Nutcase 101

Saturday I did something that I don’t normally do, I was social with strangers. Not in the “Get out of my way” in the grocery store manner but a nice “How do you do?”

The week before I had decided to be adventurous and check out a new local knitting store that is right down the road from our apartment. (B, sorry, that means a lot more yarn is going to be adopted and making it’s home with us.) The owner had converted an old craftsman style house into a yarn store but kept all the warmth of walking into someones abode when you crossed the threshold.

You walk into a livingroom that happens to house yarn on the shelves instead of family photos and books. The dining area is ready for you to sit down to supper but the china hutch bursts forth with color of cashmere, not Grandma’s fine china. This repeats from room to room, except for the kitchen where tea, coffee, cookies and cupcakes await to be eaten.

Basically wants to make a knitter/crocheter fat and happy.

Anyone who walks in the door is encouraged to bring in their knitting, sit on the couch and just chat. So, this past Saturday I did. I was bold enough come in (and spend a pretty penny on some Cascade Ultra Pima), then work on the hat that I’m making for B. I met some wonderful ladies, learned about the various classes and had people complement me on my knits.

And the good news, I survived. I put myself out there to interact with strangers and it wasn’t too bad. I’ll definitely be back.

As B and I were leaving a building this evening, we had the pleasure of riding with a group of eight or so coworkers who were departing for home, bars, where ever.

The first on the elevator was a female from the coworker group and she put her arm on the elevator door to be courteous and make sure that all of us got into the car. As we entered, the elevator was emitting a high pitch alarm and the door holder stated, “I hate that the elevator always makes that sound when we’re getting on!” Others from the coworker group nodded their head or commented in the affirmative that indeed the elevator alarm was annoying.

Me, crowded in the back piped up, “You know, if you press the “Door Open” button to let everyone on the elevator instead of putting your arm in front of the elevator door, you wouldn’t cause the door alarm to go off.”

They turned, and I swear it was in unison, and looked at me in dumb belief. And finally, one of them said, “You know, I thought that there was something wrong with these elevators. I didn’t realize it was us.” Come to find out that they were consultants*. That explained so much.

*And if you’re a consultant, I love ya – I once was one, a long time ago.

SIDE NOTE: The feed for the blog has changed, you will need to update your feed readers – the feed is here: http://nutcase101.com/feed

If you, my lovely five readers, haven’t noticed that for the most part these last few posts have been phoned in. The only one that I can state that I’ve really taken pride in and wanted to write was the one about B and I’s five year anniversary. When I wrote that post the words flew off of my finger tips and I couldn’t wait to click the publish butt on and share with you all my love for my wonderful man.

My lack of creativity isn’t contained to just writing, it’s also affecting my sewing and knitting life. Projects that I’ve been jonsing to do are sitting on the side waiting for my motivation to come back from the vacation that it took without my permission.

And I know what chased part of it away and I don’t really want to talk about it because I’ve bored you enough with my inability to deal with my Grandmother’s passing. Sometimes it feels better to do nothing that to do anything, especially when she was such a huge part in fostering my drive to be creative in the area of crafts. There are also other pressures that are compounding it that I won’t bring into the blogging world.

All I can ask is that you forgive me for not having fabulous posts, or pseudo-fabulous posts of late. Writing isn’t my forte but it is part of the outlets that I have to get things out of my head and it’s much cheaper than therapy.

(This was supposed to have been published February 11th but I forgot – Ooops.)

Two million, six hundred twenty-eight thousand minutes.

That’s how long B and I have been walking this earth declaring our love for one another. And honestly, I had no clue that much time I had passed since we first decided that I’ll be his and he’ll be mine.

Ours wasn’t a traditional meeeting: Girl meets boy on couch of loud party. Boy talks to girl to not be bored at party he didn’t really want to attend. Girl responds to boy because she’s at a party that she didn’t really want to attend. Boy looks for common thread to make the time more enjoyable and Girl talks about computers, servers and connection speed. Boy gets really excited because Girl speaks fluent geek.

From that fun filled night of discussing processors and IT follies, we exchanged numbers and Instant Messaging accounts. Yes, we’re that dorky. And from that party until today, we’ve spoken every day.

We also knew that he was just visiting my locale when we left each other that night but decided it would be great to have friends in different locations. The friendly chats turned flirty and we decided we needed to see each other just one last time. Because what we had couldn’t be ‘real’, it was just harmless fun and a mere fascination.

But, two states, over 5000 miles flown and 600 plus miles driven and hundreds of thousands of cell phone minutes, we sit here married and very much in-love.

To you B, love of my life. I’m so glad you sat on that couch bored out of your mind five years ago. May we speak geek with fervor for many, many more years.

This weekend I was away in Phoenix with the lovely B, off to visit the Father-in-law and his second wife. We had a delightful time and I have no proof because I forgot the camera. Yup. I left it sitting on the couch all by itself.

The cats on the other hand did not get to stay home either. Since it was Valentine’s Day Weekend with the added bonus of President’s Day added to the end, our friends all made plans that involved them being out of town. So the infamous Lola Rocket and Sassy La Rue went to the vet, ahem, Spa.

So, now we’re home with no photos and two pissed cats.

And to put a cherry on top, B is sick again. He’s off to the doc-in-a-box to prove to them that they were wrong and that he does need an antibiotic. Poor thing was miserable on the plane.

That’s all folks. I know, excitement in a few short sentences. I hope I can give you just as much in my next blog post.

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.

(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.