrote it down, but still forgot. Dangit! The trainer was supposed to give me the little scan card I need to get into the facility instead of having to check in manually with reception every time. Annoying.

Last night, I went out of my way to attend the gym where I signed up so that I could go ahead and get my card. The receptionist told me that only the trainers have them and that I'd have to make another appointment with the sales guy in order to get it.

Let me make this clear. I do not want to pay a personal trainer. My experience with them has not been good and I can generally rely on myself to kick my own butt. Also, I don't need someone to tell me I'm fat because I have a high BMI. While I do need to lose some weight, I'm not actually fat, I'm dense. I do not float, I sink. Most trainers don't want to hear these things, they just want you to buy their services. And I get that, but I'm not interested.

So, after my 45 minutes on the arc trainer, I showed up dripping, to my sales guy's desk. I waited for him to notice me (I love sales people who don't need you after the sale. jerk. Clearly my "he just wants your money" instinct was right on there.) and asked to make another appointment. He responded that they can do that up front. I casually let him know that they had sent me to him and (played a little dumb) announced that I'd go make the appointment with them.

Back up at the front desk, I spoke with the first girl. I told her that Joe had told me I could make an appointment with her. She looked a little baffled. Then opened a drawer and said "Oh look! We have one left!" and produced a scan tag. Then she acted all conspiratorial as she got it assigned to me. Like we were getting away with something.

All I could think was, if you're going to lie to me, at least try to hide it. OR be so obvious about it that we both undertand that you're just following protocall, you know?

Those grandmas know a thing or two

It occurred to me one day while I was working the cube with Bratty, that there's more to grocery store chicken than meets the eye.

You know what I'm talking about. The super cheap hot roast chicken you can get at the grocery for about $5. The ones that for some reason taste amazingly delicious.

I don't know about you, but I consider those a special treat. Maybe they shouldn't be.

A $5 chicken will cover about 3 meals for me if I am being a bit piggy. Even so, $1.67 isn't bad for a meal (or the protein part of one if I count sides). If I roasted that bird myself, I'd be paying about 10 for the bird plus the spices and cost of cooking it. And the burnout of smelling chicken for days since scents linger in my home.

So, stroke of genius. I've picked the bones pretty clean, there's skin because I try not to eat it, and all that other stuff that goes along with eating a chicken, Right?

I did what my grandmother (ok, likely my great grandmother, since Grandma is a pretty big fan of modern convenience) would do. I boiled up that carcass. Now I have chicken broth. Mildly flavored with lemon pepper, but now, when I make soup or rice or whatever else, I have a small supply of ready made, likely a bit healthier broth ready to go. And that $5 chicken just cost me $.67 per meal.  (4.5 2 cup jars of broth plus 3 meals worth of meat)

I think I'm going to pick up a chicken more often!

Now into the freezer with these!!

Irrational fears

I have many irrational fears. Some are easily explained, some are more complicated.

For example, I will not swim in lakes because there are lake zombies in there. There are no zombies in the ocean because its a moving body of water and also, sharks. But in lakes, the water just sits there in the lake bed. And the zombies reach up and grab your ankles and pull you down into the depths below. Tahoe and Pyramid are especially bad for zombies because they only connect to each other. And sometimes they find bodies in there. Bodies that have been in there for a very long time. centuries. and also, water babies. The thing that makes this fear even more irrational is that I don't believe in zombies. In fact, the whole zombie apocalypse craze pretty much pisses me off and makes me want to walk away while I call everyone an idiot. BUT you'll notice that they never start the stupid zombie apocalypse in the water because then it would be too real. I think. When zombie shit comes up on the Netflix, I go watch Toddlers and Tiaras.

Actually, I haven't watched that in a week or two.

Point being, that I have an irrational fear of someone bursting in on me when I'm in the shower at the gym. I like the gym. We have a healthy relationship. I go, sweat, shower, and go home. I've lost 5 pounds this way. I have every intention of losing more.

I think I mentioned  that since I go to the gym at night and I shower at night, that I would start showering at the gym to save money. And sweat stains on my car upholstery. That's a side benefit. But a good one. There's all sorts of winning going on there.

I'm a modest kind of girl. I don't wander around the locker room nakid. I make sure my girlie bits are covered until I'm in the shower stall and the curtain is safely closed. I lube up then wrap up before opening the curtain again.

Yet still, even though normal people know that a shut curtain means a full stall, I still worry about someone flinging open the curtain and seeing my butt. or worse.

Last night, I learned that my fears are not unfounded when I was just about done applying my body lotion (which never gets put on at home) and the curtain was suddenly flung open by some topless lady. I'm sure there was a look of horror on my face. After all, I was wearing nothing but a towel turban and flip flops. I was also facing the curtain.

She shut the curtain, apologized, explained that since I was so quiet in there that she didn't think the stall was occupied. Never mind that there were plenty of open stalls, never mind that my bright pink toiletry bag was hanging on the hook right next to the stall, never mind that I practically duct tape the curtain shut when I'm in there.

The consensus that occurred to my workmates and not to me? She wanted to see some boobies. And she did (so, much to my dismay, did I). Apparently, there are creepers everywhere. And not all of them are men.

Another Roommate Vlog

On Wild Hogs and Austerity Measures

I'm broke, blah, blah, blah, looking for a roommate, blah, blah, blah, on a strict budget.

Now, if you're new, you're caught up.

I found a roommate. (I might still post craigslist postings though if you guys like them. There is one more waiting to be published, and I made them "unlisted" so you should be able to see them now.). He seems pretty normal, moves in on the 1st, and has already put down a deposit with the balance of the first month's rent due on the 27th.

When he handed me the cash, I was like, "OH BOY!! MONEY!!" And I immediately started plotting how I would spend it. Fence repairs! Dinner! A shopping spree to Costco where I can spend it on MEAT! I'm almost out of meat. I can have new pants! My pants are falling off again. I can refill my Starbucks card and have coffee treats! A new belt! My last one was purchased sometime around 2001. New shoes! Makeup!  At this point, the voice in my head started reminding me of the reasons why I ended up in this mess in the first place. "Sock away that cash", she said, "you don't want to have a roommate forever and eventually, your car will need to be replaced".

So, I'll admit, that I spent a little. I bought some candy, some cake mix, and a closet rod for the spare room. Not only is the rod installed already, but I got to use my chop saw and that made me VERY happy. I think I spent about $40 of the deposit. That's not much, but it's a lot for me. I don't want to slip back into old habits. It would have been REALLY easy to wander around the home improvement store and pick up a few "wants" that I think are "needs".

So it's back to my austere budget. Meal planning, weekly grocery shopping. I did really good last month, coming in under budget and moving things around when I needed to. I love the envelope method and REALLY enjoy dropping my change into my change jar. I didn't overdraw my account. But 1 month, that's easy peasy. It's changing my habits long term that will be hard. Especially with extra funds coming in. (A new TV! A New Roof! A front lawn! And occasional steak dinner!)

I'm sticking to it though. I may fund a few things before I start attacking the credit cards hard core. If he always pays me in cash, then this will mean that I won't be pulling my budget out of my checking account every 2 weeks, I will (hopefully) be depositing leftover cash into it.

Overall, it's just nice to feel like I have a little wiggle room.

Growing Pains

I hope that I am always growing. Changing for the better. Getting closer to the person that I want to be.

Call it PMS, over stimulation, over tired, low blood sugar, call it what you want but I recently found myself behaving in a manner that was NOT the person that I want to be. And it made me wonder if that bad attitude has been festering for awhile. Coloring my life in an ugly manner and causing issues with the people that I care about.

Generally, when things go wrong, I ask myself what I did to cause it. Over the last year, I learned that it isn't always me, that other people, in their imperfection, also contribute to the dysfunction of a relationship. This doesn't mean that I do not contribute, only that I may not be the only problem.

Since I can only control myself, I want to do whatever I can do to make sure that I am not being an asshole. It's not always easy.

It doesn't help that when I decide to make a life overhaul, I tend to do it all at once. The strict budgeting is taking it's toll. I didn't think it would be easy, and I think overall it's been easier than I thought it would be, but it's still hard. I have slipped a couple of times, I hear that happens, I know it will get easier. I contacted another possible roommate today. That will help a lot. 1 year of roommate will knock out 1 credit card plus about half of the other (as long as I continue to pay what I am paying on them and don't add more debt). 15 months of roommate will pay them off completely if I add another $50 in payments each month (which I already started doing to cover the fun I had for the New Year). I really like how that story goes. Will it actually work that way? probably not. But I can do my best. Realistically, 2.5 years with a roommate should pay off both cards. I am not counting tax returns or bonuses in this amount. I AM taking into account travel expenses.

I started going to the gym again, which seems to be working to helping my mood and focus, but that takes time away from the dog. So I am trying to take him for more walks, and now that I'm home before dark and it's warming up, hopefully we can start meeting his doggy friends again.

My interpersonal relationships are... A little messy right now. Some are great! Others, need something. Vitamins? Medication? Communication? CPR? I'm not sure. And I don't know if I am equipped to give any of those things. I do know that I have started to question the kind of friend that I am. And I worry that I'm not a good one. I think I need to try harder and give more. I just don't know how. I do know that in some cases, I'm seeing the same patterns that I have seen since elementary school.  I think I need to fix that. I need to be more appreciative of the people I have. All of them, not just the ones that I see all the time. I've said it before, no one person should have to carry the burden of being my only friend. If it sounds terrible to hear that I may have to put people on my to-do list, please understand that this is how I make them a higher priority in my life. by reminding myself to give attention to the people who are important to me.

I know I need to re prioritize many things. I talk about it a lot, and always intend to fix the priorities. And in some ways, I'm working on it. It's just easier sometimes to slip into old habits.

Friends, of any sort, I need to foster those. Learn to have more than one or two friends at a time. When was the last time I sent love to one of my friends south of here? When was the last time I sent a text just to say "hello"? When was the last time I planned an outing instead of waiting for someone to invite me to theirs?
Derby, I need to give less. It's become a bad relationship. The kind where I give more than I get. I don't think I will  give it up completely any time soon, but it also doesn't need to consume as much of my energy as it does. I need to set boundaries here.
BC needs more of me.
Chango needs more of me too.
I should be writing this down on some sort of goal list. and making a plan.
I need more of me, but I am making progress here. I've been doing a lot of "nothing" lately (if nothing is knitting and watching TV) and it feels good. But I need to balance it out and not spend my entire weekend watching Toddlers and Tiaras. I need to set boundaries here too.

So, here is where I am beginning. Hopefully this will work. I've split my obvious issues into categories. Friends, Derby, BC, Chango, Self, Home. I'm going to allocate time to all of those things. Not daily, maybe not even weekly. But if I want to change, I have to start somewhere. And it will help to see where I am spending my time. and how I am spending it.

Step 2 ????

Step three, MONEY!!

I know. I'm a fruitcake. But after all that seriousness, I needed a smile. I found this free online printable. It's an appointment book page which won't actually fit in my appointment book, but at least I can use it to plan out my time. Actually, I think I am going to hang it on my studio wall. I printed 5. I don't want to waste paper in case I stop using it, but at least I can use it in conjuntion with my regualr planner.

Here's to change and trying to be a better me

Valentines Day crafts

Every year, I make Valentines Day cards instead of Christmas cards not because I like V-Day (not a fan, actually) but because I want to be different and it is a great excuse to tell the people that I love that I well, love them.

I make them partially because I am cheap, partially because I think that the greeting card industry is a little silly, and a lot because I feel like it means more that way.

This year, plan A didn't work out. I don't remember what it was, but it was a fail. Now I remember. Equipment fail, not crafter fail.

Plan... next was a GREAT idea, I just needed to commit to actually carving the linoleum block I've been hanging onto for at least  a year.

I learned to carve printing blocks in 8th grade art class. It might have even been 7th grade. My teacher was all sorts of awesome and a couple of the projects she introduced to us were so amazing, I still want to do them. Seriously, best art teacher ever.

About 10 years ago, I decided I was going to try it again, bought all the stuff, never did, and amazingly, purged all the stuff.

About 1 year ago, I decided I was going to try it again, bought all the stuff, and did NOT purge it in the last purging.

Now, I have commitment issues. this is why I cut that guy I see sometimes a lot of slack. This is also why I have a lot of project IDEAS, but not a lot of completed projects. I am trying to change that.

Tonight, I drew out my design, made sure the block was the right size for the paper, and started carving.

I stabbed myself in the finger. Those cutters are sharp.

I accidentally carved what appears to be a vagina in the corner. It's not supposed to be a hoo ha. I took a deep breath and kept on going even though I know that my family will happily point it out.

Then, I headed to the gym because I needed to go. While on the evil yellow thing that I secretly love because it kicks my butt, I realized something important.

I carved my design portrait instead of landscape. I need a new block.

It's no wonder I have commitment issues.

I'm still going to finish it because it can be used for other projects. And no, you can't see a picture right now because I want the card to be a SURPRISE. If I get my shit together, I'll post it on Valentines Day. Until then, I think I'll start another hat. I've yet to draw blood with my knitting needles.

As promised, A Roomate Video Blog

Onward and hatward!

I finished the hat I was talking about the other day, It's a 50/50 wool and soy silk mix that I knitted from my own handspun. I didn't blend or dye this one (the dye lot is called "tossed salad" I'm laughing about it) , but I did develop the pattern It's a really simple one-skein pattern that works for men or women.

Of course, after all that bragging about easy crafting for the single and childless, the dog walked by while I was getting my knit on and hooked a few yards away with his tail.

Off to the gym with me, I've lost enough IQ points watching Toddlers and Tiaras for the day.

Exercises, exercises, help me do my exercises

I signed up for the gym a little ahead of time and for a little more than I expected, but as long as I don't make a habit out of those late night side trips to Super Burrito for a half order of steak nachos, I think I will be okay.

It went down a bit like this:

The gym nearby that has a pool but is cheaper and has better hours than the community center where I was getting my sweat on is also attended by a friend of mine. He had a 7 day buddy pass, which, he had offered to me about a month ago. I wasn't ready to join up at that point.

Then a few days ago I thought, hey, I'll use his pass, and by the time the 7 days are up, I will be a little closer to funding a membership, and it shouldn't cause financial discord.

By the way, BIG thanks to Chickie for helping me to find an extra $13 in my budget.

By my calculations and with my friend's input, I figured that a membership would be $10 per month (that is what he pays) and I would save $3. Unfortunately, the reality is that he got in on a deal that is no longer available. I could pay $10 per month, but it would cost me $145 to sign up. I REALLY don't have $145 laying around. I mean, I do, but I don't want to touch the savings account for stuff like this. In fact, I want to put that cushion back in there.

There was a new deal. $29 sign up, $20 per month. Since Chickie saved me $13, I only had to find $7. The deal ended yesterday, so I took it. A little early, I know, but my first month was free, I had the $29 in cash because I didn't need to grocery shop last week and I didn't spend my whole entertainment allowance last month.

Here's the thing that I realized the other night.

That $7 is going to be pretty easy to find. Not only am I spending more time exercising and less time doing things that might cost me money, BUT if I go to the gym at night, and shower there, then I'm not paying to shower at home. I'm saving water and gas to heat my hot water heater. Time will tell how much I save this way, but come spring, when it warms up a bit and I'm not running the heater, things should look a bit prettier. I haven't showered at home in 2 days.

I do understand that I'll need to up my food budget. This way I'll have easier and healthier options at home so I won't be tempted to swing by super burrito. Which I only did once, and don't plan to do again any time soon. Plan being the operative word here, those things are delicious. And cured my foot cramps.

The 52 Week Challenge

I noticed the other day that there was a new popular thingy going around on Pinterest. The 52 week Challenge.

Since most stuff like this tends to catch my eye, make them roll, and then I move on, I thought I would stop for a moment and actually see what it was all about.

I entered it into my favorite search engine and sure enough, it was a variation on the penny trick used for MANY years to to teach children the value of saving. In short, it's all about compounding. 1 penny today, 2 tomorrow, and soon enough, MONEY!!

Only in this case, it's $1 this week, (not a problem) $2 next week, (still not a problem) and so on. 52 weeks later, MONEY!

You can see the chart here.

What no one seems to remember is that this money has to come from somewhere. And when you are on a tight budget, it's difficult to say where the money will come from. Sure, I can come up with $1 for this week, and maybe $2 next week, but when we start getting into the $5 and the $10, it gets a little more difficult. In fact, you start risking dipping into my grocery or gas fund.

By week $40, you just took both my grocery AND gas fund. In Week 50, there's no more money for the dog and the bird to eat. Sure, I have saved over $1,000, but I broke my budget doing it. Sound extreme? from what I see, for many Americans, it's reality.

I find it easier to build a specific amount directly into my budget. I put $30 per week on automatic withdrawl. I've had to learn to check each week on Friday to ensure that the money will be in there to be removed on Monday, but since I started doing that, I haven't overdrawn. The one time I was going to, I went ahead and put a stop on the transfer.

Over all, at $30 per week, for 52 weeks, I save over $1,500. Which is actually not too much more than the 52 week challenge, but I also don't have to worry about where I'm going to find that cash (if I have it, and it's not in an envelope, I'm going to spend it somewhere) it's already allocated.

Do what works for you, but I've put quite a bit of money away over the years this way and give myself regular raises. It seems to be one of the few financial things I've done right!

My search for more things to do

I figured that if I am going to start posting crafts for the single and childless, I should probably research some to try. So I entered "Crafts for the Single and Childless" into my favorite search engine and landed in my own blog.

Then I saw some articles that discussed all the thigs that were wrong with women who choose to remain childless, some of which probably ended with something to effect of "there's nothing wrong with us, asshole"

It seems to me that I've hit upon a niche market, but I don't know where to start. After all, most of the things that I do can be done with children around, the trouble is that sometimes those children (and the men that I date) simply make it difficult to execute said craft. Kind of like how my cats used to like to play in the fabric after I carefully laid it down on the floor for measuring and cutting.

Children ALWAYS want to try treadling the spinning wheel (and sometimes I let them) and the guy that I see sometimes has been known to pull my knitting needle out of my knitting. Kind of like my cat used to. I can't decide if he wants my undivided attention while he watches TV or if he's just a brat. I'm going for the second there. It's not animal cruelty if I stab him with said needle, however, and is only a crime if I break the skin or leave a bruise so, retribution does occasionally occur. And by occasionally, since I only see him occasionally, I mean rare indeed.

So think I should start brainstorming crafts that involve things that kids just should not have access to. Like drugs and hard alcohol.

I kid. That stuff is expensive. I just don't have the funds for clever cocaine sculptures. (that ought to bring in some interesting search hits) AND, I wouldn't know where to get that sort of thing anyway. AND blog fodder simply isn't worth a felony. Can I blog from prison? Who would take care of Chango and Baby? I would have to make soap out of... oh my goodness, lets not go there today.

NORMAL stuff you really aren't supposed to let your kids handle generally means something sharp, and chemical-y, and hot. I'm pretty sure I have all that stuff so as soon as I finish knitting that hat I'm making out of yarn that I spun (gee, I hope I have enough of it!) I'll get on that. Meanwhile, I think the hat should count since its sitting out in the open and is not in any danger of dropped stitches, cookie drool, or boogers.

The other moral of this story is that cats and men can be buttheads. But since they are cute and furry and snuggly, they are forgiven.