I'm going to call it a win

I fixed a hair doo-dad and got super glue on only three, maybe four, of my fingers.

WINNING!

And, here is a cat picture, to make up for the brevity of this post:

A funny relationship

Only a few humans (and monkeys) like pain.  Oh sure, there is drama pain . . . too many humans go seeking that sort of pain out.  But I'm talking OW pain.

I'm a craven coward.  I assume everything is going to hurt.  And, when you hurt me, I'm afraid I may, involuntarily, kick you in the shins.

When I had to learn how to give my self shots, I asked to have an appointment with the health educator because I knew if it were up to me to stab myself the first time. . . we'd still be waiting.  (Only my super macho ego outweighs my cowardice.)

When they removed my PIC line in the hospital, first thing I asked was "how much is it going to hurt?"  (It was a little creepy to feel the wire coming out from my chest through my arm, but didn't so much hurt.)  When they took out the cumbersome, painful, and terribly annoying medical device the other day . . . even though I was THRILLED to be parted with it, I hesitated because I thought it would hurt.  (Apparently, I'd long since ripped the anchoring stitches and it pulled out super easy.  If I'd known it would come out so easily, I would have gotten rid of it a long time ago and just been all like "the what?" when they asked about it.)

So, of course, I'm concerned about pain and pain management with this upcoming surgery.  I've already discussed my options for pain management with the doctor . . . and expressed my preference for having as much control as possible.

The doctor says they want to keep my pain in the "2-5" range on a 10 point scale.  Thing is, I am lousy at expressing my pain on that scale.  There are different kinds of pain.  I have a terrible time deciding if something is the most pain I've ever experienced .  .  . or could there have been something more painful I don't remember?  Also, I've been on pain meds for arthritis for years, and I have come to realize that I don't experience pain the same way humans must.

Last time, in the hospital, they kept offering me drugs and I kept turning them down because my usual meds took me from being "in pain" to "just uncomfortable" and I didn't see the point of taking more drugs for "just uncomfortable."  Apparently, humans never turn down drugs.

To assist in expressing my needs to the medical staff, I have made up a handout from Hyperbole and A Half's Better Pain Scale.  I've made up extra copies because I assume the nurses may want to keep it.  And, given the mean, horrible things they plan to do to me, I totally expect to accept all drugs.

Cue smug self-righteousness

And The Phenom thought I was kidding.

My newest "pets" arrived today.  1,000 of them.  I've set up a worm composting system!  I have the cutest little kitchen composting pail and everything.  Because, what you feed your worms need a cute storage container to transport them from kitchen to yard.

So, I pretty much win on Earth Day this year.

Worm food

The Drug Habit in my own House

I made a startling realization the other day, one of our cats is a drug addict.  The drug being catnip.

Her name is Booger.  She showed up on our drive way, unweaned and tiny.  We bottle fed her for the first couple of weeks, and I took her to the office with me.  She would spend 30 minutes stretches chasing her own tail on top of my desk.  She has always liked to have small, dark, cramped spaces to hide in, away from everyone.  We call these spaces "Booger places."  Currently, she wedges herself under the wine rack for much of the day.  Booger is affectionate in her own way.  She likes to be petted, but on her own terms.  She lives in fear of being picked up.  If your petting seems too similar to an action that maybe, perhaps, will lead to an attempt to pick her up, she bolts.

One way I like to make toys for the critters is to take smallish stuffed animals, open a seam, restuff it with catnip, and sew it up again.  Even better if the stuffed animal is a gerbil or mouse or bird.

Booger has taken to a duck stuffed with catnip.  She spends a good deal of time curled up with the duck.

Now, with humans who have a drug habit, they become cautionary tales for the rest of the bipeds.  Who hasn't seen the photos of pre and during addiction?  The shiny hair, the clear skin, the youthful expression replaced with splotches, balding spots, green or lost teeth, the dead look in the eyes. 

Not Booger.  Booger's addiction makes her more social.  No more inclined to be picked up, but more willing to socialize or even be seen by guests.  I think I need to make her a few more cat nip toys . . . perhaps shove a couple under the wine rack. 

Handmade

Many years ago, Phenom's mother had breast cancer. A result of her surgery was that she didn't like weight on her chest. But, she was an older human and would get chilled in the evenings. So, I selected a faux mohair yarn and knitted her an afghan. I selected a fairly complicated, fancy stitch. I worked on it for weeks. It was fuzzy and warm, but light weight. Every moment spent working on it, I imagined her curled up in her rocking easy chair, watching television, and warmed by the afghan.

I gave it to her for a birthday gift. She loved it. She treasured it. She carefully laid it over the back of the couch in her sitting room, never to be soiled or touched by human hands. She would take visitors into her sitting room for the purpose of showing it off, and making them admire it. But, so far as I know, it never warmed her lap.

This weekend, I learned that a friend of mine has experienced a deterioration of her illness to the point that she now uses a wheelchair many days. Because there is nerve involvement in her illness, she gets chilled.

Tonight, I started making her a very special "soothy sack." A soothy sack is a pillow filled with beans or rice or ground nut shells that you can warm in the microwave and use to warm yourself. I particularly like tucking a soothy sack into my bed during the winter. They are comforting when one has chills from a fever or an ache.

This sack is unique because I'm making channels, putting just a spoonful of rice in each channel and sewing a seam to create a patchwork of small pillows. I hope that the distribution of rice will allow for not too much weight to be put on any one spot. I'm not sure how the small amounts of rice will hold heat. And, I've added a bit of cinnamon oil to make it smell comforting.

As I fill, pin, sew, and unpin, I've been running my hands over the mounds of rice. I hope that my friend finds this comforting, and helpful as she has bad days. I hope that my hands add a little bit of magic, too.

Coordination

It's that time of year again. Time to make the Liquor Loaves. It's an operation that takes a fair amount of planning and coordination.

It starts in mid-October. First, it's check the freezer for what I already have on hand. This means finding it under everything else that gets frozen around here, pulling it out, weighing it, and recording it before stashing it all back in the freezer. Then, pull out the recipe and do some mental calculations, quadrupling the original recipe. And, berating myself for not already writing it all down with the quad-amounts.

Then, I go to the web site for my vendor and do more calculations . . . the weights they sell in, minus what I have on hand . . . and I make up my order. And, usually I stick a couple fun items in the shipment.

Between the end of October and Vets Day, I need to get the rest of the spices and ingredients. I need to make a trip to the booze store for rum and brandy. I think this year, I might have over-bought with half gallons of each. Maybe. Lastly, I make sure I have the cake tins and the foil and the plastic wrap and the rubbermaid tubs for storage. I did splurge this year and get the world's largest mixing bowl. I don't know where it's going to be stored the rest of the year, and it was sufficiently large as to inspire the Phenom to declare that NOTHING MORE MAY BE BROUGHT IN TO THIS KITCHEN. Hee hee.

Tomorrow night, I'll chop all the fruits and soak them over night in rum and brandy. Then, Friday morning, I'll get up early and start mixing the cakes. I'll make two doubled batches. It will take all day to chop the nuts, mix the batter, bake, cool, and wrap them. But, at the end, I'll have wonderful christmas gifts for my friends.

But, I'll leave you with a math problem:

The original recipe says that it makes 3 3X5 cakes. I use 3X5 aluminum tins. I quadruple the recipe. I fill all of the tins to being mounded at the top of the tin. I end up with 18 cakes. How?

Judgemental

I got to exercise my judgemental bone in a different way this week. I was a judge at the county fair, crafts division. FINALLY! Being crafty paid off.

There were a couple items that were clearly taken from granny's attic and dusted (or not) off and claimed as a personal creation. There were a couple items still sporting the gooey spot from the "made in China" sticker. And, there were items that would have gotten an award if they'd been entered into the right category.

But, for the most part, they were creative and interesting and demonstrated skill and thought. Well, except for the doorknob that was submitted as "random craft."

Dragging my stitches

When I attempt a new feat in the kitchen, I generally read the instructions a couple of times. If it is particularly difficult, I consult a couple different recipes/cookbooks and the interwebs. But, when I undertake the project, I'm usually pretty confident I know what I'm doing and reasonably how it is likely to turn out.

I'm less confident in my sewing abilities.

Today, I'm attempting something that looks a lot like this:

I'm pretty good at cutting out the pattern. I often can figure out vague instructions. And, I can appraise the situation logically, and piece together several oddly shaped bits. However, truth be told, I'm never entirely confident that what I'm making will actually look like the picture/pattern/my intended result until I'm finished. And, frankly, I'm usually pretty amazed when it does.

Because I'm not always confident it's going to work out, I find that I take a lot of "breaks" and rarely work straight through on a project. I think I'm afraid that it will fail, and I want to put that failure off as long as I can.

I make things

The SMLF has formed a subgroup we're calling the Spider Monkey Crafters Co-op. We often speak of ditching our day jobs and pooling together to open our own craft store. We'd not only sell the stuff we make, but the supplies and have classes. Until then, we have to settle for the infrequent craft fair opportunity.

Here is what I made for the Christmas in July craft event next week:




These are hair clasps. I also have head bands and ponytail holders. I'm calling them Cherry Blossoms because a woman named Cherry taught me how to crochet flowers.

Spring is just popping out all over

When I returned home from this week's training, I was greeted by a single daffodil blooming in my yard. So, naturally, it was off to the home store to buy plants and seeds.

So far, I have purchased two pink peony plants and a blueberry to replace the one that died this winter.

I have seeds for squash, spinach, snow peas and sugar snap peas, white and pink radishes, and basil. Since I'm convinced that my squash failed last year due to a lack of bees, I've also purchased seeds for marigolds, zinnias, and cosmos.

I'm hoping that the extreme winter didn't kill my limes, oregano, mint, or thyme. But, I'm not beyond getting new of those either. I'm pretty sure the rosemary can't be killed.

Come on spring!!

I make things

I've been experimenting with making bags. This fits perfectly into my need for creative outlet, but also this sick compulsion to make things practical.

The first bag is a tote style. The bag is lined with the pink gingham and quilt batting to make it more substantial. The bag features 6 pockets surrounding the whole of the bag. I gave this one to a friend (along with a matching baby sling) as a shower gift. This was the second of this type I've made. The only difficulty I have in making them is that I don't have a good space to cut out the long pieces needed.

The second and third bags are of the same pattern, only I made some adjustments on the green one. The daisy bag features an interior pocket on each side of the bag . . . but they are fairly gappy and I'm afraid not secure enough for things like cell phones. The exterior fabric is reinforced with iron backing, but it's still fairly pliable.

In the green bag, I converted one of the pockets into two smaller, less gappy pockets and the other pocket is three pockets . . . two of which are the perfect size for my iPod or lip stick spy camera. Also, I took a bit of plastic, encased it in a "pillow case" of the lining fabric and put it in the bottom of the bag to give it more structure.

The tote style bag takes several hours and very careful following of the directions to make. The other bag takes 3 hours from start to finish and is easy enough I can see making more modifications in the future.

And, this justifies me spending gobs of money on pretty fabric.