Nutcase 101

From Tuesday until about 3 p.m. on Friday afternoon there was nothing coming out of my mouth that didn’t consist of squeaks and honks. Finally, people’s prayers had been answered and I had lost my voice.

Now, if I had lost my voice ten years ago, I would’ve been able to email people my plights and scribbled on notepads my communications. Or performed various kinds of charades, dancing out ways to get my point across.

Okay, I did do some various monkey moves to try to let people know what I needed to communicate in person – I think my boss would’ve loved to have had a video camera when I got mad over a situation and there was no way to yell the FUCK I was feeling. Though, I will say that no computers, electronics, or coworkers were harmed in my hissy fit.

Thankfully, I had ways to tell the outside world about my situation – Twitter and Facebook. I could still voice my opinion even if nothing was coming out of my mouth. Let’s face it, nothing vital was really coming out of my fingertips either.

Also, Murphy Law sooooo applied during my period of muteness, EVERYONE called me. Honestly, I use my phone more for texting and email than I do for talking but my work, home and landline were all ringing because everyone but my mother wanted to talk to me. (Mom had contacted me via IM and knew I had lost my voice.)

And the kicker, my husband, who obviously was reveling in the silence contributed to the vocal frustration when he told the dentist office to call me about setting up dental appointments. That poor dental receptionists hearing will never be the same since my hearing my squawks which were supposed to sound like the English language. HA!

You might recall that I mentioned back in September, that right after my grandmother passed, one of my closest work friends lost her husband suddenly, he was only 44.

They had been trying for a baby for so long and were about to start another round of IVF and if that didn’t work they were going to adopt.

I got together a group of women (men were invited but politely declined) to teach them how to crochet, so that they could make squares to create a blanket of love for M. Originally, I was going to teach the group how to make hats for Chemo patients but the project was switched after they heard about the Schuyler Blanket Project.

Well, I’m happy and sad to say that the blanket was presented to M today. I’m sad because we had to rush the blanket to completion due to M taking another job, so that she could start ‘anew’ – she has a lot of great and sad memories associated with our workplace.

But, she loved the blanket so much and there wasn’t a dry eye in the room when it was presented. She had no clue that we had been meeting almost every Tuesday for the last three months making squares. I’m glad that she gets to take our love with her.

And, just for the record, 25+ women made 42 squares (there was supposed to be 48 but I had to give them a cut off to get the blanket sewn together) and out of the 25+ women, 19 of them did not how to crochet at the starting point.

Here is the wonderful blanket that everyone worked so hard on:

Yes, I used the f-word in the title of my post. Pull your jaw up off of the floor and make sure you don’t bite your tongue as you roll it back up into your head.

Life is hunky doory.

Oh wait it’s not always happy. Sometimes it is.

But right now, we’re trying to figure out which way is up because we’ve been through a lot of good and bad change in our lives in just the last couple of months. A lot of it is really affecting B, because people in this world aren’t always who you thought that they would be and sometimes they change on a dime.

But there have been a lot of freaking awesome. People that take time out of their lives to tell you that you’re appreciated and they think you’re worth keeping around. This has been a continuing thread in both B and I’s lives and that gives us the warm fuzzy feeling inside.

I wasn’t going to write this post. Hell, I put up a fluff piece about the cats. THE CATS. I love the cats but they haven’t cured cancer or done anything YouTube worthy for them to become internet stars.

So, life is life. It’s fun, scary and damn interesting moment-by-moment. Honestly, I’d like it to slow down a bit to the pace it was before but if this is what it takes for B and I to make a life for ourselves, then so be it.

Life is crazy. But really, when is it not??

Thankfully, to keep me sane (or make me insane) and providing free entertainment there is Lola Rocket and Sassy La Rue.

On the outside they look like ordinary house cats but on the inside, they each have distinctive personalities and tolerate each other. Okay, really, it’s Sassy that tolerates Lola and Lola has this insane need to be loved by Sassy. I’m really glad that there isn’t state mandated cat therapy or the bills for these two would bankrupt us.

Lola looks innocent and will be lounging around the couch, then, fast a rocket (haha) she’s running around the apartment, randomly attacking things and Sassy, pretending she’s a big scary cat. Except when anyone goes near her then skittishness sets in and then the heroic folding chair will protect her.

Sassy on the other hand, she doesn’t want you to know that she needs you. She’s a true cats cat. Independent, demanding and aloof. But when you’re not looking all of a sudden a 13lb pile of fur has jumped into your lap and is now stating you can pet her. And that she does need to be loved.

And together, two different cats have finally learned to tolerate each other. Sassy won’t allow a cuddle but she will permit Lola to lay at the same end of the bed with her and there are kitty cat games of tag and hiss that can commence at ANY hour.

Honestly, this post is just me rambling on about my affection for two kitties but really, what can you do when they are your kids? You put up a senseless post bragging about your kids.

(Part two of two on religion in my life.)

The question I dread when I go home to visit my family is, “Have you found a church home?”. I use to be direct, with a “No.” Then of course that leads into the dreaded, “Why? Why not?” and that’s when I typically find a big ol’dish of bean dip to hand the inquisitor.

I know that they pray for my ‘lost soul’ but my soul isn’t lost or wandering around without spiritual guidance. I’m getting plenty of it in my daily discussions with God. I pray fervently in all things, good, bad, and ridiculous. I think a bad thought and I ask forgiveness. I cuss out the driver that cut me off and I pray for God to give him guidance (and sometimes I think that it should be off the road and into a poll – but then I have to pray for forgiveness). I pray for people that have to go through horrific ordeals and I am thankful for all that I’m given.

But the bottom line is that the only judgment that I need is God’s.

Some glad morning when this life is o’er,
I’ll fly away;
To a home on God’s celestial shore,
I’ll fly away (I’ll fly away).

I’ll fly away, Oh Glory
I’ll fly away; (in the morning)
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,
I’ll fly away (I’ll fly away).

(Fair warning: This post deals with spirituality and is part one of two.)

This old church hymn haunts a lot of memories of my childhood, teenage years and adulthood. In each phase the lyrics evoked different emotions in my soul.

As a child, it was a promise of what was to come if I followed the hallowed rules that my parents set for me because in my eyes, they were my deity on Earth that I was to obey so that the real God would allow me to cross through the pearly gates when I was to no longer roam in this world.

As a teenager, it was what I clung to when others my age were experimenting and walking, running away from the harsh bound bible that was thrown at them when they did something wrong. I knew that if I kept up my walk of salvation that waiting until marriage, no drinking, getting good grades would be an honor to my God because I decided to walk with him and not ‘in this world’, my glory would be obtained.

And, as an adult, I realized that my clinging to what others wanted me to hold on to wouldn’t grant me my freedom in heaven but my allowing myself to be free to know myself in this world, I’d fly to learn who I am and what I really believe God is to me. And that was my glad morning.

I freely admit, to the dismay of my family, that I don’t go to church on a regular basis. Churches were made with the hands of man and my relationship with God was to be one between him and I, not between me, him and the intermediaries that believe that they are holier than me. Those that have proven, and again very recently, that the acts that they commit on behalf of their relationship with God can be done without regards for others, even if the righteous destroy the lives of good people for their benefit to worship.

One thing I do know is that there are good, spiritual people in this world. And, as I’ve stated before, each person’s relationship with a higher deity, or lack there of, is their own. For me, I believe that there is a God, who is – just is. But I will not accept the judgment of others and my faith because until that morning, I fly away, it is mine and mine alone.

When life freezes the lemons, you get really fucking cold lemonade.

There are points where you think you’re emotionally okay and then life places an emotional glass window in front of you and you walk right into it. It hurts physically because you walked into it with full force, emotionally because you didn’t see it coming and then everything inside lingers.

Yesterday, I took a simple photo of Lola hiding under an afghan on the couch because it was cold in the apartment and she wanted some warmth.

The picture doesn’t really capture the adorableness of the moment but B and I wanted to remember her trying to find a spot to cover up, because her fur coat wasn’t cutting it.

That’s when I walked into the emotional glass window.

It was the afghan that triggered the whole thing because I thought I should really email Grandma this photo, she’d love it. She made the afghan and should see that we use it and that our pets enjoy wrapping up in it. But, I can’t. She won’t receive it. At least not on any PC on this planet.

Then I thought maybe I should put the afghan away so that it would be saved forever and ever. It was a ludicrous thought, then I wouldn’t be able to wrap up in something that was crafted with her hands and made with so much love.

And I know that’s why she made it because even though she isn’t here to give me a hug, she gave it to me in the way of fibers twisted together to make yarn and then bound together by a Grandmother that loved me very much. That’s the part of the emotions from my glass window that lingers on.

The afghan won’t go into hiding because there are still going to be moments of when I find that birthday card she sent or another momento, that I’ll need it for a hug that no one on earth can provide.

Life is full of comfort zones in life and we take them for granted. One of that B and I knew that was coming in 2010 is that we were going to be challenged to get out of this warm nest that we had established and take a huge leap of faith.

This leap affects B more than me because he’s going to start working on developing his own business outside of the shadow of a group that he’s independently worked with for the last six years. He’s always wanted to go out on his own and has the skillset to be successful. Honestly, the response he’s gotten from his contacts has been incredibly receptive. We knew that this day would come and now that it’s here, we have butterflies in our stomach and voices in our head screaming, “Economy. Is this going to work? Take the easy way out and the sure thing.”

But, each time I look at a business that’s successful, I think, “Someone had to believe in themselves and their product before any of this could happen.”

So, please send out some happy karma, say a little prayer and think positive thoughts for us.

If you’re awake and reading this post, you’re probably aware that 2009 has passed us by and 2010 is now what we’ll be writing on checks (if you still write checks).

This year, I do have resolutions and by putting them in writing and allowing public scrutiny, maybe I will actually execute said resolutions. Let the resolution games begin!!

- Organize the boxes of stuff in the my closet and guestroom closet. These boxes belong to both B and I pre-relationship and they (in my case) have not been opened in YEARS – at least four. A lot of the stuff either needs to be given away, sold or thrown away. Obviously we don’t need most of the items because we haven’t cared enough to pry off the lid.

- Exercise once a week. Just once a week, really how much ass power will that take me? I could say three times a week and be sorely disappointed with myself but once a week will wet my whistle for exercise and possibly cause me to go to the gym more. Because I know me, that once I get into the pattern/habit/addiction of exercising, I’ll want to go and will miss it when I don’t.

- Cook dinner at home twice a week. I’ve been incredibly slack in the area of cooking for B and I, relying on fast food, quick dinner restaurants to be our source of nourishment. This has caused both of our waste lines to expand in ways that make us sad puppies. Also, all my pots and pans are threatening to leave because of the neglect.

- Only buy yarn or fabric once every two months and the purchase amount has to be less than $25. I need to take pictures (once the closets are organized) of my yarn and fabric stashes. I think I have enough fabric to make 10 king size quilts and enough yarn to make all friends and extended family a nice warm scarf or a pair of socks. It’s ridiculous.

Four is a nice even number and none of the resolutions are overwhelming by any means – completely doable. And hopefully, I’ll do them. Let 2010 begin.

It started innocently enough with crocheting B a scarf in October of 2008. I didn’t even want to learn how to knit. No, knitting was too hard and was only for people that could walk and chew gum, it’s bad enough I have trouble with chopsticks but to make something with chopsticks, not going to happen.

I was incredibly happy to knit scarfs for friends and blankets for wee babes. When I went to the local yarn store and saw women sitting around with those needles of death, making awesome cardigans, little bitty booties and cute hats for people of all sizes, I was a bit jealous. You see, I had attempted the knitting on many of occasion with disaster – dropped stitches, fabric with tons of holes and items that didn’t come close to the picture of what the author had completed. And then there were the injuries where my clumsy fingers had slipped and I poked myself in the arm, leg or eye. It was only a matter of time before I permanently maimed myself.

Then in October of this year, I decided to give the knitting one more go. I was confident in my ability to wield a crochet hook and I wanted to make the cardigans and SOCKS! I wanted to be able to make my own pair of socks. But I had to take baby steps, crafting out small blocks for afghans that consisted of incredibly mundane design consisting of the lowly pearl and knit. I kept up the hard work and made a lot of small things that didn’t require me to learn the secret language of the knitting pattern.

Since becoming a knitter, my poor B’s life has changed. I have cases of yarn sitting in our livingroom next to the cases of fabric (for which I’m still sewing up! – I can’t do one thing at a time people – Seriously, there is only one time that I’m solely focused on one thing and we’re not going to discuss that here.) along with knitting needles, measuring tape, cases of crochet hooks and other accessories.

So, I took a leap of faith people, I’m knitting my first pair of socks on what is called dual pointed needles. You read that right – there are points at BOTH ends of the needle. Let’s see how much blood is shed and how many eyeballs I have when this project is over.