Small things

A few weeks ago, the art of knitting was taught to me by my mother. She's more of a crochet person herself, but my oldest niece expressed interest in learning some type of handicraft and somehow it ended up being knitting.

Mom has tried to teach me before, but somehow it just never took. Lack of interest? Most likely. I seem to recall that prior lessons always were attempted when I was trying to read something, and that's never a good time to attempt to communicate with me. This time, though, it was not only interesting of itself but also afforded quality bonding time with multiple generations of Peralta women that did not involve me playing Final Fantasy.

So the very basics were learned. Starting, doing some stuff for the middle, and binding off. However, it wasn't until last night that I made my first useful knit object. Well, I suppose my appendix shaped bookmark can kind of count, too, but this is the first thing that had some planning involved.

Behold, a dish towel. Or a wash rag. It could even be a napkin! Let your imagination run wild. The important thing being that it was fun to make, and it's nice to have a tangible reward for a few hours of quiet work with the radio playing (Coldplay, mostly).

For my next project? Not entirely sure yet. I might content myself with making a couple more of these, or perhaps making a blanket. There's babies out there with naked feet, so maybe some booties. The sky is the limit! If you have any requests, I will definitely listen, although I won't guarantee a result.

The Cancun Caper

There are scrapes and bruises in interesting places from being dragged over rocks by a big wave.
A chunk of sea shell that was buried in the sole of my left foot has just now been dug out.
I am sunburned over my chest and in an interesting stripe pattern on one leg.
My pedicure is ruined.

And you know what? I couldn't be happier about it!

Much like the ancient Vikings and other warrior cultures give value to the scars of battle that criss cross their bodies, I see the above as indelible marks that remind me that I got to spend the last several days in an oceanfront resort with a set of fun loving friends. There was sand, surf, and shots. I went parasailing for the second time in my life. I saw some new birds, including (now confirmed) frigatebirds. Their were some interesting conversations with Canadians (apparently the entirety of the Canadian population is in Cancun at the moment, or at least that's what it seemed like after meeting the 15th person from there). We even did absolutely nothing except for sitting on a lounge chair watching the ocean.

Beautiful.

Prepare for take off

Flip flops? Check.
Cute dresses/cover ups for beach? Check.
Swim suits? Check.
Toiletry items? Check.
First aid kit? Check.
Cell phone charger? Check.
Pedicure? Check.
A good night's sleep prior to day of travel?

Doh!

Save Tonight

A couple of nights ago I popped in to the DMA to enjoy one of the many fun events that are hosted there periodically. Currently there is an exhibit of art by a gentleman who was a native Texan and is known for his impressionist work, particularly his bluebonnet paintings. It was quite lovely. Of course, I'll freely admit that I primarily went because of the free Starbucks coffee in the atrium where a Texas country swing band was playing. I'm a sucker for fiddles, what can I say? Sadly, I arrived too late to hear the banjo band that played during happy hour.

There is a large staircase that runs alongside the atrium and gives an excellent vantage point to people watch. Normally I don't linger there excessively, but I got caught up by the music and the wonderful bowing technique that the fiddler was using. I was, to be honest, lost in my own little world where the only thing that existed was me watching a band.

That being said, in general the security guards try to keep people moving on the stairs to avoid traffic jams. One of them came up to me and very nicely asked me to either go all the way up or down the stairs, but not to loiter. I immediately trekked up the remaining steps and moved to the overhang where I could continue watching undisturbed. And yes, I did lean on the handrail so I could get a better look over the side of the guardrail.

Much to my chagrin, one of the... art chaperones? You know, the folks that make sure you don't try to touch everything in the galleries? Well, he came up to me in a state of fury and said that this was going to be the second reprimand and any further delinquent activity on my part would earn me an escort out of the museum.

Wow. I've been here before, and have engaged in these behaviours in the past without ever being told by off, much less being threatened by expulsion. Add to that the sudden shattering of my reverie, and I'm sure the expression I gave that gentleman was a classic bewildered and startled Gigi look, likely followed by the sad puppy dog eyes that I at one point used as a weapon of manipulation and defensive measure growing up. After all, no one had said anything about looking over, it was just traffic control that had been the issue, and I had responded immediately. I begged pardon, and moved promptly.

Gotta say, though, I was more than a little annoyed as well as mortified. It made me want to retreat back home, honestly. However, the band was playing a great song that I'm sure I've heard before, and the fiddle player was still going. So, I moved to another vantage point, kept as much distance between me and the glass rail as I could without blocking other people walking by, and proceeded to tap my toes and hum along.

Out of the corner of my eye, what should I see but the gallery guy coming right at me. "Well, crap!" thought I, "Are they seriously going to throw me out for standing here?!"

No, actually. He apologized. He talked to the first guy and realized that I wasn't trying to wilfully disobey instructions, I'm just stupid. It had been a long day, after all, with a lot more people running around than usual, a lot of them being folks who do wilfully disobey. While I don't think I'll ever call him up to go get coffee or anything, when I left he waved good bye and wished me well, and I did the same.

One thing is certain, I'm glad I didn't follow most of my initial instincts. What were they? Well, anyone who knows me knows that I'm very scattered in my thinking. This goes for reactions to threats. Initial instincts included the following:

• Leaving the museum angrily, as stated above
• Crying
• Beginning a protracted debate on what exactly the first guy had said
• Losing my temper and refusing to move
• Pretending I didn't understand English

Yes, all those options ran through my head in the span of a second. The music saved me, though. Because, seriously, when there's a fiddler around to listen to, you do what you have to do to make sure you don't blow that chance.

Speaking of work

He definitely seems to enjoy himself at work, but I'd like to think that it's possible to enjoy yourself without being indescribably evil in the process.




Oh, and congratulations to me on my 100th blog, yay!

Whistle while you work

It's been over 6 months since I've done a lick of the work I spent about 7 years of my life getting ready for, but that time is coming to an end. By next week, I'll be donning my white coat, putting my PDA and stethoscope in my pockets, and then spending a good percentage of my time back in the hospital. Not a bad thing, as 6 (really, almost 7 months) without income is kind of worrisome.

Has my time been well spent? Well, I think so. Ok, so I spent almost a full month of that time playing Warcraft. I enjoy the meditative quality of playing the game, interacting with others, the inevitable trash talking, and I have a jolly fun level 70 troll hunter to show for it.

I've traveled, too. Ireland, Spain, and one final international trip to Mexico before I start. Plus I got to spend some time traveling within my homeland to visit family and friends. So I went from having never been to Europe to going twice in 4 months, which makes me happy.

Books and movies occupied a good portion of my time, and Half Price Books is definitely one of my favorite haunts. I never feel too guilty for reading something from cover to cover there considering the amount of books I've sold in the past for a pittance that later moved for quite a bit more. That being said, I have bought several books from there, so don't go thinking I'm not supporting my favorite business. Plus, they sell coffee. You think I don't get some whenever I go? You would be wrong, my friend.

A good percentage of my time was spent in the company of my friends, be it during some of the above or while lounging on sofas watching TV. Lots of great times have been spent eating, singing, drinking, dancing, or even just doing absolutely nothing. Nothing is one of the easiest and hardest things to do, but I consider myself quite good at it. Well, sometimes, at least.

Karaoke? Of course, every Monday. Amy and I were the reliable standbys, with frequent appearances by Karrie and Alicia, as well as various other friendly faces who would come out periodically. We are undoubtedly one of the best karaoke audiences on Earth. I'm proud to say, even JuJuBe took part, although at a different venue from our norm.

So, will things change when work starts? Hell yeah. But I've got a handle on at least some of the things that make me happy, and I'm not going to let go. Because one of the things I've learned from watching others and my own experience is that life is a hell of a lot more than work. I like what I do, but that doesn't mean that I forgo the life outside of my job. After all, I want to be happy while I'm there, and even more so when I leave.

The Last Lecture

It's a long video, but well worth it. I might add more thoughts stemming from watching this later, but for now I'm still thinking about it.

The Bird Whistler

While spending the day outside yesterday, I also took the opportunity to do some bird watching in between opportunities to use THE CLAW.

I love this time of year. All our native songbirds are nesting, everyone's singing to either show off or tell off, and the trees aren't fully leafed out yet making spotting them slightly easier than later in the summer.

At one point, I heard a little guy way up in the canopy singing an unfamiliar tune. I have no idea what he was, but he was tiny, so I'm guessing... a warbler? A kinglet? His posture seemed wrong for a wren, but I am still in the dark. In a lame effort to induce him to come closer, I began attempts to imitate his song.

You know, it wasn't the best thing ever, but it wasn't bad, either. I can do a pretty good cardinal, I was once able to fool my ornithology teacher with my screech owl, and I can hack my way through some of the more basic songs. Alicia started cracking up because it sounded like the bird and I were having a conversation at one point. Perhaps we were, but who knows what I was saying. The identity of that bird will likely continue to torment me for weeks.

Diggin' up bones

There is a blister on my right thumb. It makes me exceedingly happy, not because I like blisters generally, but because it serves as a badge of honor and a tangible reminder that I did something useful yesterday that was also great fun.

Alicia has a yard. She likes pretty trees and plants, and likes to do her own digging and cultivating. That being the case, we got to spend a whole afternoon shopping for plants at North Haven Gardens and carted them home in my little Mazda3. She even got a tree! Granted, a very young tree, although I think it would have been hilarious to get a bigger tree and have it stick out through the sun roof. The place was great, and I went into little kid run-around-touching-and-looking-at-everything mode. I even called my mom to inform her of this locale, as she is a full blown plantaholic who is always looking for a place to get a fix. Currently I have been trying to convince her that we need to plant an assortment of ground hugging plants between the flagstones in the backyard back home, and I think it's going to happen. Yay!

Alicia had been preparing for planting for a while now, and had some pretty new garden tools and even a set of new guest gardening gloves available for my use. In addition to the purchases of the day, she also had some flats of begonias and petunias awaiting their meeting with destiny. The weather was perfect for our endeavour, being cool and sunny and downright gorgeous. We worked on a couple of large concrete planters first off, loosening and composting the soil to prep it for the addition of some lovely mandevillas. For some reason, there were large chunks of flagstone buried in both, so it felt like a mini treasure hunt everytime we found one.

Now, there is a spiffy garden tool known as the Garden Claw, which will henceforth be known as THE CLAW. Because that's how I think of it, and that's how I say it. It is awesome! She's had it for a while, and it even has an infomercial. It is possibly one of the best outlets for excess energy of any kind that I have ever encountered. I mean, you essentially tear through the soil with almost manic glee, smashing through hardened clods and ripping out unwanted vegetation, but the end result produces beautifully composted earth that begs to be planted. You destroy and create, all at once!

During the course of using THE CLAW, I encountered a cable. I became subdued immediately, because I don't like mystery cables. Some are important, and some are just trash, but usually I can't tell the difference. In this case, it turned out to be... Christmas lights. That were for some reason buried 4 inches underground. Why? Who knows. We lacked the patience to dig up the whole thing, so we merely tore out what we could and proceeded with THE CLAW.

We did good. All plants were accounted for, and additional planning is already in the works by Alicia for her next planting day, which will take place in the front yard. The baby Japanese maple still awaits it's home in the ground, but in the meantime is still living in it's pot. It's time will come soon enough.

In broad daylight

The other day while driving past the grassy knoll with Alicia, she pointed at a beat up pickup driving across the field nearby. "What is that truck doing?" I turned and appraised it. It might have been white once, but was now a pale shade of dirt. There were no other identifiers painted on the doors, no insignia. But I pointed to the back, where some shovels were visible, and said, "It's just a groundskeeper or caretaker." "Yeah, that's probably right."

Driving a bit further, though, and the idea that it might have been something else was a fun topic. Because, seriously, if you were going to be ballsy about burying something that you didn't want found, be it a body (gasp!), money, or the lost Ark of the Covenant, wouldn't that be the way? Just get a crappy pickup, toss the stuff in the back, and drive into downtown Dallas. People might be curious for about 5 seconds, and then, "Eh, it's just a caretaker. Or maybe one of the electric cable guys."

It reminds me of being back at UNT, where I had a tendency to clamber up to assorted perches on trees and walls to read/people watch/blow bubbles/have in depth philosophical discussions. People don't look up. You could throw acorns at them, talk to them, or shower them with bubbles, and most people look frantically around and behind them. I believe the results of a casual study I undertook found that only about 61% look up, and only 3% look up first. It was hiding in plain sight, and quite fun.

Curse you, WoW

I was shocked to learn that I have spent nearly 20 entire days of my life playing a troll on World of Warcraft. That's 480 hours of my life spent running around with my loyal pig Dusty shooting ne'er do wells in the virtual realm. Crap, that's a lot of time. If I'd spent that time walking briskly, 134400 calories may have been burned, which is about 38 pounds of fat. Or I could have gotten through about 49000 pages of reading/studying.

Crazy.

That upsets me so much, I think I'm going to have to go hunt some yeti. Just for a bit.

BTE

Everyone has their blue songs. A blue song, you say? I like to define it as a song that you play when you're feeling down and out. Sometimes you want your blue songs to run parallel with your mood, and sometimes you blast Aqua because it's ridiculous and makes you laugh your way out of it.

I've got quite a bit of both. Most recently I've been in the first category phase. I'm seriously hoping it's just a brief lag until I start listening to Barbie Girl .

Backyards and spring

This time of year, I spend a lot of time staring at trees and craving a backyard. Everything has that almost neon sheen of new growth, and post-thunderstorms it really seems that the greenery is glowing. The Japanese maples are gloriously crimson, the flowers are running rampant, and the highways in Texas are turning blue and orange.

Good thing for friends with homes. Part of my afternoon I got to lounge pool side (albeit briefly) and indulge in tres leches cupcakes. Delicious. The evening found me lounging outside with a soda and soaking in the approaching dusk after getting to play dress up with baby Zoe and hearing her giggle for the first time. Shockingly, I spent no time in the hammock. A beautiful evening concluded with some homemade lasagna (also delicious) and some good conversation.

The Fool

There is a certain type of folk tale that involves an idiot. Stories like Lazy Jack and The Foolish Brother. Stories about people that are so stupid that they always say and do the wrong thing. Stories about people incapable of thinking before acting.

When I was younger I wondered if there really were people this dumb.

Oh.

I need a napkin

Not to be a copycat, but given my love of singing and my occasional tendency to burst into song at the drop of a hat, this post is essential.



These guys are great! You can find tons of their stuff online, and I suggest you take some time to laugh.

Oh, and their website has a script and music in case you want to stage Food Court Musical at a mall near you.