Sockapaloooza Update: 1 Down, 1 on the Needles

This is going to be really brief for the moment as I am off for work, but I'll add a picture and more juicy details this afternoon/evening.

I started off knitting the Simply Lovely Lace sock from Interweave's most recent issue, and it was absolutely gorgeous. The problem, however, is that the sock was too tight. It met the specifications for the pattern, but not for my sock pal, so I put that down, and I moved valiantly on.

[Enter Grumperina's posts about the Mata Hari socks] Woot! A simple, lovely pattern! I picked up the yarn from my foiled baby sweater attempt (Dale's Baby Ull in lavender), and off I went. I've finished my first sock, and the second one is nearing the end of the cuff, so all is going well. Woot!

All Insanity in a Week

It has been a long week.

On Monday, I was pretty scarily nervous leading up to my first class, which was the last hour of my day. And then I had the worst behaved first class I can imagine ever having. I was completely in a daze at the end of that hour. They questioned everything, whined non-stop, and would not stop yelling. So there was a lot of patient explaining mixed with a bit of 'if you don't like the rules, you don't have to be in here'-ing. I learned that Yahooligans! (the kid-safe search engine they're allowed to use) is apparently racist because even though they have music and videos by black artists (Usher, Michael Jackson--during his non-white-woman days,Aaliyah, Ashanti, Erykah Badu, Destiny's Child, etc, etc, etc), they don't have anything but the bios for most of the rappers. Because apparently, only rappers are black now. I'm sorry if you think that it's appropriate for 9 year old boys to listen to the Franchise Boy$ and Ludacris and Tupac, but I am not your mother, and I can't give you permission to do so. And frankly, I don't think it's appropriate. Have you every listened to a Ludacris album? They're so raunchy and explicit and NOT APPROPRIATE FOR CHILDREN that sometimes they make me uncomfortable. Seriously.

But Tuesday's group was good, and Wednesday's group was good, and I don't have a group today (though I've designated it as time for the teens). So I'm doing okay with the kiddies. I haven't actually taught anything yet because the computers are soooooo fucky right now, but I'm happy enough to have survived the week.

How was Thursday's group? I don't know. Sarah woke us up at 4a on Thursday so violently ill that I didn't go in. I've seen the stomach flu before--hell, I've had the stomach flu before--but this was The Stomach Flu (and thensome). She was so weak and ill, and I was absolutely terrified when she started feeling like she couldn't make it back to bed without passing out. And then, when I was tucking her in after another trip to the loo, she asked me if her fingernails were still purple. They were this deep, ominous purple at the nail bed that got a little lighter toward the top of the nail, and then I noticed that the corners of her lips were blue, and I'm sorry, but every time you see people with blue lips on medical shows, it's because they're not getting enough oxygen or because they're hypothermic or because they've gone into cardiac arrest. Never do you see it because they're insides are trying to get out. So I called our doctor, and the front desk lady (who is soooooo not a doctor) said that she should go to the ER, and I called the advice line at Thomas Jefferson Uni Hospital, and they said I should take her to the ER. So that's where we went (see her future entry about how we got there because I'm sure she'll tell it better than I). The registration lady in the ED was nice, but everyone else from the trip to the hospital to the point when she had a bed was an absolute jerk. They were such fucks, and seriously, if you want to be in a career where you deal with terrified, sick people, it would really behoove you to be a little more personable. I get the cool and collected thing, but I am so not okay with the rude, not-willing-to-listen thing or the opinionated bitch thing. Not acceptable.

So we were there for 8 hours while she collected 3 litres of saline for dehydration and started to feel better. The staff once we got back there were so nice. Two people offered me something to eat, and everyone was polite and returned my smiles. It made me feel a lot better, and they made Sarah feel a lot better ('icky' instead of 'I think I'm dying'). So we finally came home, and I ran a few errands and put everyone to bed.

I slept on the couch so she could sprawl all out and sleep better than she does when I'm hogging half the bed, and for about 2 hours, I was absolutely driving myself into a panic that I was starting to have symptoms of the flu. So I took a sleeping pill and eventually drifted off, and I woke at around 8 this morning when the bedroom door slammed shut (because of the weird wind situation when the bedroom window and the living room window are opened).

But let me tell you about the weird ass dream I had. Oh. My. God. I have no idea where this was, except I know there was a highway interchange nearby. I was somehow everyone in the dream or was just generally omnipresent. Within the past year or so, this Freddy Kruger type guy with supernatural, godlike powers had killed 165 people. They'd all died differently, and it had all happened really close together--within a span of days. But no one had witnessed these peoples' deaths. So Scully and Mulder from The X-Files were sort of checking things out. Then all of a sudden, the Freddy guy appeared, and I could see the ghosts of all 165 people. Then he stuck his hands into the air and one of the ghosts turned into a person--an absolutely terrified person--who he then re-murdered so that everyone could see how it had been done. Then he did the same thing, and another person was re-killed in a completely different way. But it wasn't just that these people were just images of their previous selves. They were actually alive again for a few moments, and they had to relive their own deaths. I could see and feel what everyone was seeing and feeling. I think I most keenly remember feeling and seeing Scully's reaction. Everyone was paralysed with fear and the horror of what they were witnessing.

Isn't that awful? Why on earth would I dream something like that? I used to be really good at dream interpretation (not always for myself), but I'm absolutely clueless on this one. Any ideas? It was just too weird.

That's all, really, though. I'm about half an hour from heading home now, and I can't wait to get on that bus and wander out of here.

At least I Didn't Have to Rise from the Dead...

...'cause I think today, I would've fucked that up too. Except strangely, I'm not really fucking things up for me today. It's certainly my fault that all the veg (about 10 cups worth) I chopped so neatly for pasties got funky (I'm blogging in lieu of making a definitive decision as to whether I want to rechop that much stuff), but it's the fault of the schmuck(s) in this building who seem to think no one else wants to do laundry in this building, so they leave their shit sitting in 2 of the 3 working dryers downstairs loooooong after they've stopped. And I'm nice, so I'm not going to pull it all out and leaving it sitting there to be infested by roaches and pawed through by creepies. Meh. I would be absolutely furious if someone did that to my stuff. And it's Wawa's fault for making Sarah's tummy so angry and crampy with their sub-par (lately) ingredients. Grrr.

Tomorrow's my first day at my own center and my first day teaching kidlets. I don't know yet which group I'll get, so I have to have a contingency plan for all of them. Sigh. I'm really nervous. I've been 'really' nervous since Friday on the bus home from work. I'm notorious for being a pushover, these days, and I need to totally avoid doing that or else I'm going to be finished before I start.

Damn. When did I start to be a pushover? That's totally not my bag, you know? I was always ballsy and bold, and I guess if I don't channel that in the coming hours/days I pretty much deserve the walking on I'll get. I've been really tentative so far with the kids I've dealt with. I think it's mostly because I'm still learning the software the kids have been using. Well, that's what I've been telling myself. Gah! Need to totally refocus here!

I think I'm going to go and wake the wife-ish and make a decision about the choppage. And again I say, Sigh.

Lesson Well Learned

Dude. Cats do NOT like baths.

You think this is something that logically computes, but until you actually try to give a cat a bath, you do not possibly comprehend the depth of logic behind that statement.

I wish I had pictures with me right now. I'm telling you, I look like I've been shooting heroin. Tracks run up and down both of my arms--not just scratches, but deep puncture wounds like a rookie junkie trying to make sure everything goes in as far and fast as possible. Oh. My. God.

Maddie, having spent the entirety of her kittenhood in the Wilds of South Philadelphia, doesn't groom herself as vigorously as Indy, who has probably never touched unpotted grass in her life. She's not dirty, but she's a tad bit more fragrant than she might be if she just smelled like, say, cat. Don't get me wrong though--it's only notable when you get all up on her and cuddle. There's just maybe a faint hint of eau de litterbox. But if you meet her, please don't not try to cuddle or pet her because it's really just not a big deal...really, we shouldn't have bothered.

But bother we did.

Last night, at around 11.15, I mention the aroma to Sarah, who cheerily suggests that we give her a bath (and then when I decline because it's almost bedtime, she chastises me for always turning down her fun ideas). I gave in, and we brought the wee smelly one into the bathroom.

She hates, hates being confined, so we really should have taken that as a clue that it might be a bad idea. But we ventured ever onward. And it was actually pretty funny once we got her into the tub and gave her a few squirts of shampoo and she got all jumpy and scared (shame on us for delighting in our poor kitty's terror--shame!). The jumping was funny, not the fear, I should really clarify that. Anyhow, well, then we turned the water , and her paws started getting wet, and 'freak the fuck out' only begins to describe what she did next.

Our normally mild-mannered puss went absolutely fucking apeshit, and she was ready, able, and more than willing to use whatever means necessary to get the fuck out of that tub. She clawed and climbed and bit and flipped and clawed and dug and bit and clawed some more. So my previous concerns that she was really too mild-mannered to survive in the Wilds of South Philadelphia were essentially put to rest.

So we got the soap out of her fur and wrapped her in a kitty burrito to dry her off, and the poor little thing burrowed her head into the towel like we were going to beat her with an angry dog. We dried her as well as we could, and then we let her out to right herself. Poor thing.

There was some guilty tuna for breakfast this morning for our traumatised kitten. And I'm thinking of picking up some sliced turkey for the little scamp on the way home... Poor girl...

But you should seriously see my arms. There were major broken blood vessels and today some major bruising around each claw puncture. But I feel really badly about the whole thing, and I will never, ever bathe a kitty again unless she's coated in marshallow fluff and pig shit. Seriously.

Community Chicken

There's a lot of talk around here about myspace because of all the safety issues the site entails for the young'uns, so I did a little wandering around the site and round Facebook today to see if I could find some familiar faces. But you know what? I always find myself hesitating before I jump into being friends with someone online. And these are people I know--people I went to school with, and people I've been friends with before. I'm not totally sure what's holding me back.

I know that a lot of my trepidation about posting identifiable information about myself on such sites and on this blog is that there are a couple of folks who I don't want to find me. My mother, for instance (and of course, Evil Amy). But especially in the case of Facebook, that's not a concern, because if you didn't go to my school, you can't view my profile. That's hella cool to me.

But when did I become such an online recluse? I used to jump into stuff online and join groups and cheerily chat away with whomever until I made friends. And I did make friends. I like having friends and finding out what folks are up to. And to some extent, I really think that joining those sorts of communities would help me (re)connect with people I might not otherwise meet. I'm not making a lot of friends in the real world. Upon rethinking what I've just typed, I will add folks to my Facebook stuff. So if you're on it, hook a girl up on your friends list, okay?

Don't Faint!

Oh. My. God. Two posts--two posts!--in one day.

Take deep breaths everyone. Everything is going to be okay.

Hee hee hee. I have a blog again! A blog I can access and update without fear of reprisal and judgement. This is almost overwhelming.

To some extent, I find it really hard to extricate (a multi-syllabic word!) myself from The Crimson Assurance. I keep accidentally referring to the folks I worked with as my coworkers, even though they're not anymore. And I keep reaching down to the bottom right side of my shirt when I head out of the room to make sure that my ID badge is there (and there's always a half-second where I panic inside when I don't feel it there). And today, when we were at lunch, I had to keep reminding myself that even if we were there for more than an hour, we wouldn't get into trouble or have to stay late this afternoon. It's a little disconcerting, but everytime I realize that I don't have to go back, a little part of me yawns and smiles happily and does a little Julie Andrews frolic through a lush green field. And there are tulips and daisies in the field. Oh, how good that is.

Since I'm not with my own kids yet (next week I get dropped into the tiger pit, so to speak), I find myself thinking about what I want to do with the kids. I need to figure out cool things to do so I can get to know them and what they're interested in, and then I need to figure out what kind of projects and lessons we'll be doing until summer camp starts. I'm really nervous, but I'm also excited because I know I'll come up with some good ideas (and probably a few duds...). But I actually have a lot of resources at my disposal...no need to panic yet.

We're going to a conference in early June, and I need to raise a bit of money. I'm not sure right now how to do that. I was thinking that I could sell some knitting, but I'm not sure how to go about that aside from etsy, and I don't want to knit up a bunch of stuff that no one wants. What do you folks think? What should I do to earn some money (like 150-200 dollars)? Would anyone be interested in buying some knitted goods? I could take cookie orders and bake cookies for folks. I dunno. Any ideas?

It's time to wander. Hey, while y'all are at it leaving me celebratory comments for actually posting (or just saying hi, because I'm not as conceited as that...), recommend a couple of links for me--a blog you think everyone should read (no obvious ones like dooce) and a non-blog site. I'm jonesin' for some new surf-haunts.

Intact Soul

Last day of the horrifyingly soulless job was on Friday, and now I am sitting with my soul intact at the new jobby. Woot!

I had this fabulously exultory post planned on Friday afternoon, but then we realized that our apartment had been broken into by a member of the management staff (so a maintenance guy, security guy, or leasing agent). You can read the details over at Sarah's blog (scroll down a wee bit). I had a couple of creepy dreams about people being in the apartment, which is really uncool for my bladder at around 3am. It's never good to wake up with a nigh uncontrollable urge to pee and then be so nervous about getting up that I have to give myself a pep talk and wait for a 'guard cat' to follow me. Yes, I am a total pansy.

At Loop last night, I was fortunate enough to see Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, though the seating arrangement was attrocious. 15-ish seats for about 45 knitters is not cool. I felt like I was going to pass out when I left because I was so hot and tired. Meh. But she's a really, really great speaker. She speaks like she writes, and that's awesome to me. I'm glad I didn't skip out on it.

Anyway, I'm about to be trained on software for the kidlets (I didn't mention it here, but I'll be teaching computers to kidlets in North Philly). It's pretty cool so far. Perhaps I'll pop back in today. Just like old times! Yea!

More Reason Than I Ever Needed to Up and Leave the Country

Whoo-hoo! The government in Ireland is committed to legalizing civil partnerships for the queer folk! I'm so excited about this, and it totally doesn't even affect me. But isn't that just awesome? One of Europe's most Catholic countries is making a humungous step that I imagine my country will not see in a very, very long time. I'm so proud!