in which I talk in pictures.

Mum sent me a care package a few days ago. it contained Hawaiian coffee for The Boy, microwave popcorn and Primeval for me, as well as some diverse candies (and comics as stuffing! yay) and these mittens, which are awesome and adorable and fuzzy and warm and now I really really really really want snow. The Kittehs also really like the mittens, as evidenced in the below photo. That's me attempting to take a photo of the mittens, and Jayne playing his favorite "sniff...sniff...KILLKILLKILL" game. I will take a better photo as soon as I lock the cats in the office. there's two cats on the backs and a fish skeleton going up the thumbs, and a little pawprint on the palm. well, pads of fingers.

This is California's way of saying "nooo, you don't want to move...you can actually grow shit here....staaaay...." my proof? Observe: Stage left, the fig that I was worried about dying, the one that didn't fruit this year, the one that only had four leaves that were getting yellowy brown spots? yeah. that's the same fig. Stage right, the tomato bush (yes, I know, they're commonly called vines, but you haven't seen my total failure of training it to the stake supporty thing. it's a bush.) below them? I took these pictures on our last rainstorm, which was....tuesday? I think? maybe wednesday. Still, it's the last week in November. I not only still have tomatos ripening on the vine.....it's still blooming. WHA?

I don't know why it's linking.
cue craig ferguson sound clip: "I know!" The blood orange mini tree is blooming too, which makes the hummingbirds (there's two now!) very happy and drives Raz absolutely bursar. Especially when the hummingbird leaves the blossom and darts in front of the sliding door, mere inches away from Raziel's chittering, frantic face. and my camellia has bloomed! it's not yellow, like the Merritt horticultural guys thought, but hey, it bloomed! the potting soil all this stuff is in apparently came from a clover field, because I have to weed it. containers! containers should not harbor weeds. bah. let's not talk about The Giant Dandilion-Thing that I came home to growing out of the camellia pot. the kittens have been thrilled that Teh Hoomans have been home and thus able to be pounced upon, and we rewarded their insanity by moving the kitty tower from the corner by The Boy's desk to the living room. (we're hoping to avoid being woken up by their fights for supremacy by the tower thudding against the wall where our heads are, and also they will now have at least a struggle to get up on top of the desks to muck about and eat the plant.) They seem to like it, although when Raz gets scared now he runs into the office to where it used to be and blinks at the empty space in confusion.

Jayne sits on Raziel. (I like how it looks as though this silver tabby head is coming from Jayne's...I don't know what his coloration is...I had a photo of them looking like The Amazing Two Headed Cat!!! but at the moment I released the shutter Jayne decided he needed to attack the lens, so it's just blur.)
Raziel sits on Jayne. (he's actually in mid-yawn in this photo; he didn't seem to care that ginormo-kitteh was squashing him.)
And then they both get into the whole post-thanksgiving-coma thing and once again avoid death by making annoyed humans go "...aaaaw...."And that's tame for some of Raz's sleeping positions. Also? Jayne is huge. he's almost as long as Raz (and Raz is loooooong.) and his tail is a bottle brush even when he's not scared out of his mind. (and when he is scared out of his mind....yikes.) Matt thinks he's a government experimental alien attack cat that was crossbred with a raccoon, which is obviously conspiracy theorist hyperbole. Jayne has clearly gotten some lizard genes spliced in his DNA, because he's storing all his fat in his tail for leaner times, which points to some mad scientist, or to their home planet moving to stage eight of the invasion. duh.

aaah...

well, the prayer stole isn't finished, because I haven't seen any lights on, nor hide nor hair of my neighbor recently, so I got fairly demoralized and thus easily distracted from my rush to finish it, and The Boy thinks that I am unavoidably addicted to the internet, but it is November the 28th and I have 'won' NaNoWriMo.

see?

bzwuh?

nanowrimo + prayer stole + job searching = BOO.

just about 13000 words shy of my total. 6 days. ofuck. and I'm not even sure this is a novel. although people consider Ulysses to be a novel, so maybe there's hope.

of course, Ulysses isn't written in a horrific mishmash of english and norwegian and latin and attic greek and words that don't exist in any actual language spoken in this dimension....

but if you're interested in some hilarity, check out Ikkepedia.

bah.

why must the mother sauces hate me so?

I try to make a simple freakin' carbonara (bechamel/white/whatever) and I get blobby parmesan goo. at least this time it wasn't a parmesan brick.

bah.

FINALLY.

sheesh.

I am now the proud (?) owner of the little magic pink slip that is my temporary ambulance driver's license. (which is actually a certificate, and my wallet is crying now at all the shit I have to carry.) (...ok, so it's been crying for a long time, because I have all manner of random entertaining crap stuffed in there, but now the little window that usually just holds my driver's license is crying because it now holds my license, my medical examiner's certificate (which does not, despite the name, mean I am certified as a medical examiner but rather I have been examined BY a medical examiner, which is also misdirecting because a PA is not a ME. misdirecting is not the word I wanted. neither is it illusary nor distracting nor misapprehensive, all words suggested by my brain, which I think has been broken by NaNoWriMo. uh. where was I? oh. right. list of crap in wallet...) my ambulance driver's certificate, my NREMT EMT card, my Alameda County EMT certificate, and my two CPR cards. )

You think that's bad? you should see certain parts of my NaNoWriMo draft. holy freaking ouch, batman.

anyway. The Saga Of the ADL, or How I Learned To Stop Worrying and GO BUGNUTS CRAZY.

1.) Marit needs to get her Ambulance Driver's License. she is told when getting her California DL that she needs to pick up a commercial driver's license handbook and study it, then come back when employed because then the employer will pay the fee for it. ok. fine. the CDL book is horribly confusing and was clearly laid out by drunken monkeys.

2a.) All employers state that already having your ADL is either preferential, nets you more monies at start, or is required, and they also need a 10 year history printout. greeeaaaat. Marit goes to DMV.

2b.) Monday. Marit gets form to fill out and number. form is worrisome because is exactly the same form as filled out for California license. oh well. *CUE MAGIC TIME WARP* wherin Marit receives number from desk lady, walks 5 steps to bench, writes her name on form, and is told by nice man that her number just got called. Elapsed time, 2 minutes. maybe. at most. yet somehow the desk calling her number manages to spend '5 minutes' calling her number 4 times.
Not. Bloody. Likely.
Marit has to go fetch new number. Marit now gets to wait. and wait. and wait. Is beginning to realize that hm, perhaps the prayer stole was not the best choice of knitting projects to bring along to an environment that is engineered to cause hypertension. Marit waits more.

2c.) Marit's number is called! goes to designated desk, hands over paperwork, receives two printouts of driving history (and is complimented on Dr Who scarf and clean record.) on to ADL. gets sheet, pays money, gets medical history form, gets refund form because overcharged (DMV used to do livescan, but no longer), nice blonde lady sticks all my stuff in a manila folder, gives me receipt of payment and refund form, highlights where to send refund form, tells me she's back at work on wednesday so I can drop off my livescan and ME form and take my exam and bob's your uncle. turns out I don't actually need a commercial driver's license, just a certificate that I can drive an ambulance. (not even a road test, just a written test. AND you don't need to be an EMT to get your ADL, just that you get your EMT cert within a year of getting your ADL. what?) Marit is confused because watch says it's only 1315-ish, but ok, whatever. looks at cell phone. oh. it's 1540. stupid watch. Marit goes to BNN and gets coffee. mmm. coffee. shush. is on way to BART, which is on way to livescan.

2d.) Marit goes to livescan. nice livescan people tell me how to be tricksy with DMV, because apparently the DMV won't accept a livescan form unless it's their yellow copy. can't be white. must be yellow carbon copy. you keep pink. So Mr Livescan tells me go grab a form from DMV, walk outside, copy the info from his form (which is identical to DMV form), take white and pink copies, and walk back inside to give them yellow form. Mr Livescan also gives me 3 copies and only charges for 1. Marit likes Mr Livescan. see? this is what gets you repeat business.

3a.) Wednesday. Marit goes to doctor. entertaining moment of eye test: wearing glasses, have 20/20 left and 20/15 right. great. PA says to tech that they need to do an unaided exam. I can save you the trouble, I said; I can't see the wall. "oh, we have to do it anyway, it's a red box." (you must fill out all red boxes OR YOU WILL DIE). I go stand on line, take off glasses, and say "yep. sorry. can't see wall. I can barely see your hand pointing at the letters. I know the first row is E and the second is FP, but that's just because there's only so many eyecharts available and I've had glasses since the second grade. on other charts it's E then down-E and right-E, or HOTV, or Circle Heart Square, but trust me, I can't see the wall. I promise not to drive without my glasses. I promise not to walk without my glasses." They write down 20/200 (really should be 20/800, but oh well). Doc asks me if I'm up on Pap and stuff. I wince. No, I'm not, I know, I really need to come in, but Blue Cross Blue Shield of California is being evil and pretending they haven't gotten info from you guys and you guys say you haven't received their request for said info, and I can't get through their system to talk to a real person, and I'm currently uninsured. Doc blinks and says 'oh.' and knocks down the price for me. yay. see? this is what also gets you repeat business.

3b.) Thursday. Marit goes to DMV, gets number, waits. waits. waits. Learning has not occured, has not brought other knitting than prayer stole. waits. Goes cheerily up to desk when finally called. hands over livescan. Gets exam receipt and goes to take exam. passes. goes back to deliver ME form and get temporary ADL.
then the fun happens:
at the top of every page of the medical form, there is a big red box for my driver's license number, name, and SSN. right below it on page 2 there is a line (NOT in a red-must-fill-out-on-pain-of-death box) saying "Identity verified by...[] Driver's license (no:) [] other (please explain:)." the PA checked DL, but didn't write down DL number, because it's right above it and isn't IN RED. also, the vision test has three lines, like this:
Right Eye:
Left Eye:
Both Eyes:
in a red box.

Orange highlighter comes out. form gets highlighted.

DMV man: "you're missing a driver's license number here."
Me: "...it's written right above it."
DMV man: "it needs to be written here."
Me: "ok, give it to me, I'll write it in."
DMV man: "the doctor needs to write it in."
Me: "...it's not a required red box. she wrote it IN a red box, right above it."
DMV man: "it has to be filled in by the doctor."
Me: "she did fill it in. on every page. in a red box. four times. but even though it's not a required red box, I have to go back and have her write my driver's license number down, again, less than a centimeter away from where she already wrote it down."
DMV man: "you also need to have them write in the unaided vision for your right and left eyes."
Me: "the test didn't need to be performed, she wrote down for both, right there, see? 20/200."
DMV man: "it has to be done. it's a red box."
Me: "if I can't see the sign with both eyes unaided, I'm not going to be able to see the sign with either eye alone."
DMV man: "it's a red box. it's required."
Me: "Fine. give it back. I will go back to the doctor and bother her to write down my driver's license, again, and write down that I am totally and completely ridiculously blind without corrective lenses, which we already knew, and come back here. is there anything else that needs to be filled in? so that I don't have to leave and come back again?" (I totally didn't say it like that. I was able to swallow most of Teh Bitchy Marmot. most.)
DMV man: "you have to have her stamp it."
Me: "Fine. Can I have my pink sheet?"
DMV man: "no, I need the ME form."
Me: "but I've paid for it. I can't use it without the ME form, which is fine, I won't be using it until I'm employed, but you can still give it to me. I can be in possession of it, it's like being in possession of expired insurance. it's useless, but not illegal to have."
DMV man: "no, I can't, not without the ME form."
Me: "then give me back my receipt of payment."
DMV man: "it's in with your paperwork, it's fine."
Me: "FINE." about to esplode, so time to leave. I do believe I may have accomplished flouncing without a skirt, difficult as that sounds.

3c.) Marit walks to Peet's and gets eggnog freddo blended coffee thing. mmm. blendynog. calls doc. explains fun with DMV HELL and gets OK to come fix form.

3d.) Marit walks into office. Explains, points out places needing fixing. receptionist gives me the eyebrow-raised "really?" face. I nod. yes, really. she stamps office stamp on form. doc who saw me has gone home, but other PA gives me "really?" face (yes, really.) and writes in 20/200 twice on form, and writes out DL number. fun dialogue: "oh, can I see your driver's lic-oh, wait, it's written right here. *pause, gives me 'really?' face.* they made you come back for this?" (yes, really.) Marit pops into Whole Foods for orchard smoothy of goodness before slipping onto bus.

3e.) Marit is really regretting wearing shoes of the 'I need mood-booster of cuteness' type instead of 'I can walk all day and not care' type. target flats = cute yes, supportive no.

3f.) Marit gets back to DMV. is maybe 30 min to closing. DMV man non vis, so has to get new number. waits. waits. walks to desk when called. "here's my medical form! give me ADL please!" plasters content face on....the end is in sight! yay!

orange highlighter comes out. oh, fuck no, sister. noooononono. no way. no. bloody. way.

the red box for heart rate has two boxes to be checked; one says 'regular' and the other 'irregular' and underneath 'irregular' is the word 'rate.' the doc (and I) took this to mean 'if you check 'regular,' no numerical rate is required.'
But no. it is A RED BOX. red boxes must be filled out OR THE WORLD WILL END IN FLAMES. I shake my head as she is highlighting.
Me: "No, no. The doctor said that if the rate was regular, the numerical rate was not required. that's how your red box is structured. That box is filled out."
DMV Woman: "the red boxes has to be filled out."
Me: "...it is!"
DMV Woman: "all red boxes-" (I interrupt.)
Me: "The doctor told me that the box was filled out as is."
DMV Woman fetches supervisor.
DMV Supervisor: "hello, ma'am, I've spoken to-"
Me: "Fine. Give it back." I will not cry in the DMV. I will not cry in the DMV. I might scream in the DMV, but that might make the rent-a-cops do something they might regret. I will not scream OR cry in the DMV.
walk my way back to BART. have fallen off end of rope. nice (but very blurry- am walking without glasses. hah you bastards I promised not to walk without corrective lenses AND I DID. and totally didn't walk into any trees, either. branches...well...) lady asks me if I'm ok. I mumble something about end of horrible day just want to get home to bathtub whimper.
fun fact: it's now after 1700 and Marit realizes the only sustenance she has taken in was a greek yogurt at 0830 and the blendynog and the orchard smoothy of goodness. the fateful decision to not stop at great little sandwich place in berserkeley is instantly regretted.

4a.) Marit revolts and does absolutely nothing related to DMV or job search or anything other than go from bathtub to curled up in bed to bathtub to curled up on couch mainlining Advil for all of Friday. Screw you, Uterus. Awesome timing.

5a). calls doctor on saturday. "hi, it's me, the DMV form girl, I have another box that needs to be filled in."
"really?"
"yes. apparently despite the formatting of their box they need a heart rate for a normal rhythm anyway."
"um."
"yes?"
"you're doing this for your ambulance driver's certificate, right? and you're an EMT?'
"yes."
"and they want you to come in and have a doctor take your pulse and write it in their box."
"yep."
"...but you're an EMT."
"I know."
"um...you can't take your own pulse? I mean...the PA's already signed it...not that you should cheat on a form, I don't mean...but...you're an EMT."
"I know. Believe me, I know. if it weren't for the certainty that if I did just take my own pulse and write it in, they would somehow know and I'd have to start over or get audited or whatever medieval torture they have planned for offences like that, I would just fill it in myself. When can I stop by?"
"Monday?"
"See you Monday."

5b.) walk in to doctor's office. Doc: "so, what's your pulse?" Me: "84." Doc: "really? *checks* huh." Me: "I know. my BP's on the low end, HR on the high end. Always has been." Doc: "no coffee?" Me: "Not yet." Doc: "huh. Well, good luck."

5c.) walk in to DMV. get number. wait. wait. (learning has occured. Marit brought a book instead of prayer stole.) wait. wait. goes up to desk when summoned. Hands over ME form. DMV woman 2 disappears. Now, I had to do a good deal of waiting at the desk with the first edition of DMV (see 2c), but she always said something along the lines of 'I'm going to go ::insert task here::' or 'I just need to check with ____, I haven't done one of these yet' before disappearing, and told me that I could take a seat if I was more comfortable that way. (there's a reason why she is DMV Lady in my head and the others are DMV woman.) DMV woman just disappears. she wanders from the left side of the building to the right side of the building, disappears into the back, reappears, wanders circuit again...four people rotate through the desk next to hers. finally, after at least 30 min of being gone, when Teh Bitchy Marmot is about to make an appearance, she reappears and hands over the little pink slip.

6.) Marit makes good her escape, then makes wallet cry by stuffing pink slip in wallet. goes for blendynog. mmm. blendynog.

Thus endeth the saga.

Next: the Jobhunting Strikes Back.

The Marmot...

...can't come to the blog right now, she's climbing a clock tower.

(that's not entirely correct, of course, she's actually climbing into the bathtub with her homemade dose of -OH's.)

fill glass with ice.
add 2 shots of espresso.
add 2 shots homemade marquesan vanilla vodka (shush, I have earned it, and it'll cancel out the espresso so that I can go to bed before 0200.)
fill to top of glass with cream.

mmmmmmmm.

Not so in line with my 'eat smart' current philosophy, but then I'm not drinking this every day, and since all I've eaten today is a cup of greek yogurt (take that yoplait-that-makes-me-hungry-again-in-an-hour!), a muffin, a sugarless hard candy from the doctor's office, and the wonderful orchard blended iced beverage from Whole Foods Market that is now retired for the season (SAD!), I think I'm ok with some calories.

Although I am going to make a sandwich before I hit the tub.

Which I'm doing now.

oooooo....

you know what I really really want right now?

sopapillas.

real sopapillas, all puffy and gooey and ready to dip in honey or cinnamon sugar.

so. good.

oh kitty.

oh, kitty.

I love the fact that at the end he looks at the camera and goes "oh, crap" and runs away.

off to DMV to get driver printouts and set up an appointment to take my ambulance driver's test, and then do a test run up to my interview tomorrow in Vallejo.

Bah. oh well, I am fortified by knitting.

I desperately need to be happy.

because otherwise I can't think good happy healing thoughts while at the same time reading a lace chart and knitting my merry way on the prayer scarf, which needs to be to its recipient before she leaves for India in December.

So.

Things That Make Me Happy:

Origins Spice Odyssey. sooooo nummy. I love it. it's scrubby and smells like cookies and curry and cardamom and I used it twice today because after I washed my hair I felt all conditioner-covered (cause I use me some in-tense conditioner because I have (according to Deoni) The Hair That Forgot It's On A White Chick) and not all scrubbed and spicy like I had earlier in my shower, so I used it again. Also, the matcha scrub is very nice BUT if you forget and shave first, Do Not Use The Scrub. PUT DOWN THE CONTAINER. oh dear god the pain.

Ravelry. because any fibre arts community website that contains the forum topic "I need cell transfection help" is a fibre arts community that is just plain freakin' awesome. also the Yarn Harlot and Crazy Aunt Purl.

Food Network. Angry Brits bleeping away while trying to save restaurants from utter failure, The Nastiest Ingredients Known To Man turned into desserts for hapless young japanese actresses, crazy psycho jungle cakes, Alton Brown...get rid of Bobby Flay and RayRay and I might go so far as to say it is perfect.

Cappelens Nye Kokebok. aside from the fact that it forces me to do lots of painful math, Best Cookbook Ever. 640 pages of goodness.

Mae Ploy. soooo nummy, the gentle Scientist Finn Jan Wittig defended his bottle on pain of death when the ship's stock ran out.

Chap Che. Spicy Spicy Spicy goodness. especially if you grab the extra-spicy kimchi instead of the normal stuff. whooo mama. and Bi Bim Bap. the perfect combination of every type of goodness. while it is vanishingly unlikely that I have Korean in my genetic code, my tastebuds have clearly adopted Korea as their motherland.

Egg Drop Soup. best. comfort food. EVER. my secondary mom saved my life with a giant thermos of this delivered to my dying hacking wheezing self in the hotel during the Thanksgiving Break Of Death so that I could get better enough to fake perfect health (along with Mucinex) and get on the boat.

Thai Coconut Rice Pudding. or Black Sticky Rice Pudding. or my Nana's Rice Pudding. also best comfort food ever.

Legos. ...cause they're legos. and they've got Iiiindeeeeeeee! and I totally want to use these to make a Legotini! and Lego Stego!

speaking of stego, Stegosaurs. (that would be the plural of stegosaurus, y'see.) best late Jurassic dino EVER. I have a wee little stegosaurus charm, and would totally consider a stego tattoo. I may have moved on to the biological oceanography love, but deep in the cockles of my heart still lurks the tiny paleontologist. I had a shirt and everything. also: someone make this in a woman's 10.5/ euro 41. I WANT. kids get the best shoes. man.

Mom's Chipotle Raspberry Brownies or Mom's Chipotle Chocolate Truffle Blobs.

Snow. Mountains. Skiing. Nordlys. Why am I living in California again? (also, the image for the nordlys? is totally from Curt's homepage. Skog x 100 for the win!) Dammit, Tahoe, get enough snow already. we need a repeat of the Big Mountain, Small Scary Crappy Hotel in Reno trip. I promise not to try to kill The Boy the way I did last year.

XKCD. one of my favorite webcomics. hands down. also Girl Genius, Dominic Deegan, Schlock Mercenary, BratHalla, Oddfish (oh, come on, a 'kebab!' sound effect? priceless.), Nemi, wapsi square, so many more. Nice Hair, winner of the 'still makes me actually laugh out loud really hard' award. Friendly Hostility, because I am such a Fatima Fangirl.

The Bobbie C. love that boat. also, check it out! that's us* deploying an ARGO!

*us being the SEA Education Association on the Robert C Seamans, but it's not our cruise because the photo is credited to Kara Lavender, and she wasn't on our cruise. She had to stay on land, and we got the coffee-addicted skivvie-wearing Finn.

Kittehs. Mine and the occasional lolcat that makes me giggle.

This pen. I loooove this pen, even though I have abused it by taking it on too many flights (air pressure + fountain pen = May Not End Well) and then tried to clean the crusted ink out of the cap (see aforementioned air pressure + fountain pen) with acetone in O-chem and frosted the top half of the cap. (apparently there's a plastic cushion/guard for the nib up there.) I also lust after this pen, but why god why so expensive?

Chihuly.

Chihuly.

Chihuly.

Santorini. Crete. Actually, any place where my grandfather is my tour guide.

Ok. Time to go to work.

I'm never going to finish this scarf.

Hi.

If you try to tell me that marriage is between a man and a woman because of a basic, natural, biological imperative, then I get to legally dissolve every union between a man and woman who have no children or who cannot naturally conceive children. low sperm count? sorry, your marriage is null and void, and oh, by the way, you can never marry again. single parent with no visitation rights from the other parent? sorry, your kids can't be raised in that environment, I'm taking them away. philosophically against the idea of increasing the earth's population? I'm sorry, you and your spouse are now exes...and your adopted kid is going to the Duggars...unless you can prove you can spawn.

what? that's your argument. children can't be raised in an environment that isn't a nuclear family because the mother-father-child bond is too sacred.

so we've saved the children from the spectre of being raised by gays. now let's save the children from being raised by single parents. who's with me?

OH RIGHT. that's wrong and discriminatory. hmmm. really?

check this out: screw you, strip down the middle of california. also, what's up with you, solano county? didn't get the "Gay Area" message? also also: filter based on bachelor's degrees. *cue banjo...*

skippy, get back in the box.

yep. still bitter.

Explain this to me.

Okay, California. Explain this to me:

61% of you voted for Barack Obama.
63.2% of you voted for Prop 2, which (may or may not) better conditions for livestock.
52.5% of you voted to strip the right of marriage from anyone who happens to fall in love with someone carrying their same sex chromosomes.

I'm so happy to live in a state where a chicken gets more rights and attention than me.

so happy.

what's even crazier?

y'all voted against the parental notification for underage abortions.

who knew that The Gay was so terrifying that the mere thought of Your Blessed Innocent learning about love would distract you from the Killing of Unborn Bebbies by Babies.

oh, you say, but domestic partnerships are the same thing.

except for being able to file joint tax returns.
and your earnings aren't community property for the state taxes.
you have to live at the same residence to register, so those long distances? nope, sorry.
you can't move out of state and still be domestically partnered.
if one of you isn't a US citizen, you cannot become naturalized through your domestic partnership.
and under federal law your partner has no rights or responsibilities of a legal spouse. (thank* you, Defense of Marriage Act.)

Here's what the Universal Declaration of Human Rights has to say about marriage: "Men and women of full age, without any limitation due to race, nationality or religion, have the right to marry and to found a family. They are entitled to equal rights as to marriage, during marriage and at its dissolution. Marriage shall be entered into only with the free and full consent of the intending spouses."

does that say anything at all about The Gay? No. Oh, but wait, it's a document from the UN, which apparently we don't need or care about cause they're a bunch of furriner pansies.

this shit just sickens me. seriously.

*that should really read 'fuck' by the way, but I'm trying to be nice.

gah.

enough.
Look! Cuteness! move along, move along, there is no kitteh in the box...move along...

this is taken after he scared the crap out of me. the flap that's up was down, and I had no idea he was in there, when suddenly he leapt out of the box and tried to jump onto the arm of the chair.
he failed, left divots in the chair, and fell back into the box. That, or my shriek scared him back in the box.
this cat....all the cat toys in the house, and he goes nuts over pencils. knitting needles. the little hard plastic cups my razor heads come in. cardboard boxes. he's like the kid who liked playing with the box or the wrapping paper more than the gift itself.

oh wait, that was me.

mmm. bubble wrap.

mass tree genocide masquerading as political mass mailings.

let's count the mail roundup for this election, shall we?

City Council:
Boozé- 2
Beckles- 6
Butt- 3
Ritterman- 1
Beckles, Butt, and Ritterman- 3
Sandhu- 5
Bates- 10
Marquez- 7 (including a potholder! ooo...)
and 3 fliers endorsing no one but dis-endorsing Ritterman.

School Board:
Pfeifer- 4
Studdiford- 1
Pfeifer, Studdiford, and Bates- 2

'Local Police and Firefighters' both endorse Sandhu and Bates, which entertains me. Almost as much as all the black and orange "Boozé for City Council" (yes, I am afflicted with a childish sense of humor.)

Also have a crapload (i.e. 8) against T and 2 for it, and 5 for D, and one for WW.

Just on sheer perversity, I'm tempted to vote for the people that sent me the least amount of crap in the mail. And whoever Sandhu got to design his stuff deserves a raise; it's pretty sweet.

and you Yes on Proposition 8 people? if you're so fucking paranoid about your kindergartener learning that same sex marriage is the same as hetero marriage, then I have two things to say to you: 1) they already know about The Gay. trust me. 2) pull them out of public school and put them in some nasty little private school that endorses only your history, your ideals, your morals, and your narrow little world view.

not that all private schools are bad. I have no firsthand experience, I'm a public school brat. Well, no, that's a lie, I did go to a private school in Utah briefly because schools like the Open Classroom are dependent on good teachers, not Teachers From The Ninth Circle Of Hell. The Open Classroom may not have been a public school either, now that I think about it.

Ok. Most of my formative school years were public school. happy?

Free Starbucks and Ben and Jerry's for all y'all who voted. I didn't partake because it would have meant about 5 dollars transit fee, which is a bit more than 'free.'

bah.

I've moved to Tacoma. again.

C'mon, rain, you need to stop for at least a day so I can get my poor trees planted in their pots.

Applied for jobs today. This whole idea of applying via email is strange to me. Ah, the march of progress.

Nanowrimo: we're not thinking about that right now. does it still count if I use old characters as long as none of the old writing is counted towards the 50,000?
Knitting: got yarn for prayer scarf. need to wind in balls (damn you hindsight, I should have had the store do it!) and defend it from The Cat.
Spinning: I have a wee little blob of pink yarn. Jayne is still hyperactive from the play session of my attempts to spin. The Boy is still confused as to why I want to make yarn.


When The Kitten gets big (we're reasonably certain he's mostly Norwegian Forest Cat, and they're usually about 13 to 22 lbs. normal cats are supposed to be less than 13 lbs, apparently. and he's 6 months old and almost as long as Raziel, who is 2.) this is going to be uncomfortable.

This is me trying to write the start of NaNoWriMo.

You can see how well it's going.

whee

Harald Tunheim won the Finnmarksløpet!

NaNoWriMo not going so well.