10 December 09
I feel . . .
. . . like I should be grateful more often than I am.
. . . some things that should be enough, aren’t.
. . . like a little laughter should be better than no laughter at all.
. . . tired more often than I would like to.
. . . hungry even when I’m not.
. . . like I should know more than I do by now.
. . . that some things just need to be accepted and not fought.
. . . like things are brewing when what I really want is percolation.
21 October 09
Refueling
A day ago or so, Kim Moldofsky explained the difference between an introvert and an extrovert. An introvert refuels, gains energy, by being alone. An extrovert refuels by being with people.
For all my life, I’ve been strictly in the introvert camp. Very, very strongly in the introvert camp. But I say that know I am now an introvert most of the time. Generally being around people makes me tired. I get hungover after being around people for a long period of time. I find myself withdrawing, being quiet, wanting to be alone. At something like SXSW I spend time just sitting by myself, or I linger in the bathroom.
And for years, for as long as I can remember, this has been the case. I actually remember sitting on a school bus with the seats so very tall, coming home from kindergarten, looking out the window, feeling the girl in the seat next to me jumping up and down and thinking, “School would be so much better if there weren’t so many kids.” It’s not that I hated the kids, it’s just that everywhere I went there were kids. I was pushed, encouraged, required by my teachers to “join the other kids” when really I just wanted to be away from them.
Those introversion techniques continued throughout my entire life. But things are changing. And I realized it just recently. I realized it after spending time with people, on a few consecutive days, and realizing that I felt happier, more relaxed, sharper somehow after spending time with people.
It’s not like every time I spend time with people I come home exhausted, drained, and grumpy. Nor do I regret spending time with people. Well, most of the time. But quite often, groups of people, people I don’t know terribly well, people I may not like, they do exhaust me. It’s never permanent or damaging. I just don’t always feel bright and shining after these things.
But after experiencing several instances where I felt significantly better after spending time with people has made me rethink whether I’m as much of an introvert as I thought I was. I mean, being around Andrew makes me feel better than being alone (most of the time, at least). And a few extra-special people in my life make me feel better as well. But that number has been very small my whole life and I’m realizing that this number has grown significantly over the last few years. I’m happy about this. I like having more refueling stations in my life.
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30 September 09
It's been a while
And since I still don’t have the attention spans for things that are much longer than either 140 characters or 65 words, here are some short bits about what I’m thinking:
Roman Polanski: No matter how great of an artist he is, no matter how creative and brilliant he is, he ruined a young girl’s life forever. She says she’s been victimized more from the publicity around the case than from the case itself and I believe her. I can comprehend that. I think everyone who has decided that they just can’t press charges, that they just can’t face that action understands her. That said, he deserved jail time, he deserves jail time, he deserves to be an example of what you can expect if you drug and rape a child. And honestly, no one has said that better than Kate Harding so I’ll let you read her clear words on the subject. And, Kelly Deal who is not Kelley Deal of The Breeders, made it easy to find a list of the people who are supporting Roman Polanski’s bid to not be punished. Most of the names on this list don’t surprise me. I mean look at how many of them are male. But there are a few who do. So, sorry Diane von Furstenberg. I love your dresses but I will NEVER buy a dress from you. Ever. Support your child-drugging and rapist-friend, but forget about having me save up to buy a frock. And Kevin Smith, the toked-out kinda wacky guy who thinks way too deeply, or not deeply enough. Thank YOU for not supporting this jagoff. I still think you’re a bit of a wanker, but I think I may have to give you another chance.
Humid Beings launched this week. It’s a web portal for New Orleans. And it will help me feel less far away from the city when I’m not there.
The Grassroots Business Association of Seattle is an amazing group that supports fantastic ventures to bring small business owners together in Seattle. We at the Chicago Craft Mafia try to do that locally with our quarterly Craft Rackets so we can draw information to small craft biz owners. Well, Lauren Bacon and Emira Mears who wrote The Boss of You have created the Vancouver Grassroots Business Association. I wish them nothing but success and continued influence. They’re fantastic women that I’ve been lucky to meet. And if they can’t help your business grow, then you’re in the wrong business.
Quinoa Stuffed Shiitake Mushrooms sound really good. I’ve been craving baked foods and pastas. Both things I haven’t eaten much of the last several months since I was writing a cookbook. But now that the book is over, I’ve eaten a lot of pasta. And you know what? I love pasta.
We find out on Friday which city ets the Olympics. I really hope it isn’t Chicago. But I fear that the committee won’t be able to say “no” to Obama. I’m a huge fan of the guy. But I can’t support him on this. If the Olympics are so profitable and so great, why is the IOC paying cities to host the games? Pfft.
About a billion years ago, or a year and a half in non-Twitter years, Betsy Greer of Craftivism asked me if I would write an essay for a book she had coming out about knitting and the good it can create in the world called Knitting for Good. I agreed. It was amazing to see my name in print on a page. I cried. My mother cried. I even think my cat cried. But then I heard Marceli Botticelli read my pice out loud for Cast On and wow! Not only does she have a much, MUCH, much better voice than I have but she does wonderful things to the essay I wrote. Thanks again to Betsy Greer for writing the book, asking me to be in it, and being just a generally amazing and fantastic woman. And in case you’re not sure what “craftivism” means, she done went and defined it fer ya!
Gawd I’ve missed sewing. I have a huge pile of pieces I’ve got cut out ready to become bags and ideas stacked on ideas and a coat all ready to get placed on the cutting table. And I’m excited to make it all happen and become bags. But first, I’ve got a dress to make for a certain six-year-old girl. And based on the initial fitting, it’s looking good. It made her eyes light up. And that is all I need. I will say that making a casual cotton dress for an athletic six-year-old is a helluva lot easier than making a silk/linen wedding dress for an atheltic twenty-sixish-year-old woman. I’m a zipper (which I purchasd but can’t find) and a hem from a finished product.
And knitting! I’ve done more knitting in the last few weeks than I have in months. I’ve almost got the body of a sweater finished. And I’m some seems, a collar, and some end-weaving to finish another sweater. It’s great, this knitting thing. I’ve missed it. I just wish it burned more calories, cause that whole writing a cookbook thing resulted in lots of eating and sitting.
Which was okay since this summer sucked! Seriously, all the people who are all Chicago was great this summer because it didn’t get too hot. Well, I just wanna remind all you jagoffs that come February when you haven’t seen the sun for 60+ days and it’s cold and rainy and wet and miserable and you’re ready to crawl your way out of your boring skin, that you like it when it’s not too hot. I, on the other hand, feel like I haven’t refilled my sun-cell battery this year which means that I’m going to be ape-shit crazy come November. Prepare yourself. Stupid Chicago weather.
Having a kitten is hard. Really hard! Like I have little scratches all over my arms hard. Oh, but he’s cute, too. He occasionally lays down on the pillow next to my head and purrs and rubs his chin on my forehead so I know that I belong to him. He’s a lover and a fighter. Boos was happier before we got him. But he’s doing better than he was. Even though he’s back on the anti-anxiety medication cause he wanted us to know that our rugs were evil and needed to die. Sigh. He’s lucky he’s cute, too.
The DIY Trunk Show is in the organizing process still. It’s coming up soon. My todo list is managable this year thanks to the fantastic Amy Carlton and ladies of the Chicago Craft Mafia. It’s really gonna be the best show ever. You should come.
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16 September 09
I wrote a book!
Hitting send was a little more emotional than I expected it to be. I figured I would cry a little bit when I saw the final product, but I didn’t expect to cry just from sending the un-copyedited files off.
Now that I’m done with the writing stage, maybe I’ll have time to talk about the all those things related to feminism, journalims, meeting fantastic and charming friends for the first time, travel, my kitten (who is losing his kitten face), gasp crafting, organizing the DIY Trunk Show, and probably something about food on occasion.
But for now, I’m going to drink some milk, eat a cookie, and go to bed.
OMG! I WROTE a book. That whole past-tense thing is crazy, isn’t it?
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12 May 09
From Here to There, and Back Again
Yep, folks. This is where I’m going.
10 days away from home.
10 days without my computer. (I can feel the shakes already.)
10 days with no Twitter, Flickr, email. (shakes)
I can get phone calls and text messages. Or, more accurately, I’ll be able to occasionally get phone calls and text messages wherever Sprint has service. Which won’t be everywhere. But that’s going to have to be okay.
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12 May 09
Long way to get here, a long way to go
Oh my word I’ve been busy. I have:
With the help of Andrew and some amazing friends ripped up the back yard and made it prettier. The garden will come in a couple of weeks though.*
I have started, but not completed, sewing 16 bags. I usually sew bags in batches of 4. But decided that I should try to sew even more bags at once. I learned that doing the exact same things over and over again for 4 bags is managable. But doing the exact same things over and over again for 16 bags requires a lot of something going on in the background to keep me busy. I think I need to find some new cool podcasts cause I’m almost caught up on CraftyPod and I’m, like, totally caught up on Dollhouse (OMG! Please don’t cancel it! Please!), Lost (who IS Jacob? hmm?), Grey’s Anatomy (are they really gonna let Izzie die?). No Reservations is the only other show I watch regularly and it is not teeny-tiny on a laptop while I’m mostly listening and not watching viewing. By the way, I’m trying to sew 16 bags at once so I can have them ready for the Constructor Craft Fair in two weekends. It’s my first suburban show, the second time these fine folks have organized it, and I’m going to be exhausted but happy to be there.
I’ll also be speaking as part of the Pilcrow Lit Festival that is organized by Leah Jones and Amy Guth. I’m excited to be talking at 5:45 about niche writing (crafty and maybe food). I’m lucky to have met these two people (at last year’s DIY Trunk Show, by the by) and am looking forward to participating in their great event.
I signed a book contract. I’ll go into it more. But I’m currently fluctuating between jumping up and down and thinking “OMG! What have I done!?!” But I’m mostly excited. And I have the organization down pat, have a lot of the base text ready for editing. Oh? What’s it about? I’m writing a cookbook. I KNOW! right? The cookbook wil have 300 recipes that are suitable for making in a cast-iron skillet. Which means I finally have to perfect things like:
Red Eye Gravy (OMG! so gooood) to go with Biscuits of course
Pan-Fried Chicken (Love this stuff.)
Pineapple Upside Down Cake (Yep. A cast-iron skillet is perfect for this. And I don’t really need to perfect it, but I know Andrew will want to test the recipe once or twice.)
And so much more but I’m going to stop before I start waving my arms and pulling out my hair. Stay tuned, though. The book won’t have photographs, but I’ll actually try my hand at some food photography to tease you all into buying the book when it comes out.
I’m going on a road-trip. A 10-day road trip. I’m a little nervous about being gone from home that long. Previously I’ve only left my home for 7 days and then only once. I’m far more of a home-body than Andrew is, so this will be hard. I’ll miss Boos something horribly. I’ll miss my bed (which I should be sleeping in right now, but these thoughts they needed release first). I’ll miss my routine. But I’ll be having fun because I’ll be driving across the country with one of the most amazing people I’ve met and her Boxer Shaun The Dog. Sadly we won’t be lollygagging and taking the scenic route that I initially envisioned. But I think that once we get to Denver things will pick up significantly. I’m also a little nervous about taking the hybrid through the mountains since other people I know who have driven their Prius through a mountain range said it was a little taxing on it’s widdle engine. But other people think I’m silly. So, we’ll see.
Andrew will be flying out with Naz and their two cats, Monty and Loki. They’ll arrive on Saturday afternoon, and hopefully we’ll arrive shortly thereafter. We’ll hang in San Francisco for a few days and then turn around, hop in Sparky, and head home, just in time for the Pilcrow Lit Festival and then the Constructor Craft Fair and then I’ll have Memorial Day to unwind, nap, cuddle with Boos, and read all the email that I’ll be missing while I’ll be travelling across the country. Twice. By car. Woot! Can you tell I’m excited? I’ve got the TripTik from AAA. Andrew got the car all inspected and checked and tomorrow I’ll be cleaning out the inside of the windows, crossing my fingers that this iPod hookup thing will work out cause there is only so much country music I can handle, (Although Alice did give us a map for NPR stations that I should take along) and getting together the rest of the items on my to-do, to-pack, to unload from brain list.
And if you happen to Tweet, feel free to follow @cinnachick on Twitter. You’ll get to see my crazy tweets from the road. I won’t be able to get tweets from my phone, but I will be able to send them.
With the help of The Cutest Little Girl in the World, I planted some seeds a while ago. I was convinced I’d killed them all. But many of them have been doing okay, and some are ready to go in the ground. Sadly the tomatoes are teeny-tiny so I’ll still plant them, but I’m not expecting much from them. Damon gave us some great seeds a few years ago. Last year we didn’t have the time to nurture them, nor did we have a garden we could safely plant them into. This year we will. A lot of the beans he gave me don’t seem to have come back but a few did. And he wrote up some amazing descriptions of them. Once I figure out what is what, I’ll be planting them in the garden, taking some pictures, and hopefully learning a thing or two. I joke that I only am good at growing plants that I can eat. But I’m not very good at even doing that. But I have found things that take very little care to grow. (Parsley, chard, thyme, and lettuce all grow remarkably easy and even self-seed or manage to survive a winter to return for another year.)
And now that my brain is dumped, I’m going to bed. I guess this is why some people refer to these things as journals instead of blogs.
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17 April 09
Boos, Boo-Boos, Barryous, Fuzzyous, Boobyous, etc.
Those are just a few of the nicknames that I’ve given to Tiberius. There are many others, but most of those are embarrassing to me. They would be embarrassing to him, though, if people knew he answered to them.
It’s been interesting adjusting to a one-cat household. But not as depressing as I thought it might be. The first day or two after Isabel passed, Boos was quieter and more withdrawn than normal. Sitting in or near the places where she’d spent most of the previous week or so. But it didn’t take long before he would walk into the living room and spend a few mintues sitting on the floor between us, completly unsure which lap to jump into withi his tail twitching and his little ears moving and his eyes looking oh so confused. As I tell my little friend Ella (aka, the Cutest Little Girl in the Whole Wide World), “Cats have tiny, tiny brains. They can’t think very hard.” Well, Boos has maxed out capacity on more than one occasion during the last few weeks.
There have been a few other behavior changes I’ve noticed. He’s far more affectionate now than he was even two months ago. If there is a lap, he will do anything to get into it. I think part of this is because now that he is alone during the day, he doesn’t get kitty cuddletime so we are expected to make up for that once we get home. I think the other part is that he’s realized he doesn’t have to second-guess sitting in a lap. If he sees a lap, it’s there and it belongs to him. That level of freedom is new to him.
He’s also talking a lot more than normal. A lot more than normal. He’s got a “broken voicebox” which doesn’t mean that anything happened to him, but he sounds like he’s constantly got laryngitis. Well, except for when we’re at the vet or when Andrew leaves while I’m still home. Not only is Boos talking more, but he’s completely adopted Isabel’s pattern of screaming when one of us leaves. Or if he wakes up in a room that he wasn’t alone in before, he’ll cry until we come to get him or call him from another room. It’s heartbreakingly charming and sweet. But, since Isabel, was alwasy the one in the family who had a comment for everything we’ve been joking that now Boos can finally get a word in edgewise.
Isabel was always the one to make sure we finally went to bed. She would sit in the door to the living room and slowly begin an escalation of meows before we finally said “Okay! Fine! We’re going to bed!” and then she would turn and wait for us in the bathroom for our evening shower/brushing teeth/etc. ritual. Now Tiberius is the one who is very gently letting us know that it has gotten to be “that time” and he would like to retire to his study, if we didnt’ mind. But he hasn’t quite started joining us for our bathroom evening rituals. I see it on the horizon. Isabel made sure that he knew he wasn’t allowed to come in, but now that things are different, he’s curious and still timid.
He’s also testing the limits of what we will forbid him to do. I was cooking last weekend and turned around to see him sitting on the conter sniffing the carton of eggs. He’s never done that before. And when I pointed to the floor and firmly said “Down” which normally would make him jump like a cat with its tail on fire, he just stared at me for a minute before gentling walking across the entire counter and then jumping to the floor. During dinner he sits in a chair beside me to watch us eat. And occasionaly he’ll sit at the end of the table while we eat. It’s such a long table that we’re okay with him sitting at one far end. Well, lately he’s been pushing how quickly and how close he can sneak toward us. He’s been grabbing my elbow as I eat. If he could tilt his head and batt his eyelashes, he’d be doing that, too. He’s a charmer and he knows it. At least now.
So he’s still my sweet and fuzzy boy. He still prefers my company to Andrew’s, although I see that starting to change. He still wont’ sit on the blanket in the window seat but he’ll sit beside the blanket on the window seat. if the blanket is anywhere else, he’ll sit on it. But not in the window, cause that was emphatically her spot. And he is still worried every morning that we’re going to take him to the vet so he runs and hides every day before we leave for work. I don’t know entirely what goes on in his little brain, but I know he’s thinking about stuff for sure. And I also know if this summer ends up as hot as I think it will, I’m going to be taking him in to get a lion cut again. He didn’t seem to care two summers ago. And since he is older and less able to control his body heat than when he was a kitten, I think he might appreciate it. At least once we stop laughing at him he will appreciate it.
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20 March 09
Goodbye, Bella
On Friday morning, Andrew and I took Isabel in for what would be her final visit to the veterinarian. As usual she screamed and yowled, but her scream and yowl were muted and didn’t pack the viciousness that they’ve had for the previous 13 years of her life.
Starting last summer, she was diagnosed with a breast tumor that was cancerous but seemed self-contained. To reduce the risk that it had spread the vet removed the lymph nodes nearest the tumor and sent her home to recover. Six months later, just this past January, she was back in for another removal. I knew it was likely that if the cancer hadn’t yet started to spread it likely would. But I didn’t think it would happen so soon.
Shortly before Andrew left for Austin her breathing patterns seemed to change and her appetite decreased significantly. Now if you’d met Bella and if you knew her at her 18 pound weight, you’d know that Bella loved food so losing her appetite was a serious change. I bundled her up and took her in to the vet for an exam. The vet techs saw her on the table and gave each other the “Uh Uh! You can take her.” “Nope, I did it last time.” But there was very little meowing or swatting, she just wasn’t full of piss and vinegar like usual.
I knew as soon as I walked back into the exam room that the vet was going to tell me it was bad. His inner eyelids were red, and the smell of sympathy filled the small exam room. He started out by telling me what her films should look like and then began to explain why they looked differently. Her liver was half the size it should have been, which meant that her stomach was falling out of line. Her lungs, which should have appeared as solid dark orbs on the x-ray actually appeared as part dark and part light gray and even part white. “These are tumors”, he said as he pointed to the bottoms of her lungs and then reached for a box of Kleenex so he could hand me a tissue.
How much time do you think we have left? What can I do to make her more comfortable?
Chemo wasn’t even option I was willing to consider. Her body had been through too many surgeries in a short period of time. I just wanted her comfortable so she could rest and enjoy a few days or a week with Andrew, her favoritest person in the whole wide world. He told me the drugs may cause a miraculous recovery and she could have weeks, months, even a year. Or, they could be ineffective in which case we would have a few days, maybe through the weekend.
On Tuesday night, Andrew’s return made her happy, but she obviously wasn’t her typical self. She let him come to her, instead of greeting him at the door with a lecture about how wrong it is for him to leave her for hours and hours. On Tuesday night and Wednesday morning her appetite was much stronger, she seemed more alert and we were hopeful that things would be better. But by the time I got home on Wednesday night, she wasn’t doing as well. By Thursday afternoon it was painfully obvious that the drugs weren’t going to have their desired effect so we phoned the vet’s office and made an appointment. The staff at our vet’s office was wonderful and kind and sympathetic and understanding. And they not only made a horrible decision easier to make, but they provided the right amount of clinical fact with tenderness and understanding so we could mourn our loss of her
And now the house is quieter, we’re exhausted, Boos is unnerved and obviously missing her but being extra gentle with us. It’s hard telling what he understands and what he doesn’t. They had a very definite older sister/little brother dynamic and it will be interesting to see how he reacts to not having his foil around.
But between not having her purring constantly (she would purr every time she could see or hear Andrew, even up to the end) and not having her yell and scream almost constantly, the house seems empty and too quiet. Even though she loved me most when Andrew wasn’t around, even though her butt was always stinky, even though she was pushy and wouldn’t listen to me tell her “no”, even though she hated everyone we dared to bring in her home, I loved her very much. When Andrew wasn’t looking, she would paw at me and purr to get me to pet her. She would occasionally clean my wrist while purring to let me know I was part of her little pack. When she was sitting in the sun I would scratch her ears and get a soft meow and she’d pat at me when I tried to stop petting her. As if to say “I’ll let you know when you’re done, little lady.”
She was in charge and she let us know it. Even at the end. She refused to be taken away in the cat carrier. She wanted us to know that she was unhappy in the car. And she wanted each of the employees at the vet’s office to know that she still didn’t like them, even as they came in to say goodbye. But what she did like was having Andrew hold her and calm her. That is what she always liked. And thankfully we know what she liked just as much as we know what she didn’t like. So hopefully there is an open sunny window where she is now. I’d like to think that is where she is now.
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