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This morning I am full of nostalgia. Perhaps it is because the temperature this morning is below fifty, but this afternoon it will be up near ninety. In Boise, this spells FALL. Perhaps it is because the lipstick I grabbed this morning is a color I wore daily from 1990 to 1998, and haven't worn since (c'mon, it goes with my outfit and looks way better without black eyeliner used as lipliner!). The scent of it alone is reminding me of my pseudogoth years. Maybe it is because I am feeling worn down, worn out, tired. Though I have done a good job of self-preservation this summer, my work has been much more challenging and my summer social life still gangs up on me occassionally. Maybe my nostalgia is about remembering what can be so great about fall--snuggling in for the winter, lots of knitting, and time to take a nap.
Relatedly, I'm thinking of planning a solo vacation to somewhere with pools and fruity drinks. Or maybe the Oregon Coast--beaches and wind and clam chowder! Anyone have good tips for travelling alone? Is it hard to enjoy a good meal in a restaurant? Is it appropriate to bring a book?
1. I finished the dress, Vogue 2902 (do I really have to link it again?). Full review and pictures to follow. Sometime.
2. My place of employment has recognized me as a rock star (if "Pseudolibrarian" and "Rock Star" can be somehow conjoined). This pleases me.
3. In other work news, I have recently unearthed a large portion of my desk surface that has been cowering under towers of junk for years. It is freeing.
4. This summer I have done an excellent job of staying busy, but not SO busy as to be totally stressed out. Yay to saying NO to overcommittment. Yay to saying YES to having fun. Maybe wisdom really does come with age.
5. Pseudo-Pittsburghians Leah and David are leaving tomorrow. Boo. I suppose this will be okay with me, but only because my brother and sister-in-law fly in on Friday. Hooray!
Right now one of the Mormon kids upstairs is trying to figure out how to play the cello line of Pachelbel's Canon in D. On the electric bass. With the amp turned up much too loud for 9:30 on a school night. But more irritating than the volume? IT'S THE CELLO LINE OF PACHELBEL'S CANON IN D. THIRTEEN MEASURES REPEATED OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN. SERIOUSLY. Murder cannot come to them too soon.
In related news, I successfully performed my vacuum surgery earlier. And did my vacuuming while it was still light outside and the neighbors were gone on a bike ride. Because I am considerate like that. Wow were my floors dirty.
Since I apparently shared enough drivel with the internetosphere today, I feel obligated to give an update on my really long fingernail. It broke, finally. Though it did not break in a horrific, backwards bending, pain inducing manner. Hooray! Rather, as I was screwing the top on my water bottle after refill and chat with Fern, I somehow bumped the nail on some plastic and the long tip simply cracked--at exactly the right length to still be a long nail, but not impede typing. It isn't even very jagged. This, I'm guessing, is the best thing that's going to happen all day.
Hey. Do you ever have day(s) where you are just preternaturally cranky? Where it isn't PMS, or even sleep depravation, but still the tiniest little grain of sand in your shoe makes you want to SCREAM BLOODY MURDER? I think my ability to cope has been pushed to the limit. It is time for a vaction. If only my life would allow for a vacation right now! Alas it is not to be, and I've got to find a way to turn down the crank. Does anyone have any grand suggestions that don't include homicide? Because I'm thinking that might ultimately not be the best plan.
After a laundry marathon this weekend, I feel like my time off was cut short. (By the way, thanks Devlyn! Baby Kitty came out and let me get within 3 feet of her while singing a stupid Baby Kitty song! My plan to get her to like me is well under way.) Then most of my night last night was caught up in this incredibly strange dream where I ran into this awful ex of mine and we decided on the spot to get married. So in my dream I basically eloped with this jerk who called me a liar about some important stuff a number of years ago. And believe it or not, but in my dream we didn't live happily ever after. Shocker!
The irritation of the weird dream was nothing compared to the exXxtreme irritation I felt all weekend towards the little Mormon newlyweds who are subletting upstairs from me this summer. Honestly they are nice enough kids (and by "kids" I mean "young adults aged around 25-ish"). My guess is that they have not ever lived in an apartment before. Or at least never in a downstairs unit. If they had, they might realize that it really isn't polite to stomp, run, tackle, dance, nervous twitch foot tap, bounce, or walk like an elephant. Constantly. Night and day, and especially night. Now I know it isn't nice of me to turn my television up to 20 or slam cupboard doors, but I really feel it is up to me to remind them that they do have neighbors. Gah! I need to do more yoga. The stress of what are frankly minor (even though CONSTANT) irritations is bad for my health. Breathe in, breathe out.
Now I am at work trying really hard not to freeze to death (when it is 66 degrees outside, it isn't necessary to have the a/c pumping Building Services), but really I would like to go home and finish all the stuff I never quite got around to this weekend because what with all the laundry and cupboard slamming I didn't perform any vacuum surgery (I maybe sucked up some dead plant leaves that maybe clogged up the inner workings and now my vacuum blows instead of sucks, maybe) or make it to the fabric store to pick up the rest of the pieces of my red dress (a zipper is pretty essential at this point and I don't have an extra in my notions storehouse). Why can't all weekends be at least three days. Or more?
Just in case you were wondering (and you probably were not), I have not yet broken the incredibly long fingernail on my left ring finger. It is so long that I am having a hard time typing the letter "s", so I'll henceforth avoid it a_ much a_ pocible. (Hee! See what I did there? Avoiding the "s" key? I'm cracking myself up.) However, I expect it to crack any day now, probably in a painful manner and the best approach would really be a pair of clippers. Can anyone deliver a pair of clippers to my office, stat?
I also had it on good authority while out for a stroll last night that even with all my bitching and moaning about my cell phone not working at my house since my move, it has not been clearly and plainly annouced that since I moved in June I have discovered that my cell phone doesn't work at my house. I do not currently pay for a landline as well as a cell phone (this seems silly as I am just the one person), and so this lack of cell phone working AT MY HOUSE has been a little inconvenient. Anyway, I would just like to state that if you have tried to reach me by telephone in the last 2.5 months and I have not answered the phone, answered the phone but hurried you off as quickly as possible with lots of traffic noise in the background (because I am standing in my front yard trying to get a signal), or answered the phone and repeatedly asked "Can you repeat that? My phone doesn't work in my house and you are cutting out", I would like to apologize. My cell phone doesn't work in my house. I am currently working on figuring out a proactive solution. It may include a new handset, or it may include the internets.
The last thing up this weekend is that I am getting pretty darn excited because my friends Zach and Corey are getting gaymarried tomorrow. You know what that means, right? The awesome little black cocktail dress I made for the lovely Sara will be making it's debut. Compliments accepted. No seriously, while I wasn't able to scrape together enough cash dollars (or time away from the neverending work) to attend the event myself I couldn't be happier for The Pants's if I tried. Yay gay marrying!
Quick! Hurry! If you are interested in pictures of my recent sewing projects, click here! I'll caption and crap later!
This weekend I finished up Sara's dress, and started on the one I have decided to make for myself (Vogue #2902). I always have grand plans of these things I am going to make, but always find myself waiting for a time when it doesn't matter if there is a monsterous mess in my house for weeks on end. This summer I am finding that when an entire (giant) room of your house is devoted exclusively to mess making, there are no excuses and lots of stuff gets done. So I need to vacuum like its going out of style and the laundry is piling up--pretty stuff is emerging from the Room of Mess.
[pictures to come--too busy sewing to grab them off the camera!]
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