Exit 95 on The Yellowbrick Road...

The Magical Closet Strikes Again....

2009-11-11T09:14:00.011-06:00

Things are getting messy around here as I try to figure out which knitting projects to take with me on my trip to Texas & Louisiana, where I'll spend the holidays with my family. (Blaine will come and join us in December, when he can take some vacation time from his job.) I'm leaving in two weeks--- on the dratted Amtrak train.

No, I cannot fly---I am petrified of flying. (And on the Amtrak I can get a whole room, so that I can lie down when I want to.)

Anyway, I was poking around in the Magic Closet when I found a mysterious bag---and when I opened it I found a UFO which I definitely need to finish. It's a shortie "cropped", drop-sleeved fair-isle cardigan (which I'll have to steek) knitted out of Kauni yarn. Instead of using one colorway staggered in different areas of the color changes, to achieve that wonderful "waves of color" effect that Kauni is known for (like in the Ruth Sorensen cardigan), I mixed two different colorways to see what would happen. And I have decided I like the effect. I mixed the multi-colored EQ with the purple/black/grey colorway (ET, I think.) And you can't tell by this crummy picture but the ribbing on the cardigan is 4 st cables, which I thought would be interesting.

Also in that bag I found 5 more skeins of EQ and 2 1/2 hanks of the ET--yahoo! More than enough for another sweater or two.

All that is left to do is to finish a sleeve. And also, I have an interesting plan for the buttonband area.

As usual, Leonard is too nosy for his own business.

Soooo....the question is....should I take the UFO cardigan on my trip? I am only allowing myself one duffel bag of knitting for the trip. I have a bunch of red Cascade Eco Wool that I was thinking of knitting myself a totally red cardigan out of---but that bulky Eco Wool sure does take up a lot of packing room.

Hmmmmm.....I have that unfinished psychedelic shawl that would scrunch up into a stuffed duffel bag quite nicely....

And the Kauni scrunches up good.

And the wondrous Magical Closet has many more undiscovered prizes....

I just don't know....

"The Boyfriend's Letter-Jacket Sweater"....

2009-11-09T17:21:00.013-06:00

One of the things I used to do in high school (but not college because I had my own by then) was to wear my boyfriends' "letter jackets". Now, I can't remember all the particular boys' names but I do remember how I loved their letter jackets. The jacket was always way too big, the sleeves way too long, and it was always emblazoned with umpteen "JV" and "Varsity" patches for whatever sport the guy was involved in---the more patches, the cooler. (You can click on the picture if you want an up-close look.) (Regard the buttonband facings---the durn things drove me nerts.)

(Once I wore a marching band member's jacket (a drummer guy named Denny), a beautiful letter jacket which had musical instrument patches on it instead of sports ones. I did so love to see Denny accidentally fling away a pair of drumsticks in the middle of a song-- but then quickly pull two new ones out of his strap pockets like Pancho Villa pulling out additional guns, and then resume his drumming with nary a missed beat....)

(It was sexy....especially when the song was "25 to 6 to 4" by Chicago...)

(Denny was a nice guy but I think I... um... left him for a running back on the football team, a muscular guy named Carl. It had nothing to do with a preference for either of the two jackets at hand--- but it had everything to do with the fact that the running back had a cooler car and gorgeous big brothers.)

(Huh...I guess I do remember their names....)

Where was I?

Oh yeah. The Boyfriend's Letter-Jacket Sweater.

Anyway, so I knit the thing too big for me---and I made sure the sleeves hang down off my shoulders the same way a too-big jacket's would. And the sleeves are way too long (which are no problem since the ribbing is flexible and snug enough to hang onto my wrists/arms wherever I want.) And I put varsity stripes on one sleeve---but also couldn't resist someone's suggestion to stick some fair isle patterning on the other sleeve.

(I know, I know....letter-jackets most certainly do not ever have fair-isle patterning on them. But they would if I had invented the letter-jacket.)

Then I went to the sporting goods store and asked for all kinds of sports letter-jacket patches. They gave me bunches of them for free! They're not sewn on yet as I am still deciding on placement. And then I put silver buttons on there to resemble the silver of the snaps which close real letter-jackets.

Anyhoo, that's the story of the Sweater-Which-Refused-To-Be-Sock-Monkey.....

A Day In The Life of Bo's Cat, "Little Baby"....

2009-11-09T09:12:00.003-06:00

*
8:00 a.m.:

10:00 a.m.:

12:00 p.m.:

2:00 p.m.:

4:00 p.m.:

Tuna-Can-Opens O'Clock:

Bo's Haute (Psychedelic) Couture...

2009-11-06T08:56:00.038-06:00

* *

Good Bye,

Hard Life,

Don't Cry,

Would you let it ride?

("Let It Ride", Bachman, Turner Overdrive)

Okay, I'm in the "preparation" stage for my big upcoming holiday trip down south.

It's back to the train tracks of Amtrak because I'm leaving soon to spend Thanksgiving with my mother at my uncle's place in Louisiana. Then we'll head for Dallas, as we're all going to spend the Christmas holidays at my sister's home. Blaine will meet us there shortly before Christmas when he can take his vacation days. Should prove to be a fun holiday season!

And it should prove to be quite an adventure when my mother and I go to Louisiana for Thanksgiving, since my uncle's home is not accessible by land right now. As you may have seen in my blog post, "Voyage into the Swamps", my uncle lives on the banks of a tributary of the Ouachita River, which has flooded the entire area. Thus, we will have to boat our way from civilization, down the river, to his home, which is safe from the water since it's elevated on 20-foot pylons.

The reason it will be an adventure is because the river is full of hazards such as floating logs and... well... alligators.

Yeah, there are tons of alligators in that river. My uncle has spotted many of them on his property, since he raises specialty roosters and hens, a favorite temptation of hungry 'gators. He says the last 'gator he spotted on his property was about 3 feet long.

I'm not really frightened to go on his boat---my uncle is more than handy with his shotgun. And I definitely wouldn't mind having me a pair of 'gator cowboy boots. (I think a three-footer would be big enough for a pair of size 6 1/2 cowboy boots, what do you think?)
Except I may have to fight my mother for it since she wants a 'gator handbag with a matching belt...

Anyhoo, I'm trying to get all the things in order that I'll take on my long visit with Mom and my family. I need to travel light on the train, but I need enough stuff to last for a month. Not only do I need to do a thorough assessment of what knitting to take, but I need a good sturdy, cropped "rodeo style" jean jacket, which I bought yesterday. (Not the one below--but that one shows one of the way girls decorate their rodeo jean jackets.) (Mine is the one pictured at the top of this post.)

For the shopping expedition, I took the truck and dashed my way around Overland Park and Olathe yesterday, looking for the perfect jean jacket. (And don't worry, I didn't run over any orange cones or construction workers.) Actually, I was feeling pretty good yesterday. Don't know if it was the crisp, sunny fall weather... or the new med Fred stuck me on, who knows....

I live for the day Fred thinks I'm "okay" enough to allow more than 2 weeks to go by between our appointments and he quits fiddling with my meds. (I tell myself he schedules me so often because of my scintillating conversation....)

Where was I?

Oh yeah, I was tooling around town looking for a jean jacket.

Oh, and let me just throw in here that I think certain people will be glad to know that I've been trying to improve my driving since all the hate-mail I got after my road construction debacle. And I think I did pretty well yesterday.....except I am wondering if it counts as "bad driving" if one accidentally goes "in" the "out" lane at the Chik-fil-A drive-thru? It could happen to anybody...

Don't worry--I didn't break my diet. I only ordered a Diet Coke.

Remember that time I pulled into a Sonic booth with Belinda and knocked off part of the ordering loudspeaker? That was definitely an OOPS moment.... (and again, it could happen to anybody....)

Anyway, as I drove around yesterday, I blasted my favorite oldies station on the truck's stereo system. I love oldies, preferably from the 70's or 80's. I don't like today's music because it all sounds alike to me. In fact, I got into a music-blasting competition at a stoplight on the corner of 119th and Pflumm with a girl who was blasting her own radio's music. I won the competition, but I'm not sure if it's the fact that my speakers were louder or else it was my deafening "Rebel Yell" as I peeled rubber when the light turned green. (According to Civil War lore, rebel yells are supposed to be "intimidating". I learned my rebel yell from a Virginian girl named Mary Norpel.)

I think my rebel yell sounds less like a ferocious Civil War Confederate and more like a deranged drugstore cowgirl....

Oh, and one more thing about loud music contests from a vehicle at a stoplight. I told you I like oldies. Most people blast the latest music at stop-lights--- but I blast Santana, The Hollies, or Rod Stewart.

Anyhoo, I found me a good "Wrangler" jean jacket--- a sturdy, cropped "rodeo style" one just like I wanted. But, the thing is, is that for some reason I am unable to wear a plain, unadorned jean jacket....

Fred says it best: "Bo, you just love to wear those wild, crazy colors, don't you?"

(Maybe THAT'S why Fred thinks I need a new med and frequent appointments! Maybe he's waiting for me to walk into his office wearing Talbots or Lands End clothing.... or maybe a pastel colored preppie crew-neck sweater with a short strand of pearls?....Would I be "cured" then?)

Yeah, I do love bright, "crazy" colors---and I don't think I'll ever be cured, heh....

And I'm in an arts & crafts mood right now--- so I'm going to have a lot of fun doing this jean jacket similar to the way I did the above pair of my jeans. I'm going to put some iron-on patches on it to make it "wild and crazy", albeit there's not much room for patches on the jacket due to its seaming.

I think I love to adorn clothing with patches for two reasons. One, I got the idea from a guy at an AA meeting I used to go to in Texas. He had a jean jacket covered with patches like my jeans there, and everybody wanted his cool jacket. He had to wear it all the time because he was afraid that if he took it off and laid it down, somebody would take it. (I did those jeans shortly after seeing his jacket.)

(I used to wear those jeans into the Emergency Room where I worked on my days off, to chat with my buddies, but they told me not to wear the jeans anymore because they were afraid it might "cause a seizure" in a patient....)

So below are some of the iron-on patches that I have to select from to put onto this jean jacket. (I found them all in the Magical Closet.) They're all sequined, except for the large "pink poodle" patch, which I may put on the back of the jacket, dunno yet. (And I'm partial to the "peace" sign and the skull, go figure---must be something strangely Freudian there....)

Actually, I wish I could have found a particular plastic bag in which I've been saving umpteen Harley-Davidson biker patches, but I think I left that bag down at my mother's. I'll have to save those for another jacket, either a leather "biker" jacket or another jean jacket.

The second reason I love patches on my garments may have developed in my salad days, when I was in college and wore cheerleader uniforms with school lettering patches on them. Actually, I went through five (yes, five--- I took my time and wrote my thesis early while in my last year of undergraduate study) years at the university while wearing various cheerleader uniforms with patches, a different uniform for every season, whether football, basketball or wrestling. (Sorry the pic is in black & white but that's how it was in the Yearbook.)

Or maybe it's the new med, who the hell knows?....

T. M. I., I'm sure.....

2009-11-03T05:55:00.016-06:00

Oh, Holy Hannah!

Much to my regret, I just walked into the downstairs bathroom...

Sigh...

Am I the only one with a man who thinks of the bathroom as an extension of the living room? After Blaine left for work, I entered the downstairs bathroom and found the following items strewn helter skelter about on the floor and the sink counter:

1. An ashtray and lighter;

2. A half-empty coffee mug;

3. Four magazines, "Popular Science", "Popular Mechanics", "My Ford" , and some strange computer magazine called "Networkworld" ;

4) A calculator, and

5) A flashlite.

It's driving me NUTS trying to figure out what he needed the calculator for. Why would anybody need a calculator while they're sitting on the pot?

Knowing him, he was probably trying to cipher the exact number of squares of toilet paper I've used compared to him, since he's always harping about how I "waste" toilet paper.

(And I don't EVEN want to entertain any thoughts about what in the Sam Hill he needed the dadgum flashlight for....)

When I go to the bathroom, I go in there to do what bathrooms were invented for---and that's it. I don't sit around in there contemplating the universe, reading, doing mathematics, or other pursuits. But Blaine is in there for what seems like eons. And I'm wondering what in the heck he'll put in there next---a flat-screen plasma TV mounted on the wall?

Hell, he spends so much time in there as it is, that if there was a TV on the wall I am quite certain he'd NEVER come out...

The Suburbs of UFO City...

2009-11-01T11:14:00.004-06:00

I found the above folded up sock project when I was in my "Magic Knitting Closet" yesterday looking for something.

It's amazing the things I find when I go looking into the Magic Knitting Closet. It's a huge closet in which Blaine has built multiple levels of shelves on all three sides for my substantial yarn stash. Additionally in there are bags containing untold numbers of UFO's, knitting supplies, knitting books and pamphlets, and reams of personal notes on which I have scribbled down ideas for projects, my personal knitting designs, and actual patterns I've come up with.

I call it the Magic Knitting Closet because you can close your eyes and blindly put your hand in there--- and then always pull out something interesting.

Anyway, I unfolded the project and found these UFO socks, fair isles made with umpteen different balls of sock yarn, in a wild fair isle experiment. Of course the two socks don't match. (And you don't even want to KNOW what a bitch it was to weave in all those ends.....)

I don't know why I don't go ahead and finish these silly things. My niece would absolutely drool at the mouth over them. (She loves what she calls my "wild and crazy" socks.) One thing I like about them are the heels. They are simple heel flaps but somehow I like them better than some of the ones I've knitted more recently.

And durn it, but wouldn't you know, I found no post-it notes in the little sack I found them in, notes which I usually include with UFO socks declaring the numbers on how I knitted the heels and/or toes.....

Happy Halloween From Bo & Blaine!

2009-10-31T16:39:00.006-05:00

So if you come Trick-Or-Treating at this particular house tonight, we've got LOTS of goodies for you! (I've had to slap Blaine's hand away several times...."They're for the kiddies!")

Even though it's still daylight, we've got our porch light on to alert the moms that we've got candy for the littlest ones, who are usually brought out while it's still light out.

Happy Halloween!

Ode To Road Construction Workers....

2009-10-29T06:08:00.027-05:00

To The Road Construction Worker I May Have Frightened Yesterday:

Dear Sir:

I am so very sorry that I caused you to frantically dive out of my way as I rapidly peeled rubber on two wheels while turning right onto College Boulevard yesterday. I was trying to avoid a jerk in a white Subaru who didn't realize that there were TWO lanes for turning vehicles. The idgit apparently did not see that we would both be able to make the turn at the same time, and so he tried to merge into MY lane, nearly running me off the road, thus causing me to have to swerve in your direction.

(And really, I was quite offended that he angrily blasted me with his tiny little Subaru horn for the next 5 minutes solid, jarring my already on edge nerves. I never appreciate it when Lilliputian vehicles attempt to get into a David & Goliath contest with my giant truck.)

Also, I want to apologize for not realizing that College Boulevard is STILL under heavy construction. Whenever you road construction workers block off all the traffic lanes while marking off impossibly small detour routes with those pretty orange cones, I get anxiety--- because I am driving a huge Ford F-150 long-bed pickup truck, and I'm always worried that the behemoth won't fit into the slim detour lanes.

Yes, yes, I know--- the powerful truck is probably way too much muscle for someone as small as me. And I do hereby admit that because of its gigantic, gas-guzzling, Triton V-8 engine, it frequently gets away from me and barrels down the road like an M1 Abrams military tank during Desert Storm...

(Although--- there are definitely times that I almost wish it really WERE an M1 Abrams so that I could blast witless drivers out of my way with its cannons--- or else simply roll right OVER them...but I digress...)

Anyway, I am truly sorry that I caused you to fear for your life--- but really, I had it all under control. Didn't you notice how I avoided plowing into you by instead driving over that row of orange cones? Seriously, the cones can be replaced, so I think I made the wisest decision and resolved the whole matter with minimal damage.

(Um....well....and I must also apologize in case you overheard me give that age-old southern "rebel yell", YEE-HAH!!, while running down all those orange traffic cones--- and counting them out loud as I ran over each one--- but I must admit that it has always been a dream of mine to flatten an entire row of those ubiquitous, irksome orange cones which cause aggravating traffic snarls by herding 4 lanes of vehicles into one. Surely you can understand?)

But I know that it isn't your fault that the endless and irritating road construction is going on, seemingly forever, on College Boulevard all the way from Quivera to Antioch Streets, and I definitely shouldn't take out my frustrations on you. And I certainly shouldn't have caused you concern for your life. But as I said before, I had it all under control and you were never in any real danger (which is more than we can say for all those pitiful cones, right?)

If it's any comfort to you, may I add here that you are one of the best looking road construction workers I have ever seen? I swear I have never seen such attractive, rippling muscles on a man, and you certainly looked extremely fetching in your jaunty construction helmet while brandishing that traffic banner upon which the word "SLOW" was emblazoned. Your quick reflexes are admirable. And excuse me for being blunt (because I'm not usually so shamefully forward), but if all road construction workers looked like you, I wouldn't mind at all having to slow down at road construction sites since I, like most ladies, always appreciate good "eye candy", and you are definitely a tasty-looking morsel....

Sigh....and in the interest of being honest, I guess I will have to further allow that I just may have been a tad inattentive and distracted during the whole ordeal because I had just left my psychiatrist's office and my brain was still trying to process a bunch of Freudian mumbo-jumbo which always confuses me. (God knows the good doctor tries hard, but he'll never have the finesse and insight of my other therapist, Fred.)

And so I will end this apology by assuring you that I have learned my lesson and will attempt to be a better driver in the future.

Best regards,

The driver of the blue Ford F-150

P.S.* I...um... must tell you that I will be coming your way again today as I have an appointment with Fred. But don't worry your handsome head---I will avoid stupid little Subarus at all cost and I promise not to run over any more of your orange cones.

UFO City...

2009-10-28T08:59:00.010-05:00

The boring gray sweater. I have big plans for red buttons and red patch pockets but right now it bores me to tears. (And yes, I made the stripes "un-matching" on purpose.) (I've never knitted anything with matching stripes in my entire life.) (I did shape the underarms but you can't tell cuz it's curling so much.)

The socks out of "Clown" yarn. (Whenever I get bored with the gray sweater I say: "Send in the clowns....")

The shawl is finished but I'm still working on the lace border that's going to be sewn on. (Yes, it's psychedelic, too.)

And the drop shoulder fair isle sweater. (I cut steeks for the front and the sleeves, hence the facings.) (I know, I know....the button bands don't match.) (The sleeves won't match either.) (I'm going to crochet loops for the buttons....or toggles...or maybe put in a zipper.)

Sigh.....poor little UFO's.....

By Beth's Request: Bo's Chicken & Herbed Dumplings

2009-10-24T15:32:00.020-05:00

(The above is not a picture of my dumplings but I didn't have one of my own handy--so I "borrowed" that picture...)

Okay, since Beth asked if I would post my recipe, I will try and re-create it here. Since I cook without written recipes, I'm going to try and estimate some of the amounts of things, okay? (But I'll try to err on the side of caution, so that if you like the flavor of a particular spice you can simply increase it if you like.) This is the recipe that's been handed down in chicken & dumplingdom in my family since probably the Civil War. (Or the Revolutionary War, who knows?) (Yes I know they didn't have Bisquick in the 1700's but plain flour works just as well...)

(Is "dumplingdom" a real word?)

(Oh yes, and I herb my dumplings, even though they're made from Bisquick.)

Take 1 pkg of boneless, skinless, chicken breasts (about 4 or 5 good sized ones) and put them in a dutch oven pot, add water till it just barely covers them, and start them to boil.

When they are cooked (no pink in the middle), lower the boil to a simmer. Take the breasts out of the water. Break them up into large pieces, and then add them back into the water.

Add to the pot (and I've been known to be really liberal with the spices):

4 chicken boullion cubes

1 Tbl sage (I've been known to add more)

1 - 2 tsp black pepper

2 tsp salt (or to taste)

1 - 2 tsp garlic powder

1 Tbl onion powder

2 Tbl parsley

1 can of Campbell's Cream of Chicken Soup

While you're simmering that for awhile, make up the herbed dumplings. You make the basic dumplings like the recipe on the box of Bisquick. But then I go further.

Mix the following in a bowl:

1 1/3 cup Bisquick

1 Tbl parsley

1 tsp garlic powder

1 tsp onion powder

1 tsp sage

1 tsp paprika

(Toss everything with a fork to mix everything up good.)

Then, add milk until a soft dough forms. And I mean a soft dough---there's been times I added too little milk because I thought I wanted a "firm" dumpling, but they turned out like rubber..eeek! So make it a soft dough.

Okay, then you put your pot of soup on a simmer. Not a boil. And then you've got to "thicken" the soup. So take a ladle and ladle out two coffee cups half to 3/4 full of the soup (no chicken in there). Let them cool awhile (you can put them in the frig if you're in a hurry). Then use flour to thicken both of the cups' liquid--and thicken them pretty gooey and thick. And then after you thicken the liquid in the two coffee cups, raise the temperature of the pot of soup till it's a boil again, and then slowly pour those two cups of thickened soup back into the pot to "thicken" the whole pot of soup, stirring constantly till your whole pot of soup is thick. (Not "glue" thick, but a little bit less than "gravy" thick.)

Again, put your boil back down to a low simmer, and then you take your dumpling dough and drop it by spoonfuls into the pot. I always start in a ring formation and then add them to the center of the ring until the whole entire pot of soup is covered in dumplings.

Cook everything on a LOW simmer for 10 minutes UNCOVERED--not a boil (so as not to burn stuff on the bottom of the pot). Then you put the lid on the pot and LOW simmer them for 10 more minutes COVERED. It may take more than 10 minutes in this last stage. The way you tell if the dumplings are done is if they look cooked on their tops (poke one). Don't be afraid to pull a dumpling out and cut it in half to check if it's totally cooked. (Then plop it back in there to finish cooking.)

That's it! I hope I've written it correctly. The secret is the sage. Most people don't add sage to their chicken & dumplings but it totally makes the chicken flavor come out. And most people don't "herb" their dumplings, but it really makes the dumplings taste better. (God, I hope I wrote this recipe right....)

I've had people tell me these chicken & dumplings were so good "they'd make you stand up and slap your grandma"....

Important for refrigeration of leftovers: If you refrigerate the leftovers, separate the dumplings from the soup into a separate bowl. If you don't, the dumplings will swell up like balloons from soaking up the soup. When you reheat everything, reheat the soup on the stove first, separately, and when it's hot add the dumplings in and heat a little more till the dumplings are hot.

The Colors of Fall...

2009-10-23T15:18:00.006-05:00

Fall is here....and the leaves are turning all manner of beautiful colors.

Which means:

1. It's getting colder, and so I need to find my little heating pad which I stick on my feet while I'm curled up knitting.

2. I can start looking forward to snow.

3. The holiday season is sneaking up on us...

4. I better get my butt in gear for my Christmas knitting...

5. It's Chicken & Dumpling weather---but alas, I can't have any because I'm on the Atkins Diet and there's no carbs in that diet; ergo, no dumplings allowed. And let me tell you, I can make GOOOOOD Chicken & Dumplings...sniff....

6. I've got to get ready to spend the holiday season with my family in Texas, yippee! (Blaine is going to meet us for Christmas.)

Circus--Sockus....

2009-10-20T13:26:00.012-05:00

I knitted a garter-stitch, raglan jacket inspired by the colors of the circus. (Or...at least....it's my particular "interpretation" of the colors of a circus....) The sleeve edges and bottom edge are large ruffles and the button band edge is feather and fan. I made a little....uh....pom-ponned "scarf" from the leftover yarn. (Just for the hell of it.) (Or are they tassles?)(And, like my socks, the jacket's two sleeves don't match...)

(You can click on the pictures to make them bigger.)

Little Baby is never interested in my creations. She'd rather get her nightly massage from Blaine, using the clicker as her pillow...

Then, as I was bored in the last couple of weeks, I took 4 different balls of sock yarn and decided to see how many different socks I could make out of them. Here's the first one below. (The cable part pulls it in like ribbing but it fits nicely.)

Then here's a pair of my "un-matching" socks with a feather & fan cuff and 2 different type heels.

This little green sock is my favorite, don't know why.

And below is Leonard, staring at me, as usual.

Maybe I'm paranoid, but he always gazes at me like I'm the biggest idiot in the world.

(Don't say it...)

Crash McGoon Strikes Again...

2009-10-16T09:26:00.075-05:00

ooh, Jackie Blue...

You like your life in a free-form style,

You'll take an inch but you'd love a mile,

There never seems to be quite enough,

floating around to fill your loving cup....

ooh, Jackie Blue...

("Jackie Blue", Ozark Mountain Daredevils)

I'm trying to get up my nerve to go back to Walmart...

I need to go because I've started a new, very enjoyable hobby--- beading --- and I need some little doo-dads called "crimp loops" or some such. (My mother turned me on to this addictive hobby and she gave me hundreds of wondrous, gorgeous beads made of glass, crystal, cloisonne, filigree metal, abalone, etc.) Anyway, the "crimp loops" are used to make closures for necklaces and such. I've made three necklaces so far which are long enough to go over one's head without needing a clasp closure. (I simply tied knots in the beading wire to join the two ends.) But now I want to make some shorter necklaces which will be too small to slip over a person's head; thus, I'll need "crimp loops" and clasps to make up the closures. (If interested, you can click on the pic to see the necklaces more closely.)

But... um... I'm feeling rather cowardly to show my face at Walmart so soon after the Coffee Aisle Incident.

I don't know what it is between me and Walmart but I don't seem to be able to get in and out of that dang store without committing some kind of major blunder. And the Coffee Aisle Incident was a definite blunder--- and is still weighing heavy on my mind. And on Blaine's too.....

Lord, but that man acted like The Coffee Aisle Incident was a completely chaotic donnybrook, which caused me to indignantly defend myself by telling him that it had been an unpleasant incident for sure, but not to the overly dramatic extent he was claiming. I remarked that I certainly hadn't heard anybody screaming "Oh, the humanity!!"

I mean, dadgum! It could have happened to anybody!

But I did learn some valuable lessons from the whole event:

1. Don't stuff your little coffee bean bag so full of coffee beans that you have trouble closing the bag with those little wire tie-tie's on the two sides of the bag, as this common mistake may cause one to lose control of the bag... and then, in a panic, begin madly fumbling and juggling the bag absurdly before dropping the stupid thing entirely, causing a wild shower of approximately 150 coffee beans to bounce their way down the aisle like Aggie marbles;

2. Should you spill that entire bag of 150 coffee beans as described above, it is best NOT to yell ugly cuss words like "Holy Shit!" when you realize that the 150 coffee beans are bouncing up and down at least three feet off the floor, creating chaos and bedlam on the coffee aisle;

3. Should the other people on the coffee aisle start slipping, tripping, and falling on the 150 coffee beans (which by now have merrily bounced their way down the complete length of the aisle) do not continue to holler more ugly cuss words since you've already offended and shocked everybody with the "Holy Shit!" epithet;

4. Don't even THINK about getting down on the floor to try cleaning up all the errant coffee beans...

.... JUST GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE AS FAST AS YOU CAN, no matter what insults Blaine is emitting.

And then there was that dreadful Changing Room Incident.

Okay, as everybody knows, I... uh.... can sometimes lose my temper a little bit.

(Let's not go there, okay?)

(Thanks... where was I?)

Oh yes, the Changing Room Incident.

So one day I was shopping for jeans and I went to the changing room to see how the pairs I had chosen looked on me. The changing room attendant waved me back towards the left end of the two rows of cramped try-on cubicles. I pushed open the door of one cubicle and surprised a lady who was in there with her daughter.

(They must have been shopping for bathing suits because the lady was half nekkid and trying desperately to squeeze herself into a Catalina bathing suit which was obviously too small for her.)

"This cubicle is OCCUPIED!" the furious lady yelled at me. "You should have looked under the door to check before you entered!"

I quickly backed out of the cubicle, apologizing profusely. Then I turned to search for an unoccupied cubicle. I was irritated, thinking to myself that the lady had been overly harsh with me, since people accidentally charging their way into occupied cubicles is a common gaff in the world of trying on clothing.

And then it happened....

I overheard what the lady remarked to her daughter....

"God, what a total DUMBASS," she exclaimed loudly, loud enough for ALL the occupants of the changing room area to hear.

And I know... I know....

Yea, verily....but I know I should have just let it go. And I'm very ashamed at what happened next... but I was feeling rather grumpy that morning and her insults had irked me even further. And then... before I knew it... it just popped out.

"Oh, shut up!" I snapped back at the lady.

And then all hell broke loose....

"What did you say to me?" the lady screeched, bursting out of her cubicle snorting with both nostrils like an angry bull, now completely stuffed into the too-small Catalina bathing suit.

And then the changing room attendant, who had heard the whole exchange, came running in and began berating me loudly like there was no tomorrow.

"How DARE you tell another customer to 'shut up'!?" she exclaimed. "Everybody knows that you are supposed to look under the door of a cubicle to see if it is occupied or not!"

And then, to my utter mortification, the occupants of three other cubicles emerged from their cubicles to add their own scathing criticisms of me!!

"That was SO RUDE!" one of them hissed. "Were you raised in a barn?! You should be banned from Walmart!"

Good God, but had I just instigated an actual riot in the Walmart Women's Changing Rooms?! Could a person be arrested for telling somebody to "shut up" in Walmart? And so, in a panic, I dropped the jeans and fled, my face burning red as a beet with embarassment. (And so I didn't get any jeans that day...)

(Yeah, I know... But have no fear, because my temper is a frequent uncomfortable topic in my sessions with Fred. His exact (and embarassing) diagnosis for that type of my behavior is "Bo goes back to Junior High.")

(Fred's favorite saying to me about how other people perceive me is "You are not what you FEEL; you are what you DO.)

(Which, when I think about it, is really scary......)

Sigh.....

And then there was the Men's Underwear Incident, which I maintain here and now is Walmart's fault.

Blaine and I were shopping together one day and I had insisted that I be the one to push the cart. And I've talked about this before--- about how Blaine doesn't like it when I'm the one who's pushing the cart. He complains that I "don't look where I am going" and crash into things--- and he calls me disparaging names like "Crash McGoon", which really irks the daylights out of me.

I mean, it's not like I've ever had a four-cart collision, you know? For God's sakes it's only a dang Walmart cart. So what if I lightly brush against a few objects here and there? And for that matter, I think that Walmart should install Stop Signs at certain dangerous intersections, like the one between the bakery and the produce section.

(The lady who went.... uh... headfirst into the Valencia Oranges bin was quite understanding about the whole thing.)

Anyhoo, there we were that day, shopping in the clothing area, and Blaine was AGAIN moaning and groaning about how I can't "drive" the cart right.

"Holy Hannah and I'll swoney!" I exclaimed, losing patience with him and this whole issue. "You are such an ass! We've been in here for nearly two hours and I haven't touched one single thing with this cart---and yet here you are griping!"

And then I pushed the cart right smack dab into a rack of men's long underwear.

Damnation!

Naturally, I was utterly exasperated by this appalling turn of events--- and so I attempted to clear my way out of the whole mess by madly thrusting long underwear aside while roughly jerking my cart clear, totally not realizing that one of the rather large, multiple-page cardboard price-tags of one of the underwear pairs had entangled itself on my cart.....

And then, after I'd made a couple hard tugs on my cart--- and to my horror--- the whole entire rack of that damnable underwear suddenly tipped over, coming perilously close to falling completely over--- and I had to grab it to keep it upright, at which point I managed to shove my cart away where it promptly knocked to the ground several packages of men's boxer briefs which had been stacked on a nearby shelf--- all of which caused such a commotion that every Walmart customer within 100 feet stopped and stared, all while Blaine laughed his head off....

(I'd really like to forget that whole incident.)

(Sigh again....)

And, unfortunately, there is another thing I do at Walmart which causes all who know me to come to the belief that I am as nutty as a fruitcake. (And whether or not I truly AM as nutty as a fruitcake is beside the point.) And I am confounded on what to do about this issue because it's something which is totally automatic and natural to me.

It is that I talk to myself out loud as I shop. And I don't mean mumbling a few "hmmm's" or "that's nice" comments here and there. No, I have entire conversations with myself. I also argue with myself, berate myself, tell myself jokes, and ponder a plethora of issues with myself.

But surely I'm not the only person who has ever talked to herself in Walmart? Surely there's others??

I never thought anything about it, to tell you the truth. I mean, who cares? So big deal, I've said things out loud like "I wonder if I should get this frozen pizza that's on sale? No, the last time I got it Blaine said it gave him diarrhea...", or else

"Good Lord, would you look at the price of Poppin' Fresh Biscuits?! Hell, I can make my own with Bisquik for a lot less than that---and, frankly, I wish someone would take a rolling pin to that idgity-looking Pillsbury Dough Boy...", or else

"I wonder if anybody will notice that I've got twice the number of items for the '20-items-or-less' cashier? Naaah, that guy behind me looks dumber than a box of rocks...."

And a good friend of mine, Carrie, who has caught me talking to myself in Walmart on more than one occasion, states that I look like a "complete looney toon" when I'm doing it.

But what the hell--- I don't care what people think. Looney toon or not, it's a free country, dammit.

Where in the heck was I going with all this?

Oh yeah, I'm wondering if I should show my face at Walmart so soon after the Coffee Aisle Incident. I really do need those little crimp loop thingies.

There are three Walmart's in Overland Park. I've only shopped at two of them. There is that third one on Metcalf....

Yeah, that's it. I'll go to that one....

At Least I Admit It...

2009-10-12T22:58:00.015-05:00

Okay, I admit it. I cry at the sentimental parts of movies.

The problem is, most people consider the particular times I cry during certain movies as ridiculous. They say I cry at "the stupidest things"---that I'm too sentimental---and that I'm too emotional. They also can't understand how in the heck a cartoon-movie could move somebody to tears. (But hey, I ask you, WHO DIDN'T CRY when Bambi lost his mother?)

But I'll let you be the judge.

Here are the times I've bawled during a particular part of a movie--- which caused whichever one of my ex-husbands or friends who was with me a load of embarrassment:

1. I cried when the stupid chickens finally flew their haphazardly-made airplane over the fence of the chicken farm in "Chicken Run". I was married to the biker man at the time and he and every kid in the theater turned to look at me with total disgust when I burst out crying while saying: "They made it! They finally made it!"

2. I cried during "Beverly Hills Chihuaha" when Delgado got his police dog badge back. Blaine looked at me like I was a nut.

3. Lord Jesus, but I totally (and I mean TOTALLY) bawled my silly head off during "Homeward Bound--The Incredible Journey" when I thought the old dog wasn't going to come home. But then, at the last second, the good ole dog appears, loping tiredly over the hill, and his kid sees him.....OH HELL, I'm bawling NOW just THINKING ABOUT IT!!

4. Okay, I bawled in "The English Patient" when he flew her body home. I thought that was so romantic.

5. I sobbed during the award ceremony in the first Star Wars movie, when Princess Leia gave the medals to Luke, Han, and Chewie. I mean, I bawled for the entire time they walked down that aisle. And all the friends I was with kept trying to shove popcorn-butter-soaked napkins into my hands, trying to shut me up.

6. I cried hard during "The Perfect Storm" when that one sailor, who was about to drown, said: "My kid is gonna take this hard..." (but wouldn't you cry at that part?)

7. I cried during "The Deep Blue Sea" when, as the floating sea research facility was flooding with water, a bottle of booze floated by LL Cool J and his pet parrot (and LL Cool J was playing a chef who was a recovering alcoholic) and he was highly tempted to drink it.....but he decided to be noble in the situation and didn't succomb to the temptation. (Um.... let me admit a little secret here. If I thought that me and my pet parrot were about to DIE by being chomped by genetically mutated sharks, I'm sorry but--recovering alcoholic or not---I'd drink the damn booze!!!! Man, I would totally grab that bottle...I would drink that stuff so fast...um.... I'm sorry. Where was I?)

8. I totally BAWLED out loud in the theater during "Toy Story", when Buzz and Woody finally made it onto the moving van truck. Again.... every dumb ass kid in the stupid theater looked at me like I was a crazy loon. And I got mad and yelled out: "So what!?? Didn't you ever have a Mr. Potato Head or a Barbie or something that you loved?"

9. I cried during "Date With An Angel" when the angel came flying in, in all her glory, to rescue her boyfriend from the totally insane Phoebe Cates.

10. I cried during "The Boy Who Could Fly" when his little brother FINALY made it around the block and triumphed over the neighborhood bullies. Hey, don't laugh---that dang movie was GOOD. My mother didn't believe it until she watched it herself---and even she had to admit it was heartwarming...

11. Okay, I cried during "Ernest Saves Christmas", too.

(Yes, I know---I just admitted that I watch "Ernest" movies..... * q

Wish I Was a Spoiled Cat.....

2009-10-11T16:52:00.002-05:00

Hey, I Gave It My Best Shot....

2009-10-02T13:45:00.037-05:00

* (By the way, Anonymouses, you're starting to get on my nerves....and also, my friend Amy has asked me to stop responding to your nonsense. And I value my friend Amy---so BACK OFF. The party's OVER, ya hear me? I'm changing the subject.)

A lot of people have asked me recently about why I don't like Blaine's parents---especially his mother--- and why I went into total rebellion mode when they visited this past week, where I hid in my room for most of their visit. (Which, of course, is one of the rudest sins one could commit against guests in one's home.)

And yes, I know that I have a reputation for being a scrapper---and that I can be irritable on certain principles that I hold dear to my heart---but I promise you, hand over my heart, that 99% of the time I am a very loving person, using my best southern manners to everyone I encounter with a true desire to get along with all of the people in my little world. And for 16 years I truly gave my very best shot for a decent relationship with Blaine's mother.

But it wasn't to be---no matter how hard I tried. Blaine's parents never gave me a break and treated me like a dog for 16 years, criticizing everything I ever did/said/wore/or talked about.

Blaine's mother is the worst. That woman defies all manner of compatibility, no matter how much one grovels at her feet---and believe me, I have groveled at her feet plenty over the years.

But this time, when I returned from Texas after two long train trips in the space of one month, one after the other--- first after the tragedy of my grandmother's death, and then second after going to Dallas for some birthday celebrations--- I was more than EXHAUSTED.

I was shellshocked and fatigued, having experienced a myriad of emotions in a short period of time---from despair at my Mamo's death to happiness for my sister's family during their birthday event---and I had no emotional defenses left for the usual ugly treatment of me by Blaine's parents.

It all started in 1993. I'll just list everything in chronological order, beginning with the first day I ever met her, in the days before Blaine and I got married at Lake Tahoe, NV. And I'll let you make the judgment of whether or not I tried "enough" over the years to get along with her (and paid enough "dues")--- or whether or not you think I was a complete jerk this past week when I committed the ultimate "southern manners" sin of being a bad hostess.

1. (First night I met her, two days before Blaine and I were to be married in 1993, when I offered to make the family dinner and made my Texas Country-Style Stew recipe.) She took one bite and asked loudly: "Why is there RED in the stew? What in the heck would make it RED?"

This remark mortified me. I was raised "Southern", where every child is indoctrinated that the worst sin in the world is to criticize a lady's cooking. In fact, you are taught that you must actively COMPLIMENT the hostess' food, no matter WHAT!---even if you're served dog shit on a plate! Per my southern upbringing, I ignored Blaine's mother's horrid remark and kept politely chatting around the table with various other relatives there---but the harpy REPEATED the remark even LOUDER! And then when I ignored it again, she repeated it again LOUDER so that everybody HAD to acknowledge it. (And the other relatives looked horrified as well.) Finally, I quietly replied: "There are some tomatoes and a little bit of tomato sauce in the stew."

But she kept muttering about the "redness" of the stew the rest of the meal.

This.....was only the beginning....

2. (Over a period of the next 4 years of Blaine's and my marriage) Every single solitary meal I ever cooked, she would ask about the ingredients. Her pet peeve was cumin. She would always ask: "Does this dressing have cumin in it? I hate the taste of cumin." For FOUR solid years!!! And the only thing I ever put cumin in was chili and Indian food! And I had never served her chili or Indian food!

When I complained to Blaine he said she truly didn't like cumin and wasn't trying to be critical. But I didn't think so. I knew she knew exactly what she was doing and was intentionally trying to be rude to me. So finally I got so tired of her asking if my dishes had cumin in it that I decided to play a trick on her to prove to Blaine that I was right---to prove that she WAS just trying to be rude.

So I made a grand meal for a holiday one year--- and I put cumin in everything. I mean, I put that damn cumin in EVERYTHING. I even put cumin in the fruit salad and the hot rolls. I even sprinkled it in the ice tea. But at dinner I sweetly informed her that I had respected her wishes and hadn't put cumin in anything. Sure enough---after she finished eating-- she praised everything, saying: "FINALY, at last, your food is much better because you have stopped adding cumin to your dishes. Cumin is such a bitter spice and it ruins the flavor of anything it is put in."

Yes, I did laugh my ass off later, privately, after everybody had left and I was alone with Blaine---and confessed to him what I had done. (He just rolled his eyes....)

3. She has always talked bad about me when she's within earshot of me! I mean, she actually WANTS me to hear her! And other people near me hear it, too! But never once have I said: "I can hear you....."

4. And then last winter, tragedy struck. She had to have knee surgery---and her husband is elderly and incapable of helping a heavy sick woman who can't walk. And not one of her four children would agree to go take care of her, which I found sad. And then, two days after surgery, she developed a severe complication--- post-op pneumonia, which can be fatal to elderly people. Still....none of her children would go take care of her. And then.....to add insult to injury.....her doctor solemnly informed her that her recent breast biopsy was positive for cancer. She would need a mastectomy as soon as possible after she recovered from the pneumonia, when her lungs could tolerate anesthesia again.

She was so very sick. And none of her children would take care of her. And so, being a nurse, my nursing oaths simply would not allow me to leave an elderly lady to languish without good nursing care. Her situation was lifethreatening. And so, without hesitation, I paid $900 to go on the damn Amtrak train to dadgum New York to take care of her myself. (It was $900 because I travel in those little rooms on the train---and I'm frightened to death of New York because it's so big.)

But when I got there, she treated me like a yard dog for the entire time I was there! One time, she asked for some chicken noodle soup. I set the pot down on the stove and God forbid but I set it down on the big burner, even though it was a smallish pot. She actually screamed at me: "Don't you know you NEVER put a small pot on a big burner?" And then when her husband came in from shoveling snow she immediately (before he took his coat off) screamed at him: "Bo doesn't know how to use a stove! She put a small pot on a big burner!"

But back to me making the damn soup. When I put the soup into a bowl I said: "Hold on a second, and let me put this bowl on a saucer or something so you can hold it in your lap." And then I reached into their plate cabinet and grabbed the first small plate I could see. I put the soup bowl on it and then took the soup into where she was sitting, in front of the TV.

Twice, she made me take the soup back to the kitchen and remove some of the noodles. (Like Campbell's really puts "too many" noodles in their soup, but what do I know?.....)

Then suddenly, while she was loudly sipping her soup, she stopped in mid sip and a light came into her eyes---as if she had just thought of something extremely urgent.

"Bo!" she screamed. "You called this plate a saucer!"

"Um....and so?....." I said, wondering what in the hell she was going to complain about this time.

"This IS NOT a saucer!" she bellowed. "It's a luncheon plate! Don't you know the difference between a saucer and a luncheon plate?"

By now I was getting angry and so I just sat there, biting my tongue, looking at her with a blank expression on my face. But she persisted.

"I asked you a question, Bo!" she continued stubbornly. "Do you or do you NOT know the difference between a saucer and a luncheon plate?"

Of course I do know the difference but I wasn't going to play her game. And no way was I going to answer that question. So I simply asked her: "Do you want me to take the luncheon plate away and get you a bonafide saucer?"

5. Also the whole time I was in New York taking care of her complaining ass, she criticized my beloved Bass Pro Shop rubber fishing boots. One night, after I'd pulled them on in preparation to go and get her some take-out pizza, she forbad me to wear the blasted boots. God, the fight we had over that---and she actually took her own sneakers off her feet and commanded me to wear THEM instead of the rubber boots. Finally, after I'd had enough of the arguing, I pronounced with finality: "There is TWO FEET of snow on the ground---I'm wearing the boots!"

6. The whole week I was taking care of her after her surgery she made me sit on the floor. Yes, the floor. During her convalescence, she always laid on the couch in her little back room where she watched TV during the day--- and the only other sitting furniture in there was her husband's chair. Since she always laid down full length on the couch it wasn't possible for me to sit there. And she instructed me NOT to sit in her husband's chair as "he didn't like anybody but him to sit in it"---even though he stayed the whole week watching TV in their living room! And when I asked about bringing another chair in, she said: "I don't think there's anything that we can move conveniently....."

Yeah, I sat on that damn drafty floor for a week. And when you have three stress fractures and chronic arthritis in your horribly painful back from 22 years of lifting patients during a nursing career, sitting on the floor is excruciatingly uncomfortable. I knitted socks to try and keep my mind off the pain. And she made fun of my knitting with handpainted yarn, TOO!!!!

7. Since I was brought up southern, I have the southern "good manners" habit of cleaning my room when I have been a guest. So on my last day as a guest in their house, I stripped the sheets off my bed to launder them, and then I re-made the bed with fresh sheets. I also cleaned the bathroom that I had used. I also dusted and swept/mopped. When I was finished, it was spic and span clean, like I had never there.

But she wouldn't let me launder the sheets. Instead, she told her husband: "Bo probably doesn't know how to use a washing machine and dryer, and I don't want her messing them up. So you do them."

And when Blaine's mom noticed the cleaning I was doing in the guest room and guest bathroom on my last day there, she said: "And when you clean my own bathroom, make sure to get under the raised toilet seat."

Well guess what, I thought to myself. There's not a damn thing in the "Southern Lady's Handbook of Good Manners" that says I have to clean any area but where I stayed. So I most certainly did NOT clean her other bathroom. (I would have if she'd been nice to me but by now I was so pissed off that I wanted nothing more than to get on that Amtrak train just as fast as I could.)

But when Blaine's parents left our house this past week, after having been our guests for nearly a week, they left the bed unmade, messy, and with the comforter and sheets lying half on the bed and half draping onto the floor. And I noticed that Blaine's mother had used my Elizabeth Arden shampoo and conditioner that I had hidden in my bathroom. And the sink was filthy.

8. During their visit this past week (if you read my recent Twitter posts about it) Blaine's mother heard me talking about how the doctor wanted me to lose some weight to get rid of my high blood sugar from diabetes. She remarked: "But if you lose weight your face will get jowls!!"

Thanks a lot, I thought to myself. I've never had jowls no matter how much I've weighed but perhaps she knows something I don't? And yeah, why lose the weight the doctor told me to do? Why don't I just frigging DIE OF DIABETES??????

When I carelessly replied that I "didn't care" if I developed jowls, she actually seemed to become enraged, hollering out loud: "You mean you don't care about your OWN FACE?"

9. But the worse thing she did to me was the following:

Earlier, before their visit here, when she found out I was going to Texas (both for my Grandmother's death and also later on for my sister's birthday party for her children), she kept insisting to Blaine that he needed to "arrange it" for her and her husband to come visit me at my mother's house while I was down there!! She didn't even ask ME---or my MOTHER! And she's NEVER even met my mother or spoken to her!! But she kept insisting on it to Blaine, over and over. Her excuse was that they were "thinking of a driving trip to see San Antonio and the Alamo--which is only a few hundred miles from Bo's mother's house..." She was totally IGNORANT of the fact that in the south, you absolutely NEVER ask somebody you don't know if you can come visit! You need an invitation. And neither myself nor my mother had issued any sort of invitation.

Especially after we had experienced a death in the family!

But no, she kept bugging Blaine about it. But every time Blaine told me she had asked about it again, I told Blaine that it "wasn't a good time". I told him my mother was in mourning after her mother's death and that we would be doing "too much traveling back and forth from Louisiana and two different Texas cities, including Dallas, to entertain guests at my mother's house."

Blaine didn't buy it and got quite impatient with me for this. He told me he suspected that I "didn't like his parents"---which is true, but I wasn't going to admit it to him. So I held fast and stuck to my story that "it's not a good time".

And yes.... the reality was that there is NO WAY IN HELL that I would allow that critical, rude woman to come down there and visit my beautiful, artistic mother's fantastically lovely house, interrupting my tranquil and enjoyable visits with my mother. Especially since Blaine's mother and father yell at each other all day long, screechingly loud, a la George Costanza's parents on "Seinfeld"---for REAL!!! They really sound like those two! Plus, I knew Blaine's mother only wanted to visit because of her morbid curiosity about my mother---and that she would be critical of my mother's art and carry back cruel and unkind gossip about it to her family and friends.

And so I triumphed in preventing her from coming to my mom's house in Texas. But she wouldn't let it die.....nooooooo, she wouldn't. So, the night she and her husband arrived at me and Blaine's last week, the absolute first, most astonishing thing she did was to put me on the spot, saying: "Why couldn't we stop at your house in Texas? Do you know that we were actually IN your mother's town--in an uncomfortable motel?"

But I didn't give a shit. And from her angry statement I knew that she had tried to force the issue with Blaine until the last possible moment--even going so far as to drive hundreds of miles out of her way to my Mother's town to see if Blaine would capitulate at the last minute. And so began my final rebellion. And also because of that completely discourteous and ill-mannered audaciousness of hers, I finally developed the cojones to stand up to her--- and I looked her right in her beady eyes and firmly told her that a social visit would not have been possible due to "circumstances".

I also told her that southern mourning can last "a couple of years". (And I had also secured my dear mother's promise that Blaine's mother would NEVER be allowed to darken her doors.)

* * * * *

Now, lest you think that I'm just a bitter daughter-in-law who likes to do the proverbial cliche thing of bitching about her mother-in law, let me tell you what all I have done throughout the years to try and garner her love (because it's true---for 16 years I sincerely tried in vain to get along with her):

1. Sent her umpteen bouquets of flowers for occasions;

2. Sent her umpteen presents of expensive jewelry;

3. Kissed her ass constantly, complimenting her over and over;

4. Defended her when Blaine said something disrespectful to her or said a cussword in her presence (yes, I have actually yelled at him in front of her, telling him NOT to cuss in her presence or talk to her in a disrespectful fashion as she is his mother, and mothers are sacred beings);

5. Never forgotten her birthday;

6. And I made very humble "amends" and apologies to her (per AA dictates) when I got sober.

But when they came this past week, I'd had it with all her shenanigans. In fact, I had had it so much that I did break my inbred southern manners' traditions. Yes, I did. I committed the unforgiveable southern sin....

I was a bad hostess.

For 4 out of the 6 days they were here, I hid in the bedroom pleading "illness" and a "nerve" problem. Blaine was totally pissed off at me. He got so mad at me that he actually called MY OWN MOTHER in Texas to tattle on me!!!

(But evidently my mother defended me because he dropped the issue after that phone call and just wearily explained to his parents that I was "sick".) (Thank you, Mother. I knew you would understand....)

But he told me later that it was a family scandal that would "take years to be forgotten".

But I don't care.

Because I kept my sanity throughout the ordeal, ya know?

And besides, I had secretly called Fred, my therapist, and told him the whole thing. He said it was okay what I did, and that what I had done was an acceptable "self-preservation coping skill during a toxic situation."

And if I have Fred's blessings, that's all I need.

Hell Must Have Frozen Over....

2009-10-01T08:29:00.006-05:00

Well, I'm home from Texas....and I admit that I'm a little blue about it. I miss my family....

Before I left I took the above picture of that other fountain Mother is building. I took the picture at night because the candles are so pretty. She still has some work to do on it, like putting a blue tile mosicing outline around the edges and also a structure to hide the pump--- but you can already tell it's going to be really beautiful. And she may put a larger bell in that top alcove.

And then I came home on the good ole Amtrak train. (I have a love--hate relationship with that damn train line) And I wore my new hat--- so I don't think any of the other passengers had any doubts about which state I was coming from....

And then, when I got home, I found that the dang "bubble" is still here. I wish I knew what that thing was. I've taken pictures all over the house but I never catch "bubbles" in any other room---only up there at the top of the stairs. Weird, isn't it?

Anyway, the reason hell must have frozen over is that I am actually knitting something.....(don't faint, now).... that is plain gray.

Yes, you heard me right----the Queen of Psychedelic Knitting is actually knitting a gray sweater out of Cascade Eco wool. It knits quickly which is nice. And it has a nice "hand" and texture, knitted on size 10 needles. Even Blaine liked it and asked me to knit him one in the solid gray. But he NEVER wears sweaters---maybe once a year. So I just don't know......

But....never let it be said that I don't put my personal touch on all my knitted items, whether psychedelic or plain gray. So since this sweater is going to be a cardigan (an oversized, baggy, comfy one), I bought some buttons for the front, and some smaller ones to put along the sides of each sleeve cuff. And I'm thinking of putting red patch pockets on it, too......

Yeah, I know.

Blaine laughed, too....

Must We Go Through This Again?

2009-09-26T15:48:00.014-05:00

Okay, okay. More "Anonymous" commenters are coming out of the woodwork to crucify me because of my opinion of Yarn Harlot and I guess I'm going to have to explain things for those who are wondering what in the heck is going on...

At issue is a long-dead argument between me and Yarn Harlot. I had given the argument up a couple months ago but every time one of my blog posts irritates one of her groupies, they feel the need to send an "Anonymous" comment filled with inane, cruel, and vitriolic insults.

But I really don't care---because, as most of you know, I don't care if someone disagrees with me. I am the type of person who is secure in my opinions without "hating" somebody who disagrees. I am sensible enough to know that not everybody believes the same way I do. And so I believe that it is fine to "agree to disagree", in a pacifist universe.

But....lately, the aggressiveness of the mean Anonymous comments is startling.

Now, don't get me wrong---I don't dislike "Anonymous" commenters. Many of my readers comment on my blog using the "Anonymous" choice because it's easier. It's easier because it gets around the need to log in a URL or a Google address. And so, a lot of people comment on the "Anonymous" choice because they can get their comment in without annoying red tape or other aggravations.

All commenters are beloved to me and I welcome their opinions. Even when they don't put their names, I love them equally as if they had put their name, address, or email address. I value all input to my blog, positive or negative. And if a commenter goes so far as to be nice to me, I am so thrilled to get that comment that I consider that person as a good friend--- one that I value as much as my "in-the-flesh" friends. And I keep as loyal to them as I would those I know in person.

But the rude commenters!!!...... Geez, I don't mind negative comments (I appreciate constructive criticism) but there is a particular cadre of people out there who are Yarn Harlot's buddies---and never a more rude, insulting, vindictive bunch of assholes could you meet!

Lord, these people!!!

The reason I know they are Yarn Harlot's buddies is that I never got their sewage-filled comments until one particular incident. And that incident was when I took Yarn Harlot to task for what, in my opinion, was her repeated anti-American comments.

Now, don't be fooled by Yarn Harlot's lovey-dovey rhetoric. Yarn Harlot is crafty. She hides her anti-American comments (in my opinion) in jokes and other comic prose. My main example is her Canada Day posts. I wouldn't mind if she wrote her Canada Day posts using only Canadian pride and enthusiasm. Of course she's pro-Canadian--she's a Canadian! But no.....in the past, she has written her pro-Canada comments with thinly disguised anti-American pot-shots which are so subtle that they mock and ridicule America without many Americans ever realizing they've been insulted.

And, in fact, Yarn Harlot has been publicly criticized for this behavior of hers many times BEFORE ME. Yes, you read it right---she's been criticized for this behavior LONG BEFORE I EVER CAME ON THE SCENE (or took up the flag, if you will). In fact, on one of her Canada Day posts she even criticized those who called her an "anti-American" during the blog post!!

Yeah, people, it's true.

Yarn Harlot knows her Canada Day posts (and other random posts) have been taken as anti-American---but she doesn't care.

Which brings me to present day.

Fast forward.

This past Canada Day I protested against what I considered anti-American comments in her "Canada Day" post. And I did rant. Yes I did.

And GODDANG, but did I get a lot of hate mail!!!! Geez-oh-man but the hatemail I received would have made my grandmother blush!

Lord, have mercy, but Yarn Harlot's fans came out in force against me! They made an onslaught of hate mail posts on my blog that practically caused my ISP server to lock up! They sent hundreds of emails every day, calling me every vile name in the existence of the English language!

But I don't care.

Because I believe in the American Way---and it's called Freedom of Speech. By being an American, I have the God-given right to express my opinion whether or not my neighbor likes it. And let me tell you, it wouldn't have mattered who the Yarn Harlot was or anybody else---I would have criticized what I considered those anti-American words of hers no matter WHO wrote them!! And I won't back down from this.

Believe it or not, once upon a time I liked Yarn Harlot for her cutesy little yarn blog. But I grew tired of her annual Canada Day anti-American remarks. And when I finally exploded and wrote of my discontent, hundreds of Americans wrote me that they were on my side---that they, too, disliked her anti-American rhetoric and had stopped reading her blog because of it. Yes--they wrote me that they NO LONGER READ HER BLOG or BUY HER BOOKS or TAKE HER CLASSES.

When I mentioned this on the blog, many of Yarn Harlot's rabid-dog buddies asked me to betray the names of those people who had sided with me---which I refused to do. Private email is just that---PRIVATE.

Some of Yarn Harlot's buddies even stated proudly that I had "less" people on my side than they had on their side. But I replied that I didn't care. Numbers don't matter to me. But my patriotic beliefs DEFINITELY DO matter to me. And I wanted to get out my opinion on my blog....

Get it, Anonymous? I said it's MY BLOG. MY BLOG. Let me say it again: MY blog. (Understand the word "MY"? It means that it's MY blog and I'll write on it what I please.)

Fast forward again.

These days, I've been blogging along about whatever strikes my fancy. And what still happens? I'm still (STILL!) getting rude, mean, vile, and insulting "Anonymous" comments from Yarn Harlot's clique. They criticize me on every little thing, including my mental status (they know I see a therapist), my mother, my sister, my politics---ANYTHING they can---no matter how much I ridicule them right back.

In fact, they're so stupid they don't even realize that my comments back to them are ridiculing and mocking. I know this because they keep on answering me, reading my blog obsessively, and insulting me obsessively.

Ho hum and whatever.

And you know what it all means?

It means the following:

Yarn Harlot, as usual, is too chicken and cowardly to insult me, publicly, herself. And so she does what she's always done---she sends her "thugs" to do her dirty work.

And Yarn Harlot is not above baiting me on her Twitter page. Whenever she sees one of my blog posts which annoys her (and let me tell you, she's on my blog every day at least once or twice, reading it obsessively--and according to my sitemeter she's on it as we speak!!!)---or she is given information about something on my blog from one of her minions--- she will then make an alcohol remark about whatever type of booze she's going to relish drinking that day (even though she never used to do that) because she knows that I'm a recovering alcoholic. And then she might make a subtle anti-Bo remark.

For example, one day recently she said this: "I think my issue is that if it's attention that they're seeking, doesn't publicizing the hate mail increase hate mail? I couldn't take it"---talking about how I have been publishing my hate-mail comments and then replying to them.

And heh! She is so correct! She COULDN'T take it! She is too cowardly! She's a weak, lily-livered pantiwaist and a chicken-hearted coward, terrified of becoming "unpopular" like I am. That's why her blog is so ultra-cautiously "politically correct"!!

Good call, Yarn Harlot, sweetie, saying "you couldn't take it" --- because that's the best call you've made in a long, looooong time.

Oh....um, speaking of calls...dinner calls. Blaine just yelled: "Get off the computer and help me drain the pasta!"

And so I go eat dinner....

(But if any of you "Anonymous" people wish to comment, please do so. I will read you after dinner."

Tonight's Prayer...

2009-09-25T20:17:00.012-05:00

Dear Lord:

Blaine's mother is driving me crazy. Surely You, in Your infinite mercy, don't want me to go any more crazier than I already am, right? (I mean, my therapist is just ITCHING to raise the dosages on some of my meds--- so we don't want to give him any more reasons, do we?)

So could you make that harpy stop criticizing everything I do or say? Her behavior tonight was a perfect example. First she criticized the gray sweater I'm knitting. Then she complained about the fan being on, when she specifically saw me turn it on while complaining about the heat. Then she took my spot on the couch after hearing me tell her husband that it is my favorite knitting spot.

And then.... I know that You heard her ask me why I am on a weight-reduction diet. And then you heard her warn me (in front of everybody) that "if I lost too much weight I might get jowls". And then you heard me retort sassily: "I don't care". And then you heard her yell incredulously, "You mean you don't care about YOUR FACE??"

And you know, Lord, at that particular moment I wanted to say something about her own face. And I also wanted to tell her just how much I want her to get out of MY face.....

But I was a good girl and didn't say either of those things.

So... doesn't that get me some Brownie Points or some other sort of "extra Heavenly credit"? If so, could you please make her discover some reason why she suddenly has to return to New York early? Tomorrow morning would be good for me.

Sincerely,

Your humble servant,

P.S. Oh, and I also think that I deserve some Brownie Points for not uttering a single cuss-word since she arrived. (And that DOES take some self-control....)

Don't Tell Blaine That I'm Having Too Much Fun To Leave Texas!!!!

2009-09-22T20:01:00.040-05:00

Mother and I have returned from Dallas and we had a rip-roaring day of shopping and lunch today!!! I had the funnest day with my mother! Above is some of the loot she bought me---a red, embroidered cowgirl shirt, three pairs of cowgirl boots, a cowgirl Western-style purse, and a cowgirl hat!!!
(And there's also pictured a couple of necklaces I made in her art studio!)

Okay, the first thing we did was buy matching cowgirl hats! I got the hat above, a rodeo style hat with a tie-strings which wrap around the hat band. (The tie-strings are so that if your hat falls off your head while you're racing the barrels or something, the hat will still remain secure around your neck instead of falling into the rodeo ring where it could be stomped by somebody else's horse or an errant rodeo clown.)

(But notice that I immediately beaded up the tie strings on my hat with all kinds of glass, crystal, cloisonne, and ceramic beads from the overwhelmingly huge bead collection in Mother's studio.) (Guess I don't need to actually "tie" the tie strings since I'm not riding rodeo these days, heh!)

And GOOD GOD but my Mother has bazillions of beads in her art studio!!! I'm not saying "lots" of beads---I'm saying she has more fricking beads in her art studio than you could find in three Hobby Lobbies or Michael's! I went completely cuckoo with the beads, as you'll see in a minute....

(I love those two-tone boots above). Anyhoo, when we came home, I went so crazy with the beads that I made the above two long necklaces. Mom and I had so much fun beading!!! And she gave me two exquisite pendants for the necklaces. The pendant on the necklace to the left is a large, solid silver Bolivian "monolito" pendant my mother gave my father when he was alive. (She purchased it in Boliva when they were stationed there.)

The pendant on the necklace to the right is a giant Tiger's Eye gem my mother got in India. I adore that pendant! And I just went crazy with the beads!!! Why didn't anybody tell me how fun beading is??? I'm going to wear both necklaces with my red cowgirl shirt she bought me. And maybe a third one I plan on making tomorrow with a bunch of red glass beads, some abalone beads, and some more cloisonne ones. (All three necklaces together at the same time!)

(Yessirree, Bob, I'm going to get up early in the morning so I can have some more fun with Mom making more beaded necklaces!..... hell, I might change my train reservation to stay an extra day to do more beading!....)

(And I'm going to come back at Christmas to see her and bead some more.....)

(I'm serious about staying here an extra day---but what in the dang heck will I tell Blaine?) (Don't worry---he doesn't read my blog.)

And I adore the leather Western style purse with the silver conchas and belt-buckles! As we shopped, Mother said it was "High time I dressed appropriately in 'proper' Texan attire", and I was only too thrilled to oblige. My mother is such a generous sweetheart.

I'm really excited---Mom's seen to it that I'm going home dressed "Texan" and I can't wait to see the look on Blaine's face, heh! (He's so used to me wearing the "varsity look"---football jerseys and sweat-shirts stamped with various universities' logos....) And God knows what the other Amtrak train riders going to the Midwest (or the North) will think---but I don't care.

(And I really needed this fabulous day with my beautiful Mother to cheer me up because Blaine's parents are going to be there visiting when I get home to Kansas--- and I don't get along with his fiendishly critical and RUDE mother!)
(And she's more critical and rude to me than she is to anybody else because she thinks I'm a bonafide lunatic who should be locked up and kept away from her son. HEY, that's what many of you idiot "Anoymous" assholes think! Like minds think alike, ya know?)
(Also, I noticed on my sitemeter that a lot of people looking for my blog are Googling using the "search" terms "Bo, Yarn-Harlot's Anti-American Comments" ---how hilarious!!!!)
(But I digress--- more on the dismal news of Blaine's horrible mother's visit later......and oh, how I intend to tell you all the.... uh.... news....)
*

A Texan Birthday Bash...

2009-09-20T13:21:00.006-05:00

Ahhh....the mythical Dallas!

Love me some Dallas....

It was raining when we drove in so the pictures are blurred by raindrops---but good ole Dallas is beautiful all the same!

Although my sister is more understated and traditional in her decor preferences than my mother, my niece, and myself, she still loves my mother's art. The above is one of my mother's mosaiced "towers" on her front lawn. Many times, local traffic stops to a crawl when people want to take a closer look at it.

What Texan garden would be complete without a Texan Star somewhere?.....

The above is a piece of my niece's artwork on an easel painted by my mother, a watercolor of a lady conjuring up another lady.....

And above is another piece of my niece's artwork.

Anyhoo, slowly but surely tonight's birthday bash is coming together. In multiple locations, food is being prepared, appetizers are being loaded onto trays, a spectacular cake is to be picked up from the pastry chef, the house is being decorated--- and a "Scavenger Hunt" of 21 gifts is being arranged for my darling niece--- since it's her 21st birthday. She will have to hunt for 21 gifts (not including a myriad of other gifts from various members of the family!) while wearing a Birthday Queen Crown! Fun! Fun! Fun!

Hey, I might get a present or two, myself!! (Although I've gotten plenty already and am happy as a clam!)

Kiss Kiss, Goodbye---See Ya In Dallas!

2009-09-18T09:20:00.007-05:00

Ok, I'm off to Dallas with my Mother in a little while. (Amateurish jam tarts and all....) Thought I'd throw you some last minute pictures---this time of my own bedroom at Mother's house, which I love so much that I hate to leave it. The above is a picture of my rarely-made bed....

The above is my stash closet, behind the curtains---but the shelves are empty because my stash is currently in Kansas. My sister gave me some money for my birthday via the Fed Ex man yesterday. (I sang "Happy Birthday to Me" as he walked the whole way up the walkway to deliver the envelope.) And I plan on spending the money at the Woolie Ewe in Dallas while I'm there this weekend, yee-hah!!

I collect clocks--- and above are several. My favorite is the elegant little Ellora clock to the right of the ruby slipper. (You can click on the picture to enlarge, to see the little clock.) (I also collect ruby slippers---and the mosaiced one above was made by...you guessed it! My Mother!!)

The above is part of the Paint Pony collection. (Okay, with a camel and a cow to keep them company.....)

And the above cabinet used to have a huge TV on top, which I took to Kansas. So instead I placed an old washbasin & pitcher there which my Mother mosaiced for me.

Above is my messy dresser and the bench at the foot of my bed. But I just love my room!!!

Anyway, I've got to finish packing. I finished the new Pat Conroy book, "South of Broad", and it was so good that I hated to put it down, dang it. But I'm taking his "Beach Music" with me to Dallas, where I doubt I'll get any reading done in the exciting household of my jet-setter sister!

I'll keep in touch---

The Tour of Mumsy's Home---Revisted....

2009-09-16T15:07:00.013-05:00

Friday my mother and I are leaving for Dallas, to my sister's home. The whole family (plus boyfriends) is gathering there to celebrate my niece's 21st birthday, my birthday, my nephew's birthday...WHEW! My sister, the perennial "organizer" has planned a full-fledged birthday party where we will all wear party hats, open party favors, blow kazoos, blow out candles, and dine like kings and queens.

I really don't look good in a party hat, but oh well...

Thought I'd put some more pics up of my mother's home and artworks. The above pic is one of the walls in her studio on which she keeps jars of mosaic tiles, beads, and glass baubles. She even mosaiced the walls in her studio...

The above is a mosaiced table she made for my niece's new apartment (as a birthday gift). We all think my niece will go WILD over it as she adores my mother's art style. My niece is also very artistically inclined herself. She was selected for an art scholarship in France, she designed the logo for a Dallas trucking company, and she sketches and draws lovely pieces which are always framed as they are spectacular.

My mom even painted the floors of her studio!....

The above is a cool thing my Mother made---she's made several of these masks. You can also "light" up the faces' eyes.

Here's a comfortable nook I find myself near a lot....

The above is a beautiful mosaiced "bust" of a lady she sculpted then mosaiced. This is in the breakfast room.

The above is another interesting corner---and the garden bench below it was a Christmas gift from me to my Mother. It has a tile on one of the corners which my mother created and baked herself after I had signed it, to her with love (with the date of the Christmas).

The above is another corner of the breakfast room.

Mosaiced marguerita anyone? (But not for me, heh...)

My mother painted the above oil paintings, and a couple of the actual objects she painted are located below on the chest.

Above is my bathroom. I know it's tacky to show a picture of a bathroom but I just love my bathroom!! Much of the house's floors are covered in authentic, lush Persian carpets like the one above. They are "tribal" carpets--- and so the particular Persian villages they were made in is noted on their undersides. All "real" Persian carpets have a deliberate flaw in the colorful design's patterning--- and this is because the Middle Eastern rug makers say that the only "Perfect" thing is God, and so they refuse to make "perfect" carpets. (Which I think is cool!)

Okay...another bathroom, heh! The above is another bathroom's sink area, the mosaiced bathroom.

Above is a nook with more objects my mother made, and also some bought items from foreign countries we've lived in .

The above is the religious icon nook. Some of the items were made by my Mother, the prayer beads are from the Middle East, and some parts of the nook are bought items (antique icon boxes or such).

The above pic is of one of the fountains in my Mother's gardens, and it's the whimsical mosaiced one. Mom and I sit out there in the afternoons and listen to the water trickling. But there's a new fountain near my bedroom window that she's making, but this fountain is different--- and spectacular!--- as it is modeled after old California's Mexican Missions, complete with a bell tower (a la San Juan Capistrano).

Anyway, I've got to make jam tarts tomorrow to take to Dallas as my contribution to the occasion. They will have shortbread crusts. And my niece has asked for my Mother's Beef Stroganoff and Vegetable Casserole for her birthday dinner on Sunday--YUMMY! (And she won't allow my sister to make the dishes---nooooo, it has to be my Mother!) Mom is also taking some scrumptious-looking loaves of a couple of flavors of fruited swirl-breads--YUMMY again!

Should be a TOTALLY fun trip! And I'll keep in touch via my sister's handy computer...

"Jaquiebean"--You're An Asshole & A Stupid Little Snot

2009-09-15T16:21:00.005-05:00

A person calling herself "Jaquiebean" wrote a completely INSULTING comment to me about my mother's portrait, of which I showed a photograph on my last blog posting called "In My Mother's House".

It was a disgusting, insulting comment about my mother and so I deleted it.

I know that a lot of people don't like me--- and that's okay. You can hate me all you want. I can take your insults or hatemail.

But my mother is innocent and doesn't deserve insults. What kind of low-class idiot would insult someone's mother simply because she doesn't like her daughter? Mothers are SACRED!!!

Jaquiebean, you're an asshole and a stupid little snot. Please don't ever comment on my blog again because it won't be printed, dumbass.

At My Mother's House....

2009-09-14T21:41:00.006-05:00

One of the things I love about my mother's house is that there are a hundred nooks and corners to get lost in--- each area completely different from any other spot. (I particularly like this nook because of the oil painting of my beautiful mother---and two of her "mannequin" works of art below it. I think my mother's mannequin pieces are fantastic.)

Everywhere you look in my mother's house, and on every possible surface, there are objects of fantastic beauty and art. Much of the art pieces are my mother's works, whether oil paintings, mosaiced items, upholstery/fabric art, wooden things, or wire underlayed cemented pieces. There are some works in her house that are of other artists. And most of the furniture (and other decorations) are antiques, another of my mother's loves. In the shot above, I really like the mosaic of the woman's face. I love my mother's mosaics. She cuts each and every tiny mosaic piece herself with various saws-- out of ceramic, mirror, china, tiles, or whatever catches her fancy.

My mother is frequently requested to give tours of her home. Usually the tourists are totally in awe and admiration of her home and art. But sometimes.... things happen. For instance, the... uh... naked cherub in the upper righthand corner of the doorway above once caused an extremely pious and modest lady visitor from the local Baptist church to faint nearly dead away--- necessitating her "resuscitation" by vigorous fanning with paper church bulletins by the other ladies in the group.

Um....for what it's worth, it's a valuable antique. There's another one just like it on the other side of the doorway....