Tramp stamp: This is what all the guys on Steve’s construction site call those big tattoos that cover a woman’s lower back. Sadly, this came about because of the “base girl,” a woman whose job is to install base trim, and who is obviously always bending over. The cause is not helped by the fact that she’s a retired stripper.
I have actually let a whole month go by without blogging. Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s longer than a month, but I’ve been focusing on the fact that my February 2008 listing in the archives will be … missing. Oh well, such is life. And life is good. The shack is shacky (more on that later). The kitchen is still far from being finished. Steve put two windows in my former office, but other than that, it’s still down to the studs. The dog is cute and furry. Steve is cute and furry too because he’s growing a beard. My soapmaking obsession continues, which means that my essential oil threshold (i.e., the most I am willing to spend for a single oil) just keeps increasing. Anyway, I’ve been working all day and my eyes are starting to blur; it’s time to rouse the snoring pug and go for a walk. Good night, sweet blog, good night.
(I hope not, but it seemed a fitting end.)
Me (modeling a great new pair of sunglasses and flipping my hair around): Do I look like an Italian movie star?
Steve: More like an insect.
Well, not yet. But soon. Steve’s depressed. “You gave me such a great birthday,” he says. “But I have no clue what to get you.”
“Want suggestions?”
“No, because then it’s not a surprise for you. I mean, I wasn’t expecting any of the stuff you got me, you just went and got stuff you knew I’d like.”
(Ahem, this is me putting in a plug for myself for awesome girlfriendedness. Never mind the fact that even though he SAID he wanted an alarm clock with a CD player, he now wants me to return it and get a plain one. But he liked the rest.)
“Okay,” I said.
Silence.
“Well, okay, tell me what you want.”
“There’s always the still,” I said hopefully. Actually, I’ve decided that I want a copper alembic still, so I can make hydrosols, rather than the glass one.
“Are you kidding? You’ll set the house on fire.”
Bummer. Though he’s probably right.
“There are some prints I’m coveting.”
“Naah.”
I told him that I’m thinking about replacing my desk, which is sawhorses and building planks for something that looks nicer and is a bit smaller. All of a sudden he got quiet. This morning, he left really early and came back an hour ago. “You’re going to have the best birthday ever,” he said before he took off again.
Dare I hope?
It’s been a long, long time. I’m chock full of excuses for not updating the blog, but basically it comes down to one thing: Sheer laziness. Here’s a brief recap:
1) Amazingly, the ranch didn’t burn. The fire was only about two miles away, but everyone stayed and were fine. I was pretty useless for a full week, doing nothing more than hit refresh on the various google map mashups people created. What is really stunning is how different this catastrophe was than Katrina.
2) Obie the foster pug has been adopted. Steve is relieved; he hated him. As for me, I grew rather fond of him, but it’s nice to have a single mellow dog again,
3) No progress on the kitchen, but Steve did finish rebuilding the deck this summer, started and finished carriage doors for the garage, and busted out more concrete in the backyard. He also ordered new windows (2 large , rather than 4 narrow ones), which are sitting on the deck.
4) All of a sudden, I’ve gotten really, really busy workwise. This is going to be one of those weeks. Actually, this is probably why I’m probably updating the blog, after these many moons. It’s funny, but when I’m not busy, I get nothing done–and when I am, I get oodles and oodles accomplished. Not very logical, but there you go.
5) I’m feeling all sustainable living and stuff. Those pumpkins I grew? Peeled, pureed, and frozen. Okay, okay, I never quite got around to making the pickled green tomatoes, or making as much jam as I did last year, but there’s something so satisfying about putting up the veggies you’ve grown for the winter. Granted, most of it will probably end up as dog food–and granted, if I HAD to do it, we’d starve. And, of course, it wouldn’t be fun anymore. However, I’m kind of on a buying locally kick, making a concerted effort to buy only food that’s grown around here. Alas, my efforts are completely negated by:
6) On the Japanese print front, I finally took the plunge and bought some from artelino. The shipping costs are outrageously high, so you can choose to hold your prints over a period of time and then have them shipped all at the same time. So I don’t have them in my hot little hands yet. Funny thing though–I keep seeing prints recycle their way across the Internet. Something that was on ebay with no title reappears on ebay with artist and title and then wends its way over to artelino or a gallery.
7) But speaking of the buying locally thing–I’m trying to buy more stuff locally too, so no more book chains, local supermarkets, and so on. But here’s my question: Amazon and Starbucks are headquartered in Seattle, so does that constitute buying locally??
A few years ago, Steve’s mother Pam pulled out this book that Steve wrote when he was in the second grade. It cracked me up, and she gave it to us. I’ve been meaning to post it to the blog for eons. I was looking for stamps the other day and found it. It’s really very sweet, though still very funny. (“I like your baby anyone”??) Also, it’s clear that Steve used up his lifetime store of compliments very early on. Apparently, he had a crush on his teacher. And finally, he won an award for it. So with no further ado …
Mr. Nom de Plume started his new job this week. Much to his dismay–and much to my amusement–they gave him a BlackBerry. This evening, he came home with his new laptop too. “I need to hook my Outlook into my BlackBerry,” he explained.
“You need to sync it?”
“Yeah, I’ve tried everything, but it doesn’t work. So I figured you could help me.”
“Do you have a cable?”
Silence.
“Oh. Maybe that’s the problem.”
“Does it have bluetooth?”
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, it does. But I have blue teeth too so I don’t really know what that means.”
Actually, to be honest, I can’t figure this thing out either because I don’t know if it syns locally or through the server. So I told him the same thing any self-respecting tech support person would. “Take it back to IT.”
I acquired some kefir grains a while ago, and boy, do they expand. So anyone who wants some, let me know and I’ll hook you up.
So this afternoon, I’m heading down Rainier Ave into Renton. Traffic is awful, all backed up because of Seafair, and of course, there’s the idiot who decides that he needs to head down the center turn lane and bypass the traffic. The rest of us mere mortals just inch along.
Finally, I see the erring minivan pull over into a parking lot. I briefly indulge that fantasy that we all of have, you know, the one where we pull over and let the person have it, thus changing their ways forever. I float in a reverie of changing drivers around the world–traffic bypassers, humvees squeezed in compact parking spots … okay, let’s be honest, I really want to take out my Seafair anger on someone. And maybe he has his pregnant, about-to-deliver wife in the car. Or some other emergency.
And of course, I do nothing. But, as I am stuck in a long line of slow-moving cars, I get a good glimpse of the person. He’s standing in front of the open hood, which is unfurling great plumes of smoke. Oh, I think. It was an emergency.
And then I see he’s not wearing pants.
And then I see that his pants are around his ankles.
And then I see that he’s fumbling with his tightie whities.
And then …
And then …
And then, he pees on the engine.
Well, Bifrost 3 came in second place. Pretty impressive. They sailed through last Saturday night–until about 3:30 in the morning. Steve wandered around the Victoria harbor like a homeless person–finally crashing in the grass–until my ferry came in. Which, of course, was late. Apparently, the race was fraught with excitement; high winds tilted the boat until the crew was dangling in the water, and they ripped the mainsail. You can tell that I know nothing about sailing with my descriptions–but here at Chez Smunshi, we’re pretty thrilled.