Month: May 2006 (Page 1 of 3)

See, you need to understand why I truly, madly, deeply love the free spirit that is the JWo. He created new lyrics to Personal Jesus, just for me.

Your own personal knit night
Some friends to knit some yarn
Someone who spins
Your own personal knit night
Someone who knits and purls
Some friendly girls

Feeling crafty
And you’re all alone
Big balls of yarn
By the telephone
Lift up the receiver
Ill make you a believer

Knit some new socks
Some socks that rock
A new sweater vest
You need to confess
UPS will deliver
Credit cards will shake and shiver

Reach out and buy yarn
Reach out and buy yarn

Your own personal knit night

I feel like I’m in the Land of Indecision and Delays; my dad started chemo on Friday, and it’s hitting him pretty hard, very tired & he was already weakened from all the radiation. I’m anxious for things to start WORKING. Things at work are kind of in a suspended state, waiting for things to happen and be approved and waiting for the next project to hit. We’re also waiting on so many things with work – if we’re moving, what happens next, etc. Then, most of the projects at home are done & I’ve been a little OCD about keeping up with the dishes & tidying up. It feels like a combination of calm-before-the-storm, peaceful-moment/impending-something-or-other-undefined, and I HATE IT, because I know I’m suffering from the delusion that if I can control every minute detail within arm’s reach, then perhaps the rug won’t be yanked out from under me when I’m not looking. It makes me snappish, which feels inconsistent with having a clean house, laundry underway, projects at work done, things humming along. Some might say I’m borrowing trouble; I should just enjoy the peace and live in the moment. Some might say I’m a control freak. Some might be really right on all counts.

Excellent. Something new (well, it’s really an old theme) for me to work on. I’ve never been good at letting go – of things that make me mad, of things that hurt, of things and people I love and treasure. I keep hearing the words, “I just don’t know” in my head and it’s my own purgatory, my own hamster wheel, my waiting room for what will unfold. My goal today is to turn it off, shut the door, move along.

~ VChip Note: If you’re super-tender-hearted towards rabbits, don’t read this entry.~

I don’t think of myself as a super-duper girly-girl. Yes, I wear skirts a lot, yes, I love makeup & jewelry, but I also installed a new light fixture in our bedroom, and I’m not afraid of power tools. I am, however, afraid of snakes, bugs, and well, now, anything my dog brings me in her mouth that I didn’t throw for her to fetch.

Polly has become a rabbit-killing machine, which ordinarily would disturb me more than it does, but the rabbits have been wreaking HAVOC on JWo’s garden, and they simply must be stopped. Polly apparently has heard the call and stepped up into the role of Elmer Fudd, hell-bent on catching & eliminating the scourge of the backyard. She’s gotten five so far. FIVE. Two nights ago she brought one up in the dark, and fortunately, James came out one minute later, so I didn’t have to do too much jumping around in fear and indecision. Yesterday? She brought a HUGE rabbit, dead, and because she’s a retriever, she comes straight up to you and wants you to take it from her with your hands. EEEEEEEEEEEK! I was dancing around and she kept following me, coming in closer and trying to hand off her prize. EEEEEEEEEEEK! I was alternating between, “Polly, SIT! Polly, Good Girl! Polly, NO!” and hopping around from foot to foot trying to keep at least 12″ of space between her mouth and my body. Finally, I got a plastic grocery bag out & brought it up under her muzzle, the bag handles close to her ears & said, “Leave it!” and she let go, leaving said rabbit in the bag. James – bless him! – had just gotten up from his nap, so he made sure it wasn’t going to spring to life (my biggest fear -hi! I played dead in your dog’s mouth and now? I’m clawing to life and running up your FACE.)

Now, she has another word in her vocabulary that makes her perk up & raise her ears: Bunny? The others are Paper?, Squirrel?, and at dinnertime, What? Just saying What? makes her leap four feet into the air. James thought it was just the tone & inflection – but he tried Chocolate? (I perked up at that) and Barbeque? and she stayed in an uninterested, supine pose. Then he said, Bunny? and her head came flying up off the pillow, with an expression that said, “Ready to go, Mister. You said the magic word…..”

I was driving down Wornall yesterday, and there’s a house in Brookside that has the big “KC Royals” Cow, from the Cow Parade exhibit that was here a while back.

I couldn’t help but notice that the cow had a black garbage bag tied tightly over its head. Not sure if it was for cleaning, or the object d’art had finally had enough embarassment from representing our losing team day after day, and was trying to end it all, a la Jerzy Kosinski.

Now, just so my blog’s not solely the home of snark, obscure literary references, and self-obsessed drama, I will note that had :I: been invited to decorate a cow, I would have knit it a sweater and called it “Bovine in Sheep’s Clothing.”

The Red Hot Chili Peppers are going on tour again, and we love ’em. The closest they come is Lollapalooza in Chicago, which I would absolutely LOVE to go to, despite it being the first weekend in August, for the idea of being sweaty & smelly for three days in Midwestern summer heat surrounded by 8 gajillion people, and you KNOW at least 2 gajillion of them will be STUPID, just lacks -how do you say?- a certain “je ne sais quoi”. It’s simply the law of averages, and then you have the other 1 gajillion who will shout-sing along and spill their beer on my head. Shit, I’m talking myself out of it by the word here. I looked through some of the packages, and since I don’t have a cool $1,500 sitting around waiting to be blown on three days of music, or another $1,500 for VIP packages (I would hope the VIP areas have misting fans. Love me the misting fans), I’m just going to have to keep hoping the RHCP add a show here or in Omaha, so the Wo and I can go and yes, sing along. (Singing along is ok as long as the music is LOUD enough to cover your own singing. And never at the top of your lungs, unless the band’s looking for audience participation.)

However, in a complete 180′ of music styles, RuPaul is coming to town, and you can bet your drag queen ass I’m gonna be there. It’s a motorcycle convention, so I hope it’s not too scary. (I joke, I keeed!! It’s Gay Pride weekend… and what an irony that R.Kelly’s “Trapped in the Closet” is playing right now….)

Well, first of all, here’s Nyokki with a haircut. I didn’t really go for any style, really, but when it grows out, I sense barrettes are going to come into play. This pic came out a little blurry, but you see the whacking that was done:

Then, I give you the cutest baby cardi, if only because the buttons are so stinkin’ cute, you could sew them on burlap and the item would instantly become baby couture. I’m sure Britney and Angelina will be requesting custom orders, any day now. This one’s a belated gift for some friends of mine.

And last, but not least, and not necessarily CUTE, per se, but I give you bountiful berry harvest from JWo’s garden:

He grew these himself! Three varieties, no less! They were absolutely yummy & I spilled juice all down my shirt. I’m triple-classy.

Well, the only way to describe how I feel is that I believe I’m in the middle of a Guiness Book of World Records record-setting panic attack.

I remember when I had them, for intense short sessions, and the thing about panic attacks is you don’t realize you’re in them until you’re right at ground fucking zero the sun is being eclipsed by the moon and an incoming missile is right over your head. Yee haw. It’s a lot of fun.

Also, I’m running on fumes, and I’m trying to explain my soggy self to those most important to me, so they don’t just leave me out by the road on the 17th of an odd-numbered month (Bulky Item Pickup Day).

James is on Red Alert, because I’m all over the place, what with the panicking & the weeping, and the requests for reassurance. So much so, tonight, he just looked at me and finally told me he felt like he couldn’t say anything, he was on thin ice, my reactions weren’t predictable, and I was very emotional.

It’s funny how when you’re in Ground Zero, things like being thin ice seem silly, almost preposterous, you’re not being unpredictable, you have every right to ask for advice & reassurance. But as the eclipse begins to reverse itself, and the dark circle begins to wane, you see the truth illuminated, there’s a mirror at your feet and as your breathing gets more regular, you know that where you stood was shrouded in confusion and shortsightedness.

I sent him an email tonight, and I think these words say it all:

You are my rock, even when you feel like you’re on thin ice. You aren’t. I am the ice; you are my shore.

This was a gift from a wonderful, caring friend to brighten my day, and when I went to find the website that sells these, I was reminded of just how darned cute they are when you style their “hair”. Jo Ann, you’re the best!

See?

On a completely unrelated note, my brain is racing on the hamster wheel again, very frustrating, and a big thunderstorm rolled through this morning & the lightning woke me up – so I’ve been up since 4:30 a.m. – and am just now starting to crash. Doesn’t bode well for the rest of my day….. Guess that means I should wait to style my Nyokki Chick’s hair! Eh – it’ll grow back. Oooooh. Mohawk?

I just got home from Iowa a couple hours (and shower & nap) ago…. on my trip up there, I thought to myself about how Solo Jen Road Trips differ from James and Jen Road Trips – not a huge difference, except mine are, well, more GAY. Due to the music selection. (This occurred to me as I was listening to the Priscilla, Queen of the Desert soundtrack…)

Going up, I moseyed. I stopped and shopped at the Tanger Outlet Mall in Williamsburg, IA – spent more on JWo than I did myself (a gross injustice that will be righted soon, I am sure); then, I decided to take a gravel shortcut that was the stupidest move I could have made, as it put an extra half-hour on my drive and took me in a giant loop. Oh-tay, buhwheat, let’s not do that again. We had a really lovely weekend, I intermittently lectured my father on how he should be putting less stress on his body & my vast medical expertise swayed him, I could tell. I remain firm: he must conserve & build his strength, which means balancing between projects and rest, doing vs. sleeping, and always, always, EATING. He just began to regain his appetite & ability to eat (from the sores in his mouth) as the weekend went by. Dad, keep taking that supplement I brought you! (Hey, everybody, meet Dad. He’s a reader now.)

Coming home was a different story. I hauled ASS. I stopped once, to get gas & make a pit stop; the rest of the way I composed a thousand blogs in my mind, made elaborate lists to share with you, and then I got home, had good times with the dogs, took a shower, took a nap & promptly erased most of this important stuff from my brain. :)
I can tell you this: here are the key, important elements to a good road trip, and driving advice, from Jen the Zen Road Trip Master:

1. Bring plenty of snacks. You should always have pretzels, and you should always try something new, even if you end up hating it. (sugar-free mixed-berry Mentos – let’s just call them the YECHmaker!) If you are going to eat Doritos or Cheetos, I recommend a big roll of Viva paper towels – but actually, I recommend them anyway, they are extremely useful.

2. I tend to drive 5-9 miles over the speed limit, especially on sparsely populated interstate. Also, feel free to make up your own base speed limit, as I did, thinking it was 75 mph on I-35. Once I realize that by going 81 mph I was violating my own rule, I backed ‘er down to 78 mph.

3. If you have a fuel-efficient car, not necessarily a hybrid, you may feel smug about your mpg the entire trip. (38.9 – YOU GO, LaFonda the Honda!)

4. You should bring new music, but you should also bring oldie-but-goodie, shout-sing-along music, for when you get tired. If this includes George Michael, it helps to have a sunroof, so you can get your big arm movements & very gay jazz hands going to accompany your singing.

5. Oh, yes, if you are bringing new music, in the form of MP3s burned on to CDs? 12 hours worth? You should have a car with a stereo that PLAYS MP3 media. Otherwise, you have to stop at SuperTarget at 9 am in Des Moines at the semi-beginning of your road trip, and buy a CD player and FM antennae transmitter and batteries so you get your DAMN MUSIC to play for the next 6 hours and return trip as well. Did I mention yet that items purchased on road trips are excluded from your personal budget? They are.

6. Do not speed in work zones. ‘Nuf said. You are like a captive sitting duck & according to their press on those big orange signs, fines are double and a minimum of $250. That is like, more than two of those CD players that play MP3s and two of those FM transmitters and god knows how many batteries. Tickets and fines are NOT as easy to gloss over in one’s personal budget. I do not tell you this because I was ticketed, but because this is one area in which I become Extremely Serious, because we all know you just can’t fuck around with the construction zones. So I don’t.
Not worth it.

7. When you get back to the city, the left lane will immediately cease to be a passing lane, and instead function as a lane for fucknut cocksuckers to dilly-dally in, oblivious to the fact you’ve been driving over 6 hours, and they can’t hear you muttering “cocksuckers” between your teeth as you pass them on the right, but they will see your unkempt hair-do and your baleful glare from behind your cateye sunglasses. And they will be very, very afraid. (Hey, look, there’s another difference between James & Jennifer vs. Solo Jen road trips. Solo Jen shares her road rage a little more freely.)

8. If you road trip to visit my father, you will start using the word “cocksucker” at an inordinately high rate. He watches Deadwood, what can I say.

I’d like to make this an even “10” but it will have to wait. I’ve only eaten snack food and drunk diet soda all day – my body wants a big glass of water and – shocker – Thai food. I’m home, I missed my hubby so much, but I also can’t wait to get back up there for Father’s Day. Perhaps I’ll discover the best new road trip snack food ever, and have some more handy tips for the traveller then. :) (Y’all should put your favorite road trip snack in the comments!)

I am posting this Thursday night, as I’m off to Iowa bright & early in the morning…. Dad starts chemo next Thursday; he feels like crap and my job this weekend is to love him, be strong, and remind him every minute that he’s fighting and not giving up.

I got my hair cut on Wednesday, and accordingly, put in one day of styling afterwards. It was a pretty good hair day; one self-portrait managed to accurately capture how I feel on the inside most of the time: a strange mixture of sadness, fragility & strength.

Have a good weekend & thank you all again for your love, thoughts, suggestions, and prayers. You’re good peeps & you help me stay brave.