Spazzmanda

Here it is all close up an pornographic:

Makes you all tingly just looking at it. I’ve found my knit groove again and am focusing on selfish knitting for ME! (Thank you lord it only took me three weeks.) I started the Gigi sweater from the Summer 2008 Knitty using some luxurious hand painted yarn I purchased some time ago at Knitch in Atlanta, which is where I went today with the beautiful and funny Jackie and Claudia. I met some loverly new knitting friends and I finished the ribbing for the back of my sweater! I really miss Atlanta sometimes, maybe I will move there again, who knows? But the traffic is a nightmare and I really have come to love Gainesvegas, the town is cool and I have many good friends here.

I’ve had a wonderful (and mostly drama-free) weekend, although it is very unfortunate that I must reiterate to all the haters out there to leave me and my life and my memories the hell alone. I don’t need or require any more dirt, my current life post-trauma is just not all that entertaining, so please, please, PLEASE just watch some soap net, ‘kay?

More good news, the “misery diet” would seem to be paying off. Unfortunately my boobs are shrinking (Shari says “firming” but whatever) but also shrinking, apparently, is the rest of me. My jeans are all too big already and I’ve had to cinch them up an extra notch on my belt. The gym is not only a life saver for how I’m feeling (particularly when I’m trying to sleep at night) but also with the nifty butt-firming, ab-toning side-effects. Which is all very good for the self esteem, that quite frankly was shot to hell, and whose wouldn’t be when their partner strays from their relationship? Through my unhealthy obsession to follow the fall-out, I came to the following conclusions that I thought I’d share with the blogiverse. (It is really very cleansing…)

Girlfriend simply isn’t terribly attractive. I suppose I could go into illustrated specifics (that are both petty and cruel) but why bother? She’s pretty -ish- but not really striking or memorable, mostly sort of just feh (for lack of a better word.) I guess it would be much harder for me if he had fallen, be it ever so briefly, for a woman that was actually devastatingly beautiful, but for just adequate I’m finding it rather easy to get past this issue. Even though it was still a blow to the ego it isn’t worth much more thought on the matter. In retrospect, I suppose now the biggest problem I am having is pinpointing the initial attraction at all. Not just because of the physical mediocrity, but because she just wasn’t all that interesting. The few conversations I had had with her I never really could find anything worth talking about and I had given it a real shot (because she was Mr. X’s friend so I tried for his sake-what a fool I was.) At first I thought back that maybe I had subconsciously “vibed” into the fact that she is sort of predatory (which I still don’t rule out) but she didn’t even “blip” on my radar as any sort of legitimate threat because she was so…dull? Maybe a tad boring? Not very bright for certain, again, feh . Her personality is lackluster and flat.

Easy. (She is most certainly that.) Men act foolish when around loose women.

Self esteem healing, objective number one almost complete. Have a lovely week, I’m so stressed at work I’ll barely have the time to think, much less blog, so see you later!

So, its 5:25 and -shit- I’m late to pick up my grandmother. Work was a whirlwind again today with no breaks and no relief in sight. I’m spent, physically, emotionally, I’m totally drained. I blubber on the phone to my mother who is pleading with me to pull over if I’m going to have the “ugly cry” in the car. But dammit I’m LATE!

I pick up my Mamama. She wants to drive her car. She’s worried she is going to run out of gas and has been fretting over it since last week. (The woman drives all of five miles every five days, but she is sure she will run out of gas and, never having pumped her own, it is a truly frightful and horrendous prospect.) I go and fetch her car. It is a notch under half a tank. I heave a big sigh, just keep it together girl, keep it together- maybe two more hours then you can drown yourself in chocolate bars if you so desire.

We go to dinner at Chili’s, my first dinner out since the whole mess has gone down. I look around carefully for the people I don’t want to run into (I feel like I’m magnetized and will just be inexplicably drawn to the people I can’t see right now.) But the coast is clear and we like Chili’s, (particularly the wine.) She asks, “Are we going to talk about this?” I say, sure, let’s talk. She pries delicately, then plies me with libations,”Let’s have a second glass” but I don’t relent. She seems satisfied. “He just ran out of time.” Yes I nod (I dare not utter a word.) She speaks of my father, the man whom my mother divorced when I was three. The man that had commitment issues, that partied with friends until all hours- the standard “Peter Pan” syndrome- screw you guys I’m not ever going to grow up. She doesn’t mask her contention that there are some similarities in my present situation and that of my mother, over 27 years ago. She mentions how fond she will always be of my dad. A man you can’t help but be fond of, he is so freaking charming (shit, yet ANOTHER similarity?) She then says the thing that churns my gut. “The only thing I couldn’t forgive in your father was his unfaithfulness.”

I hide behind my menu. I am relieved the waitress arrives at just this opportune moment  and I hastily order the first thing I see that looks remotely nourishing (food is still not very fun.) When it comes she takes a look at my plate and thinly veils her disgust. “What is that?”  I respond “A Black Bean Burger.”  She pauses, “You mean, there’s no meat?.”  “No,” I respond, “Just Beans.”

“You aren’t going to become one of those are you?” (I think she means a vegetarian, but hell, she could mean a lesbian, that is the fun that is Mamama, you never really know what she is getting at but you just hang on for the ride.) “No,” I say “Don’t worry.”

After dinner she asks if I want to stagger to the mall with her to buy a “pretty.” I profess that would be nice, because that is what she wants to hear and she is trying to raise my spirits, but my heart wasn’t in shopping. And it doesn’t help that the motivation for the fall line at Belk’s department store is some serious ugly. Since I’ve already lost weight on the misery diet, I opted for a dress that can be cinched in at the waist, with dots on it (because who can be unhappy when they are wearing gigantic polka-dots, right?)  I then take her to the grocery store for some “staples” (sherry and wonderbread) before carting her to what she calls “prison.” (She lives in the swankiest retirement community in town, but constantly proclaims to be stifled by their abundant rules and annual physicals.)  She teeters into her doorway at which time her neighbors emerge. She introduces me to her neighbor, a delightful elderly man. He walks away and before the door is shut, she mutters “Creep.” I’m amazed and blink at her thusly. She says, “He wants to bond.” … “but I’m unbondable.”

As I leave, she calls out, “Call me when you want to drink dinner again dahlin’, why, what else are grandmother’s for?”

You got that right, sister.  No really, I love my grandmother. She is sometimes nasty, often drunk
but always a delight in the way that only she can be.

This recently came in the mail. I took her up on this offer for Tuesday.

I’m not doing too well folks. I’m not going to lie. I’m just about as sick of talking about it as you are of hearing it. I think with the onset of the weekend, I get sadder. Days off I used to revel in spending with Mr. X- looking forward to what we would do- even when we were doing nothing special. There is an Elvis festival this weekend in Cleveland (?) just the kind of thing he would have taken me to so I could cheese out.  I have plans though. With actual people. I’m going to Medieval Times tonight with Holly and Brosie, that should be a hoot, sewing with Pixie tomorrow and Ashlyn’s birthday on Sunday.

I don’t know how good I’m going to be with “people” but I’m going to give it a shot. I’m also going to have my car ready in the event I have to flee.

We had a hot date last night, in culmination of the never ending birthday festivities, my man, a.k.a. “this” guy:

–took me to see Eddie Izzard (in concert?) It isn’t a concert when it is a comedian is it? It is a theatrical performance, right? Well, anyhoo, we LOVE Eddie Izzard. He is the funniest mo’fo’ on the planet as far as I’m concerned, I laughed so hard I almost wet myself last night.

And he looked like this:

… but less blurry and stuff. Yeah.

We saw this performance at the Cobb Energy Performing Arts Centre (ooh, spelled with an “re” I wonder if things there are colourful too since we’re being all fancy pants and using Briticisms and all.) It is located on Cobb Galleria Parkway (not to be confused with Cobb Parkway, which is close, but not the same thing. Sheesh, you would think they could come up with a better road name, right? It is a really beautiful theater, new, big but not too big. There was a minor mishap with ushers sending us to the wrong side of the theater (odds and evens are on opposite ends.) Our seats were good but there didn’t seem to be a bad seat in the house. Eddie performed for like, 2 1/2 hours- just talking and being funny for over two hours! Amazing bloke that one is, talking about bollocks and being genuinely entertaining. (I wish I were British, to say things like bloke, bollocks and shag all the time, it would be sweet!) Anyways, blah, blah, great show, great new venue (but it was a tad chilly, my own fault for not bringing a wrap) good times!

Thanks honey! Nobody do a birthday like you do! Now birthday month 2008 is officially closed.

UPDATE:

Just for you, Margaret:

This was me on night of said date. And actually this was Jeff:

You can tell that it is him by the telephone surgically attached to his ear lobe. The photo at the top of the post was taken of him in his funny, magic man clothes. He has the BEST tshirt collection ever!

Fwiends. We went to Ichiban on Friday night, sushi and martinis followed by Sex and the City, it doesn’t get much better than that. I loves my girls (aren’t they pretty?) we don’t get to do this very often so it made for an even more special evening.

I’m still sick dammit. I’ve been sick for over a week now and hit a plateau on Monday for getting well. I ask myself each morning- Self? Do you feel better today? To which the answer has been a resounding “pllllbbbbbttttt.” But today, I think I feel better. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to the sinus pressure and the interesting colored mucus. (Sorry, too much information.)

I haven’t knat a stitch in over a week. Or had any wine, which I hear has medicinal purposes so now would be the time to indulge. I DID have a beer or two last night when I went to the BON JOVI concert in Atlanta (but that was because I couldn’t figure out how to open the wine that was in the suite.)

Yes, you heard me correctly, we were seated in the CLUB LEVEL BOX suite thingies. My glorious mother scored some tickets from a business associate for box seats at the Phillips Arena so she, my BFF Rachel and I all went for some girly fun. Let me tall you, the BOX was the way to go. I’m so glad we got there first so we could geek out and be totally and completely uncool about how pimped out our digs were. There was nummy, nummy food and a refrigerator full of beer and wine and water and all sorts of stuff. But the concert, the concert was beyond amazing. The band puts on one heck of a show and Jon Bon- well, he flirted shamelessly with 20,000 people last night. Every time he smiled I became moist in- places. So my ubercold was put on hold- which might be the reason for my backsliding today- but it was totally worth it. Can I again tell you how much I love Mr. Bon Jovi?

I mean, I know I’m in a serious committed relationship (blah, blah) and he has been married to his high school sweetheart for, like, ever (blah, blah, blah) but for really really, I have some real and passionate LOVE for this man.

He is pretty, no?

Nomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom. (Much love to Nicole, I love this new noise and am using it as my new yummy-nummy-nummy expression, thank Anna-Banana for allowing me to borrow the term from her.)

Ok, so, what was I writing about? Oh yeah, I’m still sick (and it was totally worth it) and I’m not knitting a damn thing (which sucks) so, what else… Oh YES!- one of my favorite bloggers at Shut Up, I’m Counting is having a contest (part of which is to give advice to her lovely offspring about to turn 17) so go and check her out.

So, the big secret outing? Saturday, after I gave Jeff his DVD, T-shirt, and his uber-cool Kilt from the fine folks over at AmeriKilt we went to Atlanta for the final day of the Atlanta Film Festival to see Dance of the Dead. This was an independent zombie flick filmed in Rome, Georgia. It even starred a kid from Gainesvegas, so I knew Jeff would be intrigued. Now, I have to admit that I was expecting to be entertained, but not really prepared for the awesomeness that was this movie. Zombies that emerged from the grave as if shot from a cannon, car driving zombies, witty funny dialogue and lots of braaaaaaaains. And as Jeff will attest, I would be prepared for a zombie invasion if it were slow zombies. When there are fast zombies all bets are off and, well, very, very scary things happen to me. I jumped and yelped more than once because of the oogey-boogey. I laughed so hard and really enjoyed this movie- it has cult classic written all over it, and if you like this kind of thing, which obviously I do, you are in for a real treat, it doesn’t disappoint. Us geeky fan types got a real kick out of it because it gives you what you want, what you didn’t know you want, and much more. After that, Jeff had a gig so I waited dutifully in the car for a little bit and then took him out to dinner at Bahama Breeze- we sat right in front of the entertainment, and he was good too, from the Bahamas and everything. I almost forgot we were in landlocked suburbia… almost. I don’t normally do rum, but I had a very refreshing mojito with fresh pineapple.

Then for Sunday. We had a joint birthday party at Rachel and Caleb’s house (Caleb’s birthday is this week too). We went through about 64 wieners before the day was through. People came in waves, we had to go out to the store to restock, I ran out of birthday cake (that has NEVER happened) and we, in general, had a super duper fun time with many, many old and new friends (it is fun throwing parties with friends, you get to meet new cool people.) Video games, horseshoes, hot dogs, poker, cigars, beer, it was a very manly affair.

Photo of the cake:

(I learned how to make rolled fondant, woo hoo!)

And Jeff wore his kilt. I love that man.

Christmas was a whirlwind of activity this year. Almost, I daresay, too much of one. On the Friday before Christmas I went to see family in Atlanta, and after a leisurely Saturday of holiday cheer with loved ones, all hell broke loose through Tuesday. Preparing the house for brunch, actually preparing the brunch, hosting brunch, Christmas Eve at my aunt’s (preceded by an ill-fated trip for some last-minute shopping with a hum-dinger of an argument with my man that was predominantly stress-influenced but sucky and exhausting at the worst possible time to have an argument even though I’m totally over it now, really I am) with Christmas morning at my Mom’s and then dinner at my Dad’s, followed by WORK on Wednesday, and excuse me, but what the frick is up with that?

I would rather gouge my eyes out than to try this again EVER. I have to move this year so I have an excuse to make people come to me or I need to pound it into my man’s head that seeing every single person on THE day or THE Eve is not only unnecessary but not such a good idea since we both have divorced families which raises our number of obligatory humans exponentially, and I’m SURE we can plan it better next time, please, please, oh please, dear God.

But it is the holidays and everyone is in misery, right? Along with the eye-gouging, hair-pulling, family togetherness- there are benefits to be reaped. You guys, I got YARN. Silk yarn. TWO kids of silk yarn (Art Yarns Silk Rhapsody and Handmaiden Seasilk, but I don’t want to brag.) And a tutu. A HOT PINK tutu. I also got a KitchenAid Artisan Mixer (from my honey)that I totally don’t deserve (I was planning on getting married solely for the purpose of registering for the likes of this mixer and now sadly, that won’t be necessary- unless the attachments are anywhere near as expensive as the unit itself…) Oops and Elvis. But I think I need to devote an entire post to my Elvis gift I received from Dad and Linda this year, I just can’t explain it with any acceptable amount of brevity.

Other lovely things came from lovely people and I did actually really enjoy myself once I physically got to all of the destinations. Also, I never properly blogged about the Falala Bash- the third annual Falala Bash was held again this year at the wonderful Chez Whidden (everyone, give some love to the Whiddens for opening their house to us once again for festivities!) Photos from the par-tay are HERE. (We expanded the ugly sweater contest this year to include all things Christmas, Jeff was Jack Frost from the Santa Clause and I was Ralphie in the pink bunny pajamas from a Christmas Story.) Y’all, we collected around 60 gifts for Toys for Tots this year instead of having a gift swap, so there was drunken debauchery to be had by all- balls of meat, meat in blankets, and Fala-lattes- a concoction of rum, eggnog, coffee and rum, with a side of altruism. A well-balanced party.

Okay, on to today. I skipped some stuff, well, possibly lots of stuff, like finished knitting content from the holidays that I really should address sometime, but it is my blog and I’m drinking wine and well, whatever, and if you don’t like it you can either read someone else or bite me, whichever you prefer.

I went knitting at Susan’s lovely home today. She has dogs. Lots and lots of dogs. Three lap dogs (two with sweaters) and the biggest farking great dane I’ve ever seen. Not to mention, y’all, she has donkeys. FOUR adorable donkeys. I just so happen to LOVE donkeys. I don’t know why. They’re sweet and they are little and they are donkeys, how can you not love this?

Well, the rest of this holiday season, will, alas, be a blur. Jeff built me a new book case to house my craft/knit/cook books so after it dries we get to reorganize the apartment (wheee!) So, Happy New Year. Squeeze the one you love and much peace, happiness and bounty to you and yours in the new year. Oh, and yarn. And wine. Let me rephrase, MUCH peace, love, happiness and bountiful yarn and wine to you and yours this NEW year!

We went to Harbor Lights on Friday, the new Elvis performer was very entertaining and we enjoyed our evening quite a bit. I think I did a very good interview too, we shall see how it comes out in the next edition of the Nooze (a new arts and entertainment newspaper sort of like Creative Loafing that is up in these here parts of Georgia.)

The Falala Bash on Saturday at Jack and Tara’s house was decidedly a perfect evening. Good friends, good food, good times. We had a ball (photos forthcoming.)

On a more panicked note, I’ve done run out of time this year. Christmas Eve is NEXT Monday and I’ve just been informed that I’m having a Christmas Eve brunch at my apartment. Crap. I haven’t wrapped a thing (although the shopping is pretty much done.) I have a scarf, two hats and a bear to finish knitting this week. All is definitely NOT well. Not well at all.

I know it is quite the ambitious title for a post, but I have a lot to catch up on. Last weekend we went to see the Police in concert on Saturday and then Blue Man Group on Sunday. That is a lot of concerts. That is a lot of concerts for a girl that has a pretty strict bedtime. So, of course, on Monday I woke up with a cold (I consistently get sick when I get tired) but it was totally worth it. I got to see Sting, up close. Our tickets were for right behind the stage, but it was so much better than being in front of the stage and far, far, far, away. I swear he smiled at me, and I screamed my head off. It was awesome.

Here we are at the Police (that is me and Jeff, of course, with my mom and stepdad.)

I had seen Blue Man once before, and let me tell you, the show is an amazing experience. This time we were up front and it did not disappoint. The band that plays with Blue Man is phenomenal. Really, I don’t know if people realize what an amazing group of musicians they have backing them. Again, I jumped around, acted a fool, and quite enjoyed myself.

This year, we decided to do a low-key Thanksgiving (i.e. not to spend all day in the car going from place to place and stuffing ourselves silly.) We went to my Dad’s in Stone Mountain and just watched T.V., ate, took a little nap and had a pretty wonderful day. I made Paula Deen’s Sweet Potato Balls and they kind of flopped. You see, the mashed sweet potatoes were wrapped around a marshmallow, which I did the night before so I suppose that my marshmallows must have just dissolved or something, because they sure as heck didn’t ooze out of the balls like they did on Paula’s plate (Oh well.)

Then on Friday, Jeff, Ted and I went to Watkinsville to an artist’s open house. There were potters, jewelers and the main draw (for me) was Loretta Eby, glass blower. I met her at work, we sell some of her ornaments and things and she is one of the most entertaining people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Every Thanksgiving, they have an open house the weekend after the holiday. What better way to spend “Black Friday” than to watch a glass blowing demonstration? I was in awe. We bought some things for gifts (and she personalized them for us.) It was an awesome trip and well worth the hour drive.

So, now I’m full, happy, tired. I dyed my wayward gray patch (yeah that was me) and baked some ginger snaps so the house smells fantastic, and I think, I daresay, I might just be starting to feel that holiday spirit! Just let me get through the next week or two at work and I’ll be golden!

Oh, another finished object- a hat for my friend Les. I learned a wonderful technique, the duplicate stitch, it beats the hell out of intarsia any old day!