Nutcase 101

Your Nutcase101 experience (and if you’re getting an experience out of reading this blog, let me give you the number of a nice therapist I know) because I’ve been on vacation. Yes, we went to LA and I have a post about that somewhere but it’s not writing up like I want so I’m not comfortable posting it. Words aren’t capturing the relaxing/fun/wonderful time. So, we did that and then I’ve been going solo since B had to go back to work.

And Knitting. And running grown up errands like having my car serviced by five men.

Yes, at one point there were five men on my baby. I didn’t know if I needed to be ashamed or start filming the servicemen on car action and try to sell it to some perverted group on the internet. Obviously, I didn’t go with the money making route.

My car has recovered from her experience and I’ve also been poked and prodded. In the eyes. But the eyes are good. So are my teeth. And tomorrow I find out how my back is doing. Which I already know, shitty. I’ll be talking to the doctor to schedule another round of epidurals for a spinal block of glory. I loved the results from the last round, which lasted two years, and if this round is just as grand I’ll be a happy camper.

But back to the knitting, because really, that’s the intriguing (ie boring) part of my life. I’m working on a sweater for my mom – no pictures yet. And socks (in progress – toes only right now) that are in ode to my 80’s childhood, Rainbow Brite.

And here is the pile of yarn that I’ll be using to make said knee highs.

Now, for the serious subject. What would you all (five of you) think if I stopped Nutcase101 and made a new knitting blog? Nothing has been decided but maybe I’ll do something 50/50 – rant and knit or as often known in the knitting world as “Stitch and Bitch”.

I’ll be home on Sunday.

Though, I do have to leave the infamous B with the REALLY infamous Sassy La Rue and the ruthless Lola Rocket. He’ll be stuck with all the furry cuteness of furry by himself, so he gets to do twice the yelling, “Get off of the counters!” “Stop fighting!” “Put that knife down!!”

Yes, I’m checking my luggage before I leave tomorrow to make sure that Lola Rocket didn’t add anything to my carry ons that don’t belong.

AND…I got everything sewn and completed (less one 50’s style apron) before I leave. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it to the post office in time but I did get everything wrapped. So, some of you will be getting a post-Christmas present. But hey, who’s going to argue with getting gifts?

So, I hope to update on Sunday and yes, I’ll miss you and buy you (me) something pretty.

To look a lot like Christmas.

We have not put up the tree, hung the stockings (which I did buy this year) nor wrapped presents. Though, all pieces for sewing have been cut out, less one and seven out of eight knitted items are done.

I haven’t packed, nor planned the packing, of my trip on Wednesday. Though, two nice things about not being able to go to NYC – no snow and not having to wear a suit. Oh and I’ll be near the ocean. OH and I’ll be able to hug my family. OH AND I’ll be fed biscuits and gravy. hmmmmm biscuits and gravy.

Though, I will miss the furry ones and the tall one (B). But I’ll get to play with Mr. Butch (another furry one) and be attacked by a wee one (Ephraim, the nephew).

So, I think it’s a fair trade.

And I may not be home for Christmas, but I’ll be home with my family, which for me is cause for a glorious celebration. (Though, without B, there will be a part missing.)

With a side of padded room. Fuck my list of Excel happiness.

What the fuck was I thinking? Seriously, I was smoking something the day I decided that I was going to make a majority of my Christmas presents. Let’s see what’s on my To Do List:

- 12 sets of decorated Kitchen Towels.
- 1 Fifties style apron
- 2 Stuffed toy hangers for kids rooms
- 1 tote bag
- 6 knitted dishtowels

And what is completed you ask?

- 4 knitted dishtowels

When do you need to have this all done Jen?

December 15th. And yes, I know I can do it. But it means a majority of my free time is creating something with knitting needles (which I could use to commit craft assisted suicide) and a sewing machine (which I haven’t figured out to cause death but I could use it to maim myself). Also, I have three pans of fudge to magically put together as well.

I am jolly but Santa I am not. I do not have a North Pole full of elves and the cats are damned if they are going to do any work besides trying to steal my yarn.

So, what is keeping me sane during this time of Holiday joy? Xanax. The palindrome that keeps on giving.

I don’t know why I decided that this year I should make as many gifts that I could for Christmas.

I wish someone could’ve told me that I’d have no time for me.

Beat some sense into my noggin with my knitting needles.

Thankfully, some of my IT geek came through and I made a time line with all of the projects I need with the estimated time needed to cut, sew, knit and wrap said gifts. Now I’m in the process of execution and exhaustion. And I did at least fit some time in there to have Thanksgiving and go home to Florida. And thankfully, the apartment has walls thick enough for my neighbors to not be subjected to my cussing and the constant whirring of the sewing machine.

Unfortunately, B is not so lucky.

And on December 25th, I’ll be the one opening presents with a perpetual hunchback and carpal tunnel syndrome in both hands.

I was looking over old posts that I have stored away and forgotten. Those half-assed written tid-bits that just weren’t worthy of meeting the internets. Well, during my clean up of those junkers (and hoping for inspiration for a new post), I came across this gem of a paragraph:

“We hit the hotel room for a quick refresh and a clean bathroom, because you know that the stops at the Gas N’Go were only to cop a squat and hover your ass over the toilet (due to the fact that the last time Lysol had seen the inside of that potty chamber was ummmmm NEVER). I only went when I was at the point where my bladder would burst and there was a chance of ruining the interior of the car. (I know, the story took a pee derailment, but potty stories are always welcomed.)”

How did I ever let that piece of writing get pushed to the wayside?

Do you know where you’re Nutcase is?

Typically, you can find me watching Be The Marriage with Will and Nina.

But two Saturday nights ago, I got to be ON THE SHOW. And some of you, my lovelies, were either there with me and B or were watching. I’m sorry you had to hear my nasally voice. But, I will say, it was a ton of fun.

I was uberly-nervous meeting Will and Nina because I didn’t think my cool quotient was high enough to play in their realm but they were welcoming, down-to-earth and just damn awesome. Of course, we totally bribed them to like us with liquor.

After the show we got to meet Lisa and Ed at 8 Oz, (Kae was there as well – of course). Fabulousity levels were HIGH in that sector of L.A., as the drinks and conversation flowed. People like these are a key reason to move to Los Angeles.

B and I can’t wait to cross their paths again.

P.S. For the male readers (VCM), yes, I got to have a moment with Nina and it was phenomenal.

Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, you gave me your everything forever.

And I’m still in awe that I get to be called your wife.

I love you B!

And mice getting to second base.

We landed in California on Thursday afternoon, gorged on In-And-Out Burger with Kae and got into our rental to head out towards Anaheim. We had decided to rent a GPS with the vehicle because we knew that the iPhone GPS could be spotty. HAHAHAHA. Yeah. The rental GPS was kind enough to try and take us through the Los Angeles ‘hood. Thankfully, we were able to find a nice, safe (HA!) interestate and got to our hotel safely – and Xanax helped too.

Anyway, on to the good parts.

Friday morning, we woke up around 10 am our time, 8 am in California so we were out the door and in line for the Haunted Mansion around 9:05 am. We did have time to get ears (Bride and Groom because we were supposed to have gone a couple months after we got married but Hurricane Ike had other plans.)

By 11 am, we were waiting to Find Nemo because that fish can’t stay still and working on our fifth ride of the day. B had never been to a Disney park and I had never been to Disneyland but we were able to negotiate the park just fine. Until “It’s a Small World!”.

Both B and I believe that anyone working that ride needs to have an incredibly strong mental acumen. Or get paid hazard pay. If I worked on that ride, I’d either need an acid hit on a regular basis or there would be doll heads flying at one point. Though, as the boat went around the different countries and the squawking changed languages, B and I took delight in finding all the fucked up dolls (heads backwards, legs twitching, mouths in odd configurations) and trying to get pictures. But since we were trying to be respectful of the kids, we did it in loud whispers and lots of tweenage giggling. I did try to take pictures of these anomalies but we’d get distracted and all of the pics were blurry.

I wonder why.

Then there was food eaten and on search out my man, Mickey. First we had to get by his forever gal, Minnie. This woman has a large fan club and the line was about thirty minutes long. I felt more sorry for the person in the suit than those of us suckered into getting photos with a costume and large plastic head. When it was finally our turn, she cuddled up to B and I. She promptly put her hand on my ass and then as we turned to exit, she brushed her oversized gloves over the boob area. I didn’t even get dinner from her first.

After the glove handling, we went on to see Minnie’s man who was in residence next door. Again, another line but this time they had private group visits with Mr. Mouse. Only about eight of us in the room at a time and we got to take a couple poses with Mickey. As we got up to get into place, Mickey pulled the same stunt as Minnie. I’m now curious if those in the costume have good timing or are my boobies just in the way of Disney mice? Now, I’m not going to sue for Costumed Character Sexual Harrassment. But, it was completely ironic that I got a lot of action at the “happiest place on Earth!”

To say that was excited to go to California is understating the term excited. I’m pretty sure I went into my past and grabbed my two year-old self and announced to the world, at every opportunity, that I was going to go to California.

And California, let me tell you, you didn’t let me down.

Even before we left Houston, the world let us know that California wanted to meet us just as much by having the airline give us an upgrade to First Class. But, fate did have it’s foot out for a small trip in the plans of flying in the front: my body. A few weeks before my vacation started, some bacteria decided that my body was going to be it’s summer resort. Said bacteria decided that I was such a great Hamptons, that it decided to replicate in mass and make their presence known. I’ll spare you the details but it was ugly people, really ugly. Tests were run to determine exactly which organism I was hosting and the results were read to the world on Friday before the first day of vacay. Fine. No biggie. Antibiotic prescribed.

Wrong.

It was the antibiotic from hell. Three times a day for ten days, I’d take the pill where it was instantly like I was licking a rusty car, swallowing the rust along with razorblades and then would be regurgitate itself for the next two hours. But that wasn’t even the worse part. Not close.

No drinking.

Now, neither B or I are big drinkers. We have beer in our fridge from NOVEMBER. But, we’ve been upgraded to first class and I can’t imbibe in free, semi-palatable champagne. We’re going to meet Will and Nina, who are infamous for their ability to make a mean Manhattan. I’d only be good for indulging in maraschino cherries and I leave that to Will and B.

So, I was the constantly lost designated driver but I will say that more is to come about California. Probably after I’ve downed a few tomorrow evening.