A good Sunday

I'm pleasantly tired. Today I started more seeds, zucchini and cantaloupe and seeds from a delectable cantaloupe from Andersons which, I understand, might yield cantaloupes or might yield strange alien cucurbits of peculiar shape and size. Either way, awesome. I went to Home Depot (with Eric, who laughed at me the whole time, but that was fine since it meant he wasn't actually unhappy) and bought a final two hundred pounds of humus, plus a flat of strawberries. I have strawberries growing indoors from seed, but they're about a centimeter tall and I had visions of actual home-picked strawberries, you know, this year. When we came home I dug the humus into the tomato bed and planted some broccoli and Swiss chard and carrots (the old ones aren't coming up, and I think it's because they didn't get enough water--it's supposed to rain all this week so maybe these ones will do better) and watered and weeded and planted the strawberries and generally made myself sore. It's a good sore. It's been a lovely day out, and this next week promises to be lousy (at least as far as weather goes--I also really, truly, absolutely have to visit the florist, so possibly as far as the wedding goes too) so I'm doubly glad.

Then we made Mint Oreo mint ice cream and prepared for peach ice cream (we're planning on making peach ice cream for the wedding, but peaches might not be in season so we're testing our recipe on frozen ones), and Eric sauteed some shrimp and mushrooms in garlic butter and I made a couscous salad with blackeyed peas and carrots and an apple, and we had a good dinner. And we reserved a hotel for our wedding night and decided that we don't need to get Eric's wedding ring checked for size. And my brother called and I had a very satisfactory talk with him while he waited for some guy to show up to meet him. (He wants to know where he can find a white-haired Barbie for his daughter. I suggested that he take a regular Barbie, shave its head, glue a strip of white Fun Fur on it, and call it Mohawk Barbie.) It's been a good day.

Hope in spring

I'm sore from digging again. This is not good. This girl needs some exercise. I borrowed a bellydancing DVD (don't laugh) from a friend at work, but haven't looked at it yet. (That reminds me. I have chocolate for her. Do I deliver it now for maximum anticipation throughout the day, or later for maximum happiness when she's tired from work?) Now that winter seems to be in retreat (not a moment too soon), I'm going to try going for walks more often. I enjoy it when I go out...it's just a matter of going out.

The garden stuff is going well; the lettuce and spinach have survived, the peas are coming up, my cheap rake seems to be doing its job just fine, my seedlings are doing okay, I haven't gotten bored of it yet. Eric and I discussed yesterday whether there was a real chance we'd ever need to rely on a garden to feed us, especially if we have a few kids. "We might end up keeping chickens after all," he said, a reference to a link I sent him. You can keep chickens in your back yard! --If your city allows it and you don’t mind the yard turning into a dustbowl, that is. Once we find the house we're going to live in for twenty years or so, I could see setting up a nice big garden and planting fruit trees and bushes, maybe some asparagus or even artichoke (no rhubarb for us, though) in addition to the annuals, but not so sure about chickens. It came up because someone at work is advertising fresh eggs for $1. Someone else is asking us to buy rose-shaped suckers for $2. Hmm, which is the better deal?

I had planned to go to the florist today, dragging Eric with, but we have to pick up Shel at six, so that may not work. And then Friday we're going up to Ann Arbor for a trip to Trader Joe's and a benefit concert put on by Eric's old orchestra, and then Saturday we have a wedding. Sunday I know Ken's Flowers is open but I'm not so sure about them. Ah well...we don't need a florist really, do we? I could just carry a hydrangea, couldn't I? Sure I could. I talked to my dad about how anxious I'm feeling, even though we've got almost all of the big wedding stuff taken care of. He said, "Nobody will notice most of this stuff." I said, "People will notice if they don't have any chairs," but Eric is calling about that and he's right about the rest.

We're also going to be putting the towel rack up Sunday, since we're not going to be painting the bathroom before the wedding, and cleaning in partial preparation for our not-a-shower Sunday. Most of the cleaning will happen next Saturday, and that'll be the last cleaning the house gets before my parents get here the week before the wedding. We'll get things done, I'm sure.

And I'll be planting out broccoli and Swiss chard in the garden soon. Here's hoping they live. Someday I'll be able to do better than hope, I think; but this learning year, it's all about hope.

Flowers in the snow

It is snowing. Snowing. The yard is thickly covered in white. This is wrong, people. This is very wrong. I cut a tulip from our front bed--or at least what I thought was a tulip, as it was only partly open and was obviously not happy about the cold we've been having. I put it in a stupid bud vase that Eric's stepmom gave me for Christmas and within minutes it bloomed, spreading its petals wide like a Washingtonian spreading her arms to catch the sunshine. It is not a tulip. But it is very pretty. And I love that vase now--it looks much better with a flower in it. We turned the kitchen light off later and came back to find the flower half-closed again. I wonder if I'll get up early enough tomorrow to see it open again? Probably not.

Eric and I went stomping through the (hateful! ridiculous!) snow to his mom's to visit Addie, his new niece who was at grandma's for the night (her mom going out for a night with the girls, and her dad desperately needing a real night's sleep). We talked to her and held her and fed her, and got a few lessons on how to burp a baby from grandma. I also discussed wedding shopping with Michelle. We're going for her dress tomorrow, and she seemed to be feeling a little neglected with all the attention lavished on Addie (though Michelle also wanted her share of holding and feeding), so I sat on the stairs with her and discussed her shoes, her hair, what jewelry she would wear and what shops we should go to tomorrow. Her mom's going with us and wants to go to Kinko's, and I need to get to Joann or Hancock (they're going out of business, which means a sale) to get fabric for the summer quilt, so it's going to be a bit of a trip. We went shopping today, Eric and I, but it was purely for clothes for Eric so it took all of forty minutes to find slacks, a dress shirt, and two pairs of casual pants. Tomorrow will be more of a production.

That's the plan.

I started to write a post the day before yesterday and I ended up writing about something I hadn't intended to, and that led to an evening spent differently from the plan (well, to start with anyway) and some crying, but also some good discussion. It had to do with our eventual move to the West Coast and decision three years afterward on whether we're going to stay, and it involved us getting closer to actual fighting than we ever have and also some mutually agreed-upon blaming of Eric's mother. Anyway, here's the first, innocuous part of that post:

***
I hate O'Hare airport. This is probably not a surprise to anyone who's been there before. It was O'Hare that Bev and I got stuck at for a day when we were flying out to Baltimore to apartment-hunt. It was O'Hare that Eric and I almost didn't make our connection at because the previous flight had had to de-ice its wings and we arrived two terminals away from the flight we were catching. On Thursday night, it was O'Hare that delayed flights going in and out three hours so that my parents had to pick me up at 2:30 instead of 11:30. I admit it wasn't O'Hare yesterday that delayed my flight (I called my parents to complain right away, and they actually picked me up so we could talk for another hour while I waited) and didn't post its gate so that I had to guess which terminal it might be in and track down agents at three different gates to tell me the gate number. But it was O'Hare that rescheduled my initial connection for one that was due to leave ten minutes after the first got on the ground. I made the flight, but I had a plane full of people to stare at as I bumped my way down the aisle with my ridiculously heavy carryon and dropped into my seat very shortly before the safety talk began.
***

My whirlwind weekend trip was wonderful. It was sunny and warm there, I had a great time visiting with my parents, we finally got the family pictures done, and my wedding shower was lovely. I did decoupage for the first time and the food was all vegetarian (I love my matron of honor) and I got some extremely neat stuff--it was a craft shower, so people gave me materials for cake making and candy making and beaded ornaments and quilling (paper filigree…have you ever heard of this? I hadn't) and stamping and sewing and cooking. My project this week is to make handmade thank-you cards. (Then it's to finish up last year's queen-sized summer quilt. If we're buying a new bed--and we are, because that's cheaper than putting Mom and Dad up in a hotel, and we wanted a bigger one eventually anyway--we need a blanket to cover it, and I can't see a single reason to buy a blanket when I've got one almost ready-made in my closet.)

Mom gave me a pair of blue topaz earrings to wear in the wedding, thus explaining why I could never get her to answer me when I asked if she had any earrings I could borrow. I did borrow some earrings of hers for the family pictures; later she asked where they were and I said I'd put them on her dresser, and she said, "Why did you give them back? You can have them. I don't use them." She doesn't, since her ears aren't really pierced anymore, so I did take them. They're opal and gold, and she bought them in Korea a long time ago. Eric tells me I need to pack them in wet cotton. This makes me wonder if they'll get moldy--either that or whether I'll have to water them every week, like a plant. And I tried on my wedding dress, and it's too big but otherwise fantastic. Mom grumbled about the amount of work, and also about my asking her to cut a foot off the train (I asked for no train, but as Dad says, I didn't tell her three times), but I think she's okay with it, and I know I'll be proud to wear this dress on my wedding day.

When I got back my plants were on the dry side, but alive, and I’m plotting to repot them this week and figuring out how many to give away to whom. Next year I'll definitely be more conservative with the seed sowing. Happily, my outdoor plants don't seem to be dead either--the spinach and lettuce are hanging on, and there are a few tiny green points in the carrot rows, and the onions are sprouting in their corner. They're being threatened by some fresh green weeds invading from the neighbor's yard (the onions are right on the fence), but they're alive, and now that I’m back and the weather isn't quite so nasty I'll be being nasty myself to those weeds and the hundreds that are popping up over the yard.

Today we're working on the cars and the invitations. Eric is off for the week, which means there will be much wedding stuff and house stuff taken care of. Or at least that's the plan.

Declamations from the height of my great age.

It's my last day to be twenty-six. There will be no birthday celebration, unless you count the angelfood cake and sweetened strawberries that I made myself yesterday and will be eating with Eric tonight, and no birthday present until I order my spinning wheel, which I haven't done because I don't feel the time is right. (What's really going on is that I'm in the miser phase of my financial-emotion cycle. Wait until I get back to the eager-to-buy side, otherwise known as Being My Father's Daughter.) And I'm okay with that. I want to ease into twenty-seven anyway.

I'm starting to notice true signs of aging--very slight, of course; but I'm definitely not as limber as I used to be, or as easily recovered from a night of little sleep. And of course there are all the mental adjustments that I continue to go through: am I really mostly through my twenties? Do I feel like an adult yet? How did I get here? Am I satisfied with how I've spent my time? How do I improve myself for the future? What do I really want out of my remaining time on the earth, and how do I get it?

Which is not to say I consider myself old or anything. I don't suppose people often do; you don't live seventy or eighty or ninety years all at once, but one day at a time, and one day is the only rock we have on which to stand. But I know I've now got probably a third of my life behind me, and I still don't know what's ahead. This whole getting married thing has helped with that, but only a little; I'll be living here two years, then on the West Coast two years; we hope to have children, and fairly soon; and that's about it. These things help to shape my awareness of the future and my plans for it, but they only help.

As a twenty-six-year-old, I have worked at a job I didn't like with horrible management; found a job I do like with good management (and much better pay); lived with someone else for the first time since 2002 and for the first time ever with a guy (well, one not related to me); planned most of a wedding; taken up gardening; saved quite a bit of money (oh, there's another post related to that--maybe tomorrow, if it's resolved then); worked on clarifying what actually makes me happy. There's more work to do, of course, but that's life.

One thing I need to do as a twenty-seven-year-old is sort out my hobbies and time-drains so that I actually have time to work on some things. And walk more. One thing about my previous job, it made me healthy (mainly because I spent as much time as I dared running up and down the stairwell, partly for exercise and partly out of frustration). I'm afraid I will not look buff and impressive in my wedding dress. But I'll look like me, which is what I'm working towards being all the time.

Some chick.

I had to call someone for a work-related purpose today. The woman who answered the phone said, "I'm sorry, he doesn't work here anymore. Who is this?" (I hate when people ask that. If the person I want isn't there we have no further business with each other, so what does it matter?) I said, "This is Jenny from ____, do you have any idea how I might be able to reach him?" She said, "I'm on the other line with him right now. Hold on, please." Then, evidently believing she had switched lines, she said, "Hey, some chick from ____ wants to talk to you."

After I let her know she was still on the line with me, I think she hung up--anyway, we got disconnected. When I called back, she was extremely apologetic and gave me the home number of the person I was trying to contact. When I called him, he, too, apologized. Fortunately I think it's funny, but if I had been someone different they might have had good reason to be sorry.

In Case of Apocalypse

Jen has a very interesting post up with a review of the book The End of Food and some comments on gardening. I wouldn't have thought of gardening as subversive--I worked in the yard yesterday and felt that I was, in fact, becoming very suburban-cliched, though I suppose I was weeding the flower beds and spreading mulch (and getting rid of the stupid landscaping fabric the previous owner put down and then didn't adequately cover) at the time rather than planting seeds. But I see what she means; my same-age peers have always been amazed that I cook my own food, let alone grow it.

(My broccoli seeds sprouted. I don't know where I'm going to put all this broccoli. Not to mention the tomatoes and eggplants and basil that are crowding my southern windows. And I've still got zucchini and cantaloupe to start in April. I'm going to see if the mothers want any plants, or if anyone at work does. Next year, when I have more confidence in the inherent ability of seeds to grow, I'll plant more wisely. Was this another facet of society's growing disconnection from the earth, or just simple lack of faith in myself?)

There was a post on a gardener blog I read recently--I can't remember where; I've been all over the blogosphere lately, staving off boredom when I run out of things to do at work--in which she posited that you could save only five seeds (species) to survive on after an apocalypse. She chose three vegetables--one was the tomato--and two flowers, as I recall, snapdragons and something else with an edible tuber. She said you can't live without beauty. I considered this and decided that mine would be some sort of grain (amaranth/wheat/rye/quinoa--I'd have to research their nutritional and growing properties to choose properly), a bean (protein, stores well), potatoes (healthy, filling, stores well), flax (seeds for eating, fibers for clothing, and hey, the flowers are pretty), and I'm not sure about the last--some sort of vegetable, maybe a green since I don't have any, but then greens don't keep and if anything botanical has survived, I bet dandelions have and we could eat those. I considered tomatoes, since they have lots of vitamins and can be dried for winter (I was really concerned about winter--though one of the first things I'd do if it became evident I was going to have to live off the land and my two hands is move south), but then the rest of the plant is poisonous. Maybe carrots. They'd store well too. Or raspberries or blackberries, maybe--fruit would be important, but trees would take years to get established and we could die of scurvy before then.

I mentioned this to Eric last night--he suggested corn as an alternative to grain or flax--and this got us on the subject of whether we'd survive an apocalypse, assuming it weren't the nuclear-war-everything-is-going-to-die kind. Perhaps a modern Black Plague wipes out 99.9% of the population (Eric got concerned about the gene/labor pool and I pointed out that 0.1% of the population is a lot more now than it was in 1346), or non-nuclear warfare devastates the country/planet, or asteroids hit, or Prada and Lean Cuisine go out of business the same day and most of the world commits suicide in despair. I can garden (at least a little, and if the apocalypse holds off a few years I'll know more), spin, knit, sew, and cook. Eric said, "I don't think I'm going to be very useful," but then he knows a lot about chemicals, smelting, medicine, and random stuff generally, and he's good at building things. If we had his mother along we'd be okay for water (she's head scientist at the local water company), and if we had his sister along we'd be good for medical care (she's a nurse). We discussed what we'd need, what we'd want put into an emergency pack or stash. This is the first time I've ever heard him willing to own a gun. We discussed what we'd do with pets, how to get people to band together for survival, whether it would be best to head away from the remains of civilization for a few years, what to do with useless or dangerous people, how long it would take to communicate with other continents and to rebuild if we knew what we were building toward. We'd want to record things, to make sure that we didn't lose what knowledge we have, and to try and avoid whatever mistakes led us to the apocalypse. I said, "There would be no more chocolate. No tampons, no birth control…and no epidurals." And no World of Warcraft, but then, we'd kind of be living it. He said, "This would be an interesting book to write. 'In Case of Apocalypse, Read This Book.'"

The Parable of the Sower discusses this a little--the story is about a collapsing American society and a girl who prepares for the collapse with an emergency pack and survival skills that she eventually has to use and is able to begin a new community with. (It doesn't mention epidurals.) And Eric says I need to read Nightfall the novel, as it also discusses how to start over and the political types who would try to take advantage of other people. But mainly I want to start reading more practical stuff--I wanted to learn more about canning and preserving anyway (I have some apple butter in the cupboard, but if I have as many tomatoes this summer as I hope to I'll have to branch out), and I have books on medicinal herbs and basic survival skills, and of course I want to learn more about growing things, and as my family gets bigger my gardens will get bigger. I hope I won't ever truly need these skills--I think--but I'd feel a lot better knowing them.

That which binds

I've been sewing wedding invitations. No, it's nothing as fancy or crafty as that; but they look like books, and so to give them a real "binding," I've been sewing the vellum to the linen cardstock. My needle is going to need changing as soon as this done, and I will be giving Caroline a well-deserved oiling...nasty thread-jams aside.

I have not been doing anything creative, other than considering which of my various leftover and stockpiled yarns would be best for this ruffled baby hat. I've been working on wedding stuff mostly, and getting over the cold (the cough is even yet holding on), and talking to Eric about marriage and babies and love. He considers us already married. So do I...sort of...but I wish I didn't, because I think I'm already into that settled, why-isn't-this-any-better stage. I don't feel I have enough time for everything I want to do--admittedly, this is because I want to do a lot. (Also because Eric wants me to get to level 70 in World of Warcraft because then he can play with his other friends.) But I don't feel I'm doing the things that will be most important to me. I'm not sure what they are. But preparing for a wedding to celebrate a marriage that's already, in our hearts, taken place, is not one of them. Doing creative work, of some kind, is...I'm pretty sure. And when these invitations are bound up--and the flowers ordered and the dresses bought and the hair figured out and the ceremony written--I will be able to pursue what it is I want to do and what I really, in my life's heart, need to do.

Big green mess

It's been not very rainy at all today--quite beautiful, in fact, which was not what I was led to believe would happen. Weather.com has been pretty darn unreliable the last couple of weeks, in fact (though it got the general "warmer" trend right). So after Eric and I took a nice walk, noticing some purple crocuses (?) in our front grass, and met a young man who asked us where to go to meet girls, I did some work on the yard.

I bought a rake and a hand cultivator on Friday, along with dirt and some pots, and I used my new rake to start getting rid of some of the leaves in the flower beds. I love my new rake. I hadn't realized how very thick the leaves were. I ended up leaving the leaves (and dead twigs, and weeds, and Roundup-ed grass) on the driveway and the grass, to clean up tomorrow, since we'll be working on the trash pile anyway and I knew I didn't have that much time. I discovered tons of bulbs in the back of a flower bed in the front. I discovered that the previous owners loved that black landscaping cloth. I discovered that the previous owners' son had been obsessed with purple chalk, because I found bits of it everywhere. Some blue and some green, too, but mostly purple.

I planted some bulbs (some that I bought from Michelle for a school fundraiser and some that were in obviously weird places in other beds) on the house side of the driveway, and cleared all the junk from the other (noticing in horror a multitude of little seedlings that are almost certainly growing from the seeds of some weed I let run wild last summer). It's quite a nice little bed over there, actually, and I feel like I want to do something with it other than what I saw of it last summer--it felt crowded and monotonous--but I don't know what. I read part of The Secret Garden Friday at work (online), and it made me want to plant flowers. I've never been interested in flowers before, so this is new.

Eric and I walked around the yard a bit before he went in to do his taxes, and agreed that the tree on the house side of the driveway needs to come out--it's pretty, but it was planted way too close to the house and it obviously shouldn't be there. Also a bushy vining flower will be coming out. The previous owner had pointed it out in exultation when we toured the place, but I think it's ugly, and Eric concurred.

Also we decided where to put our new peach tree. When I went to Lowe's for my rakes and dirt I looked longingly at the fruit trees and noticed that they had winesaps, an extremely tart apple that both Eric and his mother adore. I mentioned this to Eric and he mentioned it to his mom, and after we assured her that there were other apple trees near enough to pollinate it, she requested that we purchase one for her. I'd suggested it to Eric for us, but he pointed out that we're going to be gone in two years, while his mom will quite possibly live in her current house until she dies. While we were there I expressed my longing for a fruit tree, and after I reluctantly passed up a nectarine tree because I'm the only one who really likes them, Eric pointed out that the peach trees were already flowering which meant they might produce fruit this year or next, and we bought a Red Haven peach. We already have a pear tree in the middle of the backyard, and I suggested that we place the peach tree near it and make an island of sorts, maybe plant some bulbs or small ground cover in between. Eric liked that idea. "You could extend the garden behind the island," he suggested. "Then I wouldn't have to mow back there at all."

I intended to plant peas and carrots, but I also intended to get the compost out of the compost pile and work it into the dirt first, and I discovered, after this yardwork, that the usable compost is mostly compressed in a tight dry brick. So I'm going to water it and use it when I can. The compost pile is in a real compost box, and there's a door at the bottom for getting the oldest compost out first, which would be awesome except I can't get the door open. I'm trying to decide whether I should break it or not.

I also repotted the newly-sprouted green peppers and tomatoes. These are exciting because I hadn't necessarily expected them to grow, so I'm trying to give them all the care I can. The seeds from the cherry tomato especially are growing up gangbusters. And the basil and marigolds have sprouted, and the oregano is a forest of tiny little seedlings. I've already rotated the container because they were all leaning towards the side.

And that first eggplant seedling? I think it's a weed. It doesn't have cotyledons; instead it's just a long slender blade. There are enough other eggplant seedlings coming up that I'm not concerned, but it's funny that I was so soliticious of its wellbeing before. I'm going to wait a bit to be sure, but I think it's coming out. It's amazing that all this stuff is coming up all at once. Is that how it always is, or is that just a factor of when I planted? I still have strawberry seeds to start (and zucchini in April), but mostly my seeds are started and on their way towards becoming real plants.

Things that grow (and shrink)

Eric asked last night whether I was going to have a gardening blog. I said no, two was probably enough. Now I kind of feel like starting one, of course. And then I’m afraid my current preoccupation with little green things will become very boring, very quickly. But whether I do or no, for now: things are growing! Yesterday morning I checked on the seed trays in my window before work, and decided to add a little water. As I did, I discovered a tiny slender shoot in a corner of an eggplant peat pot. It was so far in the corner, I was afraid it wouldn't have room to grow, so I fetched a plastic spoon and carefully dug a hole in the middle of the pot, then carefully dug up the seedling. I didn't go down deep enough--those roots are long; no longer they take two weeks to come above ground--so I dug the hole in the middle deeper, and disturbed another long root. I replanted the seedling in the new hole and watered it and prayed I hadn't killed my only two seedlings. Last night, the seedling was bigger, and a new one had come up in a different pot. So yes, I may end up with eggplants this summer…if I can keep them alive long enough.

Also two of my saved pepper seeds are pushing little green stalks up, which excites me since I had figured I'd harvested them too green. It's so amazing that seeds grow. Kind of like Eric's sister last night (we visited to play with the baby and see how they were dealing with being home with each other all the time--her husband took two weeks off), saying, "It's so strange to think that I make everything she needs to live and grow."

We met with Paula, the cake-making lady, last night before visiting Eric's sister, and had a great meeting. She loves our idea for the cake, and she's happy to make three or four different flavors for the three or four different cake layers. And she advised us to go with slightly less cake, because not everyone eats it. We met her through Edith. In the car afterwards, I asked Eric, "Are you okay with not having a contract?" He said yes. I said I was a little nervous but I trust Edith, and he said, "A lawyer friend of mine said in a [World of Warcraft] discussion that there are two types of contracts that never go to court. One is the four-hundred-page one with all the ts crossed, and the other is the neighborhood handshake over a backyard fence."

Of course I wouldn't sue Paula if she didn't show up with the cake. She said, "And you can pay me whenever, afterwards if that's easier for you or whatever." I'm figuring on giving her the check when she shows up with the cake. If she didn't, we'd just tell everyone that we'd decided on ice cream instead of cake and pretend we'd planned it that way. And then Edith would never eat at her restaurant again. And that would be sad, because it's good food (and ice cream).

This weekend we will, if all goes as planned (ha!), get three projects out of the way: taxes, invitations, and the trash pile by the driveway. This is the trash pile that the previous owners said they'd move, but didn't. Last summer it grew volunteer tomatoes, so I don't know what they put in there--it's mostly old boards and some paneling and a lot of dead vines. But it's ugly, and it's useless, and I want it gone. I have already secured Eric's consent to help, and if the weather cooperates at all, we'll be out there once he can't stand working on grading anymore (which shouldn't take long). Yay for a prospectively productive weekend, especially since these past couple days I haven't gotten much done at all. Well, that's not true--I've visited people, helped Shel make lemon bars (and thereby make Eric's mom drool), and accomplished a wedding thing. (I also called the ring people. The girl who answered took my information and said someone would call me in a few days. Dunno why.) But this weekend will be more conventionally productive. Especially if I turn out to get a tax refund.

Gearing up

My garden is not that big. Maybe twenty by twenty? And part of that is a pathway I plan to lay and an Asian pear tree I plan to pamper as much as is necessary (which shouldn't be much--all I did last summer was pick the fruit and it was happy). I planted four raspberry canes and two blueberry bushes (in pots, as they like acidic soil--I hope I got approximately the right amount of sulfur in there with them) and a row of spinach and lettuce. Completely forgot about the peas, but I'll do that tonight (plus carrots) if it's not raining when I get home. If not, as soon as I can, just like renewing my driver's license, too. Oh, and call the ring place, since they won't accept an order by e-mail, and call to yell at my bank for not getting me online access to my savings account for the second time after I requested it--not that I'm bitter or anything.

Anyway, what was I saying? I was saying my garden isn't big. It will, however, afford me a decent amount of exercise, I can tell already. For one thing, I killed the grass last year and now it needs digging up, plus the whole thing needs digging in with humus and such. (I bought topsoil and a 90/10 mixture of humus/manure at Home Depot yesterday. The humus was cheaper. I also bought an aloe plant for at home and a "Polkadot," a coleus-like plant with red/green, pink/green, and white/green variations planted together, for work. It needs a different pot, though. This one's pink. It's also got a sticker saying "NOT FOR CONSUMPTION" on it, which amuses me no end.) There's actual planting, there's mulching (both the path and the plants themselves--apparently grass clippings are good for that), and then there's weeding. I'm hoping I got rid of a good number of weed seeds by pulling up the black fabric the previous owners had placed over most of the raised bed, but I'm sure plenty are still lying around, waiting for the first warm spring rain. Which is today. Hello, little weed nemeses.

Being sick in the garden of exploding eggplants and weddings

Being sick is lousy. This is not exactly an original thought, nor an original excuse for absence; but that's all I've got. Sniffling, nose-blowing (and accompanying Vaseline-itizing of my nose, a slightly disgusting but pain-saving measure), coughing, and popping aspirin have been occupying most of my time the past...two weeks now, though I was getting better last week and had this annoying resurgence. I'm sure my colds didn't used to last this long. I must be getting old. I've still got a dry cough that only responds to lots of liquids--medication doesn't seem to be helping at all. Yuck.

I've been anxiously awaiting planting weather, and it will be here Wednesday. I've never looked forward to spring quite like this. We bought raspberry canes and blueberry bushes and one grape vine this weekend, and I'll be planting them this week. I'm trying to decide whether to put the blueberries in containers, since they like somewhat acidic soil, or to plant them in the ground and put strawberries in the container instead, which will free up more room in the raised bed for parsley, which I want to grow for tabbouleh this summer. So many choices. Good for occupying my mind, though, since it requires no work and that's about what I've been capable of (or at least inclined for) until the last few days.

One night near the beginning of the cold I dreamed that I had planted zucchini and tomatoes in my bed, and I was trying not to move so that I wouldn't disturb them. I was disoriented for quite a while before I woke up enough to realize that there were no plants in my bed whatsoever and there was no reason I couldn't get up and reapply some cough syrup. (This was before I realized the cough syrup wasn't actually helping. All that horrible taste for nothing.) Another night I dreamed that my cousin Bev had planted eggplants and asked for my advice. I told her that the ones that had fallen backwards were fine, the ones that had fallen forwards were in trouble, and the ones that had shot their fruits up in the air like firecrackers were unusual but not a big problem.

We have two months and eight days until the wedding. This has scared both of us. The invitations are about half printed--it's on vellum so we're going slowly so as not to smudge them--and the map that Eric is spending way too much effort on is almost finished. We've decided that wedding stuff must now have first priority. We'll see how that works in practice. The house is a mess, partly because I haven't been on him quite as much to put stuff away, and I want it to be in good order (not just cleanliness-wise but things like putting up shelves, mulching the flower beds, putting the books away) for the relatives who will be coming to see it and the after-party that will be held in it. Not to mention a possible wedding shower Edith is--maybe--throwing for us. It's a nice thought but she seems to want us to do all the work, and neither of us are inclined to plan our own shower, especially since there are only two months and eight days until the wedding.

I had forgotten.

Oh my GOD does Robitussin taste bad. But I use it anyway, because my parents drilled it into me when I was small that if it tastes bad to me, it'll taste bad to the germs too.

Gardening, 2007: The beginning. I hope.

This year, I am growing a garden. I saved seeds last fall, tomato and pepper and eggplant and butternut squash and pumpkin and cantaloupe seeds, from things I bought and ate. I've bought seeds from The Andersons and Seed Savers and Pinetree Garden Seeds. I have little peat pots and growing soil and old containers and the gardening kit Phoebe gave me. I have a list of what needs to be grown when, and I have a map of what needs to be planted where. I am not sure that I will actually stick to this, but I'm not sure I won't, either.

I've never had a garden of my own. My childhood was full of our backyard garden, helping to move rocks (again: why aren't there any rocks in Ohio ground? It's unnatural!), breaking off sprigs of parsley to munch on, pulling up young carrots and eating them with salt and lemon juice. One year Mom and Dad planted the garden as usual and that year James and I got old enough that we stopped playing in the backyard, and in the fall they were shocked to discover they had a ton of fat carrots in their garden. We had carrots in the garage for months. In Baltimore I never thought of growing things. In Dayton I had a couple of tomato plants in pots on the balcony, but I honestly can't remember whether I got anything off of them. I must have, because every day during that hot summer I would come home and find them wilting, and water them, and by the time the sun went down they would be upright again. I wouldn't have gone to that trouble if they hadn't given me something for my trouble. Then when I moved to the house I planted some things, but they didn't do well, mainly because I didn't take care of them. And last summer it was too late, and the inside of the house had a higher priority than the outside, so all I did was pull up some weeds and plant a couple of poor plants that actually didn't do half bad, considering.

But I want a garden of my own. I want to grow things, and look after them, and eat their children. (Um.) Eric has already said that he mows the lawn and I can look after the rest of the outside (though he has agreed that watering is something he can do if necessary, though I have a greater heat tolerance than he does so it'll only be necessary if I'm incapacitated or, perhaps, overly resentful that I have to work while he gets the summer off), so this project's all mine. Which is why I'm planning on growing (or at least trying to grow; apparently saving seed is a risky proposition in these days of hybrid vegetables) zucchini and eggplant and butternut squash. There will also be things the boy can eat, like tomatoes and peppers and (especially) raspberries and strawberries, but mainly, this garden is for me. As if I need another hobby. But at least this one will get me some exercise and fresh air.

And so, here is my very first attempt for the year: starting my saved eggplant and pepper seeds. I've also ordered some heirloom eggplant seeds, but they haven't come yet--I was a bit late with the ordering because I thought Edith might want to order something and figured we'd save shipping--and I figured I shouldn't wait any longer; I'm about a week off as it is. These trays are from work; they hold tubes suitable for putting small bits of stuff in, and I figured they'd also be useful for putting small amounts of potting soil in to see if my seeds will germinate at all. I'm not positive this was a good idea, but hey; the seeds were free, and if all else fails I can always buy plants at The Andersons in a few months.

The river and me

Up until yesterday, the river had actually started to thaw. I drove to Andersons the day before yesterday, the sun beating at my cheeks, making my car almost uncomfortably warm, and crossed the river that was dark and flowing, and I wanted to cheer. My usual commute to work involves taking the big, I-75 bridge across the river (the Maumee, incidentally), and instead of being flat white it looked like a junkyard, or--better--like a beach after a rainstorm, sandy slabs piled over one another, cracking and crumbling, the water rippling and shoving from behind.

Yesterday, though, it was cold, and today it's snowing. I heard a weatherman say on the radio today that it's good we're getting cold weather in March, because if we didn't we'd be getting it in April. I'm still not used to this prolonged winter, and I've lived in Ohio for, what, four years now? (Christ. And another two to go.) I went to Andersons for soil and seeds to start some plants going, but I haven't employed them because I've fallen prey to a cold. I don't know where it came from, unless my seat at the symphony Saturday was germy, but my head aches and my sinuses hurt and yesterday my muscles hurt, and I've been having boring, stifled dreams. I had hoped that would be a fluke, but no, it seems that boring dreams are here to stay, at least when I'm sick. This is completely unfair. Last night I dreamed I was trying to start my garden, only I kept getting interrupted because I had to answer the questions: What is a garden? What is life? What makes for a good philosophy? etc. because they were crowding around me, blocking me from doing anything. And then I had to make a grid of all possible coordinates for someone. Blechh. My boss's boss is taking us to lunch today, as a thank-you for holding down the fort last week while half the department was gone, but I think I'm going to skip it and read Pride and Prejudice (I started it last night; I was in the mood for comfort reading) instead. We were going to Tony Packo's so it's not like there would be anything for me to eat anyway.

Mawwiage. And weddings.

We did some wedding stuff this weekend, finally. Eric got started doing the invitations (he's designing them in Illustrator, and getting an unholy amount of glee out of doing it) and I arranged a meeting with the cake maker. Today he's going to call the person at the thing (you had to be there) to find out whether we actually get a honeymoon this year, and I'm going to go get paper samples. And maybe some muslin for the kitchen curtains, because this lovely green linen blend I got is too dark. Any suggestions on what to do with approximately one-yard blocks of green linen are welcome.

And I was reading this Whatever post on how marriage is now mostly for the upper classes, or at least the non-poor. The comments veer towards the cost of weddings, with mentions of how marriage changes things. I don't think marriage will change anything fundamental for Eric and me. We've already committed ourselves to each other; we're already dealing with finances and obligations and life in general as a pair. (I still talk about my money as separate from his, but only in the present tense. We haven't technically joined finances yet, just bill payments.) We've had eight years to get to know each other, even though we've only spent the last two as a couple.

Bev told me that she felt the moment of legal marriage was more important than the ceremony. I'm sorry she feels that way, since we're going to be doing the legal stuff the Friday before and having the wedding on Sunday (but hey--at least they're only separated by two days, rather than my parents' two weeks), but I don't agree. (I'll take her along as a witness, though.) Some of those comments were on how doing things the traditional way is what drives up the expense of weddings, but they want those traditions--the cake, the dancing, the being carried around in a chair. I want that too--well, not those things specifically, but the reason that we're having a wedding at all is because I felt the legal recognition is not enough. We're not religious, but I recognize the ceremony of a wedding as deeply meaningful, to this culture and to me personally. I don't need my marriage recognized by God or state (though state is definitely useful, which is why we're doing it), but I do feel the need to stand up in front of everyone I love and say that I am no longer me but we; that on that day I am part of a new family as well as the old. Though in some ways that's false, because the new family is already begun. But I want the rite with which to say it, publicly and all at once, to everyone important to me and everyone who will need to know it in the future.

That aside, though, weddings are a pain. This is an extremely low-stress, relatively low-cost wedding and I'm wishing we'd gone with "a party in each hometown" or "ceremony at the courthouse, post pictures on a website afterward" instead. I've never been good at hosting parties. I hope this one will be fun. A lot of people are coming a long way at high cost to see this, and I want it to be both meaningful and enjoyable for them. Someone in that comments thread on Whatever said something about perhaps big, lavish weddings tend to precede failed marriages because the weddings become about the bride rather than the couple. (Notwithstanding that in the early days of wedding planning people kept telling me "Do what you want; you're the bride." Probably they still would if I were still talking to anyone about wedding planning.) I'm starting to think that the wedding is really about the guests, the way ceremonies are often about the witnesses. Trees falling in the forest, you know. Cats in a box with poison gas. Or maybe I just feel that way because I'm me, and I'm having second thoughts about walking up the aisle (of grass, under preferably non-dripping trees…), not because of who I'm walking towards but because I'm going to have to say things in front of nearly a hundred people and I'm probably going to be crying. Whose idea was this anyway?

Oh, well, that explains it.

"…She's pregnant? Really?"

"Yeah, she went to the same in vitro specialist--"

"She wasn't sleeping around?"

"No, she's not a slut."

"It's too bad, it would make me feel better about myself if she were."

"--The same in vitro specialist as Courtney Cox."

It prefers to walk.

I'm looking at seed catalogs online and I've noticed Temptation Strawberries (last listing on the page) in a few places. They sound lovely and I think I will order some. But what's with this "Plants also produce very few runners" business? I don't expect a strawberry plant to stay in a neat little hole without spreading. It's a strawberry. Isn't the point of a garden to celebrate the way life spreads and grows?

On feeling worthwhile

Well, the ice storm turned out to be a fizzle. There was a little ice, but nothing spectacular and nothing dangerous. I won't exactly say phooey, but it's close. At any rate, getting to work was uneventful. Being at work was not, because I had things to do almost all day. It was nice. I feel so much better when I feel like I'm contributing something. And I've discovered that when I feel I'm being useful at work, I'm happy. I don't need to be doing something extremely worthwhile (technical sales? Give me a break) or beneficial to mankind or exercising most of my brain. As long as I feel competent and useful, I'm content. Well, and if I have reasonably competent management and decent company policies.

I always figured I'd get to this point in my life and psyche eventually, where my ambition would finally quiet and I'd be okay with plodding my way through ordinary life. Everyone does it, after all, and I don't know that I believe so many skilled, intelligent people could live the proverbial life of quiet desperation without protest. It would probably be harder to content me if I didn't have other things that I do consider worthwhile and brain-exercising (or at least skill-developing) that I'm also quite involved in. Also--to be honest--if I didn't have the prospect of starting a new family. That figures into things way more than it used to, and--along with nagging my SO, going on cleaning binges, and cooking without measuring--helps to prove I am rapidly turning into my mother.

Another point in favor of the West Coast.

Have I mentioned that possibly the greatest point of contention between Eric and me is where we're going to live? I've promised him Toledo until he graduates, and he's promised me the West Coast for a few years, but after that we'll have to decide based on who hates the other's homeland least, where the jobs are, where the good school systems are, etc. Frankly I'm counting on his dislike for change to work in my favor, once we've lived in a house in Portland (or wherever) for a few years. Today we were in Ann Arbor, celebrating our eight-year anniversary of knowing each other (and one-year of being engaged) by going to the same cafe where we first talked, plus out to eat and also to Trader Joe's, because Toledo has no Trader Joe's. We've pretty much settled it that if we do move back here, we're going to move to Ann Arbor rather than Toledo. I like it better, and the job market would be friendlier for both of us, and apparently the schools are better, too.

We were in Trader Joe's (yay Trader Joe's! Except: boo Trader Joe's not having Granny Smith apple rings or eggplant cutlets or frozen peaches!) browsing the cheese aisle when someone who knew Eric walked by. He started talking to us, asking how he was, and were we stocking up for the snowstorm?

"It's supposed to snow?" we said. He said yeah, that's probably why the store was so full (and it was packed). When we got home we checked the news and yes, we're supposed to get ice accumulation of a quarter-inch tomorrow. That's ice. It may prevent me from going to work Monday, and I'm already having problems with the Valentine's Day snow day because my boss said to put it in as vacation, but the HR people said no because I'm not allowed to take vacation until I've been there six months (great place to work, stupid benefits policies), so I'm supposed to resubmit it as a floating holiday but now the pay period's passed so I don't know what's going to happen. Stupid Midwest winters.

She likes me, she likes me not

Eric's mom distributed Christmas presents at dinner tonight. These weren't from her, but from Eric's aunt, who lives in Atlanta. I've met her a few times. The first time she said little to me at first, then came to me later and said, "I'm sorry I've been so cold to you; you look so much like someone I don't like very much." Subsequent meetings have been while visiting her dying husband, but despite that she's seemed to like me and be happy that I'm going to be in the family. So these presents: Eric's mom, and Eric's sister, and Edith, and Edith's daughter Michelle, all got jewelry. I got a mezzaluna, a moon-shaped two-handled knife meant for mincing herbs. I'm not sure what to think of this. It's not that I'm displeased not to have received jewelry; I don't wear much and I probably wouldn't have much use for what she picked out for me, considering what the others got (pretty, but not my taste). But I'm pretty sure she doesn't know me well enough to know that. So did she get me this (admittedly interesting, though hardly essential) kitchen tool because she took the time to either think that I'd like a practical tool or ask Brenda or Edith what I'd like, or did she pick out something at random because she didn't feel I deserved the same kind of gift as every other female in the family? (Note that Edith and Michelle are not technically family. I mean, neither am I, but that will change in three and a half months. Edith and Michelle's status won't.) Or did she decide that if I should kill her nephew, I ought to at least have a nice sharp implement to do it most quickly and painlessly?

Crushed

It's a little late, but I enjoyed this mix of love and science. (I also enjoyed the World of Warcraft reference. Eric introduced Michelle to WOW on Tuesday. She loves it. I sent her character a kitten.) There was also this somewhat more serious study on love. And the Yarn Harlot has posted a good essay on the subject as well. All these sources say that romantic love is not really the end-all and be-all, despite what retailers say.

And me? I say Valentine's Day is a fraud. I am crushed. I am desolate. We went shopping for Valentine's Day candy last night and found it was only discounted by 20%. What madness is this?

Level 3 snow emergency!

Eric shoveled last night. He did. However, this is what our front yard looked like this morning:



The snow was blowing horizontally last night--I've never known snow to hurt before--and I knew I'd be late coming into work today. When we got up, though, it didn't seem so bad. Part of our driveway, true, looked like this:



But the middle of it looked like this, just because of the wind:



So we went out shoveling. Well, since we have only one shovel, Eric went out, and then I took a turn. While I was making a path to the road (no easy feat), Eric came out and yelled, "Come back inside! There's a level 3 snow emergency." A level 3 snow emergency, for those not in the know, means "All roadways are closed to non-emergency personnel. No one should be out during these conditions unless it is absolutely necessary to travel. All employees should contact their employer to see if they should report to work. Those traveling on the roadways may subject themselves to arrest."

I'm not keen on arrest. I also was not keen on trying to drive that street, from what I saw while shoveling. Driving home yesterday wasn't fun either, and I got home before much of the snow had come down. I already called my boss this morning to say that I'd be late, but now I've called to say I prefer losing a day's pay to getting arrested and/or stuck on the roads. He wasn't there--I hope he's not all day, though I think he can get voicemail from home--but the receptionist was, and when I inquired about the level 3 she said, "That's really your call. We're encouraging anyone to come in who can." However, I think this is because some of the work does require someone to be there every day; but my job is hardly essential, and even if I do have to take the day unpaid (I'm not sure whether we have one floating holiday a year or two) I'm going to enjoy a day home in the snow.

Money talk

We've been talking about money a lot lately, Eric and I. It's really interesting to have these conversations, partly because I've never had to consult someone else about money before (though I did, and still will, ask my parents for advice), and partly because this is part of that feeling I've been having, that my adulthood has been taken to second gear. A year ago I would never have considered these things we're discussing. (Well, a year ago I was unemployed, but you know what I mean.) We've got a mortgage, a car payment, student loans, two jobs, a wedding coming up, hope of a kid in the not terribly distant future, college for said kid some fifteen or eighteen years later, retirement, entertainment, travel money. We really don't spend that much, compared to a lot of people. We don't drink; we don't buy expensive clothes or cars or TVs; we don't go out to eat a lot. As far as entertainment goes, we spend money on World of Warcraft and craft supplies, the occasional dinner at Applebee's or Aladdin's (and I hope Salaam, a new Mideastern restaurant I read a review of last week; it's only a couple of blocks away and we both like Mideastern food, so we're going to have to try it), DVDs and books, and food geekery. He wants an expensive computer, but if he gets it it'll count as a couple of birthday/Christmas presents and he doesn't get an upgrade for a few years. We could reduce our spending, but not by a whole lot. And we're thinking and planning and doing pretty well with it. I enjoy these discussions, not for the actual discussion necessarily but for the feeling that we're taking care of ourselves and we know, at least somewhat, what we're doing.

He's more debt-tolerant and risk-tolerant than I am, so that's something we're working out. He recently paid off the last of his credit card debt, and he's going to start making payments on his student loans (he doesn't actually have to start until 2009), mainly because I want to reduce the amount of interest we pay by any means possible. We're talking about investing in some stocks; I know little about this, but it's supposed to be a good long-term investment, so that's something we're going to work on for kids' college and such. (I'm okay with a bunch of stocks in my retirement, though. I think it's because I don't have to think about that money--Vanguard sends me a statement every once in a while and that's enough. And the statements have been getting bigger, so stocks can't be that bad, right?) I read about credit card arbitrage a little while ago at work, and mentioned it to Eric, so we're doing some looking at credit card offers and what it would yield, and what if we put the money into the stock market, and what if it tanked, and would our parents kill us for even trying it, and so on.

We wrote down our general savings goals. Right now we're thinking $8000 for emergency funds in liquid accounts, $200,000 for college in fifteen to eighteen years, $2,000,000 by the time we retire (in 40 years or so), $25,000 for two cars in about five years, and as much as we can for a house down payment by whenever the next time we move is. We haven't analyzed what it will take to actually make this happen, though (except for the first one, which we've already got). We still don't know exactly how much of our savings to devote to college, to house down payments, to future car purchases, and so forth, but we're trying to figure it out. It makes me happy that we do have a good amount of savings in safe places--my new money market account and CDs at the moment. (I have all the extra cash because I make considerably more than he does--thus the student loans so that he can teach at a school that pays real money.) It makes me happy that I know the various things we'll need money for and that I can think about them without feeling overwhelmed...well, except when I look at the dollar amounts.

I'm also trying to figure out how much I can give way and let him do what feels comfortable to him versus what seems to me to save more money. For example, I would like to save up for our next car so that we can pay with cash rather than having to take out a loan, and he thinks a loan is fine because it's a lower rate and shorter term than a house. But, again, we don't know how much we're really going to have to play with--if and when we do have a baby, we'll have to find out how much that costs, and once he's out of school we don't know how much he'll be making, and once we move we don't know how much I'll be making or what housing costs will be...the more variables we consider, the more there are to add in. But I'm feeling that it's manageable, at least right now. And that it's okay for me to want a $340 birthday present, and to wonder whether we'll be getting money for the wedding, as mercenary as that sounds.

Here fishy fishy

I had my usual aquarium dream last night, only with a twist. (Well, first I dreamed I was in some sort of service program and we were going into space for a day, and I hadn't told anyone because I figured they'd be worried about me, and I was frantically packing my things because everyone had already left and I was afraid I was going to be late for launch.) Poking around my room, behind an interesting hand-blown asymmetrical glass vase Phoebe had given me (she hasn't), I found a glass globe. "Oh, it's my fish tank," I thought. And then, with unusual clarity, "There can't be anything in there, I don't think there ever was and I haven't looked at it in months." But I moved the vase and looked, and lo, there were lots of tiny fish, different colors and sizes, zooming around, and plants and algae dotted here and there. The aquarium was apparently quite happy being self-sufficient. Normally my aquarium dreams involve me realizing that I have an aquarium I haven't checked in months, and it's dirty and neglected, but there are always a few fish left alive. I guess my fish are doing better these days.

(I haven't owned an aquarium since...2000, it must be. These dreams must mean something, right?)

On the efficacy of being awake

Well. The baby quilt is done (and described at exhausting length--and no, I didn't mean exhaustive--at the craft blog), after sucking the whole of last week down its maw. It ended at 4:30 AM Saturday morning, when I finished the final hand stitch, shook it to get some of the thread snips off, and crawled into bed, moaning slightly as I set the alarm for 9:15. The reason for that was that we had a bunch of business at the bank, and in order to get to the shower at noon we wanted to be at the bank by about 10. As it turned out, I didn't even get my not-quite-five hours of sleep because Edith called at 8:30 to ask if we could pick up the cake. I said okay, somewhat sleepily and somewhat crabbily because I'd been woken up after four hours of sleep, and she said, "You can nudge Eric and call me back with your decision." I hung up, then shouted at the phone, "What's the deal!? I already said yes!" and Eric laughed at me.

We got our bank business done (I have a money market account now) and picked up the cake and all was well. The party was nice, though bigger than what I personally would have preferred--bigger than Eric's sister ultimately preferred, too, I think. She said later that this was only family and close friends, and she figured she ought to get it all done at once rather than have two or three showers. Apparently her dining and living rooms were full of stuff when they got home Saturday. My bed was full of me when I got home that afternoon. She did like the quilt, and I have plans for the pattern, so it all turned out well.

Sunday was nice and relaxing until about an hour after we went to bed, when Eric woke me up and said, "I feel like I'm going to have a seizure." He had three in one day about eleven years ago, and has been on medication ever since, but still gets simple partial seizures (funny feeling in only one area of the body and no loss of consciousness) occasionally. So we called his sister (a nurse) and his mom and went to the local hospital (where his sister works). He never had the seizure, but they found out that his potassium levels were severely low. Between that (low potassium can cause muscle tremors) and his worry about having a seizure and yet another cold he's caught, we figure that explains things. Anyway, we got home around 5 AM Monday morning, and once again I got four hours of sleep in the morning and a nap in the afternoon. He went to the doctor yesterday and the doctor is going to add some medication to his routine, which should help and may even get rid of the simple partials, which would be, as Eric said, "Very weird--but I could get used to it."

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Exhibit A: balaclavas. We had to shovel the driveway and sidewalk Sunday. Eric went first, and he has this balaclava from a couple of Christmases ago, and since it was cold and windy I suggested he try it. He came in after shoveling the entire driveway (silly, considerate boy; the plan was for us to share equally) and said it had been too much. My idea of too much warmth differs from his, though, so I put it on with my coat and fur-lined boots (which Eric had borrowed because he tried them and commented they were very soft and nice, but balked at wearing until I pointed out it would be dark and no one would see him in women's boots--he doesn't have any of his own). It was warm and soft and I loved it. Until I reached the sidewalk and bent over to start shoveling. It twisted, it moved, I smeared my glasses when I went to shove it into place and it covered one of my eyes so that I had no depth perception for part of my shoveling. For a walk, though, or something where I would remain upright, I still think they're a lovely thing.

Exhibit B: meatloaf made from Morningstar Farms "meat" crumbles. I used to love meatloaf, and Eric makes what smells and is reported as a pretty darn good one. One day, we bought these crumbles to make into a meatloaf. Sunday we actually did it. The crumbles, which are TVP, looked kind of precooked and didn't stick together really well, but we figured we'd try anyway. It came out still crumbly and smelling oddly of rice. The taste was somewhere between ground beef (as I remember it, anyway) and, indeed, rice, but the texture was just about right for meatloaf. (Eric tried a tiny, tiny bite, and confirmed this.) And it worked just fine as a ketchup delivery system. But then...the texture started to get to me, and the "I'm eating meat" experience started to bother me. The texture of meat is why I gave it up in the first place, and even with the ketchup I couldn't get through more than half a slice of this. I'm glad we tried it, though; now I know that (a) this idea doesn't work, at least for me, and (b) I'm not really a vegetarian just for spite.

Truncation

So I've continued to work on PV at work, in between the few tasks I've been given and meetings I've attended. (And one training meeting in which I truly understood the difference between someone who wants to teach and someone who wants to fulfill training requirements.) I would be almost done, except that I have determined that the end of PV makes very little sense and I don't even want to read it, much less keep it. So I have chopped off the last twenty-five thousand words and placed them in my Cut Scenes file (which, throughout the revisions, has now grown to larger than the current manuscript--it's XXXX and PV draft 3.5 is at 89,000) and I will be rewriting the entire end. I'm all aghast at doing this, not because I think it's a bad idea but because it's a lot of rewriting and I'm used to that 'The End' on the end of this manuscript. (Though in the plan for the new version of the end there's no need for Tyler, which means I may have to excise him completely, which would break my heart.) But maybe it'll be good for me. At the least, it gives me something to fill up my time at work. My boss and his boss said that they don't expect me to be working at my job with full capacity and understanding before the six-month mark, and I've just passed three, so I will have the time to fill.

Conservation of...something.

I got something in the mail from my cousin, a picture of her and her husband and her baby, and a little memorial card. I utterly forgot to get her a card or something this weekend. I was at ConFusion, yes, but still. The memorial is tomorrow. It would have been good to get it there by then, so that she could start trying to put it behind her. But I have to do something.

And then I got an e-mail: Phoebe is pregnant! She had always spoken of it as something that might or might not happen, but she sounds really excited about it, and I'm happy for them. Also thinking of the baby stuff I can make. Like I needed more. Though keeping Eric and me out of Babies 'R' Us would probably be a wise idea now. There was this adorable little girl at the con, dressed all in pink with little fairy wings, and we both fell in love with here. It's four months and five days until the wedding. We're designating this weekend as a wedding planning weekend because we still have lots to sort out, but that's not why we're counting down.

I finished the hat for Eric. No picture yet, maybe later. First we have to go to the grocery store and get cards and Coke and fruit, and finally put our Christmas tree out (don't ask), and season the new Dutch oven that we've had for over a week and clean the house and so on. And I have to work on this baby quilt for my future niece/nephew so that I can get going on the next thing.

Confusion

I’m currently at work, awaiting my coworker's verdict on something I did for her. I hear her calculator going, but I don't know if she's looking at my stuff now or not. I've been occupied with it for hours, which is kind of nice. I've been <cough> working on PV all week at work. It's been very nice except for the guilt of devoting my work hours to something I'm not getting paid for. (But there really hasn’t been much for me to do. Some, now that my boss is out of town for the week and the others in the department are having to cover for him, but not much.)

Oh, and my cousin is fine. She and her husband sent a slightly gruesome picture of their son out with his vital statistics (um, I guess not 'vital' in this case…) and such. I'm glad they're okay but, frankly, horrified they sent the picture.

It also occurred to me later that they, or someone, had dressed him. It's not as if he was cold. I also have a slightly gruesome mind.

Anyway. We're off for ConFusion in a few hours, where I shall knit Eric's hat. (I swatched it yesterday and found out what people mean when they talk about silk having a "crunchy" hand.) Also talk to people, attend panels, buy stuff, eat free food, admire/be horrified by costumes, feel shy, knit with others, and the like. For some reason I'm looking forward to it a lot more this year than I have in previous years. I hope I still feel this way come Sunday afternoon.

Regret and delay

My cousin's baby died. She's at the hospital now, where they're trying to induce labor. I can't imagine what it must feel like. Now I'm kind of glad I decided not to make the baby a blanket--I was going to because if he lived through delivery he wouldn't have had any baby things because my cousin cancelled the baby shower when we heard about the trisomy 18, but I put it off because she still has...had...a month to go and things were looking uncertain. Now they're certain. (In "Charlie's Angels" the bad guy says at one point, "They say that in death, all life's questions are answered," and I always say to him, "Yeah, with 'no.'" Does anyone else talk to characters in movies like that?) I wish I were closer to her so that I would feel comfortable calling to say how sorry I am. I also wish I weren't so...I don't know. Practical? Cold-hearted? Why do I care about whether I started to make a blanket? This is the second baby she's lost.

In happier news (and really, there isn't much that isn't going to be happier), we're making peach ice cream again. At the grocery store this weekend they were selling peaches and nectarines and watermelons and cherries, and we were confused but we bought them all except the watermelon. Yesterday we froze the peaches, today I macerated them, and tomorrow we'll mix the batter and freeze it. And we'll play World of Warcraft, because the expansion (Burning Crusade) came out today. I logged on early to see what it was about, then did a few other things, and when I came back there was an hour's wait to get into the game server. If you're having problems with your cable, that's why.

Charity

We got haircuts Saturday, Eric and I--he got a real cut, I got about three inches whacked off the ends of my hair to get rid of the split ends. I'd forgotten that while I don't like going to the hairdresser, I like having a new haircut, and I'm still pleased with even the simple change. Anyway, during my haircut/whack my phone rang, and since my hairdresser was saying "Are you so excited about your wedding?? Is this the longest your hair has ever been??" I merely turned the sound off. Later, in the bookstore (only $40 damage, but that was after a buy-3-get-1-free deal, plus $27 in rewards points, plus 20% off) I tried to listen to it, but for some reason I can't get signal in the Toledo Borders. It works right outside their doors, it works elsewhere in the mall, but not in that store.

I listened to it last night. "This is an important message," it said. "This is your credit card company. We need to check some recent activity on your account. Please call back at _____." So I did. The guy I spoke to asked me for my account number and password, and then described a pharmacy transaction and then an online transaction, a donation to the Red Cross. "And the card is in your possession?" he said. I said yes. "All right, thank you very much. The Red Cross transaction was the one we wanted to check. Have a nice night."

I hung up thoughtfully and told Eric what he'd said. He asked a couple of suspicious questions, such as, "Did you have to go through a menu to talk to a person?" (I hadn't), and I turned over my card and noted that the customer service number there was not the same one that I had just called. "Call the number on the card," Eric said. "I think you just got scammed."

So I did. I went through the menu and gave my account number and password to another guy, and told him why I was calling, and he looked up my account and said, "Yup, that was us." Then he tried to sell me a line of credit, so I know that call was legitimate.

So it wasn't a scam and it's nice that my credit card company is checking on me. But I'm left a little unsettled by the fact that the transaction that triggered the check, the one that didn't fit my pattern, was my Red Cross donation. I suppose this is the case for a lot of people, but still, apparently I need to think a little more about my charity giving.

Gas station memories

Gas was $1.96 on my way home today. I never thought I'd see it below $2.00 again. And yes, I remember that it wasn't very long ago at all that I was complaining that I had finally done the awful and paid $2.05 for gas, to get to Columbus to catch a plane, and I have a hazy memory of the exact gas station I did this at. Apparently it was a landmark memory. I wonder if I'll remember today. Since I didn't stop for gas (being full of $2.09, I think), probably not.

Violets in the snow

After a year of green and slowly dying leaves, my African violet has flowered again.

The pictures

My beloved handwarmers:


My beloved's hat yarn:


When I finished that one skein I told him, "I made you yarn!" and then, "Well, not really. I guess I made me yarn. Which I'll use to make you a hat. You don't really want yarn." The color isn't true...the earlier pictures were more accurate. It's lovely and soft and that skein is about 40 yards, which means about 120 total, and since it's fatter and bouncier than the sample I think that will be enough for a hat, even for Eric's enormous head. (He needs volume to store all that brain. And possibly extra spoons.)

I am creating a new blog for my crafts. I haven't decided for sure on a title yet (I'm not good with titles...couldn't come up with a great one for my latest quilt project, either, but Baby's First Castle will do), but I think I'd like to concentrate my efforts there. Oh great, even less content here. I'm not sure if posting less is a natural side effect of...something...or if it's something I should combat. We'll see.

Some answers

No M for the wedding. Boo. I guess this makes deciding on apparel easier; now I can just tell Bev "Get a nice dress in this color" and take Michelle shopping once she's gotten it. This week we need to e-mail photographers and get vest sizes and research online ordainment. I'm trying not to overload on stuff-we-need-to-do; I started crying in the shower last night worrying about stuff. And I'm not even all that stressed about it. It's That Time of Month, I suppose. Also it's the day before my three-month evaluation, the one that determines whether I get medical insurance or an unemployment check, and while I don't think it's my fault I've been feeling both useless and bored at work I worry that feeling such means I am such, and then why would they keep me? It's definitely time for some chocolate and a good book.

Oh, yeah. And I discovered why we seemed to be running out of spoons so fast. I noticed three on Eric's desk yesterday and said, "Would you take those spoons downstairs?" He started to gather them up to comply; then he found the handle of another peeking from under the voluminous piles on his desk and found, in the end, seven more of them. Ten spoons. He cleaned his desk last night. Apparently I'm going to have to enforce this ritual more often than twice a year.

The nonexistent captions

I keep meaning to take pictures so I can put them up here. But I don't do it. So I'll do it later and expound now.

The text to go with the nonexistent pictures: I feel like it's all spinning, all the time sometimes. And I don't even have a wheel yet. Here are my hand-spun, hand-dyed, hand-knit handwarmers, which I love beyond imagining. Don't even start with me about the colors.

And here's the first of the yarn for Eric's hat. I also love this yarn beyond imagining. (Wait until I have kids, the superlatives will get worse.) It's super-soft and fluffy and much more even than I had been afraid of. I also learned things on this yarn, most importantly, I think, how to find out what a balanced yarn is supposed to look like. I even wrote a pseudo-article on it, which I may look at again in a few months and clean up and consider sending somewhere.

Turns out socializing is good for you: I went to a Metroparks History Department volunteers meeting yesterday, to talk with the volunteer coordinator and see if it was something I wanted to help out with. Turns out it is, very much. They depict the mill and the canal they have as they were run in the 1850s, so they teach the volunteers about household chores and tinsmithing and blacksmithing and cooking and doing the laundry with the wringer, and have them act it out during the summer and through the fall. (The regular staff does the actual working of the mill and the lathes.) They were much excited to find out that I already knit and sew and spin. And I actually got to try a spinning wheel for the first time, and confirmed my suspicion that I need a castle (upright, non-handed) wheel, because the Saxony (traditional, Sleeping Beauty type) ones are right-handed and I do, indeed, spin left-handed.

On New Year's resolutions: I've gotten the baby quilt designed and most of the template pieces cut out, I've done some writing, I've sent Eric out gaming so that I could have an evening to myself. I'm still worried about all the things that need doing, but I'm working on lessening that (both the worry and the number of things). Next I need to sign up for time off for my wedding shower in April and my wedding in May, and find out how to get someone ordained.

To ring in the new

Christmas went well. I got some good things (including The Bread Bible and a great stone mortar and pestle--I got two, actually, so I traded the steel one in for a kitchen scale, which is also great), and so did Eric, and everyone seemed to like the presents we got them. Mom and Dad appreciated the miniature tree and stockings I sent them, as they never got their boxes of Christmas decorations from the old house, and Bev was delighted with the candles we left for them. Dinner was good--though I learned that preshredded cheese does not work for my mom's potato-cheese casserole. (At what point does it become mine?) We visited people and played games and had a good time.

The week between then and now was also good; it was very quiet at work, and I regained my health and munched my way through most of the popcorn tin. (Ahem. But I love this stuff at Christmas, and I only get it at Christmas.) I spent some time at work writing my 2006 Annual Review, which was longer than I expected, and my goals for 2007. It's been an interesting year, and I have some interesting goals.

In 2006, I started out unemployed. In February I got engaged. In April I went to Korea to visit my family and my mother's homeland for the first time ever. In May I got a job that I turned out to despise. In June I bought a house. In August Eric started school for his education degree. In September I quit the old job and got a new one. In November we heard that my cousin's baby has trisomy 18. That's not much of a way to end the year, but they're doing as well as they can, and otherwise things look good for both our families.

As for goals, here are some of my major ones:

1. Take more time to do the things I want and need to do--writing, crafts, cleaning--rather than give way to shared time. In this past year I've spent a lot of time doing what Eric wanted, or things that we could both do, rather than doing things on my own. I don't think that was wrong, necessarily, but I've been dissatisfied with it, and I think the only way to be less dissatisfied is to give up some of my shared time (which I do love) and take back some of my individual time.

2. Related, I want to be less dissatisfied with myself in general. I spend a lot of time being critical of myself, listing all the things i haven't done, need to do, have failed to do in the past. To-do lists are a good thing, but only so far.

3. Get through the wedding.

4. Write fiction. My two projects that I haven't finished (and want to work on), and just generally get back into the habit of it. I think I'm at a place, mentally and physically, where I can do that now.

5. Write nonfiction. There are some things I'm interested in doing, and I want to pursue this, at least a little bit.

6. Continue spinning. I'm really enjoying this. I've already told Eric he's getting me a spinning wheel for my birthday. (This way he gets me something I really want and he doesn't have to worry about picking it out. Also I'm going to pay for most or all of it.)

7. Continue crafting. I have baby quilts and curtains and socks to make--though nothing urgently, which is a luxury and one I'm enjoying right now. But I like being both creative and productive, and there are some things I want to practice and accomplish.

8. Continue yoga and get into some other regular exercise. I turned out to like yoga a lot more than I thought I would (because of its lack of aerobic effort). I got a yoga mat for Christmas, and that would also be excellent for pilates, which I liked and got out of the habit of in the past several months--see #1.

I think that's doable. I have an "Annual Review 2006" file (also others, under various names, going back several years). I did okay with last year's goals, but that's partly because I didn't set myself many because (a) I was feeling depressed about life and (b) I never finished writing the review. So 2007 has higher standards set for it. I think I can meet them.

And now, to eat French toast and do dishes and fold laundry and get ready for a small but pleasant New Year's party, with food and friends and games and sparkling cider. Welcome, 2007.

Merry Christmas.

The cookies are baked and decorated (if somewhat sloppily, owing to a bad roll of tape rendering my clever parchment-paper decorating tubes useless). The potato-cheese casserole is prepared and in the oven. (It tastes better the next day.) The presents are wrapped, even Eric's to me, and Brenda's house has been decorated and her tree lavishly ornamented. The cold has been reduced to the cough (annoying but endurable) and a little sinus pressure. I think it's gonna be a good Christmas here; I hope it's the same wherever you are.

Hack cough cough hack wheeze gasp cough

I may hate a cough more than any other cold symptom. Especially a dry one like this. I am not confident I'll be able to sleep in more than one-hour segments tonight. The various medicines I'm taking don't seem to help. Yuck yuck yuck.

Tomorrow morning we're going to the bank. Then grocery shopping (I figure at this point the sooner we do it, the better), then possibly visiting with the mothers to cheer them up regarding what may be an extremely suboptimal Christmas schedule. All the while chugging tea.

Solutions

This cold began weirdly. First with a sore throat, which isn't all that weird. Then, an absolute lack of stuffy or runny nose (which is) and instead an inability to stand up without dizziness and nausea. Then more sore throat and cough. Now it's finally coming into the nose. I have found that drinking hot tea keeps my throat soothed and the cough at bay--but I have to keep drinking it. I am extremely hydrated right now.

The yoga yarn, on the spindle, was ridiculous. When I get home (I’m at work, with an ever-shrinking amount to do) I’ll post a picture. It was around two ounces, 160 yards, which is not in the least an unreasonable amount of yarn. But this was not what a spindle is supposed to look like with yarn on it. There's a hook somewhere at the top, but I couldn’t see it because it was blocked by the excess of yarn. Sometime in 2007, I am getting a spinning wheel. I've been researching them the past few days and I'm thinking a Lendrum, because it's versatile, left-hander-friendly, well-made, pretty, and relatively cheap (for a spinning wheel). That's assuming I buy new. But I'm absolutely not buying anything fiber-related until February, and probably not getting the wheel until my birthday (in April), so I can also look around for used. The yoga instructor (who adored the yarn) promised to keep an ear out for me. Next is Eric's hat yarn, and then some gift yarn while I experiment with different techniques. I think E would like some, and the old needlework group (they still meet, they told me at Marie's shower, though they often play cards rather than working on their projects) would appreciate some, I think--the thought, if nothing else.

ETA:

There's more blue and green underneath, you just can't tell.

Our last Christmas shopping occurred Wednesday. Yay! It was pretty painless. We went shopping last Sunday, in a moderately bad press of people at the mall, and even though I was sicker, Eric got tired of shopping first. When I said, back in July, that I wanted to work on Christmas shopping in September he scoffed. He expressed horror. He expressed disdain. Sunday I suggested working on Christmas shopping in September next year and he promptly agreed. (We did actually start Christmas shopping in September, at the rock and gem show; we just didn't follow up and finish it.)

When we were out, we discovered that those Visa/Mastercard/AMEX gift cards that work just like cash? They require a $4-$6 activation fee. We were going to send one to Eric's sort-of-sister in Las Vegas (because she just had a baby and what they need now is really money), but we've now decided that we'll either get them a Target gift certificate or just giftwrap some cash.

Last night was cookie making with Michelle. Aside from intervals of impassioned coughing, it went pretty well, though Michelle definitely still needs improvement in the paying-attention-to-the-recipe department. Bev called while we were on the third dough, a gingerbread (she’s going to let me borrow her veil, and also she has donated her old car, which she bought from me exactly four years ago yesterday, to ALA because she has a new car), and Michelle was content to proceed by herself, with the occasional whispered “Yes” or “No” from me when she asked whether she should use the low mixer setting or had she mixed it enough. Once I hung up she announced she was done. I looked at the scrawny, soggy dough and decided to do an audit. She had added only one quarter of the required one and three-quarters cups of flour, half the molasses, and no sugar at all. We fixed that and watched “Muppet Treasure Island,” and then the mothers took her home (with a bike, but she won’t know that until Christmas) and I wrapped presents and went to sleep. I woke up twice, coughing, just like the night before, but at different intervals. My coworker today (one with whom Eric and I are going to double-date, in order to see whether we can reduce a waiter/waitress to tears through sheer pickiness) said I sound better than I did yesterday. This weekend should be a pretty lazy one, so maybe I’ll actually be feeling better by Christmas. I’d take that as a present. It hasn’t been a very festive Christmas season, but I’d settle for health at the end of it.

I hate being sick.

I have stuff to say, but no energy to say it. I've got Eric's cold, complete with relapse and lingering cough. Yuck. I hope to be well by Christmas. The yoga yarn was a success; I didn't get a picture of it in the skein but you should see it on the spindle. When I'm better. Or at least less tired.

The best thing I learned today

Saying "Customer Service Representative" as soon as the smarmy automated guy in the Toledo Edison automatic telephone menu starts talking about the main menu will get him to say "I'll transfer you to someone who can help you" immediately.

Yoga yarn, part 2

This is the roving that I dyed last Monday:


And here's what half of it looks like today:


I had debated on whether to split the roving many times, to make stripes, or just the once, to get a two-ply yarn that would go continuously from yellow to green to blue. But I really wanted the one color change, so I split it just the once. Then I realized I only had about two ounces and that might not be enough to make anything, and should I Navajo-ply each half separately to make into two matching yarns, because then Katie could finish the ends of something or make matching wristbands or something? I finished spinning this half of it yesterday (while watching more Alton Brown DVDs, an early Christmas present to Eric) and spooled it onto the back of my chair, which charmingly is just about a yard around, and found that this little skein contains about 200 yards. That's enough to do something with. I could still Navajo-ply it and its twin, which would give me two 70ish-yard skeins, but now that I know there's enough for a hat or a lacy scarf I'm happy to just make the one big skein. So I've got slightly over a week to spin the other half, ply and set.

In the meantime, I've been doing a little writing, plus decorating the house, doing housework, making earrings for Michelle from Santa (imitations of some earrings she saw at a craft show we went to Thursday that she couldn't have because she doesn't have pierced ears), and taking care of my poor sick fiance. He's feeling marginally better, but I'm starting to seriously consider Dad's recommended remedy of honey, lemon, and whiskey.

Yoga creativity

I had yoga tonight. It's something that the mothers and their friend and I have been doing, every other week (except two weeks ago), since September, and while I wouldn't have said I needed it--I'm pretty stretchy anyway, due to ballet then and pilates now (well, a much more recent then)--I've been enjoying it very much. The instructor, Katie, also knits, and she's working on her third book and looking for an agent. She always has a lot of energy and warmth, and I enjoy having her over. (We do this at my house; she used to have classes but stopped because the rent was too much. She says if she had my house she'd do classes out of the living room.) Today we talked about a sweater she designed herself, and how she hurt herself helping a friend, and in the actual class we did a bunch of stretching. And I felt like being creative. I told her this, and she nodded and said, "Isn't it great?" When they left I dyed some merino/tencel into a springy blue/green/yellow colorway to make her a Christmas present. I've got one spindle free, I can do it in two weeks. And I wrote about six hundred words on Shoelace--switching POVs helped a lot. And I made my poor sick stressed fiance laugh. Maybe there are more reasons than I thought for making time for exercise.

Craft babbling will now commence. With pretty pictures!

This is the merino-silk roving that I dyed with what Eric tells me is Prussian blue:

The plan is for me to spin it on my new spindle, which came today--finally, after three weeks; I wrote yesterday to ask what was taking so long and the spindle maker wrote back to say his wife's grandmother had died, he was sorry for the delay, and I felt lousy. But it's a lovely, lovely spindle, the Quantum Butterfly in padauk.

Here the roving is tied at the one-third and two-thirds marks, because I want to make a three-ply yarn and I don't spin evenly enough to trust a Navajo ply and I figure the way to waste the least will be to divide the roving into thirds while it's still relatively easy to handle, not when I've got six hundred yards of single. The card is my sample, and it confirms that I love this fiber, this color and this plying choice. It's probably going to come out to be about five stitches per inch, which is reasonable for a hat and doesn't tax my love for the recipient too severely.

I also finished those extremely cute baby booties for Marie's baby, but it's too late to go take a picture now. These booties are now going to be my stock baby shower gift, I think. Each one took about an hour to make and the set hardly dented the ball of yarn.

I hear rain outside and I hope that weather.com meant it about not getting down to freezing tonight. Tomorrow will be bad enough without icy roads. Saturday I plan to go to Jungle Jim's after the shower and spend a couple of hours there, then head back up for house maintenance and Christmas shopping and such. At work tomorrow I will be doing not much, as usual, but that might change next week. We'll see. And I might be watching someone perform a long test, though she hasn't seemed particularly welcoming--though not unwelcoming either--and I hate to push myself in like that; but I may as well try to earn my paycheck by being pushy as not.

Okay, that was a tangent I didn't mean to get on, and it's late. Sleep beckons and I answer.