All that jazz

The last of the gifts arrived via UPS this morning. Note to self: remember to check receipts at some point in the very near future to make sure. Nearly all of the holiday shopping this year was done online. Oh, how I love thee, Sweet Internet Shopping Carts and Free Shipping Gods. Of course, there are a few gifts that I must purchase in person, but those things are few and far between. Pretty sure I can manage it before the 24^th.

*****

Just finished the holiday letter (not sure if I’m going to send it to everyone, my humor has not improved with age) and I ordered cards with the family picture on them to send. I should have the cards in time to mail between Christmas and New Years (or shortly after New Years), because anything arriving from me in the mail *before* Christmas would cause spontaneous combustion or heart palpitations or something. I’m just not that organized.

*****

And now that I mention organization: I am actively avoiding cleaning out my closet because, holy crap on a cracker, there isn’t much in there I’m going to keep. Having officially rid myself of 46.5# since June (I’m not done yet) and also having officially No Job Prospects in the Foreseeable Future makes keeping a closet full of suits that don’t fit and office-wear I don’t need not just silly, but a stupid waste. A lot of the pieces were expensive and of superior quality. It is just a shame such things are collecting dust, crammed in the back of a closet.

The dressers have been weeded through, however. I’m going to donate no less than 16 pairs of jeans of various repair, size, and color to my mother to do with as she pleases. I have a feeling she’ll make some kind of quilt out of them, which would be kind of cool. I’m also going to donate no less than 30 t-shirts, tank tops, sweatshirts and various what-have-you items to the Salvation Army or similar, because I just don’t want or need all that baggage. Feels good to get rid of it. And I know once I get through my closet, I’ll have similar good feelings, but it is just so damn daunting. Easier to keep the doors shut and not even look in there.

So in effort to continue avoiding my closet, this week I’ve cleaned out and rearranged two china cabinets, the spice cupboard, the cupboard that holds most of my coffee cups, travel mugs and water bottles, the bathroom closet and all of the vanity drawers. I’ve moved all the furniture and vacuumed or mopped as required. As previously mentioned, I’ve written the holiday letter and purchased holiday cards. I’ve also sat on the couch and looked at a few magazines. 

*That* is how much I’m dreading going through all that is in my closet. No small task.

*****

In an effort to find some Holiday Spirit - somewhere, anywhere - I’m currently listening to “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” The Original Soundtrack by Vince Guaraldi. Now if the weather would cooperate and get below 40 degrees F and possibly even snow again, that would help. Since I don’t have to go anywhere on a daily basis anymore, having snow and ice doesn’t bother me in the slightest. (Ok, I still don’t like winter, but if I can stay home, who cares?) Snow makes my semi-sorta-daily walk with the dog interesting, but I’d rather wear cleats and walk on snow and ice than deal with muddy, slimy gravel roads. 

So there.

And I bother because of course

The longer the list
I have a list of things I need to get done today. It is a very long list and every task is hugely time consuming and overwhelming and my stars and garters, why do I even bother?

The Internet beckons, and I will answer. ’Tis Friday, after all.


Temporary grounding
Muffin is one of those kids that I’ve never worried about much. I mean, she makes good choices and tries her best and works hard and all that, so I’m not really concerned she is going to do something silly or stupid and land in jail or launch her pickup off a bridge. You know? The stuff some parents of kids her age are dealing with…wow. I just don’t have those concerns with her.

Anyway, she decided to be a teenager last weekend. The plan was for her to go to a (local) college volleyball game - actually a tournament - and watch. After that, she wanted to go to the movies with her friends, and I was totally ok with the agenda as she explained it to me. Except she didn’t go to the volleyball games. She went to the mall instead, and then went to the movies. She didn’t tell me her plans changed, and when I asked her about the games, she lied.

Ooo, baby.

I’m ok with plans changing, but the not telling me and then lying about it? That is a line one does not cross with me, especially if you are my offspring.

Anger didn’t factor in. I was hurt and disappointed about the lying. The lying concerns me.

So she is ‘grounded.’ For her, that means she still has her phone and driving privileges, because where we live and how we operate on a daily basis - taking those things away from her would punish ME, not her. What she isn’t allowed to do is anything extra, such as attending football games, movies or anything that is beyond school, volleyball and home. And I decided that it would last about one month. When Homecoming rolls around the last week of September/first week of October, she will have served her time and she will have her “fun” back.

I am obviously The Meanest Mom On The Planet since I’m bent on ruining my child’s life.

Last night on the drive home from a volleyball game (her team won and played great - fun to watch and all that), she was almost yelling, trying to argue her point about knowing what she did was wrong and that because she learned her lesson, she should be able to go to the Corn Maze this weekend with some friends.

Um. Nope. Not gonna happen, Kid.

I had to stop the conversation before *I* started yelling. Unimpressed with my inflexibility, she plugged in her headphones and ignored me for 20 minutes.

And today she sent me a text asking to go to the football game tonight.

Um. Nope. Not gonna happen, Kid.

She is just testing me to see if she can wear down my resolve. Grounding is such a weird punishment, really. But how else would or should a parent deal with something like lying? I dunno. There have to be consequences, I think.


Moar coffee
As someone who typically takes her caffeine ice cold, carbonated and from a can, I’ve recently developed an unhealthy need for HOT COFFEE in the mornings. String together a few super early mornings and you’ll find me leaning so heavily on the MOAR COFFEE, STAT!

As in: Set That IV Caffeine Drip To Wide Open, FTLOG.

I can’t (read: won’t) drink just black coffee, and because of self-imposed diet restrictions, I’ve resorted to lacing it with Premier Protein shakes. Because, of course. All my breakfasts are pre-fab.

Oh, what I would give for a giant Dirty Chai Tea from Caribou Coffee or Starbucks. And a colossal-sized bag of Cheetos.


Playlist:
Echosmith’s Talking Dreams
Beach House’s Depression Cherry

(I know. Still. But I’m really trying to figure out if I like this stuff or if it just lives in the background. Either way…)

Simple

I finished the second of two ‘crib sized’ crochet baby blankets last night. I think they turned out ok.



I don’t remember the names of the stitches. I modified the finished sizes from some notes I scribbled on a random scrap of paper stuffed in an oversized envelope where I keep most of the patterns and descriptions of crochet projects. I’ve considered selling crochet blankets, hats, mittens, various baby things on Etsy or whatever, but I’m not good at “on demand” production and god forbid someone actually ordered things from me. I’d have no idea what to charge or how to go about it. So, I reserve such things for special gifts and projects that challenge me. Usually, I just go to the craft section of stores and buy yarn based on what I like, how the yarn feels in my hands, the colors, etc., and then wing it. Modern manufacturing practices, standard sizes, mass production, or consistency of any kind never apply.

Next on the crochet list of projects include boot cuffs and fingerless gloves. I made a crochet hat that I wear when I take the dog walking.



I like it and since I have no intention of selling the thing or even giving it away, I guess that is all that really matters.

~~~~~

Yesterday, I went with Chad to town so as to do some phone swapping. We spent most of the day in town and the better part of three hours at the AT&T store. Good thing I like the kid who manages our account. He is funny, smart, honest, sarcastic, self-depreciating, a golf fanatic, and also engaged to marry his long time girlfriend this summer. Never a dull moment.

I am now getting my “new to me” phone set up. I usually take Chad’s hand-me-downs. Funny how I always manage to forget what a hassle all the set up is. Passwords. Linking apps. Ringtones. Notifications. Alarm settings. Pairing with my Fitbit. And my vehicle. And on and on and on. Good grief. Electronics are demanding.

~~~~~

Today is cold, windy and snowing. I’m ok with the cold part. (Still January in the Northland, so meh.) And even the snowing part. (The fields could use some cover. A fresh coat of white can be lovely at a distance.) But the windy part? No thanks. Smoke and I stayed in this morning.

He isn’t happy with me and shows his disappointment by pacing, sitting by the front door, and sighing a lot.

He has passive-aggressive down to an art.

~~~~~

Playlist:

Sons of Anarchy: North Country - EP
This Life (Theme from “Sons of Anarchy”) - Curtis Stigers & The Forest Rangers
Slip Kid - Anvil & Franky Perez
John the Revelator - Curtis Stigers & The Forest Rangers
Forever Young - Audra Mae & The Forest Rangers
Girl from the North Country - Lions


Sons of Anarchy: Shelter - EP
Ruby Tuesday - Katey Sagal
Fortunate Son - Lyle Workman & The Forest Rangers
Someday Never Comes - Billy Valentine & The Forest Rangers
Burn This Town - Battleme
Gimme Shelter - Paul Brady & The Forest Rangers


Sons of Anarchy: The King is Gone - EP
No Milk Today - Joshua James & The Forest Rangers
Bird On A Wire - Katey Sagal & The Forest Rangers
Traveling’ Band - Curtis Stigers & The Forest Rangers
Miles Away (feat. Battleme & Slash) - The Forest Rangers
Hey Hey, My My - Battleme
This Life (Celtic Remix) - Curtis Stigers & The Emerald Forest Rangers

Ten feet away

This morning as I was walking down the gravel road, watching the dog run zig-zags following his nose around the dead cornstalks, I realized I don’t take an iPod or some other gadget with me for music or news or noise. One could justifiably guess I’m looking for peace, quiet, and solitude in the outdoors. I’ve considered, on more than one occasion, loud electronic entertainment to drown out my own thoughts, my achy cold muscles, my daily walking distance goal (and how bloody long it is taking me to get there), and whatever else is going on internally. And I do have several choices of portable devices I could shove in my ears to provide diversion and distraction.

But the quiet of the outdoors can be deafening.

I may sometimes feel as though I’m a million miles from civilization, but not so in reality. I can hear the fans on the grain bins behind the tree claim kick on and off in what seems a futile attempt to keep its contents viable. The passing train blares a warning horn and chugs by on the cold, stiff iron rails. The random vehicle crunches the ice, snow and gravel under its tires on a parallel road.

If civilization wasn’t noisy enough, the wind crashes around pushing the icy, brittle tree branches into each other. If I listen carefully, sometimes I can hear what I believe to be the Momma deer and her twins who live in the trees behind my house and along the road taking timid steps, sniffing the air, twitching their big ears. Usually, tho, they hide deep in the tree claim hoping Smoke doesn’t catch their scent. Of course, he is more afraid of them than they are of him, but if he manages to kick them up and out of their hiding spot, he gives chase for maybe 100 yards before he barks at their flagging white tails disappearing across the empty field, turns, and trots back, victorious, to me.

There is nothing peaceful or quiet or alone in the outdoor “solitude” surrounding my daily walking adventures.


~~~~~

Playlist:

“A Tribute Album To Keith Whitley”

Don’t Close Your Eyes - Alan Jackson

Ten Feet Away - Diamond Rio

I’m Gonna Hurt Her On The Radio - Keith Whitley

I’m Over You - Tracy Lawrence

When You Say Nothing At All - Alison Krauss & Unions Station

Charlotte’s In North Carolina - Keith Whitley

I Just Want You - Keith Whitley & Lorrie Morgan

Little Boy Lost - Daron Norwood

All I Ever Loved Was You - Ricky Skaggs With Shenandoah

I’m No Stranger To The Rain - Joe Diffie

I Never Go Around Mirrors - Mark Chestnutt

The Comeback Kid - Keith Whitley

A Voice Still Rings True - Joe Diffie, Ricky Skaggs, Sawer Brown, & More

Old and new

I managed to get the crockpot lasagna going in time that we may be able to eat before 8pm tonight. I’m going to consider that my major accomplishment for the day, despite my doing laundry, dishes, and also paying bills and taking a walk with the dog. Whew. It just ticked over 1pm and all that is behind me.

~~~~~

Sunny and (relatively speaking - it is still January, after all) warm but windy, again, today. I could easily be spoiled by such conditions. With the impending winter storm Juno heading for the northeast, I’m sending warm thoughts that direction.

~~~~~

On Saturday, my business partner and I traveled to Mandan so that we could clear out our training center and haul everything back to our respective homes. It was hard work, up and down a huge flight of stairs countless times with heavy, cumbersome furniture, totes full of books and supplies, and random detritus one tends to collect over five years of running a business. A sad and sadly necessary task, when shuttering a business.

My legs hurt from the stairs. My heart hurts from the ending of things. However, when one chapter ends, I suppose the logical thing to do is turn the page so as to start the next. My brain would feel better knowing what that next chapter is or how to start it.

~~~~~
Playlist:

Enya: A Day Without Rain
A Day Without Rain
Wild Child
Only Time
Tempus Vernum
Deora Ar Mo Chroi
Flora’s Secret
Fallen Embers
Silver Inches
Pilgrim
One By One
Lazy Days

January

I’m sure I’ve said it before here, but January is a tough one for me. So many things I can do, even more I should do, but so few I want to do.

~~~~~

January, in the Northland, brings cold and grey, with the constant threat of snow. Or worse, snow and wind. The air smells cold, crackling cold, if that is possible, like sticking your head in the deep freeze on a hot July afternoon. Jarring. Relentless. No quarter offered or given. Standing outside, even when sheltered from the wind and dangerous wind chills, exposed skin starts to freeze in just a few minutes, causing the uncomfortable tingle-sting of beginning frostbite on the cheeks and fingertips.

Unless it is today. Today the sun is shining, the sky is the color of a fragile Robin’s egg, and the temperature is flirting with 40F. Today is the exception to January’s frozen-fisted tyrannical rule. The ever contrary Northland weather makes me feel sorry for the weather man.

But if you don’t like the weather today, hang around for it will change - as if in just a few hours you traveled to another continent - or to another planet.

~~~~~

Playlist:
A Hundred Miles Or More: A Compilation
(Alison Krauss)

You’re Just A Country Boy
Simple Love
Jacob’s Dream
Away Down The River
Sawing On The Strings
Down To The River To Pray
Baby Mine
Molly Ban
How’s The World Treating you
The Scarlet Tide
Whiskey Lullaby
You Will Be My Ain True Love
I Give You To His Heart
Get Me Through December
Missing You
Lay Down Beside Me

Be specific

On the side road that takes me to Interstate and just before the onramp, I drove past a parked pickup today - the kind with weld machines and tool boxes anchored to the pickup’s bed. This isn’t unusual, as people stop along the road for all kinds of reasons: to take/make phone calls or text messages, to check maps or look for paperwork, to sleep, to adjust/secure cargo.

The driver of this particular pickup was standing by the endgate and was facing the ditch, so when I drove up I could see him in profile. It was obvious just exactly what he was doing and it sure as hell wasn’t securing cargo. My sudden arrival startled him, and I’m guessing probably embarrassed him; he quickly zipped up and turned so I couldn’t see his face.

Since when is this ok - if it ever was - stopping on the side road to pee? Usually the culprits are men, but occasionally I’ve driven over the hill to see more of a woman than I care to, relieving herself in the open air, not 75 yards from the Interstate.

And really, if this were 100 miles from any kind of town or rest area, I probably wouldn’t think much of it, but 15 miles east or west on that 75-mile-an-hour Interstate and there are truck stops, gas stations, restaurants and rest stops a-plenty.

I think I’m going to get signs made - like the ones for posting “no hunting” areas - that say “Pee-free zone: take it to town” (or something similar).

Just…yuck.

~~~~~

The weather today requires a new word, but I’m not sure what. The temperature is 27F with 100% humidity. Cold. Damp. Foggy. Snow is threatening - I can smell it on the air. Conditions are perfect for frosting tree branches, evergreens, fences - anything really. Everything is grey, silver, white-washed - like going back to Kansas black and white after living in Oz technicolor.

There should be a word for this.

Froggy (Frosty + Foggy) is the best I can come up with, but it’s not really evocative of the white haze and wet cold, but I hope you get the idea. If there is a more descriptive word already in existence and I’m just too lazy to find it in a thesaurus, help a girl out.

~~~~~

Winter is weighing me down, more so this year than I can remember from years past. Everything seems to take more and more time and effort. Getting dressed. Going to town to run errands. Walking the dog. Cooking supper. Looking for work. Everything is heavy and dense making it difficult to think clearly and stay focused.

I can and I do all those things and more of course; my point is that it just takes more time and concerted effort.

~~~~~

Playlist:

“Anchored in Love: A Tribute to June Carter Cash” (various artists)
If I Were a Carpenter
Jackson
Wildwood Flower
Far Side Banks of Jordan
Keep on the Sunny Side
Wings of Angels
Ring of Fire
Road to Kaintuck
Big Yellow Peaches
Kneeling Drunkard’s Plea
Will the Circle be Unbroken
Song to John

Crock

I think I’m developing an unhealthy dependency on my new slow cooker. Is that even possible? I’m not going to deep dive into that black hole, but I’ve been considering it for the past 30 seconds, so therefore it is justified as a topic here.

I bought said slow cooker not because I need it - I have several crock pots and slow cookers - but because I wanted the fancy bells, whistles, timers and settings this one has. That and I had some Christmas money burning a hole in my pocket.

It came with a recipe book (included in the instruction manual) and so I tried a couple of the options. I believe the Slow Cooked Oatmeal will become a weekly standard - at least during the cold months (so All The Time). I also tried Lemon Chicken, which was OK except I don’t think I reduced the lemon juice correctly (or enough) because it was a little more tart than I expected. I salvaged the leftover chicken from that experiment and made Chicken Vegetable Soup, which was lovely.

Now I’m making Tuna Noodle Casserole in my slow cooker because apparently I’m about a half-step away from being a Church Lady. Except for the part where I don’t actually go to church and with my nose piercing, I’d probably be found wanting by the local Circle. Or Guild. Or whatever they are calling themselves these days.

No. I’m making Tuna Noodle Casserole in my slow cooker today because Chad is away for the weekend ice fishing. It has become something of an event for Mar and me to have tuna anytime he is gone for more than a day or so. Why? Because that is the only time we get to eat tuna. And we girls love us some tuna.

~~~~~

Ice fishing is a compulsion I do not understand. And not because I’ve not tried it. I grew up ice fishing. I also grew up skating on frozen ponds/lakes, snowmobiling, skiing, sledding…winter sports are one of very few options when you grow up in the Northland.

But now, at this stage of my life, given the option of going outside in sub-zero weather to sit on the ice and wait for a fish to wander by OR staying inside to sit in my favorite chair by the pseudo-fireplace and teach myself a new crochet stitch…well…I think you can deduce the rest.

~~~~~

I’m making a new crochet baby blanket in pink. I’m also going to make a crochet baby blanket in blue. My friend Rootie is patiently waiting for her first grand-baby to arrive and I want to be prepared.**

Of course I’ll offer to make whatever color her daughter-in-law wants, say green or purple or yellow, to go with the decor of the nursery or just random preferences.

**No need to concern oneself about preparation as I discovered an entire Rubbermaid Tub FULL TO THE TOP with various crochet baby blankets that I’ve made and squirreled away over the years. See what happens when I clean out closets? I also found several skeins of yarn that need to be used, so I have justification for making more blankets. The logic for crocheting more blankets makes sense in my head so I’m not going to say it out loud or offer the argument up for debate.

~~~~~

Playlist:
“Chill-out: Ambient” station

Starting over. Again.

This morning I awoke to the smell of oatmeal with cinnamon, nutmeg and maple syrup, stewing quietly in my brand new slow cooker. Damned ground blizzard. Mar needs to have something decent to eat before she leaves for school, because a mother’s logic trumps all. While doing their best with resources available, I understand better than some how limited said resources are (being very familiar with the real estate between rocks and hard places), the school breakfast/lunch option is a luck of the draw most days.

So I got a hot breakfast today, too. And lunch. And probably breakfast and lunch tomorrow, now that I think of it. I’ll need to halve that recipe in future.

Speaking of ground blizzards, whatever we have collectively done to Mother Nature, we need to apologize profusely and start working really hard to win back her love (or at least her tolerance of our existence). Negative number temperatures combined with (also negative) double digit wind chills outlines a classic Hell Hath No Fury situation. I recommend groveling.

And jewelry.

*****
Yoga is a funny thing. And by funny, I mean terrible.

While I usually forgive my inability to practice each asana like the rubber-limbed instructor living in my iPad, I really must be in the running for The Most Inflexible Person on the Planet.

I’ve come to understand that my dog agrees. To voice his unhappiness at my rolling out my yoga mat this morning instead of lacing up my walking shoes, Smoke executed a flawless Downward Facing Dog** and flopped himself between me and the iPad Instructor. He then watched me struggle and huff through 45 minutes of a beginner’s series, and while I tend to anthropomorphize my animals, I think he looked away in embarrassment, as if to say:

“My GOD Woman! Straighten your legs!” and “Can’t you hold that plank pose for more than 10 seconds?” and “Sheesh.”

You get the idea.

**What a show off.

*****

I slammed my thumb in a drawer this morning. I didn’t crack the nail and it looks the same as the other thumb, so I can provide no evidence.

You’ll have to take my word for it: It hurts like a mo-fo.

Which is exactly what I yelped when it happened.

*****

Playlist: Set to repeat
The Eagles - random songs
Audioslave - random songs
Fever Ray’s “Fever Ray” Album
AWOLNATION’s “Megalithic Symphony” Album