tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88028564043014398222024-02-21T07:34:12.007-06:00Thinking Allowed(and encouraged)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-89539776629408989972011-05-16T01:44:00.001-05:002011-05-16T01:45:22.885-05:00New Design!So today I decided I needed something new, blog-wise. I played around with some stuff and came up with this.<br />
<br />
Ta-da!<br />
<br />
What do you think?<br />
<br />
It's still sort of a work in progress, with me pondering things, and I'll probably keep tweaking. Any input or ideas would be appreciated.<br />
<br />
To thank you for your patience, I'll give you a couple of snippets from the past week. ;)<br />
<br />
E: "Weirdo."<br />
Me: "I don't think I'm the weirdo in this relationship."<br />
E: "Sez you. My beard makes me completely normal."<br />
<br />
<br />
Me: "Ooh! There's a LEGO Battle of Endor set."<br />
E: "Does that mean you get to kill Ewoks?"<br />
Me: [sniffs indignantly] "...it depends on who's playing."<br />
<br />
If E was playing, there would be LEGO Ewok pieces all over the place...poor lil' guys.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-21665485919874918312011-05-06T01:55:00.004-05:002011-05-16T01:35:57.035-05:00I Am<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am the deep blue-green-gray-purple of the ocean’s icy depths.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am the burning red-orange-gold of the hottest molten flow.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am the burbling laughter of an eternal spring.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am shards of moonlight falling in a silent symphony.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am the pain so fierce it makes your bones ache, blood freeze, and your nerves sing.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am warmth and softness to hold you in the darkest parts of night.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am the tree that bends during spring’s harsh wind-storms,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">the rock upon which all is built,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">and the ever-changing sea.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am words and letter, paper and ink, knowledge and the unknown.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am wooden shoes that klomp along on ancient cobblestone,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">flowers that grow from the earth, stolen from the sea.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am wild violins, bright living colors, and an unquenchable thirst for change.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am sacred chants, tobacco offerings, and trails of long-shed tears.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am those who were lost, those who were beaten, and those who were confined.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am eyes who saw more death than I can bear,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">hands who slaved for those who hated me,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">hearts that broke with every step I took,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">and spirits that refused to be confined.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am and I am not – scarred, tortured, tread upon and forgotten.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am and I am not – alive, exuberant, determined and free.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am intelligent and dumb,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">can see and yet am blind,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">can feel but could not tell how I know I do.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am too big for my skin,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">too small for my soul.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am a life-giver, a caretaker, a lover, a woman.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> I am a poet, a dreamer, a philosopher, a human.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am everything and nothing,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">and all that’s in between.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Thames;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-29783052873670786672011-05-01T23:10:00.002-05:002011-05-01T23:11:59.475-05:00Death and ReliefI am still sick to my stomach and completely overwhelmed. Osama Bin Laden is dead. I don't know what to think, and though I'm not happy...I'm relieved. And sad that another human being's death has made me feel that way. This quote, from the Baha'i Writings, is the one thing that makes me feel better about my relief.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; line-height: 22px;">O ye beloved of the Lord! The Kingdom of God is founded upon equity and justice, and also upon mercy, compassion, and kindness to every living soul. Strive ye then with all your heart to treat compassionately all humankind—except for those who have some selfish, private motive, or some disease of the soul. Kindness cannot be shown the tyrant, the deceiver, or the thief, because, far from awakening them to the error of their ways, it maketh them to continue in their perversity as before. No matter how much kindliness ye may expend upon the liar, he will but lie the more, for he believeth you to be deceived, while ye understand him but too well, and only remain silent out of your extreme compassion." - </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 24px;">‘Abdu’l-Bahá</span><br />
<div><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-71464406711104797312011-04-28T11:08:00.002-05:002011-04-28T11:13:16.729-05:00Zombie SnippetFrom my IM conversation with E this morning. Verbatim. :) Yes, we are hopeless geeks.<br />
<br />
<br />
Me: Perfect house for the zombie apocalypse -<a href="http://all-that-is-interesting.com/post/4956385434/the-first-zombie-proof-house">http://all-that-is-interesting.com/post/4956385434/the-first-zombie-proof-house</a><br />
<br />
E: That is pretty cool. It does have some openings on the ground floor that are worrisome, so unless it is closed up when the apocalypse happens, you might be boned.<br />
<br />
Me: Yeah, but if you've got the zombie-alert system, you might have time to close it up before they get to you. Depending on which zombies they are.<br />
<br />
E: :)<br />
E: I do love you, you know that right?<br />
<br />
Me: I love you, too.<br />
Me: What brought that on? Was I awesome just now without noticing? :)<br />
<br />
E: A bit.<br />
<br />
Me: Cool.<br />
Me: That is my goal in life. To be so awesome that all you can do is grin and tell me you love me. :D<br />
<br />
Added: For your zombie identification purposes - <a href="http://www.thinkgeek.com/interests/zombies/e714/">http://www.thinkgeek.com/interests/zombies/e714/</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-83068836318383190822011-02-23T11:39:00.000-06:002011-02-23T11:39:49.007-06:00WoW & DatingThe Guy got me into playing World of Warcraft with him. It's a fun way to unwind and we both end up laughing and chatting while we sit in the living room together, running around and killing things online. I know that some people have talked about being "WoW Widows" and such, but it's actually helping our already-excellent communication. I understand some of what he talks about better now, and cooperating on in-game tasks or objectives is teaching us how to communicate better when one or both of us is frustrated.<br />
<br />
On top of that, it's full of opportunities for the weirdest conversations. Last night, for instance.<br />
<br />
Me: "When we go back to turn in our quests, I'll sell my pants."<br />
Him: *looks at me suspiciously*<br />
Me: "What?! I made pants while we were trees. Multi-tasking."<br />
<br />
I know it doesn't make sense without a lot of explanation, but the fact that such a random assortment of words did make sense in that moment still makes me giggle. Thank goodness one of his favorite things about me playing video games is what I end up saying. He still loves to tell his friends about how he discovered my bloodthirsty nature while he played Assassin's Creed 2...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-39468352800908816902011-02-05T22:03:00.002-06:002011-02-05T22:09:42.838-06:00BanterI used to wish that I could live in a Jennifer Crusie novel, not just for the wonderful romance and men who loved the women unconditionally and relished in their curves, but also for the banter. I craved the banter.<br />
<br />
Then I friended The Guy on Facebook, reconnecting, and we bantered for 2 or 3 weeks until we met up in person. The banter has continued ever since, and even after 22 months together, he never fails to crack me up.<br />
<br />
Tonight is a merely mediocre example, but I'm still laughing.<br />
<br />
<br />
He's playing WoW while I goof off, and I decided I needed a movie on in the background. I pressed play on <i>Pirates of the Caribbean 3</i> and a <i>High School Musical</i> preview started.<br />
<br />
Me (on the couch): "AUGH!! Where's the remote? Fast-forward! FAST-FORWARD! Why would someone DO this?!"<br />
Him (from the computer): "Because it's Disney."<br />
Me: "But it's wrong! EVIL."<br />
Him: "Disney."<br />
Me: "They're trying to make me blind and deaf and ill before my movie begins?"<br />
Him: "Like life at sea."<br />
Me: "High School Musical is scurvy?"<br />
Him: *pauses, then nods* "Yeah, pretty much."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-12831550129090707152010-10-20T11:51:00.004-05:002010-10-20T11:55:23.186-05:00Series Review of Lie to Me<div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-style: italic;">*</span>Warning: contains some overall spoilers that are usually available in episode previews, but if you are opposed to spoilers, don't read this one.*<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Lie to Me</span> is losing me…</div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">When I first began to watch <span style="font-style: italic;">Lie to Me</span>, I loved the idea of it. I loved that Lightman was a jerk who cared, who masked his caring with snarky responses. Yeah, he could be a real asshole sometimes, but there was a core likeability to him.</div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">I liked the other characters, and the stories. I thought the writing was solid, and I could see real development in the show. There were arcs all over the place. I was excited to have an intelligent show with good writing in my Monday night lineup, right there between <span style="font-style: italic;">Chuck</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Castle</span>. Monday nights were gooooood. </div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">Then a supporting character's boyfriend was in an explosion. The episode after we found out that he was okay, he disappeared. He was never mentioned again, even to explain what happened to him. They got rid of the FBI consultant aspect, shooting an agent and explaining his survival in the season premiere with a toss-off line that I completely missed. Plunder Bunny swears it was there, but I'm still skeptical. </div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">Certain arcs not only stopped, but crashed and burned. The FBI angle was trashed because the producers want to make Lightman more of a P.I. instead of a highly sought-after consultant. Character violations are running rampant. Loeker is a prime example of this. A funny guy who was harshly honest is now a whiney liar. And he got promoted, but then Lightman took away his desk and treats him like an unpaid intern? I'm confused every time he walks on screen.</div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">Lightman devolved into a two-dimensional character. Now he's acting unhinged, working to keep a dirty cop in his pocket by teaching her to lie, distancing everyone from him more than usual, and is actively alienating Foster. I used to be able to handle his antics because I at least respected him and trusted his motives. That is no longer the case. </div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">How about you guys? Is there a show that lost you because the writers got sloppy? Did they bore you? Violate your favorite characters? (And not in the fun way…) Did you stick with the show or did you move on to something else?</div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">Personally, I'm tempted to start watching <span style="font-style: italic;">Dancing with the Stars</span> during that time slot...</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-43570944678713719422010-10-19T14:29:00.000-05:002010-10-19T14:29:17.833-05:00I'm BackIt's been a while since I blogged. I got the computer back just fine, but I couldn't bring myself to blog.<br />
<br />
Stuff happened - brother got married, saw my parents, started school - and I still didn't blog. I was avoiding the world to a degree.<br />
<br />
The past few months I've dealt with some depression and anxiety issues, and I'm doing better. It's still hard to blog, but it's hard sometimes to do anything. I'm working on being better at self-regulation for schoolwork and stuff, and I think I'm going to use blogging as something else to make sure that I am in touch with the world on a regular basis.<br />
<br />
So I'm back! I'm going to write blogs ahead of time so I have something to post if I don't feel like writing on a particular day. I'll be posting at least three times a week. If I can't think of a topic, I'll write a review of a book or movie or TV show. Maybe even post questions for people to answer in the comments.<br />
<br />
I've missed you, world. How have you been?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-9322190410157089652010-07-30T16:36:00.002-05:002010-10-19T14:19:08.263-05:00The Primary Goal<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">My goal of blogging daily may have to be put on hold. Indy (my lovely laptop) has been having some issues with the USB ports not always recognizing devices. His warranty will be up on the 16th, so I'm taking him to the Sony store to get checked out while I still can.</span></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I don't know if they'll have to keep him for a while. If they do, I'll only have my iPhone (who has yet to be named) for internet usage. I may blog, but it'll be difficult. I'll probably just make myself journal daily instead.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">On the plus side, this is a result of me being organized and taking care of things that need attention. Not procrastinating. And not having the internet around may make it easier for me to finish doing the life organization I need to. I am easily distracted by technology...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I feel like this is a setback, like I'm falling down on my goals only two days after making them, but I need to recognize that sometimes one goal may take precedence. It's about finding a way to do what needs to be done and let go of the stress of everything else. It's about being an adult without driving myself into the ground. I think that's the most important thing I need to learn from all of my goal-making.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The primary goal, the one reached by striving for all of my others, is to learn how to find the balance in my life.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-58804619453449751172010-07-29T12:01:00.001-05:002010-07-29T12:02:16.634-05:00GoalsI've been thinking a lot lately about goals, and achieving those goals. Right now, my goals are to be more organized (both physically and mentally), to get into better shape, and to write the novel that's bouncing around in my head.<br />
<br />
For the organized goal, I'm going to make myself completely organize my room today. Tomorrow I'll be taking a couple of boxes to Goodwill, some to the storage unit, and some to the trash. I will file things and label things and let the OCD part of my personality run rampant. I will go through my computer to get rid of all excess digital baggage. And then I'm going to set a personal schedule for my days.<br />
<br />
For the better shape goal, I'm going to put a time to work out every day on my schedule. I will get up on time and go work out. With Plunder Bunny working from home and having the same desire to work out, I may even have an exercise buddy some mornings. I will also make sure I have good stuff on my iPhone to watch/listen to so that I don't get discouraged by mental boredom.<br />
<br />
And the writing...the writing is the biggest part for me. I need to find my voice. I need to hone my skills. So I will be blogging daily, doing writing exercises, and continuing my Discovery work. I will have time set on my schedule for writing, I will have a place for writing that is clutter free, and I will study the books that I have so that I can become the most skilled writer I can be.<br />
<br />
I have goals. I have plans of how to achieve those goals. And, by gum, I will succeed.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-36615559017651606012010-07-28T13:24:00.002-05:002010-07-28T13:25:51.315-05:00ProductivityI was productive yesterday! Go me! <i>And</i> I learned an important lesson in the process.<br />
<br />
I cleaned the kitchen, doing lots of dishes and waging battles against the ants who are continuing to invade. (The pest control guy is coming on Monday, thank God.) I did laundry and ran around planning dinner for two with almost no groceries in the house.<br />
<br />
I also made bread and carrot cake from scratch. The bread is a usual recipe for me, so that was easy-ish. (I don't use a breadmaker. I never have, and probably never will. I'm old-fashioned...and too poor to get a good one.) It always makes me happy when it comes out gorgeous and golden, and yesterday it was perfect. The carrot cake was a new thing. I've never made it before, or any type of cake from scratch, and while I may have mad baking skills, new recipes can be risky.<br />
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My first mistake was that I didn't think about the workload involved in the cake. Getting 3 cups worth of shredded carrots is definitely more intensive than I'd expected, especially when doing it by hand on a small grater. It made me miss our restaurant-grade vegetable/cheese shredder. I could wax poetic about that thing for paragraphs, so I'll just say it had a crank and three suction cup feet to stick it to the counter and you could switch out the conical blades...it was amazing. I miss it.<br />
<br />
By the time I was done with the carrots, I was ready for a nap. But I made the cake, and it came out perfectly, even sliding out of the pan with lovely ease. I may post pictures later. I was darn proud of that cake! It's fluffy and carroty and soooo tasty. It's really kind of evil because now I can't stop eating it.<br />
<br />
So I was productive, but forgot to drink any water. It's Texas, July, and I was in a hot kitchen for a while, as well as running up and down the stairs outside to go steal carrots from Plunder Bunny's kitchen, and then to pick up the stuffed shells for dinner. By the time we'd had dinner, I had a raging headache, was emotional, and seemed slightly goofy/drunk. At least PB got a kick out of the last part...<br />
<br />
My lesson for the day - productivity is nice, and you can feel triumphant, but make sure you take care of yourself while saving the world. Otherwise you'll be useless the next day while you recover. Oh, and don't make your favorite desserts anymore unless there's going to be a party. You'll end up eating them all by yourself and will regret the calories. Now, if you'll excuse me, the carrot cake is calling.<br />
<div><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-79707979175588746992010-07-27T11:09:00.000-05:002010-07-27T11:09:38.862-05:00The Naming of ThingsOne of the things I'm trying to make sure I do while blogging is ensuring some amount of anonymity for my loved ones. Mom, Dad, Step-Dad, Sis, etc. all have easy pseudonyms. I don't give out specifics of where they work unless they have a website, like Step-Dad does, in which case I reserve the right for sending people over there as much as possible. Best friends have first initials or other nicknames.<br />
<br />
Boyfriend, however, needed a nickname. Just calling him "Boyfriend" seemed minimizing. It was giving him merely a classification instead of making him a real person. Considering his place in my life, the importance he has, he deserves to be a whole person. And his first initial, E, doesn't look right. Besides, he'll be the one mentioned the most often out of everyone. He lives down the sidewalk, we see each other every day, and we intend to spend the rest of our lives together. So I asked him to think of a pseudonym he liked for when I blog about him.<br />
<a name='more'></a>Cut to two weeks later, and he still hadn't done it. I bugged him about it, but apparently it wasn't as big of a deal for him. (I'll have to remember to stress next time when something is important to me and not just an idle request.) I warned him that failure to pick a pseudonym would result in him having to deal with whatever I came up with, forfeiting all his rights to object. He was okay with that.<br />
<br />
I started running through things in my mind, trying to come up with something that would fit him. One possibility was Dread Pirate Roberts, another was Code Monkey. I briefly considered Mickey because he does an amazing Mickey Mouse imitation, but that voice freaks me the heck out, so I don't want to encourage it. I finally decided on one that's an inside joke for us.<br />
<br />
Now, before you start groaning about how it's so cutesy, hear me out. At the beginning of our relationship, he was playing a game called Monkey Island. It may have been one of the sequels, but it was from that line of games. It's a goofy pirate game, where you win duels by using the right responses to insults from your opponent. One day I heard something a little odder than normal.<br />
<br />
Me: "Honey, did your computer just call you 'plunder bunny'?"<br />
Him: "Yeah. I'm wooing the governor's daughter again."<br />
Me: "But...plunder bunny?!" *dissolves into giggles* "I'm so using that at some point."<br />
<br />
Fast-forward to a month or so later when he was packing to move. I open a box to sort through old stuff for Goodwill and find a tiny stuffed rabbit, wearing a bandanna, striped shirt, and eyepatch. "I found Plunder Bunny!!"<br />
<br />
Plunder Bunny now has a place of honor by his desk, and I'm borrowing the name. From now on, my beloved boyfriend will be known as Plunder Bunny on this blog. And I can promise you that every time I type it, I will be giggling a little bit.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-81927076911501213772010-07-26T13:28:00.000-05:002010-07-26T13:28:15.993-05:00VoicelessI've been struggling lately with finding my voice in writing, and in being confident in who that voice is. I know what I want to write - romantic comedy. At the core of my writer's soul, there is romance and laughter...maybe a little bit of magic, too.<br />
<br />
I can do the romance. I have to make sure not to go from romantic and sweet to melodramatic and cheesy, but I can do it.<br />
<br />
I can do magic. I love fairy tales, fantasy novels, everything that sparkles the sense of something beyond the real world.<br />
<br />
Where I struggle is laughter.<br />
<a name='more'></a>When hanging out with friends or with the boyfriend, I'm told that I'm funny. I'm quirky and sarcastic and when I'm on, I'm good. Granted, I'm also random and that makes people laugh a lot, too, mostly because some of the stuff that pops out of my mouth is so unexpected.<br />
<br />
Then I go to Lucy's site, and I read what the Betties say, and I feel utterly and completely...lacking. Humdrum. My wit is not nearly as witty as many of these women. If they are Everest, I'm that anthill in the backyard that keeps coming back despite your best efforts.<br />
<br />
There are two authors that I love to read, that I can't put down, that I wish to God I could write like - Terry Pratchett and Jennifer Crusie. They are the peak of wit and humor and intelligent fluff for me, or wisdom masquerading as fluff. They are the writers I turn to when I'm tired and lonely and needing comfort and laughter.<br />
<br />
I want to write. I want to be published. I want to be someone else's Jennifer Crusie or Terry Pratchett. I just don't know if I have the talent to go with that desire.<br />
<br />
And I don't know if I can find a voice for all of this that will get me where I want to be.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-89652830570636829872010-07-14T14:49:00.001-05:002010-07-14T14:52:51.330-05:00Plagued! (in minor fashion)Since Sunday, I have been plagued by insects. Minorly, but enough to really annoy me.<br />
<br />
Flies? Check...er...well, we've got one fly and no swatter. He's a tricky one who hides when I go to get my flipflop and then appears crawling all over the rim of my coffee cup or my bowl of strawberries. Grrr...<br />
<br />
We suddenly have ants attacking our kitchen garbage can. We live on the third floor. Are they catapulting themselves up? Tiny ladders? An elevator in the wall? We kill them and they just keep coming...they're terminator ants.<br />
<br />
I'm itching like crazy from being eaten by mosquitoes. I would tape pot holders over my hands, but I've been known to rub them in my sleep with my <i>heels</i>. Hard enough to leave scars. Instead, I'm bathing in Benadryl gel. The extra strength stuff. I'd be fine soon, but new ones keep appearing! I was outside five minutes last night and I have seven new ones...<br />
<br />
I'd like to know whose people I need to let go to get a reprieve. Really, I'll let them go. I'll even pack them a lunch. But no more bugs, 'kay?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-25889403338838355802010-07-08T23:44:00.003-05:002010-07-08T23:45:50.970-05:00Impeccable Timing<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">While watching Futurama through Netflix streaming -</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Bender: "Behold! The internet!"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Fry: "My God! It's full of-"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Netflix: "Your internet connection has slowed."</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Me: *facepalm*</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The next one I posted in the comments on another post a while back, but have to share it in a main post. :)</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">While watching Jurassic Park with Nancy on my shoulder -<br />
<br />
T-Rex: *roars*<br />
Nancy: *screeches*<br />
Raptors: *enter, bobbing heads*<br />
Nancy: *bobs head*<br />
Raptors: *call to each other*<br />
Nancy: *squawks repeatedly*<br />
Raptors: *attack humans*<br />
Nancy: *eyes me*<br />
Me: "Don't even think about it, bird."</span></span></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-66466993150696752732010-07-04T23:22:00.000-05:002010-07-04T23:22:00.171-05:00It Only (Mostly) Comes Out At NightI've suffered from depression on and off since 7th or 8th grade. I suppose the fact that it keeps coming back means that it's always been there. It just goes through cycles. I've gone to see counselors several times, and as a psych major I know that that's the best thing to do, but I can't seem to connect with them. I can't bring myself to be honest, I hide things from them, I don't expect them to genuinely care. They're being paid to listen to me whine about crap that most normal people don't have problems with.<br />
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I don't trust them.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>I don't trust a lot of people, and it all boils down to the fact that I don't trust them to care. I don't trust that they have my best interest at heart, or that I'm not bugging them by asking them for what I need. I don't trust them, even my family and loved ones, to love me unconditionally. I can't seem to believe that they can do what I find easily - loving someone, giving, caring about their day-to-day wellbeing without resenting it.<br />
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Sometimes I come closer to believing it, but I always shy away from talking about the hard stuff because I feel like it's asking too much of them. I don't want to dump on them, and confrontation makes me puke. (Literally, sometimes.) I don't know how to talk to people about problems when I feel ignored or less important than I'd like. I hate making people feel bad, so how am I supposed to tell them that I'm dissatisfied with the way things are at the moment?<br />
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The depression and dark thoughts are always at their worst at night, when things are quiet except inside my head. Then the screaming starts - when I'm so tired of things being the same day in and day out, when I'm tired of not having any excitement, when I'm tired of feeling like capable wallpaper, when I'm so very tired of feeling like I'm stagnating. It usually goes away in the morning, but nights like tonight I flash back to when I would deal with this overwhelming barrage of emotions by cutting myself. I don't do that anymore, haven't in about a year or more. It was a way of releasing the pressure. But now I have writing and games and so many other things that help a bit to distract that banshee bit of my brain. I've made progress...I think.<br />
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Tonight it's just hard to see it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-7957226184653933512010-07-04T08:38:00.001-05:002010-07-04T08:39:05.952-05:00StrugglesSo I'm having trouble lately with coming up with posts. I have them in my head, but have to fight against that blasted voice that wonders why anyone would want to read my stuff unless it's funny. Considering that most of the thoughts in my head lately haven't been that funny, perhaps you can understand why I haven't posted?<br />
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Today, though, I have to share with you two photos, and their captions, that my stepdad posted on facebook from Libya. They cracked me up. He's a really interesting guy, a sculptor and ex-fencing coach, and you should go check out his website - <a href="http://www.vanderwegesculpture.com/">van der Wege Sculpture</a>. It's still slightly under construction, but the photo galleries are up and his stuff is like nothing you've ever seen. I promise. You'll love it.<br />
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Go check it out. I'll wait.<br />
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So the two pictures are these, with his captions quoted underneath each one -<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs057.ash2/36199_463412712066_574257066_6215749_2559139_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs057.ash2/36199_463412712066_574257066_6215749_2559139_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I discovered these two in the back of a pickup truck at the vegetable market two days ago. I couldn't tell if they were on their way to the meat market or the used vehicle lot."</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs160.snc4/37330_461890132066_574257066_6180990_7866340_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs160.snc4/37330_461890132066_574257066_6180990_7866340_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Visiting the Greek ruins at Cyrene, I thought I would stand in for one of the resident deities - nobody was fooled."</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-87418004169863635392010-06-23T14:51:00.003-05:002010-06-23T15:02:09.129-05:00This Week's Lessons- Trees are heavy, even if they're bonsai versions. They are also unwieldy when they're planted on a large stone platform. Said stone platform will chip paint when you are maneuvering through doorways if you are not careful.<br />
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- "There's a bonsai in my bathtub" is a lot of fun to say, but other people may not find the humor and instead will edge cautiously away. Only say this to people who know that the bonsai you're babysitting is desperate for hydration.<br />
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- Being productive leads to cactus spines in your leg. Thankfully, they're more like cactus hairs than spines, but they are still annoying. And harder to find to pull out with tweezers.<br />
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- Cacti are more cunning than you give them credit for. They will shed tiny hair-like spines even if you don't touch them directly, and those spines will take root in your clothing. You must wash said clothing to get rid of them. There's no other option. No, lint rollers do not help.<br />
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- Do not lay on the floor if your shirt has long ties on the back and the cat is going through a crazy time.<br />
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- Do not lay on the floor if said cat is still crazy and your hair is in a ponytail. He will try to eat your head. Lovingly.<br />
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- Do not stay up past three listening to music, looking for pictures, and watching old movies and funny TV shows because "it's Discovery homework." Your body doesn't care and it will try to explode your head in the morning.<br />
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- "My life is a series of domestic adventures" will make your mom crack up and have very little sympathy for you. There is some, but it's masked by the laughter. (I love you, Mom.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-88201271011966057742010-06-16T23:34:00.004-05:002010-06-17T00:16:43.377-05:00SeethingI wanted to do something lighthearted for this post, especially after the last post's crankiness. And then life decided to drop a boatload of crap on my little sister.<br />
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She's been working for our dad for the past couple of weeks, thankful to have any job due to getting fired from her last one and unemployment fighting her on benefits. Dad owns part of a company that is involved with corporate parties and larger events, and he runs the carpentry warehouse. They'll build all sorts of things for the theme that they're hired for, up to and including a scale mini-Alamo. Our brother works with him, too, and Dad and Bro work crazy hours to set up and tear down these parties. Sis was working very basic work there, just helping out as much as she could.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>There was one guy there that kept invading her personal space. Nothing too over the top, but enough to make her uncomfortable. Our brother noticed it and went to our dad. Our dad, who hates any type of confrontation, went to one of the women in the office area that deals with the planning aspect of the parties to ask her to talk to the guy since she'd known him for a while. The woman went and talked to the guy. Now, I wouldn't have chosen this woman to talk to him since she doesn't have any amount of tact, but he needed to be talked to in order to keep the working environment safe for my sister and safe from harassment issues.<br />
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Next thing my sister knew, the guy had quit. He came back the next day and went to talk to one of the other company owners, the one who runs the office section. He accused several people in the warehouse of doing unsavory things, ranted about my dad, etc. The partner, who shall be known as Asshat to me from now on, came out to yell at my dad. My dad, of all people. Asshat accused my dad of not knowing how to manage his people, told my dad that he'd be willing to buy out his share of the company if my dad didn't want to be there anymore, and basically berated him for over an hour.<br />
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Today my sister told me that she's no longer working with our dad. Apparently, Asshat doesn't want her working there because it creates a family bias. Ummm...excuse me? The only family bias that has been shown has been on the part of Asshat, who veers into the area of biased <i>against</i> family members. He even discounts my brother's ideas and suggestions because listening to them would be showing "bias." My brother is an intelligent and level guy, whose ideas stand quite well on their own merit. And my sister is a hard worker who tries to not cause trouble. My dad, the poor guy who is bearing the brunt of Asshat's unfounded anger, deserves the respect due a business partner and talented carpenter.<br />
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This guy, who is richer than anyone else there due to other investments and business ventures, has no idea what goes on in the warehouse. He doesn't know the dynamic, and he doesn't know what it takes to get stuff done. He's an equal partner to my dad, and he needs to stop acting like he's the boss. My dad needs to stand up for himself. If our dad didn't own part of this company and if he wouldn't suffer the consequences as well, my sister would have grounds for a lawsuit. She was made uncomfortable in a work environment, there were steps taken to fix the situation, and she was asked to not come back for a bogus reason.<br />
<br />
I really want to punch this guy. Or at least ream him out. Actually, I'd love to sue his ass and kick him out of my dad's company. More than anything, I want to make him regret being such a terrible human being. I want to make him cry, but I can't. I don't have the means, the ability, or the stomach to be the person that could do that. So instead, I write and vent. And pray for guidance and assistance for my family. *sigh*Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-71796536894556807262010-06-14T16:21:00.001-05:002010-06-14T16:24:05.319-05:00Blegh & MeepI woke up today in a panic. I'd spent the night at the boyfriend's last night because he had to go to the airport this morning and that required getting up at 6:30. I'm not a morning person, so staying at his place meant that I couldn't sleep through my alarm and screw up his schedule. If I overslept at his place, he could just poke me until I got my butt out of bed. Or toss a cat on me, if he was feeling particularly evil.<br />
<br />
Little did I know that his alarm is the alarm clock from Hell. Seriously, I think it could raise the dead. I went from deep asleep, dreaming of cooking dinner for Neil Gaiman and getting bogus parking tickets at a mall in Montana, to wide awake and upright, thinking the world was ending. Boyfriend, on the other hand, was completely calm and poised. My adrenaline rush got me moving, but didn't seem to jumpstart my brain. Zombie Sierra, ladies and gents! Thank goodness zombie-me knows how to drive without crashing.<br />
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He got to the airport alright and is safely in Philadelphia now, for two nights. I'm curled up on the couch grumbling, "Fuck you, too," to my uterus. (Yes, TMI. No, I'm too cranky to care.) I have yet to take a shower, I'm tired and in pain, and can't seem to focus on anything. I have to go meet someone to figure out some stuff for my stepdad's website in...about an hour. I emailed to see if I could reschedule because being upright for any period of time makes me want to punch someone.<br />
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Am I useless today? Pretty much. Is this blog post pointless? Yup. I'll try to have something better tomorrow or Wednesday. *waves* I'm going back to my couch, heating pad, and Dr. Pepper. I'll see you all when I'm not homicidal.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-24720598406459337892010-06-12T13:33:00.002-05:002010-06-12T13:38:57.911-05:00Nancy Pt. 2From the moment I opened Nancy's cage, she was completely attached to me. She would freak out if I left a room and didn't bring her with me. She was so desperate for love and attention that she didn't care where we went, as long as she went with me. Two days after befriending her, I put her on the bathroom counter when I was going to take a shower. Three minutes under the water and there was a frantic flapping over the top of the shower curtain, followed by a bird scrambling to find purchase on my wet shoulder. She spent the rest of the shower snoozing next to the shampoo bottle.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">She had to be retrained on a lot of things, foremost being how hard is too hard to bite. Parrots use their beaks like another hand, and have a difficult time sensing how much pressure they're applying. If she didn't like how I was petting her, she would nip me to let me know. If she didn't want to come out of her cage, she would nip me. I went through a box of bandaids in the first couple of months, and a lot of antibiotic ointment. She also had to learn how to control her volume when she was on my shoulder. These were long processes, and took months for her to learn them just for me. She still didn't trust anyone else, and would defend herself if someone else tried to pet her.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Her first step towards being friendly with other people happened on a road trip to Montana with a close friend, Heather. We'd taken Nancy with us because if I'd left her behind at this stage, a month after my stepmother had given her to me fully, she would have reverted to the loud bird she'd been, and wouldn't have let anyone else feed her. Nancy spent most of the drive on my shoulder, with Heather feeding her bits of grapes and cherries. At one point, stopping for gas, Nancy was still on my shoulder and a woman came up to get a closer look. Nancy, always wary, fled to Heather's nearby shoulder for safety. From that point on, she loved Heather just as much.</div><div><br />
Now, several years later, she's an entirely different bird. She actively tries to seek out other people. She loves my boyfriend even more than she loves me, especially when he's got a goatee that she can groom. She hasn't broken the skin months, and has taken to squawking instead of biting if we rub a feather the wrong way. She is only loud now in two instances - if she feels that she's being left out of the fun and is taking exception, and if the people around her are loud. I suppose that in her world, if your flock is loud, you are too.<br />
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Nancy has a definite personality. She loves grapes, zucchini, and apple, but seems to be scared of broccoli. She is definitely scared of pencils, sticks, eating utensils...basically anything poke-y. Oh, and towels. She hates being moved anywhere near her. She will chirp at me in an annoyed manner if I don't cover her cage when she's ready to sleep, and any excess noise or light after doing so will get a, "Hey! I'm trying to sleep here!" squawk. She also mutters to herself for a while after her cage is covered, a lot like a little kid talking to themselves as they fall asleep. Occasionally, I'll hear a frantic chirp, flapping, and then a thud from underneath the cover as she dozes and falls off her perch.<br />
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Birds are not neat creatures. She sorts through her food, tossing aside whatever's in her way or deemed undesirable, which leads to seeds and other bits being flung out of the cage. She's developed enough problem solving skills that she will drop her cereal pellets into her water to soften if she thinks they're too hard, but this also creates a mucky soup if I don't notice. (She always carries three at a time across the cage in her beak, and I've seen her turn around to get one more if she's only got two.) She'll poop whenever she feels the need, or when she's been startled into flying...er...falling with style away from a perceived threat. Ironically, she also loves water so much that she has a pumice stone perch in the corner of my shower and has been known to try and bathe in someone's water glass instead of just taking a sip like she's supposed to.<br />
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She'll probably live for another 15 to 20 years, longer if I'm lucky and she's supremely healthy. She's spoiled rotten, I'll be the first to admit, but that same spoiling means that she's also a very happy bird. She gives back just as much love as she gets, is endlessly entertaining, and is probably the closest to a human personality out of all the pets I've ever had. She was unhappy and hurting and scared of people in the beginning, and the past few years have been rehabilitation and therapy for her. I had to earn her trust, and in the process I learned things about myself that I never thought I would. Loving her has helped me to heal as well. In finding her, I found myself.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-8714346401915443752010-06-10T15:50:00.001-05:002010-06-10T15:51:18.515-05:00Nancy Pt. 1(This will be a two part post about the life that I've taken responsibility for.)<br />
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I grew up with pets - dogs, cats, hamsters, gerbils, chickens, a ferret, etc. I volunteered at a zoo and a bird rehabilitation center when I was still in middle school. I have some wonderful memories of some amazing creatures that I'll share some other time. I loved all animals, and was known to play with any creature that would let me, even if they were wild. I attracted the hurt animals, and the ones that wouldn't let anyone else touch them. I was a safe, caring human that they could trust, and they somehow knew that.<br />
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I thought I knew what was required to be a mother to an animal. Until I met Nancy.<br />
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I had moved back to Texas from Montana, and was living with my dad and his fiancee at the beginning. My soon-to-be stepmother had a little conure, a pyrhurra named Nancy, who was angry at the world. Because parrots are sensitive to upheaval in their family life, she had closed off when my stepmom had gotten divorced several years ago. Nancy shrieked all the time, and bit everyone who tried to touch her.<br />
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My third day there, I was exhausted and trying to sleep, and Nancy would not stop freaking out. Now, just to give you some idea of how loud they can be, most conures can be heard up to 6 miles away in the jungle. Her breed is marginally quieter. Her voice is the same pitch as the most annoying alarm clock. She gets louder, higher-pitched, and faster the more distressed she is.<br />
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That day, she was at Defcon 1, and I couldn't take it anymore. I went into the kitchen, sat down on the floor in front of her cage, and asked her very calmly what was wrong. She quieted. I just kept talking to her, explaining that I was tired and needed to sleep, and I wanted to help her so that she could calm down. I eventually opened the cage, somehow sure that she was incredibly lonely, and she flew to me in relief.<br />
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Those first six months, I learned that to own a parrot is to be a parent to a winged toddler with an attachment disorder who cannot be potty trained. They require at least 2 hours of one-on-one interaction a day, and 4 hours total of being around the people they love. They are flock animals, which is a stronger bond and more codependent relationship than even a pack of dogs have. Their entire survival depends on trusting each other to watch out for trouble. They groom each other. The talk to each other. They cuddle and play. If a parrot doesn't have that interaction with their chosen flock, even if said flock involves people, they will go into a deep depression - pulling out their feathers, shrieking out for attention, not eating...they'll eventually die of sadness and loneliness.<br />
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This is when I walked into Nancy's life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-65575588942529892732010-06-09T10:13:00.000-05:002010-06-09T10:13:32.753-05:00FocusSo I started this blog with the intention of blogging at least once a week. Have I done that? Nope.<br />
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I get ideas for things to blog about but then, a paragraph in, I can't think of anything else to type. It feels boring and pointless, and I honestly don't know what to say. This problem carries over to commenting over at LucyMarch.com and other people's blogs, too. Lately I've had a harder time commenting because I don't feel like what I have to say is that interesting or worth making other people read.<br />
<a name='more'></a>And now it's hitting again. I'm staring at the screen, wondering what else to say. This is like really annoying Writer's Block. (It gets capitalized because it's such a pain in the ass.) The only difference is that it's kind of encompassing other parts of my life, too. I think it's a lack of focus.<br />
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I feel overwhelmed by a lot of the stuff going on my life right now, and am having a hard time getting my act together to take care of what needs to be taken care of. Instead, I want to go hide under my covers and make it all go away. Apparently I'm not handling the stress of being a grown-up as well as I'd like. *sigh*Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-69323800156913827202010-04-29T11:00:00.001-05:002010-04-29T11:02:57.725-05:00FinalsI've fallen down on the blog. Argh. In my defense, I'm in the last lap for the semester. I keep getting ideas for blogs to write, but of course it's while I'm driving, and then I forget about it until 2 in the morning when I'm finally drifting off to sleep. Maybe I should get a mini tape recorder for ideas while driving?<br />
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So, for today, you get my glee over my plants. And pictures! (One, at least.)<br />
<a name='more'></a>When I moved into the apartment I'm in now, I became the caregiver of my mom's numerous plants. She's off in Libya, so I'm their guardian until she gets back. Yeah, I had a couple of plants in the mix that I really loved (the oregano and rosemary are my babies), but now I've got...*goes to count*...about 22 pots on my porch that are hers. Well, one is my stepdad's bonsai tree, but you get the picture. Oh, wait.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPEpQ3kipydW0y6mL-64eAtHYG4TYUXoI3DvdXDJSDAfRjUoGZk61eDSrYO7aeHIXQMpXsLV0B390e83xnEiILBXS27P_2KVk6P5tse87Pz6-iIIWKeL0vDeC1JDAB6coZ0nr_652nH2Y/s1600/174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPEpQ3kipydW0y6mL-64eAtHYG4TYUXoI3DvdXDJSDAfRjUoGZk61eDSrYO7aeHIXQMpXsLV0B390e83xnEiILBXS27P_2KVk6P5tse87Pz6-iIIWKeL0vDeC1JDAB6coZ0nr_652nH2Y/s320/174.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now you do. Sort of. It's only a portion of the plants, really. The week I got most of the plants over, I went out and bought myself basil, lavender, and a tomato plant. I've also got about 5 little pots that have jade leaves in them. The leaves got knocked off of the huge mother plant during the move, and hopefully they'll take root and grow enough by Christmas to be fun little gifts. :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This week I was ecstatic to discover that my tomato plant has baby tomatoes coming in!! So you get a picture of that, too.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs538.ash1/31508_388768341021_599371021_4498850_7290452_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs538.ash1/31508_388768341021_599371021_4498850_7290452_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yes, that's the pool you see in the background. We're on the third floor, with the pool so close we could (theoretically) jump in. If we wanted to, you know, break a leg. Occasionally we even have ducks come and hang out in the pool. One couple in particular likes to spend their evenings there. As adorable as it is, though, I'm a teeny bit worried that they'll get chlorine poisoning or something.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There's a fountain at the pool, too, so with the balcony door open, I get the sounds of the water, the wind, and my tiny windchimes. It makes me so happy and peaceful. It's home. And I'm going to enjoy those sounds, as well as the tiny bird on my shoulder, while I study for those blasted finals. So I'll leave you with two pictures of Nancy, my little conure.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO8nJICDRfmUmHk5xfZkPbVku0sBpjbCG0N8ZAnMKeOLXlM2MHQDHQRjKXtWAho1Kpo856TojH-owFZ-Q29FXPeANp9JEeiNlH4YSz7F47coWZxyIb0Rxwr5Jc9IqF2xoUz3Y-HGccz44/s1600/Nancy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO8nJICDRfmUmHk5xfZkPbVku0sBpjbCG0N8ZAnMKeOLXlM2MHQDHQRjKXtWAho1Kpo856TojH-owFZ-Q29FXPeANp9JEeiNlH4YSz7F47coWZxyIb0Rxwr5Jc9IqF2xoUz3Y-HGccz44/s320/Nancy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkdie7-tqAYQrhu8UWl632dlug8SU69YN2HzLMfYwQhrg7gOt9E_AItiPf1DlT05At9XlIxEbXQJ5TtxsmHGEUYzVcK_nk6eQMUJjc39m8_E3JT5Lr3lz20UMLNE4HbV2d5D7LePd56OU/s1600/Camera+1386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkdie7-tqAYQrhu8UWl632dlug8SU69YN2HzLMfYwQhrg7gOt9E_AItiPf1DlT05At9XlIxEbXQJ5TtxsmHGEUYzVcK_nk6eQMUJjc39m8_E3JT5Lr3lz20UMLNE4HbV2d5D7LePd56OU/s320/Camera+1386.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802856404301439822.post-18841473517781100702010-04-17T13:58:00.003-05:002010-04-17T14:00:54.660-05:00Busy, Lazy Saturday RamblingsSo I think I finally got the "read more" option to work. Yay for that! Today I'm largely spending the day organizing/unpacking/getting my life less cluttered, so my brain power is kind of wrapped up in thinking about it. I'll warn you that this post is basically random thoughts.<br />
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This morning started off early but lazy, with the boyfriend and I meeting my stepdad for breakfast. We all worked on a crossword puzzle together and decided that the crossword puzzle creator was insane for using the word "sneak" as the answer to the clue "weasel." Seriously, if you're going to do that, you really have to put the clue in quotes so that it's apparent it's a slang term. Right? Or are we just major geeks? I'm leaning towards the fact that we're geeks, cause we are. And we're proud of it. :)<br />
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I've walked into my bedframe five times this week, and every time it leaves a bruise and/or scrape. There's just one little curve that sticks out, and it's small enough to be seriously painful. One of my goals is to shift my bed two inches the other way so that this doesn't happen anymore. I'm a major klutz, though, so that's not really a guarantee. We'll see.<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The bruises sparked a conversation between BF and I, though. I bruise easily, but they heal quickly, so we decided that my body must have developed fast healing techniques just to deal with the frequency of minor injuries. "Oh, for pete's sake...not again! Get rid of that, fast. Another one will be here any second." That's right, people, I heal quickly cause my body's so exasperated with my klutziness. :) I can deal with it, though. Poor BF's healing factor went on strike when he got his tonsils out. "What, you've been sick for over a month and now you expect me to deal with <i>this?! </i>Uh-uh. I don't think so." At least now he's finally doing better.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div>Well, off to clean and organize some more. Then to a concert tonight with my stepdad - the Sierra Leone Refugee All-Stars. Should be a lot of fun. I hope that everyone else's Saturday is going well.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1