Made it to the finish line

Ta-da!

Last post of the month. Made it through NaBloPoMo two years running.

It was a little harder this year than last. I felt like last year I had more to say. This year it was all, "Thanksgiving! People! In my house! Gaaaah!"

But hey, the challenge was about posting daily, not about being interesting daily. That? Yeah, I don't think I could do that.

Now I'm gonna go knit.

Wait! Kitty wellness update. I'm pretty sure it's not just wishful thinking that the lump on the cat's face is getting smaller with the repeated application of antibiotics. Pleaseopleaseoplease, it's an infection and can be easily taken care of and not something-something oma. Please?

She hasn't been eating much this week, but tonight she showed an interest in my dinner so I did something I have never done. I fed her from my plate. I took some turkey, ripped it into little bits and fed her by hand. Then when it looked like she wanted more I went and got some from the fridge. I'd say she put away about 2 ounces of turkey, which is pretty good for a very small cat who generally just nibbles on something and then walks away.

I know. Bad habit to start, feeding her people food. But you know what? At this point I'm just happy she ate something. She was really getting me worried with the whole not eating thing.

Snapshot Sunday -- Thanksgiving edition

Thursday's bird, just after basting:



Seasoned with poultry seasoning, salt, pepper, and paprika. Stuffed with monk's bread (made by Trappist monks. Mom really likes it), celery, apples, sage, and onion. Basted in apple cider and its own juices.

Is it December yet?

I'm looking forward to not writing everyday come December. I'm beginning to be sick of the sound of my own voice. Let's listen to someone else today, shall we?

This first is from group called Oysterband. The second is from Imogen Heap. Never heard of either of them before they showed up in the playlists of DJs I listen to on Blip. Liked the Oysterband track so much that I tracked down a copy of the CD it belongs to (through Amazon) and bought it.

Oysterband - Here Comes The Flood

Imogen Heap - Aha!

...and I'm spent

Everyone just pulled outta here about 20 minutes ago. In the original plan, my parents were going to stay another day, but I guess when Mom said that she forgot to run it by Dad. He has stuff at home he wants to do tomorrow.

It went well. Very well. The turkey was yummy, all the side dishes were eaten and liked; that would be: stuffing (made with apples and monk's bread), corn pudding, glazed carrots (with apple cider in the glaze), sweet potato casserole, mashed turnips (rutabagas, according to the sign in the produce section), Brussels sprouts in mustard butter, broccoli and cauliflower, rolls, gravy made from the drippings from the turkey, and homemade cranberry sauce using Average Jane's recipe. The turkey was basted with apple cider partway through cooking. Apple seems to have been a running theme--it was in the cranberry sauce, the stuffing, the turkey, and the carrots. "Gas" was another theme--the sprouts, the turnips, broccoli, cauliflower, bacon in the carrots--all guaranteed to contribute to the mushroom-shaped cloud over my house.

My sister brought wine (whee!) and pumpkin cheesecake. Half of it is still in my fridge. I feel like Mom did most of the work, but when I said that, she disagreed most vehemently. Okay. I'll take some credit.

I have a fridge full of food, a turkey carcass in the freezer waiting to be made into stock, 12 bottles of beer (no one wanted any. I was surprised) and a sink full of dishes waiting to be loaded into the dishwasher. I already did 2 loads yesterday. Well, 2 1/2. The garbage disposal choked on something and the dishwasher had to be stopped partway through because the water was backing up into the sink. One trip to Wal-mart for purchase of a plunger and drain cleaner, and the sink was clear. I already have one plunger, but I really didn't want to use it in the kitchen sink since it's usually used...um...elsewhere. So now I have one for Kitchen Use Only.

Everyone says they enjoyed themselves, and apparently my sister has been sharing my stressed-out emails with her in-laws. Mr. S kept apologizing for putting me in a tizzy, to which I responded, "Freaking out is what I do best. Remember Ditter's bridal shower?"

A little incident from her shower came back to me this morning. We were staying with Stretch's parents 'cause the shower was supposed to be a surprise. The morning of the shower I sat bolt upright in bed and said,

"I need balloons."

"Right now?" This from my Mom, groggily. She'd been asleep right next to me.

"No, we can have breakfast first. But I need balloons." I wanted them to decorate the chair Ditter would be sitting in while she opened gifts.

And then I sat there in the semi-dark, thumbing through my "Everything Bridal Shower" book, checking to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything (else). It wasn't even 6 a.m. yet.

So anyway. I've survived my first large dinner party. Hurray!

In cat news, I took Delilah to the vet this morning to have them look at that lump. She has a rotten infected tooth, as well. The vet said it could be one of two things: tooth decay that's gotten infected, or something something-oma (cancer) that also attacks the teeth. That lump I'm feeling? That's her lymph.

Dad drove me. I managed to get out of the vet's office without bursting into tears, but then I lost it after telling Dad what was said. Sorry, Dad. He's very uncomfortable around tears. Got myself under control a couple of blocks later, and am now trying very hard not to think past the dose of antibiotics she's to get every 12 hours. We go back next week, when they might have to biopsy/X-ray if there's no change, and they'll probably have to take the tooth.

All this time I thought it would be her kidneys that would kill her, and now it might be her mouth.

Well, enough of that. I'm going to go get one of those beers no one wanted, curl up on the couch, and watch Pieces of April. I ordered it from Netflix especially for when I had my place to myself again.

Phew!

Done! *Pant, pant, collapse on sofa*

I took pictures of the bird and the table, but in my cleaning frenzy I accidentally hid my card-reading USB drive thingie from myself. Soon as I find it I'll post them.

I'm beat. I'll post more tomorrow.

Happy Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates it!

Silver lining, grey cloud

It looks like I may survive this after all. Things were still messy last night when my parents got here, but Mom said I'd done most of the "heavy lifting" myself, and between the two of us it was maybe a 2-hour job to get things finished. Of course, this was right after my Dad made some sort of snotty comment and then went back outside for something. Which is when I said to Mom,

"And that's why I didn't want to do this. It's not like it's a surprise that I'm an indifferent housekeeper. This is going to be an exercise in humiliation."

After they went to bed, I cleaned the kitchen some more, did some laundry, got a crock pot breakfast started, set up the coffe pot, put it on the timer, loaded and started the dishwasher (after the washing machine was done) and then watched most of Conan O'Brian before finally feeling relaxed enough to go to sleep.

Dad made another comment this morning, and I bit my tongue (though in my head I said, "When's the last time you so much as lifted a broom or a washrag?"). However, Mom reproved him with,

"That is not helping. At all."

and he's stopped. He's been playing around on my laptop, looking at his e-trade data, reading my aunt's family tree thing she sent out to everyone (they have dial-up still, and can't get the file to load. I need to remember to burn him a copy of the file before they leave on Friday), watching movies, enjoying himself (I hope).

Today we finished up. Mom caught some things that I missed and cleaned them, I did the kitchen floor. We went shopping for the stuff I needed to get fresh--vegetables, mainly--and to get beer and soda. Came back, had lunch, I worked on the living room while Mom made corn pudding and stuffing. We went out to dinner at Red Lobster (without Dad, who was still full from the sub we got him for lunch), and came back fully intending to do more Thanksgiving prep, but got hit by a waved of tired, tired, tired. We've decided to get up tomorrow at six and pick up from there. Dad was already in bed when we got home. Mom's in bed now. I'm on the couch with the cat, listening to the dishwasher run.

Which brings me to the "grey cloud" part of my post. While petting Delilah earlier today, I noticed a lump on the left side of her jawline that surely wasn't there yesterday. It's a hard lump. My immediate thought was "cancer," and I hope I'm not going all Cleopatra-Queen-of-Denial here by thinking that maybe it's an abscessed tooth. My reasons:

• I swear it wasn't there yesterday.
• She doesn't look or act like she's sick: eyes are bright, she's not hiding, is all lovey-dovey with me*, and was giving the dog attitude earlier today.
• She's been a little off her food, but hasn't been refusing it. Has been paying a little more attention to the soft wet stuff than to the dry crunchies today.
• It's a hard lump, not fleshy. Sam's and Oreo's tumors were fleshy and slow-growing The one under Oreo's tongue Mom said she never felt at all when she petted him.
• Her kidney problem makes her more susceptible to infections. Weakens her immune system. I think.
  

There are no vet's hours tomorrow, but I'm calling first thing Friday morning to see if someone will see us ASAP. I'm trying not to dwell on it, as there's nothing I can do about it until Friday. But I'm watching all the same, trying to make sure it doesn't get any bigger.

Ditter, Stretch, and the Esses are coming tomorrow. I've been told to expect them around 11 AM.

And now I'm going to crash on the couch. I don't think I'm gonna be awake for Conan tonight.

*As a matter of fact, right now she's in my lap, trying to block my view of what I'm writing. With her back end, of course.

Taking a small breather...

...literally. I just ran the vacuum on the stairs, kicked up so much dust that I'm starting to wheeze. Also? Almost brained myself (twice) while trying to use the crevice tool. The vacuum is wider than the stair, and its center of gravity is kind high up on the machine. Apparently. 'Cause it kept tipping over while I was the next step or two down from it, trying to get at all the cat hair in the corners.

So why didn't I start from the bottom and work my way up? Because the vacuum was upstairs, I was upstairs, and I didn't get that idea until I was done. Next time, though, I'll chase the vacuum down the stairs and swear at it instead of protecting my head and swearing at it.

And now that my inhaler's starting to work, I must dash. In the words of Willy Wonka:

So much time and so little to do. Wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it.

Nyah-nyah

I am sure Delilah does this when I'm not looking.


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

The nicest things anyone ever said to me

A year ago June, Antonia of Whoopee posted a list of the nicest things anyone had ever said to her. She invited her readers to do the same. I meant to, then forgot. A week ago Friday, Mighty Girl mentioned the post and it reminded me that I never wrote mine.

"You're fun to get lost with." This from Ryan, best man/brother of the groom/my ride to the bride's parents' house in Pittston, PA, where we were both staying until the wedding. The bride was a friend of mine from college, sister of another friend of mine from college, and I'd been to their place a few times before but I'd always gone by bus. When the bride arranged the ride for me, she neglected to tell me that Ryan was going to need help getting to Pittston. I found this out as we passed the exit for Wilkes-Barre and he told me to take over navigating from there. I had no idea how to get there. Since I don't drive, I don't pay attention to roadsigns when I go places. I couldn't give him real directions like, "Go north on US 81." I'd say things like "I have a feeling we should turn left up here."

What I didn't do was panic or get angry. I have a dad who used to pack us all into the car on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon and drive forever to go...nowhere. Just to turn around and come back. As self-defense, I've developed an enjoy-the-ride-make-your-own-fun attitude towards travelling by car. I employed this. I'd say things like, "This is starting to look really familiar. Yes, I remember that shop with the vines in the window." and then point out a funeral home, "Why do they always turn the prettiest houses in town into mortuaries?"

Eventually, we gave up, stopped at an A+ Minimart and asked to be pointed towards Pittston. Turns out I got us on the right road, but we were headed away from town instead of towards it. When we finally pulled into the bride's parents' driveway, we took a deep breath, looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

"If I didn't know you were here, I wouldn't know you were here. You can come stay any time." This from Mr. B, the father of those same two college friends. This was from an earlier visit. We were all still in college, and I'd been brought home with The Girls for a long weekend in the summer. Fourth of July, I think. The house was full of people, mainly Mrs. B's relatives, mainly Italian, mainly noisy. Honestly, it felt I'd just been dropped into the Castorini's house in Moonstruck. I came in off the porch to get a glass of water, saw something that needed doing, and decided to do it: the dishwasher was done running and ready to be emptied. I'd helped set the table a couple times so I knew where things went. Mr. B. walked into the kitchen when I was halfway through, which is when he said that.

"You should do stand up." From Deena, my just-recently retired ex-teammate. She's said this a bunch of times, usually after I tell her some silly story about my family (remind me someday to tell you about the time Needles (the cat) went sledding). I can't do stand-up. I prefer a smaller audience than that.

"Every time I talk to you, I gain IQ points." From my friend Stacy. I have no idea what we were talking about, but that remark has echoed in my head for years. Makes me blush a little every time I think about it.

How about you? What are the nicest things anyone's ever said to you?

An extra post

This is for JustMe, of Peanut-butter-and-Bacon Sandwiches. She asked about Blip in the comments box a few days back. It's a neat site.

Basically you become a DJ. You build your own playlist of songs, based on what they have in their library--which is extensive. You can just listen to you own playlist, or listen to the main feed, which is a mix of what everyone is playing. If you hear something you like in the main feed, you can add it to your list. If you want to, you can explore what other DJs are playing. If you decide you like what you hear from them, you can make them a "favorite," which adds their playlist to yours. I have 11 favorite DJs so far, so when I hit play I get the past few days' worth of what everyone has been playing. There's always the option just to listen to your own list as well.

It's fun. One Sunday this fall my sister and I had a musical conversation using Blip. She'd play something, I'd respond with something it reminded me of. Or something by the same artist. Or something that had nothing to do with anything. Then she'd respond to that, and so on. It was a fun way to while away a Sunday afternoon.

Done painting (finally)

Since about a week after I moved in, there's been a section of my living room wall that has needed a second coat of paint. I've been putting it off, mainly because getting to that wall meant unhooking the cable box and dragging the entertainment center out of the way.

Why did I set the entertainment center in place before the space was ready, you ask? Because my father was here the last time I painted, and he really, really, really wanted to watch TV. So he hooked it up, put everything into place, and put the unit in the middle of the wall before I knew he'd done it. And I've been telling myself ever since that I need to paint, I need to just move that stuff out of the way and paint. And then I put it off, pretending I can't see the blue painter's tape that has been marking off all the edges for a year and a half.

Having company coming for Thanksgiving lit a fire under my behind. Got up this morning at around 6, tossed some coffee down my throat, put on my painting clothes, got out the painting supplies. Then I fired up iTunes on the laptop, queued up my belly dance playlist, and finally moved everything away from the wall and started painting. I was done before noon, surprised that it took so little time. I should have done this months ago! Why do I let thing loom so large in my mind, so that I approach them with dread (cough Thanksgiving)?

No, I haven't relaxed about Thanksgiving. I'm still a little freaked out by the hosting of my first dinner party, and all the attendant hoopla involved. But I got the damn living room painted, and now I feel a little calmer. A little.

Now is not the time to rest on my laurels. I have sheets to wash, pictures to hang, toilets to clean, a tub to scrub, and plenty of stuff to put away yet.

I think tomorrow I'm going to start organizing the craft room, finally. If I have time.

Must...remain...calm...

An actual exchange between my teammate and me as she left work early for the weekend:

Bess: Well, I'm outta here. Have a good weekend. Oh, wait! You're off next week.
Me: Yup.
B: Well! I guess I won't see you 'til December first. I'm taking Thanksgiving Monday off.
M [singing]: See you...in December... oh, no, wait. Wrong month.
B [laughing]: But it works. Well. Have a good Thanksgiving. Stop stressing and enjoy yourself.
M: I'll try not to make the news. For, you know, snapping and chasing people around with carving knives..."You don't like how I do my turkey? No? You sure?!?!?" or maybe bursting into flames out of sheer angst....
B: Yes. Please try to stay out of the papers.

I've had this in my head all week

A couple months back, someone I follow on Twitter mentioned a podcast called "Coverville." Interested, I looked it up.

It's a semiweekly show, roughly an hour long, hosted by Brian Ibbott. The podcast consists of bands doing covers of songs by other bands. Usually there's a theme. Recent themes have been Kiss, Johnny Mercer, Michael Jackson, Sesame Street, and David Bowie.

Every once in a while, though, he does a show that's all listener requests. A little over a week ago I listened to the podcast that played someone's requested cover of The Talking Heads' "This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)" by Miles Fisher.

I liked it so much I downloaded it from Amie Street (it was free, but I had to register), and played it over and over and over -- to the point where it's been stuck in my head all week. And now, maybe, it'll be stuck in yours.

You're welcome.

Holiday checklist (continued)

• Chairs bought/refurbished? Half-check. I've bought two folding chairs with padded seats and backs, and will buy one of those tie-back covers for the craft room chair that isn't as much in need of repair.
• Chair pads bought for kitchen chairs? Check. Not on the original list until I realized the fold-up extra chairs were a little more friendly on the bum than my regular ones.

Reorganization continues. Painting is slated for Saturday. Fridge is getting cleaned out Sunday or Monday so that I have the room I need for Thursday.

Gotta go! I'm riding a wave of anxiety that makes me need to move stuff around.

Black and white

I started a post, and am having trouble finishing it. I'll post it tomorrow. For today, I give you a picture.



Took this shot sometime around Christmas '08, I think. Just recently found it on the laptop, printed it out, and framed it. Framed a bunch of pictures, actually. Part of the attempt I'm making to get this place looking lived-in by next Thursday.

Here's another one. It's a photoshopped version of a shot I took of the dinner bell on my parents' porch.

I also printed one of my sister goofing for the camera, one of the baby robin from spring '08, one of the zinnias, and one from years ago of a sunflower by the post office downtown.

Yikes!

I went to bed, drifted off to sleep, and woke with a start an hour later realizing I hadn't posted. Oh, no!

Luckily there's still time.

My aunt (one of the many on my father's side) sent out to anyone whose server wouldn't choke on the file a copy of the family tree traced back to 1783. It's a book originally put together by my Dad's uncle Wilbur. I saw his version of this back in the mid-1980s. My aunt has since caught the family historian bug and has been working to fill in gaps and take it back even farther. She turned her updated version into a PDF file. Some of us with slower connections are going to get sent a CD-ROM with the book on it.

Most interesting story so far: One of my forbears (first name Thomas, middle name Jefferson--called T.J. for short) was shot five times on a train, by the ex-husband of his current wife. This man (the killer) had a vile temper, in one of his fits of rage he destroyed the family piano. His wife divorced him on the grounds of cruel and inhuman treatment. He agreed to the divorce but pestered her constantly to come back to him. When she married T.J., he sent them letters threatening T.J.'s life. I guess they didn't take them seriously. They should have.

I also have as ancestor a full-blooded Native American named Rachel Whitecloud. Not sure which tribe. I guess my aunt couldn't find that info. The transcriber's note at the bottom of the page said it's listed on some of the family histories that she was a native person, but I guess that far back they really didn't care which tribe you came from, so no one wrote that down. Shoot. I'd really like to know that.

Well, that's it for now. Wanna get this posted before it hits midnight.

Edited to add: Something funky happened. It looked like it published, but it didn't. I'm hitting publish again on Tuesday morning and hoping that a) it still counts as Monday and b) blogger takes it this time

Looking straight up

View from the bus stop downtown when I look straight up. The campus and town are chock full of old elm trees. These are branches from at least two of them.

Every little bit helps

Opened some mail from the PHFA expecting it to be my next mortgage payment bill, and instead found a check for $64.27. They had to adjust my escrow balance and they found that much of a surplus in the account. I guess they're not allowed to keep it. Also, they adjusted my payments down $2 to make sure we don't have this problem again next year.

Since I generally add a few dollars to the payment, directed at paying a little extra on the principal, those two dollars don't mean anything to my budget. Instead of applying $27 to the principal I'll be paying $29. Still, if it helps get me to the magic 20% mark (after which time I don't need to pay private mortgage insurance any more) that much faster, twenty-four more dollars a year is great!

Her Morning Elegance

Wow, this is good. I can't even imagine how long this took to do.

Meet the feline

A while back I joined something called Plinky. It's a site that asks you questions daily as a sort of jumping-off point to writing something on your blog. I haven't used it much, 'cause most of the questions it asked weren't things I felt like writing about.

Today, however, I found one I have an answer for. Question was originally posted on Nov. 7:

"You just found a kitten--what do you name it?"

My answer: Minnie. 'Cause I wanna be able to grab her by the tail as she begs for food and belt out:

"This is the tail of Minnie the Moocher!"

It's sad, really, the lengths I'll go to for a good pun.

How about you? What name would you choose?