double tagged

Tagged not once but twice in the same weekend for a meme? I might be a wee tiny bit popular. Or not. Honestly, I’m flattered! Thank you, Jen and Erika!

Eight random facts about me? Hmmm.

1. I am not the sort to go to sleep early, in terms of “I will go to sleep at 9 pm tonight!”. And then go to bed at 9 and go *thunk*.

Hahahahahahahahahahaha.

That’ll never happen.

But! When I’m tired? I will go to bed early and read in the dark, either a book with a flashlight, or Benkei the back-lit wonder and read blogs. I do it on the theory that the sooner I go to bed, the sooner I actually fall asleep. This does work more often than not.

This is a very good thing lately, what with the full time job and the part time job. And the need for sleep. So I go to bed at ridiculous times like 8-10 pm and more or less get good amounts of sleep.

2. I have…. *counts* 27 surgical scars. Fourteen of these are inside my mouth. I have had surgery involving incisions seven separate times in three different locations: inside my mouth, my right knee, and my right wrist.

3. I’m a strawberry blonde with ash brown roots. I’ve given up trying to dye my hair to match one or the other. So if you ever see me? Trust me, it’s real. Stop asking.

4. I live for cheese.

Current fetish: dubliner cheese atop triscuits with a can of diet coke mit lime.

This cheese is only available at one store in a big radius around my apartment. (How do I know? Gramma tried to find it elsewhere… why? I don’t know.) (Shut up, bland midwestern cheese.) That sounds dire, right? Until you learn it juuuuust so happens to be the grocery store nearest to the apartment.

5. Everything in my bathroom is white. Including the shampoo and soap bottles.

6. I never ever heard of Spy vs Spy until Tiphanie’s blog post about it. Rilly. No, I’m happy under my rock, thank you for asking.

7. My favorite color is white but in a new yarn store I fixate upon pinks. I think the word for this is “predictable”.

8. My favorite time for my 3.5 mile walk is 5 am. Which maybe conflicts with the seeming inability to go to bed early.

I hereby afflict tag (in no particular order) (Why, yes, there are more
than eight people. I’m ok with that. Are you? And no links. Dude, I’m lucky to be posting at all… sigh.) Tiphanie, Carrie, Janine, Michaele, Samantha, Teri, Karen, Chris, Brigitte, Jen, Ali, Margene, Kristi, and Jeanne. And you!

tattoo me

I know, a long time ago, Scout mentioned wanting to see everyone’s tattoos. Scout, this is mine! It’s on my right second toe. Admittedly, it was inked 18 months before I lost my right big toenail, but I digress. TATTOO! I like it. It’s based on my favorite ring.  A lot of people seem to initially think it is actually a toe ring as opposed to a tattoo, which is just fine with me, thank you.

And my toe doesn’t hurt anymore, honest. Unless you drop something, anything, on it. Then it REALLY hurts.  But other than that? Honestly, life sans toenail is better than it was with toenail.

second annual blogger silent poetry reading

Ode on a Grecian Urn
John Keats

Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearièd,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea-shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul, to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

O Attic shape! fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’

six weird things about the Rebecca

1.  I actually care that today is Kiefer William Frederick Dempsey George Rufus Sutherland’s birthday.  Happy birthday! Call me!

2. I rub vicks on my right cheek every night.

3. I don’t ever shower if I can help it.  I still resent that Soviet shower in Prague.

4. I am attached to Benkei the sidekick 24/7.  Yes, even in the tub.

5. My roots are dark ash brown.  My hair otherwise is strawberry blonde. Both are natural non-chemically derived occurences.

6. I have four titanium plates in my upper jaw.

Tag yourself! Or not!

it’s only tuesday?

I was at the uni’s personnel services doing several job interviews from 8 am to 1230 pm today. Being “on” for many many hours, playing Friendly Client with rotating interpreters, laughing and making mild jokes and putting people at ease for hours….. Meh. I wasn’t ever nervous, but my battery? Fmmpt. Flat. Nothing left.

And thus I am so tired. So far I fell asleep on the sofa for 2 hours tonight, people who know me know I very rarely ever nap never mind fall asleep with the tv on and the light on. I think I was tired. I still am, that’s for sure.

Here, a meme of my own invention. Well, not really a meme. A tiredmerandomthing. Tag yourself. Or not.

If I had to choose one thing for the rest of my life, I’d choose:

Veggies: broccoli
Meat: chicken
Starchy staple: cappellini
Bread: Cracker Barrel white sourdough
Animal: catchen. duh.
Catchen: whoever’s on my lap
Soda: Fresca
TV program: Kiefer William Frederick Dempsey George Rufus Sutherland, er I mean, 24
Movie: the Matrix trilogy
Book: A Tale of Two Cities
Color: white
Wood: walnut
Shoes: Flora clogs from Dansko
Ice cream: Breyer’s vanilla
Soap: Cetaphil
Medication: Benadryl
Metal: silver
Eyewear: glasses
Washing up: baths
Cold or hot weather: cold

Hope you guys had, uh, a more energy-reviving day than I did. Maybe tomorrow I’ll even remember how to knit.

five things about the baba

I seem to have fallen asleep last night….. Mm. I guess I was tired! I was planning the post, had started writing it, and the next thing I know it’s 5:50 am and I’m beeped by a comment. Hahahahahahaha.

Ahhh, Friday. A venerable grammafest today, with this wonderful item procured:

It allows for the knitting of a pair of knee-highs with 4 separate balls of yarn without the ahem, ample assistance, shall we say, of catchen catchen catchen. So simple, almost terribly silly, but you know, it’s possible to have never known extreme knitting until it comes to being outpawed and outballed.

I’m happy, because the ghetto version I made last week out of an old baby wipes popup container worked really well, except for the part where it fit 4 balls of yarn.

On to the baba!

The first thing about the baba is that baba’s name is not baba. You see, baba is Yiddish for grandmother, which is why you never see me capitalize her name. Her name is Daphne Rachel Marie. But ever since she was adopted at three years old, she’s been my baba. The duchess, the queen, my favorite grumpy geriatic catchen, my happy baba. baba.

The second thing about the baba is that she absolutely loves dairy products. Ice cream! Macaroni and cheese! Whipped cream! Cereal! Cheese! Any iota of dairy and she goes nuts, climbing up the nearest victim to get him/her/it to give her a little tiny taste.

The third thing about the baba is that she has a lovely disease called megacolon that has affected our lives. Several times she nearly died from this, and frankly, Matisse and Picasso are part of what has helped her mangage this disease better, by addressing her depression. You’d be depressed if you had this disease too, wouldn’t you? Picasso bathes her daily, and Matisse plays with her and cuddles with her.

The fourth thing about the baba is that she is very well trained. By which I mean we are very well trained. She has me trained to put her down on the floor for her every time she wants down. She had Tiphanie trained to put her into bed with me every morning. Every day I make sure her blanket is clean and put on the sofa for her, and I make sure she can see me wherever I’m in the apartment, even if I have to move her myself, because she cries and gets upset if she can’t see me.

I don’t mind. Because……

The fifth thing about the baba is that she was called a baba because she used to walk and run after me everywhere I went, hovering like a grandmother, a baba. And I am happy that, even in her old age where she’s 17 now and I’ve had her half my life, she’s still interested in where I am and what I’m doing. It used to be I would call her from anywhere and she’d come running with big round eyes and a happy tail.

I treasure these memories and love the best baba I have ever known, just the way she is right now, because she’s here with me, with us.

five things about the Picasso

It’s the Picasso’s turn to be memed today!  He’s so lucky.

And also? Possibly insufferably cute. And sweet smelling. And cute. And snuggly. And. And.

The first thing about the Picasso is that he reminds me so much of baba when she was little.  At my first meeting with them, I was licked on the face.  With the Picasso, I also cried, because truth be told, a proto-baba is a beautiful and rare thing.  And thus the Picasso’s nickname, when not saranwrap, is zaiyde, Yiddish for grandfather. The fact his nickname is more complicated to spell and pronounce than his name is possibly why I never use it anywhere but mentally, but I digress.

The second thing about the Picasso is how obsessed with cleaniness he is.  He gives baba a bath every day, has the glossiest catfur this side of the Mississippi, and holds Matisse down for a head licking every day.

The third thing about the Picasso is that he wakes me up at dawn every morning with a ferocious and dedicated pokefest that tells me it is time to feed him, he is starving to death, and no amount of throwing him off the bed will discourage him.

The fourth thing about the Picasso is that he is to balls and fetching as the Matisse is to bowls.  Ball ball ball ball! Fetch fetch fetch!  Throw throw! There must be 20 or 30 balls in the apartment, and all are of course misplaced at the moment, as befits a catchen.

The fifth thing about the Picasso is that he is a manx catchen, and all the world is his tail.

Five things about the Matisse

In a meme passed on by Chris and Wendy and many many others, I present to you five things about the Matisse!

The first thing is that the Matisse believes in the presence of Vogons! He will poke at me until I follow him and he will lead me to…. Nothing. And some days? Many many many nothing nothing nothing Vogons Vogons Vogons. And also? Vogons. Vogons are found in corners and in the middle of walls and in closets and bathtubs and windows and full food bowls. They were found in the refrigerator today.

The second thing about the Matisse is that he is completely obsessed with sleeping in bowls! I do not know why. I only know this is inescapably and utterly true. Many many hours each day are spent in the bowl, sitting, preening, staring, sleeping, cramming, furpiling. If it’s bowlable you know he’ll do it in the bowl.

The third thing about the Matisse is that he is a humongus ragdoll and streeeeeetches easily from my ankle to my chest. He is extremely floppy and squishable and can fit in very strange areas that most tabbys wouldn’t even dream of trying, like the few inches between the refrigerator and the cabinet hanging above it. He is also the heaviest of the three, clocking in at about 16 pounds.

The fourth thing about the Matisse is that he is the third ranking member of the catchenal hierarchy, despite his size, paw, claw, age, and weight advantages over the other two. He, despite his giant self, is a docile personality, I’d almost say subservient except catchen are never servient to anyone. He is also, ahem, furbrained. But so so so so sweeeeeeet. He likes everyone and is curious about them.

The fifth thing about the Matisse is that he is affectionate. Selectively so. He’s only sat on 3 people in his life, and with me he spends hours on my lap, his alternate habitat, and bonks me a lot bonk bonk bonk bonk and also will stretch his paws out in the happy paw chairdance. When he is happiest, he will start drooling. Kismet, for him, is sitting on me, freshly fed, and drooling on me and some wool yarn as I skritch him and he does the happy paw chairdance.

Oh, and he says hi, just now.

He’s my favorite Matisse.

Whoops

Chris rightfully points out that unless I’m not knitting on anything at all right now, I have more ufos than the one I posted yesterday.

I enter a plea of perpetual germ factory stupidity. On the needles right now is of course the crapscarf and a cotton bucket hat, this time in Lion Cotton, in the salt and pepper colorway. Yeah yeah yeah it’s Lion Brand, because neither Sugar ‘n Cream nor Peaches & Creme had the colorway I wanted. Still respect me? Heh. What happened to the pink one? I frogged it. I’ll try it again later. Oops I forgot to take a picture of the hat and it’s dark because I’m in bed. I’m sure you can contain yourselves until tomorrow.

The crapscarf I’ve not been able to knit continuously despite its dead ease because of the needles, straight ones in 8mm. Go figure. I guess it’s just me being persnickety. The bucket hat, I had overtly optistic aspirations of wearing tomorrow morning. As if. One inch left of the body then the crown decreases tomorrow. Feeling good for 2 minutes this evening was nice, the knitting amount, even nicer.

O, what’s so important about tomorrow? At 8 am I will be blearly and early at the ent, to see the results of the ct scan that was done Friday and to see what’s gonna be done from here on. Catloaves, please?

Tomorrow: Pictures! Accusations of collusion! Film at 11. And also: a late breaking report of the ent visit! Stay tuned!

unfinished business

Chris and Tiphanie already posted their um, confessions in response to Scout’s UFO meme where one was to confess to the unfinshed objects that one had not completed knitting despite having gone on to the next object, and whatnot.

Since I have put the bamboo scarf I talked about last week onto a length of waste yarn and put it in a box that’s going to Tiphanie this week, I can, in good conscience, say I only possess one knittage UFO.  Ooo!  Maybe I’m not a real knitter?

That’s the one item I have yet to finish, abandoned in February when I first was converted into a germ factory, and size 19 needles on 40″circs for a large fluffy blanket knitted back and forth was just too much, even if it was just a garter stitch blanket made of flufftastic Suri Dream because being sick and trying to flip around a blanket every time you finished a row when at least one catchen was parked on it? Not so much with the workable. I plan to knit on it when it gets cooler, as I am about 70% done with it, so it’d go quickly, assuming I knit it away from the apartment, hehhehheh.