Apparently this is my tarot. I suppose as far as online quiz dealies go this one is fairly bland. I especially like the warning about "having past mental problems."

Ha! Define mental problems, buddy.

You are The Moon

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.

The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

I just made the best freaking dinner ever.
Chicken Paprikas served over Almost Aunt Cathy Mashed Potatoes.

I think the secret to good Paprikas is twofold: 1. DO NOT serve it over rice.
2. Use a big-ass sweet onion, and cook it so that it still has a little bite to contrast with the spice in the paprika.

My potatoes weren't QUITE up to Aunt Cathy standards, but I think part of it was because I used red potatoes and a different kind of seasoning. I was going for vitamin content so I kept the skins. Still---I think she'd be proud. I've been trying to imitate her cooking for YEARS. Maybe I'll make this when I invite her and the rest of our giant wine swilling gypsy family over to see the house.

I think one of the reasons it is hard to duplicate family recipes is that everyone substitutes, no one writes anything down, and I personally measure all non-liquids in the palm of my hand and not with any sort of scientific instruments. Sort of like Granny Clampit, including the bun and the apron.

I gather that cooking this way is sort of food-snob heresy. Like, I'll take a recipe and substitute a shallot for a weaker tasting onion, slice it under running water, toss in a handful of random spices and a lot of cheese and still have the nerve to call it by the original recipe name when it would be more aptly named "Crap I threw into a pot, so either eat it and shut your gob or order a pizza. You're paying." Clearly that is too long of a name for a dish, although I believe that is the literal translation of "goulash."

Speaking of heresy, there has been a lot about knitting heresy on the internet lately, and...well...I'm a trend-whore, so I'm going to post about it too!
Here are the things I do that make the women in my local yarn shop cringe whenever I try to strike up a discussion.

1. I like Lion Brand. There, I said it! Their quality has gone up, and they have some good patterns. Check their website, not the ball-band. While I may be able to get a wool/acrylic blend for cheaper on the internet, I know how Lion Brand yarn will stand up in the wash, and I also know that the colors are nice and that it feels like a higher quality blend. They have stepped up and deserve some credit.

2. If I don't have the correct needle size, I will substitute and repeat "knitting stretches" a few times to myself. So far it's turned out OK every time (knock on wood!) Besides, it's not like the clothing I buy for myself fits perfectly anyway since I'm built like I was made from spare parts

3. I tie knots when I join yarn. In the middle of a row.

4. Sometimes, instead of weaving in ends, I just cut them really really short.

5. When people think of novelty yarn they think of fun fur. Well, novelty generally applies to something that's new and different and sort of a trend. Sometimes I look at the prices of average-quality homespuns and sock clubs and think to myself that these are the novelty yarns of Now.

6. I shop at Smiley's Yarns online, and I like it.

7. I think most lace is for old ladies.

8. I don't consider random yarn-overs to be "lace." Sorry, I just think of them as "openwork." It makes a difference in MY mind, at least.

9. I think some chunky knits are cool, and just because people knit chunky things it doesn't mean they're lazy. It's just fashion.

10. I don't care how much time and work you spend on that bulky fair-aisle collared cardigan---it's not flattering on you. It's beautiful handiwork, that would have been better used in something that doesn't visually pile 30 pounds onto your frame.

11. I knit Continental for some projects and English for others. It's not because I want to feel included, it's because certain weights of yarn or needle sizes sometimes give me knuckle cramps and I like to switch to keep my hands and wrists limber, especially when going from knit to purl as in ribbing.I don't think either is faster than the other, I think it just think it depends on how comfortable you are with it.

12. Knitting scarves can be really really boring.

13. I don't watch Knitty Gritty for the projects, I watch it to learn new techniques. I've never wanted to make anything from the show itself, but I think it's a really good learning tool.

I have always felt that someone with talent can take the most crappy tools and make something awesome out of them. A REAL photographer can use one of those disposable one-shots from the drugstore and take better photographs than I would ever imagine. I feel the same way about knitting and cooking, which is why I have no problem trying to learn new things while using ingredients from Drug Mart and yarn that cost me $1. That doesn't mean I don't go out and buy the good stuff some of the time, but it means that I do the best with what I have and there comes a point where effort has to overcome the materials you started with.

I hope that's what happens to me as a person because I'm sort of scrawny and lazy.

This may come as a shock to some of you, but I'm kind of clumsy. I also bruise VERY easily, thanks to these wonderful pills I have to take. This means that I often walk around looking like some sort of accident victim. Which I suppose I am, if you think in terms of my life being a series of accidents starting with my very surprising conception.

Today I got out of the bathtub, wrapped myself in an ancient bathrobe sans tie, and went to find the cats, who are currently sort of in hiding. All of our stuff is stacked in one corner of the living room, with the bookshelves in the far back against the wall and a series of shorter furniture type items and boxes in front. The formation gives the impression of being some sort of stairway. Not so much a stairway to heaven as a stairway to Jerome. Jerome has taken to laying on the very top of an empty bookshelf and meowing very loudly in my direction.

I'm an idiot, so I thought that maybe it would be a good idea to climb this furniture stairway and lift her down, so that she could drink some water and not have to face the dog. I climbed up on top of a chest used for holding videotapes and reached up to get her.

Now, we climb on this chest all the time. Friends and family climb up on this chest, and there have been no casualties. And if Bryan can climb up on top of something and not even have the lid bow, why would it bow under my weight?

Because life's a bitch, that's why. My foot went right through the lid, punching a hole in it, and I started to fall backwards. Naturally, I reached out to grab one of the empty bookshelves for support. I was quite aware of the rocking chair, the plastic crate and the television set behind me, and as the bookshelf came away from the wall I had an instant vision of my shin snapping in two against the lid of the bookshelf as I broke my back against the arm of the rocker. So I screamed and the cats came running and Bryan came dashing out of the bathroom and somehow I managed to get myself leaning in ANOTHER direction long enough to pull my foot out and save myself from a trip to the hospital.

I looked at the damage to the furniture first (I was afraid to look at my leg) and saw that the opening my leg had gone through was very narrow indeed. I'd rocked the bookshelf back so hard that the legs were resting on TOP of the baseboards. If I were any heavier I'd have fallen backwards and probably broken SOMETHING, if not on myself, at least more of the furniture.

My leg has a giant contusion right across the shin and it's also bleeding a little, and my toes are really sore but there are no splinters or anything so I'm sure it's OK. Heck, I've broken toes before and I don't think they're broken this time. I've also banged up my arm (again) and I'm sure tomorrow it's going to be a bitch walking to work from my car.

Nevertheless, I am still less bruised than I was the LAST time we moved, which is really sad when you think about it. At least these are more localized, right?

Now I'm alone in the house, and I have been given strict instructions to stay in the exact center of the house and to keep my feet on the floor for the rest of the day. I suppose this means that I probably shouldn't go do the dishes or laundry. You know, just to be on the safe side. What would happen if a rogue splash of fabric softener got in my eye or something?

Yeah, I think I'll just take it easy.

1. Try desperately to pin down a moving day. Upon the final commitment, email the moving company of your choice for confirmation of that move date. IMMEDIATELY upon confirmation of said date, change move date through no fault of your own. Call company back, learn rates will go up, call another moving company. Forget to give mover your phone number. Call back and re-confirm WITH name and phone number and actual address.

2. Attempt to pack. Realize that you cannot pack very well because you will still be living in the current place for another week or two, and that you can't move too much small crap over because there will be no furniture to put it on (also, it will be in the way upon moving the furniture.) Decide the best way to start getting the hell out is to move the laundry. Move all laundry. Discover complete lack of appropriate outfits for work. Spend the next week or so going back and forth between places trying to do laundry at one place despite lack of storage and trying to remember what you have clean at home in case you find a clean pair of pants somewhere in the laundry cycle. At some point, anger the cats by accidentally blocking off their litter with mounds of laundry. Wear shirt smelling vaguely of cat piss to work one day. Spend the next 24 hours desperately re-washing everything with vinegar and double detergent.

3. The night before the actual move, run out of boxes. Get depressed from staring at the unpacked mess in the bedroom. Sit on the bathroom floor with a bucket of bleach and scrub the living daylights out of the baseboards and floor and cabinets, screaming "GET THE HELL OUT" at the dog, pausing only to snap him in the butt a few times with a wet rag when he dares to get too close to the bleach. Finally, give up and scream "FINE, POISON YOURSELF AND BLEACH YOUR FUR, SEE IF I CARE" before slamming the door in his face. Proceed to crawl inside tub to clean shower, forgetting to turn the fan on for ventilation. Ten minutes later get discovered by husband, who reminds you that humans need nontoxic air to breathe.

4. Frustrated and angry, drink a shot.

5. Realize that you're doing it all wrong---you're not just "out of boxes," you are THINKING inside boxes. Remark upon your own brilliance. Pack all bathroom things inside color guard totes, garment bags and duffel bags with tiny tiny pockets.

6. Say the hell with it, put on some "Old School" rap music and have a dance party.

7. Wake up at 5:30 am the following morning and remember that it is moving day. Knit the complete toe portion of a new sock. Decide to get dressed so as not to have movers see you in your underpants. See that only clothing left besides sparkly ball gowns are one pair of ridiculously short terry cloth running shorts from 1976 in baby blue and a pilled gray old man sweater bought at Goodwill in the 90s.

8. Drive to new house with dog. Try to clear spots for movers. Lock dog outside.

9. Go tell barking dog to shut up.

10. Put away two cups. Go tell barking dog to shut up.

11. Tell barking dog you are going to make him into a rug.

12. Movers come! Stay outside with barking dog. Watch as bad dog manages to dump food dish DIRECTLY into water dish, so that both food and water are now totally useless.

13. Try explaining cat toy known as "the tank" and pairs of snowshoes to the movers. Realize there is no explanation.

14. Spend the rest of the night trying to set up furniture for the purpose of unpacking. Realize bed frame is broken. Set up mattresses on ground with bed frame leaning against wall. See that you can't actually put your things away because you can't technically reach the bookshelves and/or dresser because things are blocking them. Go to bed and resolve to do better in the morning.

15. Wake up. Where are pants? Last week was spent doing laundry, so why the hell are there no pants?

16. Steal pants from husband.

17. Go to apartment to get some things that weren't packed due to box shortage. Discover week-old laundry in the apartment washing machine. Washer is filled with pants.

18. Swear a lot.

19. Go back to house with intention of getting everything cleaned up before potluck at 5.

20. Take a long look around and realize that instead of cleaning, perhaps will have some sort of contest or raffle, and the winners have to take boxes and put them away. Yes, much better idea than actually cleaning.


That's where I am now. Sorry everyone who is coming over tonight---the house is still filled with boxes. Tough shit. I'm also a little worried because I can't find Louise in all this mess and I think she's too timid to go downstairs where her litter box is, so I'm sure I'll be doing a lot more washing in vinegar before the night is over.

Maybe I'll hire a maid.

There's been a lot of action lately. No, not the kind of action I usually see with your mom, but still almost as exciting.

I've been doing an insane amount of knitting as sort of a response to stress. Sock knitting. I knit at lunch, at the bar, while watching TV, in between "jugging" (playing notes on jugs made out of Diet Coke bottles) at the Folk Festival this weekend, car knitting, grocery store and doctors' office knitting. Somewhere amidst all of this, I realized that I am old.















Yeah.

Sorry, actually what I meant to say was that I realized I was "Sold."
















Somewhere in between the waiting and the spending and the signing and the knitting, I bought a house.

It's not a big house, but it has a barbecue, a basement, and a boatload full of yarn storage space in the form of shelves, closets, nooks and crannies.

All of my shit extremely valuable possessions are in limbo right now, meaning I'm dressing out of a bag and walking around looking even worse than I normally do, it that's entirely possible. Today I went to work in flip flops (I changed them when I actually got to my cube) and some interesting only slightly coordinating pieces that desperately needed ironing.

I've warned everyone that I'm going to be hobo-licious until the big move date on Friday, but I was still rather surprised when I was called into the conference room this afternoon. I was pretty sure I was going to be given a talk on looking professional and about changing out of the 'flops BEFORE sitting at my desk, but instead I was offered a rather sizeable promotion.

Stunned (and trying to cover the coffee stain on my slacks with my sweater), I asked "What? Am I even qualified for this job?" (I'm not.)

Slick, eh? No one knows how to negotiate like this lady here. We had a nice long talk about my various merits and why I WILL be qualified in two weeks, I requested some intense training, and he said we'd start soon.

So apparently I'm going to be moving on up, and it seems like it's going to be a pretty big move. I'm also going to be receiving a nice little raise.

Also, my hair has grown out and now touches my shoulders. It still looks BAD, but at least it's not chin length anymore.

Currently I'm very tired and a lot stressed, and I know the next few weeks are going to be busy as I learn to do someone else's job while I train someone else to take over my own. And move. And try to do sixteen freaking loads of laundry.

Maybe now that I'm getting promoted, I can feel justified in dropping a little more money on stain resistant pants, to avoid the coffee-stain thing that seems to happen at least once every week.

Blogger has been kind of slow loading lately, and has been really finicky when it comes to letting me add a title. Today is apparently no-title day, because even blogger likes to sleep in on beastly hot Monday mornings.



This weekend, aside from the Day of Three Dinners (all DELICIOUS, may I add), I pretty much hung around with my pal Jack Shit. I finished a knitted project (and there was puppetry and dancing, of course), I started and almost finished a cotton slouchy lounging around the house sock (and then promptly ran out of yarn for it), I knit up ALL the orange for the Browns scarf and realized that Lion's Brand doesn't believe in cutting it close because I still have a whole skien left over(I'm hoping to repeat it with the brown...gee, more orange and brown yarn, I certainly don't have enough of THAT...)and I decided to get rid of some of the stuff I've had for a year and I am now making socks out of some cheap ass Bernat baby yarn I got for $1. Hey, acrylic socks are proven to be good for diabetic feet, right? I may as well practice with the girly colors I have before the order from Smiley's arrives. Yeah, OK. So I'm not so much getting rid of yarn I have to be a more organized person, I'm making way for new stuff. Stop judging me! Snap!

On a slightly related note, I think being insane must run in this family, and also in our circles of friends. I took the formerly cursed blue socks to church to show off to my mom, who watched me knitting them in the dark in front of a campfire on Girls' Weekend. She passed one down to her friend, and they both IMMEDIATELY turned them into sock puppets. It was both amazing and a wee bit frightening.

I was also called by some drunks at Malloy's yesterday. Now, I won't divulge the identities of the drunks, but we shall address them by their code names, "Bat" "Sali" and "Ryan." I walked over and we had mussels, wings, and they played cornhole until everyone sobered up.

Is Bar Cornhole and Ohio thing? I think they thought beanbags were safer than darts. I don't really think they are, I just think there's less blood, and therefore less of a cleanup involved.

To work and beyond!

In honor of avoiding the day, I've spent it cooking. On the Fourth of July we watched a cooking show where three groups made sample dinners for some US Soldiers, so the soldiers ended up having three dinners. We all thought this was a great idea, so I decided that today would be the Day of Three Dinners.

Brinner--Cheese Souffle with cafe au lait and mimosas. Now I know souffles are traditionally considered "breakfast," but you can put anything in them and therefore are sort of like omelette pot pies. Plus they take an hour in the oven and some prep time, and real cooking makes it "dinner." It was delicious, if salty. I only drank half my mimosa because I find orange juice thick and overly sweet, even when diluted with cheap $4.99 champagne. I don't think I'll ever buy orange juice again unless it's just for cooking.

Dunch--French Onion Soup.

This is delicious. It's cheap and easy to make, and I always throw in extra onions so it's quite thick and hearty. I love that you can have so much freedom with the broth and light cheese. People eat this for dinner, so it still counts. I just thickened the heck out of it to make it main-course worthy. I seem to have a knack for making soups.

For Dupper I'm making Salmon medallions in Aurora Sauce and bowtie pasta with broiled new potatoes on the side. I had the salmon dish at a pricey restaurant just around the corner and it was so delicious I almost wet myself. I've never made this before, so it has major suck potential, but there should be some leftover soup, and, if all else fails we'll pick out the salmon and I'll make them into salmon patties instead, and it's sort of hard to ruin new potatoes, knock on wood.

Aurora sauce is basically a creamy tomato sauce, named "Aurora" after the rosy pink of dawn. I've seen several different recipes for it, but I'm pretty sure I can throw one together using various different ones and my memory of the original.

So far the only NOT delicious part of today was the onion cutting. We bought some flavorful onions and my eyes are still puffy and red. I don't usually have that problem, but cutting them underwater didn't even help. Oh well. Guess I'm not cut out to be a world-class chef. I guess it's back to work on Monday for me, after all.

It's hot. Weather Underground says it's only 74, but I beg to differ.

This is what I hate about summer. My feelings are, if I wanted to live in someplace that was 100 degrees in the shade, I'd bypass redemption and go straight to Hell or Houston. I visited Houston once on accident (airline error...long story) and it was complete misery. Outside it was a balmy 120 degrees in the shade, and going inside only made it worse, because for some reason all of the air conditioning units were set around 50. I don't get that. If it's 120 outside, than going inside to 74 degrees is going to feel much cooler, right? Why force people to endure bowel liquefying temperature changes?

They did have a pretty nice science center, though.

I'm a Cleveland girl. When people think of Cleveland, they think of record-breaking lake effect snow, and that part is true. In the winter. What people don't realize is that summer is a humid time of bugs and ridiculous temperatures. We live on Lake Erie, and she is a fickle mistress. Every fifty years or so there's a cycle of different weather. Extreme to mild, to extreme again. This is the Lake Effect, and to be honest, it can either be wonderful or it can suck big time.

To be fair, this summer is MUCH less hot than last. Still---I'm bitter because I hate the sun (the giant carcinogen in the sky) and I hate sweating, and I hate feeling like I'm stepping into a furnace when I go outside to let the dog out.

People think I hate the sun because I'm pale and they assume I'm going to burn up. That's not true, and I do tan very well for someone with my naturally waxen complexion. I choose not to, because it's not great for you, and because I'd rather NOT roast my ass off under that radiation spewing humming yellow gaseous monster. What? You didn't know that the sun hums? Go rent a science documentary, it'll scare your pants off. The Sun is a necessary evil, and I intend protect myself with layers of SPF.

I like rain and wind and 72 degree and below weather. I LIKE snow. It's one of the reasons I put up with the freaking heat every three or so summers.

You know what today needs? A thunderstorm. Some fog. That would be nice.

EEEEEEEEE!

Ok, I cannot blog. I have a legitimate reason, I promise. Instead, I will offer this Random Survey to the Blogger Demons, in the hopes that I will appease them this Thursday.

1. If you were to attend a costume party tonight, what or whom would you go as?

It would depend on the temperature. If it were going to be outside, up here by the Lake, I'd go as Red Green. If it turns out to be an inside affair, maybe Wilma Flintstone? (Or Pebbles. I do have a dog bone laying around here somewhere.)

2. What are your choice of toppings on a hamburger? And do you prefer gas or charcoal grilling?

Mustard, pickles, onion. Charcoal all the way.

3. You are chosen to have lunch with the President. The condition is you only get to ask one question. What do you ask?

Why can't you read one freaking speech correctly? I mean, really. SOMEONE ELSE WRITES THEM FOR YOU. YOU JUST HAVE TO READ THEM. GEEZ!

4. It's your first day of vacation, what are you doing?
Finding an awesome restaurant. I LOVE food.

5. What is your concession stand must-have at the movies?

I don't usually buy food, but when I do (once in one hundred years) it's always popcorn and a soda.

6. Which do you dislike most: pop-up ads or spam email?

Pop ups.

7. What do you think Captain Hook's name was before he had a hook for a hand?

Captian Bottom Pincher

8. Rock, paper, or scissors?
Paper

9. How long was it from 'the first date' until the proposal of marriage? How long until the wedding?


I have no idea. I DO know that the idea of taking over a year to plan a wedding is a load of horseshit.

10. Which is worse, being in a place that is too loud, or too quiet?
Too loud.

11. What is one quality that you really appreciate in a person?
The ability to recognize one's faults.

12. At the good old general store, what particular kind of candy would you expect to be in the big jar at the counter?
Ribbon candy or cow tails

13. What is the most distinguishing landmark in your city?
Lake Erie?

14. Everyone hears discussions that they consider boring. What topic can put you to sleep quicker than any other?

401K seminars, BLEH!

15. How many times did it take you to pass your drivers test?

Two. The first one I failed with a passion by backing up and flattening a cone pretty good after bumping it and failing. If you're gonna fail, fail 100%, right?
16. If you had to have the same topping on your vanilla ice cream for the rest of your life, what topping would you choose?


I can't eat too much ice cream, but I do like strawberry shortcake an awful lot, so I suppose that.

17. What food item would need to be removed from the market altogether in order for you to live a healthier, longer life?

McGriddles. I LOVE them.

18. You are offered an envelope that you know contains $50. You are then told that you may either keep it or exchange it for another envelope that may contain $500 or may be empty. Do you keep the first envelope, or do you take your chances with the second? I take my chances. I'm not hurting for $50.

19. If you had to choose, which would you give up: cable TV, or DSL/cable internet?
TV. I can watch TV on the internet.

20. What is your highest level of education?
I've got a PhD in funk.

21. How much is a gallon of gas in your city? What was the highest it's been?

I don't know what it is now. Last time I filled up it was $2.79ish. It's been up to $3.50 but I don't really pay attention to that because I drive a very economical car.

22. What kind of lunch box did you have as a kid?
A muppet babies one! That thing was rad.

23. What would you rather have, a nanny, a housekeeper, a cook, or a chauffeur?
A housekeeper. Car time is my alone time.

24. Would you rather be trapped in an elevator, or stuck in traffic?
Traffic. I'd have a radio at least.

25. Lets say a brick fell on your foot, and your kid is standing right next to you, what is your 'cleaned up' swear word?

I wouldn't clean it up. Dropping a brick on your foot is absolutely a proper occasion for saying swear words.

I have a fever. To be honest, a fever for ME is 98.7 degrees, which is where I was an hour ago. My normal body temperature is usually 97.4, and I like to think that makes me "cool blooded," sort of like a serpent or a Ninja Turtle.

The fever doesn't bother me. Last time I called my doctor about a fever he told me it "ain't no thang." Well, he didn't really say it in those words, but it sounds so much cooler than "wait a day and get some sleep, you silly young lady."

What bothers me is that I'm losing my voice. I LOVE my voice. Well, no, that isn't strictly true. I have a little girl voice and it's sort of a curse. What I LOVE is TALKING. You think I'm opinionated on the internet? Ha! Get a margarita in me and introduce the topic of why I think we're all idiots. You'll be praying for laryngitis.

Interestingly enough, although I can talk someone's ear off, I hate the phone. Mostly because it's a time sucker. I can't do anything else while I'm on the phone. Also, I don't get a lot of quiet "me" time and invariably people either call when it's either TOTALLY inappropriate or when I've just gotten the apartment to myself for three minutes.

What do I like? Presents. Also sock yarn. I've decided that I'm going to make more diabetic friendly socks for the Vikingesque web designer who shares my apartment (and my hair ties, headbands and sunglasses. I got this idea after reading the advice on in this month's Knitty.

Apparently, diabetic feet need really cheap acrylic sock yarn, rather than pricey mercanized cottons. Well, Hell, I can buy that!

I hope everyone has a happy Fourth, and I hope I don't lose my voice entirely, because I need it to make such clever remarks as "gee, it's grey outside" and to ask "why are you wet?" to the cats about eight hundred times. Why ARE they always wet? It's one of life's great mysteries.

I think that there is a big difference between "crafty" people and "handy" people. Of course by crafty, I mean crafty in the County Fair sense, not crafty in "well, he seemed all right until he robbed that bank" sense.

I'm sure there are a million definitions of "crafty." Someone who makes things with his hands. Someone who utilizes raw materials to create something greater than their origin (see: Gestalt, and also "life"). By this definition ANYONE is crafty. I made a pot roast yesterday, in between sitting with my head between my knees to prevent passing out(there was a wee sudden drop in blood pressure problem, until I called the Cleveland Clinic and got THAT straightened out) and watching pre-recorded science documentaries. By the either definition making a pot roast could be considered a craft. I was a Craftswoman, and my materials were meat and potatoes.

I think the above definitions are too generic. Painting my toenails would become crafty, instead of just vain. Piss on that.

I equate crafts with creepy porcelain dolls. With Precious Moments knick-knacks, and Things That Require Dusting. Not to insult people who collect porcelain dolls---I'm sure they're very unique and beautiful. It's just that their eyes always follow me and, well, I'm neurotic. Crafting, by my definition, is Art that I, personally, would rather not deal with.

Ah, see...I'm sure I'm going to offend people now. I know that Art is relative. The creative process inspires one to create that which makes the given situation or reality either more clear or more beautiful than it already is, and therefore serves a purpose, blah blah, insert pithy sophomore-level art appreciation class style debate here. I get that. I like art. I love photography. I love sculpture. I love things which take time and effort and make you use your mind, things which inspire me to want to create myself. A mass-produced ceramic goose does not inspire me. It does not make me look outside with fresh eyes and think "wow...it really IS beautiful, isn't it?" No, it makes me curse and scream as I trip over it for the thousandth time coming down Vikki's porch stairs and breaking (yet another) toe.

There are millions of people out there who would disagree. Still--I will forever equate "crafts" with "kitsch" and the Lorain County Fair.

Handy is something I would rather aspire to. When I think of someone who is handy, I imagine engineering. Beauty, structure, utilization. My father in law that mad-brilliant engineer type. He can look at a patch of concrete, envision a garage, and BAM! Two weeks later it's there. Effortlessly.

My brother The Skipper once worked with a man who couldn't accept things the way they were. Everything could be improved. His desk had arm rests nailed haphazardly to it and the chair was embellished with a cushion made out of a pack of toilet tissue covered with someone's abandoned flannel shirt.

Handy---not aesthetic, really, but functional.

When I make something, I want it to be a combination of crafty and handy. I want it to be aesthetic but also USEFUL, form following function and all that intellectual jazz.

Sure there are lapses---on Girls' Weekend we like to make wind chimes out of empty bottles and random pretty things we find laying around the campground. But I maintain that they are SORT of functional, in that they remain tied to the camper and no one has to dust them.

Still, I try to discriminate a little. I don't really need more things cluttering up my surfaces. Where would I put my million bottles of sunblock?

Obviously there are limits to this combining of craft and utility---a knit bow tie may be functional, but it doesn't appeal to my aesthetic. Similarly, a knit doily may be delicately beautiful, but damned if I know what I'm going to do with one. If the Good Lord wanted me to use a doily, he wouldn't have created the person who invented free disposable bar coasters.

So here's a little guide (barring semi-drunken lapses into crazy craft lady or weird McGuiver-land)

Things I will make:
Scarves, socks, mittens, gloves, all sorts of outerwear and/or accessory style items that allow for use and personalization, washcloths, blankets

Things I will NOT make:
Wine bottle covers, teddy bear sweaters, fuzzy dice, "willy warmers" or mini socks

I'll leave those for people with more imagination than I.

See? Not only am I elderly, I am also boring.

I know my niche.

Yeah, yeah, more wool. Only I'm using TRUE orange and brown. That's right baby, it's a Browns scarf in progress. On the way to the Michael's check out, I DID grab some Paton's Grace cotton for socks, thinking that we might run into Ali again. I wanted to make her proud. I also needed something portable for public knitting. Because, you know, I LOVE when middle aged men make strange innuendos at me and parade their sons in front of me.

Does anyone know how to get scuff marks off matte painted walls without removing the paint? Bleach water takes out the scuffs but also seems to be rubbing away the paint itself.