Works in Progress
Wavy scarf for Christmas present in Manos del Uruguay (mostly on the shuttle, so it's slow going)

Current Obsession

Last Google Search
Airline prices from Sacramento to Memphis - my parents have both sold their houses!

We have tickets for the Old 97's on October 16! Happy anniversary, honey!

My Netflix queue, which saves me from real TV

Burritos with home-cooked pintos, sharp cheddar and spinach

Roasted peppers with crumbled queso fresco

Garden stuff
My poor garden - totally neglected and dry.

April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004

You talkin' to me?
Amazon Wish List

Many thanks to:
Artwork © Lian Quan Zhen


i got a new attitude - September 24, 2004

- - September 22, 2004

- - September 20, 2004

Is this thing on? - September 20, 2004

- - September 15, 2004


2003-10-15 - 1:08 p.m.

The most reassuring sight I know is Katze waiting for me on the couch.

2003-10-15 - 8:26 a.m.

This weekend I am the offical petsitter for my entire family. As of Friday night, I'll have three kitties (Malynn, Millie and Katze) and three dogs (Nellie, Rigby and Mamie) to care for through Sunday night. Luckily all these critters will be down at Mom's house, which is three times the size of mine. There are still some funny logistics. Katze hates all creatures that aren't human, so she goes into one of the upstairs bedrooms. Millie and Malynn stay in the downstairs bedroom suite (it's huge). Nellie needs her own room to sleep in; she's older and wants the younger dogs to leave her alone. Rigby and Mamie will play all day, every day. To make this more fun, Mom's entire house has hardwood floors, so every tiny little nail hitting it makes a clicking sound. I repeat: three cats, three dogs. Two dogs chasing each other constantly. Clickety clickety click click click.

I try to be a good daughter, but geez...

The truth is that I'm very much looking forward to this. My mom will be around Friday night, but after that I get the entire two days to myself. Everyone knows I'll be out of town, so the cell shouldn't ring. I'm not taking the laptop. Just my knitting, a book and a journal. This will be the most quiet time I've had in weeks. I desperately need it.

Any autobiographical writing that's released for public viewing creates a somewhat skewed image of the author. It's a snapshot, a still life that doesn't morph the way that humans do. Look back at any of your own blog entries. Readers and writers think we know each other because of these little scenes. Ah, we think, I know how s/he feels about this. See, three entries ago? That's how s/he feels.

It's just not that simple. Nobody - or at least nobody worth knowing - is that easy to understand.

Even while writing yesterday's update - which is full of giddy girly silliness and my usual kid-in-a-candy-store style (it's like channeling Veruca Salt: Don't care how/I want it now!), I was having an anxiety attack. I ended up in our work bathroom, head against the cold tile wall, trying to calm down.

All of this dating was supposed to make me feel better about myself, to restore some of the confidence that J stripped away and to offer myself back up to the world of men as a healed, happy woman that any man would be fool to reject.

Yeah, um, it's not quite working that way.

I am damned near terrified.

I've proven to myself that I can pull in men if I want to. I've proven that I can fuck like a man if I want to. That's all well and good.

But what I've always really wanted is a partner. No, I don't have those unrealistic expectations of being completely fulfilled by another human being. Life isn't like that. People aren't like that. I expect it to be work. I expect to have to compromise.

Scratcher is going to want a relationship from me. I can feel it coming; I can see it on his face when we're together. There's a way he looks at me when he thinks I'm asleep. It's in the way he winks at me when he knows I'm nervous.

I can't do it. I can't. I am still too scarred. The thought of someone asking me for deeper, harder trust is so frightening that just writing this makes me want to put my head against something very cold for a while. I'm not capable of what he needs yet.

There is nothing in the world I hate more than hurting people.

Comments: Speak your piece!

former / latter

Attack of the Blogs
Adrift in Japan
All Guinness
Ator's Ramblings
Dating God
Everyday Stranger
Going Jesus
I Don’t Think
Jessica Lovejoy
Kat's Paws
Maison Pants
Mimi Smartypants
No Regrets
Real Live Preacher
The Dillhole Spotter
tremble dot com
Was I Screaming?

Talents 'n' Tempters
Anna Chambers
David Goines
Keri Smith
Loose Tooth
Peach Berserk
Rob Dario
S. Britt
The Bird Machine
Tim Biskup
Toothpaste for Dinner

Brain or Bust!
The Atlantic
Found Magazine
How Stuff Works
Knot Mag
The Morning News
OED Word of the Day
Project Gutenberg
Salon - Sex
Something Positive
Tomato Nation

Bonkers Fiber
Grey Eyes
In Sheep’s Clothing
Interweave Knits
Lorna's Laces
Perfect Touch
Red Lipstick
Stitch Guide
Sweater Project
The Yarn Co.
White Lies Designs

She's Crafty!
(thx, Beasties)
American Science and Surplus
crafty chica
Darma Trading
Feria Urbana
Fine Art Store
Get Crafty
Glitter Boards
Not Martha
Readymade Mag