Some Sad (probably overdramatic) Thoughts.

I've been wanting to blog, but can't think of anything creative or clever to say.
I've been perusing old posts, even old flickr commentary. I don't even remember writing half of the things, and can't even believe that they came from my head.

I've deduced that school has sucked the life out of me. This makes me sad. But, what furthers my sadness is the high possibility that this will happen to Abby. School, but its nature, just does that. I hate that. Oh, how I wish that home schooling was an option for us. I really, really do.

But, it's not. I need to work (hence the reason I'm back in school) and Abby needs the social interaction and constant activity that school provides.

I get really sad when I think about her losing her creativity, or being told how/what to think.

Over 2 months.

It's been over 2 months and I'm blogging without pictures. What a let down.

This blog will not be about school: stressful; knitting: active; sewing: inactive; baking: sporadic; cooking: minimal and lazy; instead, it will be about what has preoccupied my mind since, oh probably 2nd grade when a 7th grader said to me, and I quote, "You got a big ass."

I'm a bigger person. Always have been. And when I say "bigger" I don't mean fat, I mean large. I'm tall, and just generally large. I wear a size 10 shoe. I'm not saying, "Oh, I'm big boned, that's why I look like this." It's just to prove my point. Throughout my life, most of my friend have been petite, this only added to my ogre-ish feelings. Perhaps that's why I was always attracted to tall guys (husband is 6'5".)

I weighed myself the other day. I managed to gain 5 pounds in a week. Don't know how that happened. It's not menstrual. I weigh the most I ever have (besides when I was pregnant... that doesn't count.)

I weight more than I did when I started Weight Watchers in 2003. That go around I lost a lot of weight. 53 lbs. I kept it off too, until I got pregnant. Since giving birth in 2005, I've tried Weight Watchers 3 more times. THREE. Lost very minimal, and the progress was super slow. I got so discouraged, I quit. And managed to gain back more than I had lost. Such a statistic. A depressing statistic. I blame(d) Zoloft. I started taking that about a week after my kiddo was born. That's almost 5 years on it; I recently weaned myself off and have since started taking 5-HTP. So far, so good with the mental health. But, will it help me lose weight? Who knows.

So now comes the crux. I know I need to lose weight. I know it. I try. I get discouraged. I try to like myself despite the fact that I abhor how I look. The person I am on the inside isn't reflected on the outside. But why shouldn't it be? Just because I'm FAT doesn't mean I can't be sexy, or pretty, or funny. But, it's easy to be socially stupid and awkward and to hide behind the layers so I'm not looked at funny. "Oh, the fat girl. She *has* to be funny because she can't possibly be sexy." Not fair. And, on most days, I don't let this get to me, but it's easy to fall into this way of thinking. Too easy. I hate the word FAT. I don't use it around my daughter. My goal is to not have her preoccupied with weight. She's already a big kid; she's 4 1/2 and wearing a size 8. She's tall. Her weight is proportional. She is perfect. She towers over her classmates. I need to have a healthy attitude so that she has a healthy attitude.

So, how to lose weight without feeling like you're worthless if you're overweight? How? There's the health factor, sure.

I'm rambling. These thoughts are scattered in my mind and mainly, I'm just writing it to kind of piece things together.


I think a lot of times people see "fat" people and either feel disgust or pity. Disgust: "Just stop eating at McDonald's." Pity: "Poor girl, she'd be so pretty if she lost some weight."

Fact about me: I don't eat McDonald's. Fuck. I don't even eat red meat or chicken. I don't like cream sauces. I eat more than my fair share of fruits & veggies. I exercise at least 3 times a week. Yeah, I have ice cream a couple times a week, but not super-sized Dairy Queen crap. Real ice cream; either home-made ice cream, or Turkey Hill vanilla, no artificial crap.

Summation: Being overweight doesn't mean I'm worthless. Don't judge overweight people. You don't know why they're overweight; hell, they may not even know why.

On my Needles.

I just finished up this a few days ago. I still need to do the trim (it's crochet and I don't know how to do that) and add a clasp. Other than that, it's assembled and wearable.

Now, I'm working on this bag.

(picture from the purl bee's website)
I don't know how, but I ended up decreasing a total of 10 stitches, but whatever. I'm still going on with it because the pattern is simple and enjoyable.

I'm using Rowan's Calmer Yarn in a light purple color.


This bag is in preparation of the Headhouse Market's opening next month. I like to trick myself into thinking that I will go there frequently. I know this to be false, but I plan to get there at least once during the season.

Tattoo. (Not the short guy from Fantasty Island).

I've been wanting another tattoo for awhile. Something Halloween-ish. Perhaps something like this (minus the words):


Or something like this:


I know it's gonna be awhile before I get another one. I just like to thing about it.

Balance.

How do these women who have fourteen kids and a challenging yet creative career find the time to blog? Blogs incorporated with photos and witty quips and the amazement of every day life? HOW?

I have one kid. I work part time. I am in school part time. I have no time to do what I want, let alone blog about it.

I do school work, house work suffers. I clean my house, school work suffers. I do school work or house work, time with my daughter suffers.

What am I doing wrong?

Furthermore, I am feeling torn with things in my personal life that I am not about to put on this blog.

I feel like I need a good solitary (heh) cry.

All this and I'm not even PMSing.

A recent purchase.

I went to JoAnn's on Sunday with my mom, daughter, and sister.
I bought some pre-smocked fabric (feels like cheating, but I can't get my sewing machine to use elastic thread) to make my daughter a dress.

I also bought something that I've been wanting. It's nothing that I've used before. Tile nippers! I've always liked mosaics, and have always wanted to try my hand at it.
I honestly don't know when I'm going to actually do this but at least now I have the tool I need when the mood strikes.

Another school quarter has started, I am going to try to blog at least once a week. It probably won't be craft-related, but ah well.

Paternal Past.

Both of my dad's parents are gone. My grandfather died suddenly in 1995 of a massive heart attack. I still remember that morning vividly. The multiple phone calls. My dad running out of the house and scrambling in the car. Then his phone call to our house.

It's always strange after some one dies to see how family dynamics are altered. After my grandfather's death, my grandmother seemed to lose her interest in living. Caring for my grandfather was what she did. Now she didn't know what to do. They were married for almost 55 years.




Her life after his death was mainly filled with search word puzzles and television. In 2005 when I called to tell her I was pregnant, she first gasped in excitement and then said, "Well, the future is for the young." She died on July 22, 2005. That was the day I had the 20-week ultrasound and found out that Abby was in fact, a girl. My dad told her before she died. I'm glad she knew she was having a great granddaughter.


My mom called me that night to tell me that she died. I was sitting in a recliner in my basement. It was expected. I didn't cry. Ever. Isn't that odd? I've never cried for her death. I think it's because I know that she is where she wanted to be for so long. I always thought when people said that, it was just something to say. I did feel tears starting to form as I walked toward her casket, but when I saw her, I felt a sense of calm and contentment. Wrong or right, it is what it is.

The Past.

I have a certain fondness for things of the past. I can endlessly peruse old sewing patterns, old cookbooks, and old photos; I've always had an attraction to old black and white pictures.


Growing up, there was a closet in the basement (now my sewing closet) that contained an old gray metal shelving unit. On the top of one of those shelves was a painted gray crate with piles of old photo albums and stacks of single photos. Every so often, I'd finagle that crate from its shelf and look through its contents. Even though I'd seen and studied each photo countless times, I'd still concentrate on each picture. Trying to somehow force myself into it. In my imagination, I could go into those pictures and meet my young parents. (With my present knowledge, there's a lot I could say!)But, in the idealistic daydreams of my youth, I always wanted to go back into the 1940s, to see my grandparents get married, to wear one of those beautiful dresses, to be a part of something that seemed both romantic and comfortable. *sigh*

Almost four year ago, my cousin bought our grandfather's house. He left his old photo albums there. Recently, my cousin let me borrow those pictures. I scanned some. I tried to wish myself into the photos. I know it's not going to work, but I'm happy that I can still daydream.

Conclusions.

1. No matter what you do/ don't do, your child is gonna end up hating something about how she was raised. It's inevitable. My job as a parent is to make sure that the thing she hates doesn't somehow turn her into either a sociopath or a republican. I'm kidding... I know she's not a sociopath.

2. Happiness about a 4.0 is fleeting, as it should be for a 33 year old woman. I've been in college. I've graduated with honors. It has meant absolutely nothing and got me nowhere, and therefore, it is pointless to feel pride about it. Happily, I am no longer under the delusion that when I graduate I will get an awesome job. Been there. Done that. Got a job in a call center.

3. Now I understand why my mom said she was changing her name. "Mom, can I have a tissue?" "Mom, will you get me a drink?" "Mom, can I have a snack too?" "Mom, can I come out of my room?" "Mom, let's cuddle." "Mom, I don't wanna watch this." "Mom, I wanna go outside." "Mom, can I ride my bike?" "Mom, I have to poop." "Mom, I'm done."
Every time my daughter wants to say something to me, it begins with "mom." Imagine how annoying that is. If she would just cut out the "mom" it wouldn't be as bad. (At least that's what I'm telling myself.) Imagine your spouse saying your name at the beginning of every sentence. It gets old. Quickly. I feel bad for complaining, but I know I'm not alone in this. Solidarity in numbers.

Review: Disney World.

The short review: My daughter had fun and that's all that matters. I loved watching her get excited at meeting princesses. And gasping when she saw Cinderella's castle for the first time. Those moments are priceless.

My completely cynical, pissy pants review:
Day 1: Checked into hotel and went to Downtown Disney. Ate at Wolfgang Puck's place. I got 1 sushi roll. It was $16.95. I usually eat 3-4 rolls. There was no way in hell I was paying for 3 rolls at that price. It wasn't even that great.

The first day at Magic Kingdom was stressful. Abby was still overtired from the long travel day. The fun parts: her seeing the castle for the first time and meeting Mickey & Minnie. Then all hell broke loose. She slid on a slide and smashed her face into the ground. Huge black and blue on her cheek. Crying for hours. We walked back to the hotel with a sobbing kid. Each of us refraining from screaming at her or each other. Then Abby decided to torment us with possibly having a bladder infection. Peeing every 3 minutes. Seriously. Apparently she just has a nervous bladder. Or something.

It did get better from here. Until it got worse.

I'm not gonna go into daily details. My overview is this: Disney is manufactured, corporate fun. I could not really get into it all because I kept wondering where the lobotomy ride was. Seriously. Everyone who works there is nice. And that's great. If it's sincere. I don't think it was. That is a problem for me. I cannot stand insincerity. Perhaps (most likely) I'm over thinking, wouldn't be the first time.

The food was kind of sucky. Not vegetarian-friendly at all. It got to the point where I was fighting the urge to get a turkey sandwich just for something different. Vegetarian options at most places: cheese pizza. Ask for something without the meat and the lobotomized employees look confused. "Do you want chicken?" NO! NO FUCKING MEAT! WE DO NOT EAT MEAT.
The best food: lobster ravioli at Tutto Italia in Epcot. The bread was also good. And, the cream cheese french toast in Cinderella's castle. That was good. The fresh fruit was a nice treat in February.
Other than that, there are no memorable meals. That sucks considering for how long we were there; which leads to the extended stay...

Snow in Philly kept us in an Orlando airport hotel for 3 extra days. We rented a car and found some places to go. They would have been fun if not for the frustration of being "trapped." I wanted to drive home so badly. My mom didn't. It probably wouldn't have been a good idea with Abby anyhow, but I cannot stand feeling like I have no control.
During our extended stay, we ate dinner two nights in a row at Maggiano's. That was good. We got the super-super-appetizer with fried onions, zucchini, spinach artichoke dip, bruschetta, and stuffed mushrooms. Everything was *so* tasty! I got garlic shrimp linguini that Abby loved. (The pasta, not the shrimp!) I also had a delicious pineapple martini. That's a reflection of how poor the Disney food was: I'm raving about a chain restaurant.

Anyhow, it's not like I didn't have fun, I did! We had a blast swimming in the pool. It was awesome to sit by the pool and watch Abby & Joe play while sipping on a pina colada. Abby was pretty good and so patient.

I had lots of things planned that just didn't happen: Hollywood Studios, Animal Kingdom, Bibbidi Boppiti Boutique. It wasn't worth the hassle and stress. We just chilled a couple of days and that's what vacation is all about. I'd like to thank my daughter for teaching me that.

Hi.

So yeah, haven't blogged in about a month. I think about it everyday though, I really do. Unfortunately, as I predicted, my "free time" is consumed with school work. BUT, I'm not gonna complain. I am actually (and surprisingly) really enjoying it.

Yeah, it's a lot of work, but I'm hoping it will pay off. I am very tired of not bringing in a worthy income.

I am feeling the need to create something though. The urge is very strong, but alas, I do not have one particular project in mind, so it kind of get pushed to the wayside. I want to do a cross-stitch project, I want to make a quilt for myself, I want to finish a messenger bag that I cut out the pieces for, I want to knit a little sweater set for a friend's in utero daughter, I want to USE MY SERGER!!! I want to make a journal out of an old book.

Ah well. Happily, craft projects will be there when school is over (whatever YEAR that is.) And, because I'm going straight through, all year, no breaks, I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed, but in a good way.

Just Be Nice.

I saw this in Peddler's Village. Seems to be good advice. The picture is blurry, but I like it anyhow.


For what it's worth,I do not like New Year's Eve. Or, New Year's Day, for that matter. I do not make resolutions either. A waste of time, really.

All that being said, 2010 has to be better than 2009. It has to. It has no choice. I will not let it be otherwise.

I feel like I'll have a lot on my plate this upcoming year, but I'm exciting about them. At least, that's what I'm convincing myself.

I'm "going back" to school. Online. But still, it's going to be a lot of work since I've been out of school 10 years. Just enough time to expire anything that could be applied to my degree.

I'm starting 365 again. One self-portrait a day for 365 days. I did it before and loved it. I've tried it twice since then, but stopped. I'm going to need encouragement to keep going, but I think it's important that I do it this year. I know myself. The more entrenched I become in school work, the less creative I will feel. I will need this daily photography project to feel like I'm doing something creative.

That is all.

FOUR.

My daughter turned four years old on the 8th. If you want to watch time fly, have a kid. Seriously. *sigh*
She had a birthday party at Bounce U which was super fun for everyone, even the adults!

(yes, that's me on a slide.)

I made her a birthday cake that really disappointed me, but everyone else seemed to like it. I get frustrated when my ideas do not come to fruition and therefore the end result is a huge disappointment. I did, however, like how the little chocolate characters turned out. The cake was delicious too... chocolate cake with vanilla frosting.


I made her a birthday banner based on Alicia Paulson's idea, but I made little pockets on the back of the flag pieces so that the name pieces can slide off and on and therefore be personalized for other people's birthday as well.


For her actual birthday, we spent the day doing fun traditional Philly things including a horse and carriage ride (first time for all of us!), light show, and a visit to the Dicken's Village topped off with a visit to Santa. She confessed to me later, "I told Santa I was good so he would bring me presents." Ever the politician, my daughter. Ooh, we also had lunch at Sabrina's.



Family came over for a pizza dinner (her request) and I made yellow cake with cream cheese frosting. She did not like the cake. At all! It was ok to me. It was a bit rough and had more of a pound cake texture. I feel this may be due to the fact that I used regular flour instead of cake flour. It was also in the fridge because I made the cake a day and a half ahead of time and didn't want to leave the cream cheese frosting out.




Overall, a great few days. My daughter is pretty awesome.

My Favorites.

These are my favorite Christmas ornaments. They were made by my mom, probably before I was born. I'm not 100% certain of that, but it seems likely.

They were on our Christmas tree when I was very young. Then they disappeared from the family tree for years. I eventually acquired them and they've been apart of our tree since we've been an "us."






What's your favorite ornament? Why?

Meow.

I love my cats.

There's Carlos. He's 16 years old. We got him and his brother (RIP Charlie) when they were 3. Joe got them from some one at his work. She just had a baby. Ya know, cause that's a good reason to give up cats. ANYHOW, I'm glad because those boys are the sweetest cats I've ever known. I fear that every cat that comes into my life will unfairly be compared to them. They are part Siamese and therefore talkative, cuddly and dependent upon human contact. They're the dog of cats, minus the need for walks.


When Carlos & Charlie were 6, we adopted Zelda. She was a tiny little tortie kitten who was part of a litter of three. The other two sisters were adopted out and poor little Zel was alone. I wanted her immediately. She is your typical cat. Very independent and very stand-offish. My husband tells me that if I was a cat, I'd be Zelda. So what?! Zelda will let you love her on her terms and I see nothing wrong with that.


Charlie died of kidney failure in 2007. It was a rapid decline. He's been gone almost two years and I still think about him every day. He was my buddy. During the day, Carlos & Zelda would sleep, but Charlie would be by my side. He was a master conversationalist. His meows had many vocal inflections and yes, we understood him. Charlie was on medication for the last 6 years of his life due to hyperthyroid. He got medication twice a day. Unfortunately, long-term use of the medication contributed to his kidney failure. It is sad, but the medication gave him the years that would've been denied to him if he hadn't taken it. He passed just before Christmas, 2007. On Christmas Eve morning, the then, 2 year old Abby told me that the kitty was under the tree. I figured she meant Carlos or Zelda. I saw no cat there. I asked her where the kitty was, figuring she meant one of our many cat ornaments. "There!" she said, pointing to nothing under the tree. That made me feel so happy and at peace. I knew he was still with us. Sometimes I think I see him walking up or down the steps.


It was kind of odd to only be in a house with two cats. We eventually started talking about getting another cat. What happens when Carlos passes? Zelda will be alone. We should've realized that she wouldn't care. BUT, we adopted George in August 2008. He was only weeks old and separated from his mother way too soon. The odds were stacked against him, but he selected us and we were happy to bring him home. He weighed only a single pound and we had to feed him formula.


George & Carlos have become buddies.


Zelda is a solitary girl. Everyone is happy. Georgie torments the older kitties, but Carlos is quick to put him in his place. Zelda hisses and runs. Kind like me, I guess.

A Couple Things...

1. Have you seen the movie "Pollock"? Very good movie. Excellent acting. Scary-ass mother! How come so many artists are tortured, narcissist alcoholics? This has me thinking. What makes one an artist? I can see the tormented part, but I'm not one to artistically thrive during depression or turmoil.

I am an introvert. I actually enjoy my solitary time. I feel very frustrated and angry when I do not have time to myself. I need to create every day. I do not like to be interrupted when I'm working on something. I guess I am a narcissist. That's kind of obvious and depressing.

Furthermore, what is "art"? Even furthermore, why the hell do I have to label everything?! Why can't I just be? Just create? Just experience? Ugh. I am a narcissist. I hate that.


2. Oodles and Oodles. I love this blog. I love looking at this woman's collections. Such pretty things. Most of my life adult life, I've been minimalist in decorating. Knick-knacks drove me nuts. Just something annoying to dust. I think it's in rebellion to the way my house was while growing up. Crap everywhere. Now, I've come to realize that I don't have to go in the complete opposite direction. This year has been a year of realizations for me. And, while this is a relatively trivial thing, it's what it symbolizes to me that is important.

First Day of December.

I feel like I need to change the "tone" of this blog. I want to keep it active, ya know, for Heather. :) Perhaps it'll just turn into my ramblings with craftiness thrown in for the hell of it. I don't know. I also don't know why I have to define everything. It's only an effing blog.

And so, onto the rambling...
Yesterday while the kid was at school, instead of sewing or cleaning, I did nothing. And I felt guilty the entire time. I just sat on the sofa with the laptop, watched "You've Got Mail," and finished off some Hagan Daaz green tea ice cream. Yeah. I'm super lazy. Rationalization on the ice cream: my throat hurt. And I like to eat.

Oh, I did take a few cat pictures. And pictures of toothbrushes. And myself. Kinda sucky. But it is what it is.