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  • Silvertree

    Mod post: No wishlist posts in blogs

    By Silvertree

    Please be aware that we do not permit swap-related content on profiles or in blogs. Please post this content only in the For Sale, Swaps, and Wanted forums, or in the Wishlists topic. ~from Swapping 101  Thanks!
    • 5 comments
    • 5,933 views
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Overload

I am a swapping fiend. I'm getting back on track with the GC swap- except for reviews! I took a chance on Baobahn Sith and swapped for 4 decants, and... I really don't like it. It's so floral! I also swapped for a couple of imps of Baghdad recently, and I'm disappointed in that one too! The one I got was full of glorious almond, and one of these has a breath of that memory, and the other one smells like sandalwood. I know they must all be different ages, but I really wish I had the almond one. I think I need to find an almond scent to soothe my soul. Actually, I think I'm set on scents. I don't think I need to find any new ones.   I want to try my hand at beading this weekend. But I really need to clean out my car. I was neurotic about anything being left in it until recently. Having two men who regularly ride in it in addition to school stuff has made me careless. I do not want my car to be dirty inside. I need to get to knitting, as well.   Things are starting to come together with my switch witchery package. I think it'll be pretty neat, but I don't know what she'll think of it. I am eagerly anticipating the round where I get to spoil my switchee the way I've been spoiled these three rounds. Until then, I'll make do with what I've got.   I'm considering selling some of my bottles off so I can get in on the inquisition. My sweet husband has promised that I can do the next one, but the treat scents look so incredible. I know. I'm all Ms. Grabby-hands. Gotta have it! I just love how spoiled BPAL makes me feel.   I had no idea that the recipe Lost For Words was lost! It smells fantastic. Anyone know what the notes are? I'm coming up blank.   I think I'm going to postpone writing my psych paper until tomorrow morning. I started it already, I just need to finish it up. Give it a quick polish and whatnot. I'm thinking he might be gone again. Class was cancelled today. Which I believe means there won't be a quiz tomorrow. This is good news! I've been awful about studying. And I need to go back to the gym.   Wow, this is a long entry. I just have a lot to say, I suppose.   I need to find all my imps and put them away before they get scattered and I lose important ones.   I'm swapping Manhattan away for Devil's Night, which rocks because I swapped for an imp of last year's version, and it smells amazing on me. Now I just have to wrangle a swap for Pumpkin Queen.   Eh. I don't need the inquisition this time. I'll live, and be durn happy with the wonderful things I do have.   I'm in a pretty good mood. That's kinda cool!
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Diplomatka
 

Danger?

I just heard that there were two bombings this morning. Rather than being concerned, here I am still working on a project design. I was thinking the other day how I have totally become desensitized to what is happening around me. I rationalize that the bombings are only targeting the military or the government, not me. It is a strange strategy of acceptance and I wonder if it will change once I leave. I really hope so.   (I totally work with those two guys in the last panel!)
Confection

Confection

0
This Old Snark
 

Phase Inn

Snarky has been back for a week now, but she can't seem to get the floaty boat feeling out of her head. Add to that the continued "hit-the-ground-runningness" of her new job (which she is really starting to enjoy despite its ability to snatch the hours and days right from underneath her like a neat card room trick) and she just can't seem to find the time to re-establish her online persona.   She's also been feeling a bit Garbo lately too.   Still, she's going to make an effort to get back in to the swing of things.   And where words might be slow in trickling back into the well for her, Snarky always has more pictures!   First day out to sea.   The Hitler Bangs are Dead. Long live the Bangs of Indeterminate Length and/or Direction!   DarkityBro soaking up the sun (and being spied upon by his older sister).   The DarkityRents are also cute whilst evading the pesky paparazzi.   Many moons ago Snarky spent a semester studying ancient Mayan architecture. The Chichen Itza ruins include the main temple (El Castillo) which does a neat trick every Equinox. The Snarks where there a day early. Damn you Murphy, and your stupid Law! It was still an impressive site (and sight), even if the government no longer allows tourists to scramble at their own peril up the steep temple stairs.   Mostly besides the sights and sounds, there was The Food. Oh sweet honey in the rock, was there Food. Snarky will need to make a whole separate post just to discuss the heirarchy and humongousness of The Food.   But for now... she's slinking back into her cave to play with some sticks and string. It up and got all Autumnal before she even realized it. Perfect knitting weather!
darkitysnark

darkitysnark

5
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Drama

I know I'm not always the most tactful person in the world, but why do people have to be rude? And why do they have to perpetuate drama? It frustrates me to see the forum degenerate into name-calling and snide remarks masked in smilies. Delivering an insult with a smile is still an insult, and is often more offensive that way. I understand wanting to have the last word, but you don't always need it. Go vent about it elsewhere. Start a blog. Do whatever you need to do, but work it out. Stop campaigning for your cause, because nobody cares.   I don't agree with everyone, and I get my hackles up if I feel insulted (which has happened once, and I did react really harshly.) or protective of a friend, or both. But sometimes just let it go. The forum isn't life or death, and if it is, you really need to see about chilling out.   Who am I talking to? That's a good question. (I was just remarking that I hate when people talk like that- rhetorical questions that they immediately answer. I think I saw it on Shark when I mentioned it. Anyway.) If you think I'm talking about you, you probably have good reason to think that, and it's probably true. I'm not talking about one single person, or one single side. Right or wrong, it gets absurd on both sides. Then again, I'm not talking about anyone who is reading my blog, probably.   Conflict is a part of life, and how we deal with it says a lot about who we are as people. I'm obviously a little(!!) unbalanced, but I'm trying to work out my flaws there.   I don't think people are bad. I just think sometimes you've got to take a step back.
smallvoice

smallvoice

2
cranberry's Blog
 

Pink Owl 3 rcvd 9-29-06, shipped 10-3

Pink Owl 3 - received 9-29-06   Contents Santo Domingo** - already reviewed Ra** - reviewed Nocturne** - reviewed Dorian** Absinthe** - reviewed Casanova** - reviewed Has no Hanna** - reviewed   I need to check but I think that I have imps or bottles of all of these. In that case I can pass this right on.   ETA: shipped 10-3 to filigree_shadow
cranberry

cranberry

6
Fishnets and Frankincense
 

What Not To Wear

I am especially fond of running across people in relatively odd get-ups. Outfits that are vaguely off rarely mean much to me; instead, I'm talking things that don't even fit in the fashion faux pas category because you don't know where to begin. Things that are almost mind-bendingly odd, because they are being worn by a person who is obviously not mentally ill. There is a very distinct difference between mixed-up clothing thrown on by some poor soul who has a lot of personal difficulties and by an otherwise functioning individual whose innate style compass has become seriously skewed.   It's one of those weird autumn days when you just don't know what to wear; it's sunny, but only about 62 degrees and it's windy. Days like today are always a good opportunity to find some weird clothing combos going on, and I saw one when I was walking back into the building after lunch. This woman was evidently out on a late-lunch stroll for a bit of exercise. She had on a long, almost ankle-length skirt that had a design on it that was a cross between a batik print and a tropical print. The background was black and the design was a bright blue. I like black and bright blue together, and it was a nice skirt. But on the top, she had on a casual, sporty, waist-length, zip-up, water-repellent material windbreaker. Some sort of Nike design/lettering on it; the colors were white with baby blue. She had short hair and she was wearing a blue and white visor. On her feet she had blue and white flip-flops. The pretty skirt drew me in and then the picture became oddly distorted.   But my favorite weird combination is one I saw about 4 or 5 years ago; it was again about this time of year, but it was a cool and rainy day. I was walking downtown on my lunch hour and looked across the street as I waited at a light. There was a woman in a sort of Laura Ashley-style skirt, long, fluttery, a cream-colored background with a tiny rosy flower print. Suntan-colored hosiery. (Arghblargh! Maybe that's what Andy Garcia caught sight of at the end of "Ocean's Eleven?") Cream-colored, 1980's style pumps that were looking a smidge rugged. But on top of all of this, she wore a black NASCAR pit crew jacket. And the jacket was boldly emblazoned with the team sponsor logos, most prominently, Tide detergent soap. I think there was at least one beer logo, and maybe Slim Jims jerky snacks. I know all of this in detail, because the woman had her head down as she walked into the wind and misty rain, so she didn't see me when I stared at her as I walked by, and then when I turned around and walked backwards to check out the back of the jacket. I mean, wow. It's my favorite of all time. If she'd had on black leather pants and biker boots, the jacket would have been fine. If she'd had on a huge Irish sweater, I would have forgiven the '80's pumps. (Suntan colored hosiery is something that I never forgive. White legs are a far, far better thing, and actually make sense with a Laura Ashley theme.) The combination was, and still remains, unprecedented.   So, the guy at Meadowlark who always tells me he loves me, the one who said his name means "Wandering Gypsy" in Czech and calls me "gypsy girl?" He just put out an album. I am serious; it's a small local recording company. They're selling his CD at Meadowlark and he saw me this morning and cajoled me into buying one. Here is something from his liner notes: "A special thanks to all the girls I have known, starting with my Mother, for giving me such great material for my songs. And to all the guys, remember that you need more than a good line and a lure to get the girl of your dreams. I love you all." And amazingly, his CD isn't bad at all. So if you've read this far and you're the first reader to respond, I'll send you his CD. Not my copy, I'll buy another one! There may be a lot of you thinking, oh my hell, I am so NOT responding until someone else reads halfway through the blog and decides to respond about bad clothing combinations! So really, if you don't want his CD, just say so, because I do want to hear about bad clothing combos that you have seen in your life and time. I love you all.
valentina

valentina

6
Sourball Ho!
 

Sixth Sense? part 2

As promised, here's part 2 of DH's experiences, where he lived in what he suspected to be a haunted house.   After he and his brother got out of high school, they rented a house with their girlfriends. This was a narrow, tall house near the University of Cincinnati, 3 stories with a basement and a great view of downtown. Weird stuff started to happen, but DH thought it was his imagination at first and didn’t discuss it with anyone until much later.   The “second” floor (third floor if you counted the basement) was a large den area with an open staircase going up to the bedrooms. If you were sitting watching TV, the windows facing downtown would be on your left, and the stairs would be on your right. DH would see over and over, out of the corner of his eye, two figures running up the stairs. It looked like a woman with long dark hair being chased by a large man that looked Samoan. It would happen day or night, whether you were by yourself or with a bunch of people there. In fact, DH knew it wasn’t his imagination when others brand-new to the house would “see” it and snap their heads towards the staircase.   The den had carpeting on the walls (yes, it needed redecorating, but they were college kids!) and DH had some “flats” which he stapled to the wall way up near the ceiling. Flats are 12x12” prints of record albums that stores would use in their displays. Every so often one of the flats would be lying on the sofa or the floor, but it didn’t fall off – it wouldn’t be torn, the staple holes were intact and the staples would still be attached to the wall. It was like someone took out the staples, took the flat down and put the staples back in the wall. DH said this happened to the Talking Heads the most often.   Other physical things would happen too – this was the late-1980s and DH and his brother had a huge collection of cassette tapes on shelves in the living room. DH said on many occasions he would go to the living room to get a specific tape and it would be gone. After a search of the house he’d give up, only to have it appear later (sometimes hours or days later) in really strange places like the empty dryer or his sock drawer. One missing tape later appeared at the top step to the basement, where DH would have certainly stepped on it while searching.   DH had a boombox in the bedroom with a big dial tuner to change radio stations. Sometimes if he had it on and would leave the room, when he got back it would be changed to some weird talk or religious station. This only happened when he was alone in the house.   I asked him after all these experiences, “Weren’t you freaked out?” He said no, it was more annoying rather than scary, except for the last night (below).   The worst night he experienced was after he and his girlfriend broke up, and everyone else had moved out of the house. He was there by himself for one night, and the next morning he was flying to California to visit his parents (he ended up staying, got a job and met me). He was lying upstairs trying to get some sleep, but the moment he lied down and shut his eyes there was a *sigh* next to him. Then all hell broke loose downstairs – stomping in the kitchen, drawers and cupboards opening and being rifled through and slamming shut. He bolted down the stairs, thinking someone was in the house, but the instant he got to the first floor the noise stopped. After making sure no one was in the house he went back upstairs, but the same thing happened again – breathing next to him, then all sorts of commotion downstairs. Finally he gave up and went out to his car to try to sleep.
dawndie

dawndie

3
Korshka's BPAL Ramblings
 

Rediscovering Tarot

Over the past couple of weeks, I have been participating in the forum chat tarot readings, giving some lovely ladies readings. In doing so, I have learn things about myself.   First, a little history... I started reading tarot cards in high school, on and off with a friend's deck. When I went to college, I got my own deck of cards and started reading for my friends. I really enjoyed it, but I never did it for anyone I didn't already know. However, after college, I really didn't know anyone other than myself to do readings for, so I kinda stopped. Every now and then I would do one for myself, but other than that...my cards just set and collected dust. That was a few years back.   Then I found the thread for us to do tarot readings for each other. I went to a chat or two and just watched. I was a little to shy to speak up; I also had been feeling a little blocked and "off" spiritually. I got a hold of some TAL blends (white light, clarity, middle pillar), and try a cleansing and grounding ritual, which I feel really helped. The grounding part was due to other issues. I was a little light headed for the rest of the day, but I felt much better afterwards. The next day or so was another chat, and I gathered up the strength and offered to read, and I'm really glad I did.   Reading tarot in the chat room has done so much more for me than just brushing up on an old skill. I feel like I'm help those I'm reading for. I even learned new things about myself. I found out that I can make a connection with the person I'm reading for; even though, they aren't sitting in front of me - I can still "feel" them, and they have each felt different - which is really cool . It something that I don't think I ever made myself do when someone was sitting right in front of me. I think it was one of those things where you have to lose one sense to make yourself really use another.   I am also being able to impart my knowledge on others so that they can evolve as readers. I like that. I like teaching and helping others discover themselves. That is probably why I love my deck. It is so meditative and makes you ask yourself the tough questions about what you are doing rather than just telling your what you are doing - if that makes any sense.   It is all just inspiring me to want to do more all around and delve more into these gifts.
korshka

korshka

0
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Relentless

I wish I could buy bottles for my switchee. I wish I could buy bottles for myself.   Why are money issues so freakin relentless?   The housemate saga continues: He's still here, and we've been waiting for a sizeable check from his mother. Note: She's a working nurse. She owns her own home. He hasn't had a job since late march. He reneged on his lease, and my mother is responsible for it, as co-signer. My mother is unable to work. She's on government disability. She doesn't get a lot. His mother sent him a check for $25 when he told her he was being evicted from his apartment. And some sweaters. She sent him a check for $225 when he told her his car wasn't working and also needed tags and insurance. He had his own apartment for 4 months. The rest he's lived here- not all of those months were leeching, but the way things even out... he's cost more than he's balanced. I know, I have the power to tell him to leave, and it's my job, and it's bad for my marriage, and everything else. I'm not trying to bitch about him. I'm bitching about his mother. The sizeable check arrived today. When he told me that she said she would send a fair amount, I had visions of $500+. Then he said she was going to send $250. Okay. That'll take care of a few things. No. Not $250. $150.   The crack in my windshield has gotten much bigger and we went to the insurance company today. We have a $100 deductible. So there's another unplanned expense. $100 that we have to borrow. I just wish we had a cushion. I'm terrible with money. But if he sat me down and told me straight out that there would be no more BPAL purchases until we have some money set aside in savings, it'd be so. The problem is that the money always goes for something frivolous anyway, so I figure why not BPAL? Or whatever. And it's not like there's a lot of frivolity. More this month than in a long time, because of school money, but my frivolity is not to be had, thanks to stupid-ass rock trucks with no covering on top of their scary-ass rocks.   I really want to scream and be angry and throw a tantrum. I just don't know who to be angry at.
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Korshka's BPAL Ramblings
 

Workin' it!

I think I'm going to expand the focus of this blog and do more of life. We'll see how well I keep this up, but I'm gonna make new effort to try.   My new workout program officially started yesterday. I had my one-on-one orientation. It was actually kinda good. I started to worry about what it would be like when I found out that it was "orientation" and not personal training, but the girl was still really good and helped to set me up with a work out schedule. We discussed my goals and what I wanted. Then she went with me through what she wanted me to do and made sure I knew the proper way to use each machine. I now have an hour and half routine set up with half cardio and half weights. She has me using 4 different cardio machines, and I gotta say that elliptical machine works the hell out of my thighs!   I'm sore today, from head to toe, but it's a good sore. I worked my ass off kinda sore, and I'm going back today. For the first 2-3 weeks, I'm going to start of doing the cardio part ever day and the weights every other day (it'll probably be hit or miss on the weekends, though). I feel really good though, and I really want this to work. I need the change.   Tonight, I have a free 30 mins massage at my salon & spa. Yay - I'm looking forward to that relaxation. Welp, time to get back to work...
korshka

korshka

2
Is Anybody Out There?
 

The Colbert Report

Steven Colbert just said "cock-blocked." Is there a clean reference that I'm missing; one that has to do with roosters or something? Because otherwise? Woah. Not bleeped or anything.  
smallvoice

smallvoice

2
Goth Hobbit's Blog
 

Add another knot to my shoulders...

Most of the time, I don't talk much about "what I do all day", as I'm convinced that most people are going to find it amazingly boring.   Take today, for instance. I spent most of it hunched in an unnatural position over my workbench, because I was constructing those pain-in-the-ass settings known as step bezels.   You can purchase a form of bezel wire to do this (note: in the jewelry industry, anything that can come in a roll is referred to as "wire", whether it's round, flat, square, or something else), but I've found that the ledge in pre-made step bezel is not always in the right place for the stone that eventually has to go into the setting; it's almost always too low, or too sharply angled for a deep-cut stone. This is why I tend to make my own; if I get the ledge too high, I can always take a setting bur and grind it down a bit, but you can't add extra height to the factory-made stuff, except by doing exactly what I just spent a good chunk of the day doing.   First, you make the bezel, which is made of a very thin, flat strip of fine silver (.999, as opposed to .925 sterling.) It's just slightly bigger than the stone that you want to set; almost too tight for the stone is what you're aiming for. However, bezel wire is usually too thin to cut a seat for the stone -- high-speed burs are aggressive, and can chew all the way through the metal even if you are careful. So, you create a step to support the stone from underneath. In theory, this is a relatively simple process of bending a bit of wire so that it's the same shape as the bezel, fitting snugly inside, then soldering it into place. However, this theory falls into the same category as battle plans that never survive the first skirmish with the other side.   First off, the step is never the right size. Never. It will always be slightly too big or too small. Too big is correctable with a bit of judicious filing; the key word being judicious. Shave off too much in any one spot, and you end up with a step that's too small, and the only remedy for that is to start over. (You will have a little piece of silver that will eventually make good casting grain, but that's not the point of the process.)   Next, you have to get the step correctly placed inside the bezel, and this is an exercise in patience. Even if you cut a shallow channel to hold it, the step wire isn't going to stay put. Minute adjustments will inevitably cause the step to pop out of place; if you're lucky, it stays in the bezel or lands on the bench. It's far more likely that spring tension will cause the step to become airborne and land someplace where you won't find it without resorting to extreme measures, at which point it's back to square one.   Once you get the step placed where you want it, you coat the piece that you're working on with soldering flux and start heating it up. Here's where you keep your fingers crossed that either the expansion and drying of the flux -- or the heating of the metal -- doesn't displace the damned step yet again, forcing you to stop and re-adjust it. Actually getting it soldered on the first try seems anticlimactic after all of the prep work.   This goes triple for any step / bezel combination that requires angles... like a 7x5mm emerald cut. Just as a "for instance".   And yet, despite the pain in the ass factor, I keep making them, because I love the look. The stone is protected, and it goes well with the antique feel of many of the pieces that I make.   Not everything I did today required step bezels, and I probably would have gotten a lot more done if I hadn't been making them at all. Still -- two rings, most of a bracelet, and two pairs of earrings; not bad for a day's work.   And another couple of twists to the ever-present knot between my shoulderblades, but that's an occupational hazard.
goth_hobbit

goth_hobbit

0
Filling the Periodic Table
 

I messed up. Big Time.

Oh my god, I dropped the ball. I undid a ton of really hard work with a little oversight. Something no one in their right mind should have done.   So you know those exams I talk about periodically? And you know how I've been studying for this one, and my company sent me to Chicago for a week to prepare, and bought me hundreds of dollars of books? I forgot to register.   It would have taken me 10 minutes, and I forgot to do it.   My boss has been fairly supportive. That is, once he finished laughing at me. I know he didn't mean to be mean. I can certainly see the humor in it. And they're not making me pay back the money or anything, unless I quit my job before next fall, which I doubt I'll do.   I feel like an idiot, a bonehead. And the sad thing is that telling my boss was the easy part. Now I wonder how I'll tell my mom! She'll be disapointed and angry, and I just won't be able to bear it. Even though there's nothing she can do to me. And I'll here about it for the rest of my exam-taking career. My mom will nag me about every one, reminding me to register because "remember how unhappy I was this time", every sitting for the next 3 or 4 years until I'm done. Worse than that, for *at least* the next 10 years, she'll bring it up whenever I have to remember something important. I won't get to live it down.   She'll ask me if I am depressed. I am not depressed, I am exhausted. I have been traveling far too much lately, and I hate it. It throws off my schedule, it throws off my rhythm, and I just don't enjoy it. 3 of the 4 trips were to see my parents, and it's great to see them, and they want to see me as often as possible, but they don't really understand how much it wears me out. They don't get how hard it is on me to be away from my home.   And my mom is having her hip replaced in a week and a half. My parents don't really understand that this is stressful for my sister and I. After all, we're not the ones going through surgery. And yeah, it's a planned thing, not an emergency, but seriously, it's my mom. I am not so excited about facing the fact that she's getting older.   And I'm buying a house. And that's kind of daunting too. I have great credit, and I can afford it, but it's still a really big deal. I want to do it, but I'm afraid of moving again, afraid of change. Afraid of messing something up because I've never done this before. Or what if I forget to do something minor but crucial, and mess up my mortgage the same way I did my exam?   I am so damn tired. I want my mother. (except I want my mother when she's sweet and supportinve, not the way she is when she's all disapointed and disapproving.)
antimony

antimony

2
Diplomatka
 

New Airline Regulations

Yes, the restrictions on liquids are relaxed, but how does this affect my Duty Free purchases?!?!?   Ugh, I hate flying to America. I hope they shake me the fuck down like they did in Frankfurt a year ago. Trying to prove that you work in Afghanistan and are not a terrorist is not as easy as it sounds. I was forced to bust out my employer-issued ID with the photo of me looking angelic (and Iranian) in my chador. The old American ladies working the counter finally let me through, but the Azeri American who worked for the State Department (!!!) was not so lucky. Ah, profiling. It really doesn't matter what passport you hold or where you work, they can keep you from your flight if you are not the right color.   So this will be my 22nd time crossing the Atlantic. Crying babies, farting Indians, Xanax and red wine are par for course. I hope this will all be reflected on my frequent flyer miles.
Confection

Confection

0
Fishnets and Frankincense
 

My turn to tell a story

Since Dawndie has written about this, and now Filgree Shadow has told her story, I guess I'm brave enough to tell my own paranormal story. If anything, they make good reading!   My maternal grandfather died when I was 3.5 years old. My mother had helped my grandmother take care of him until he became too ill to stay at home, and she used to take me along. Just as an aside, this was not a good move, but my mother was of the opinion that little kids didn't "get it." She tends to think very small children simply don't have the ability to understand what's going on. But my first memories are of running through a room where he was in bed and I was utterly terrified of him, because cancer had moved to his brain and he was in a state of delirium. Today I have a galloping case of hypochondria, and the seed was no doubt planted at that early age.   But I was his youngest grandchild by about 8 years, and word has it that when he was well enough to live relatively normally, he doted upon me. Based upon photos from what my mother always pronounced in melodramatic tones to be: "That. last. Christmas," this was, in fact, true. I also remember his funeral and my brother working very hard to keep me quiet, because I was rather giddy. My grandfather was dead, and he wasn't going to be around to scare the crap out of me anymore. And my beloved grandma might eventually stop crying. She always felt a lot of anxiety about me seeing him so sick, and my reaction to it. Then I felt bad about making grandma feel worse. Is it any wonder than I'm angsty?   What I recall is that sometime after he died, I was sitting in the waiting room of a doctor's office with my mom. I wasn't sick -- I was getting some sort of immunization. The door of the waiting room opened and my grandpa walked in, dressed exactly as he was when he was well. He sat down across from us and was looking at a newspaper. I leaned forward and stared at him. I looked at my mom, who hadn't glanced up from her magazine. Because my mother has always been an inveterate people-gawker and normally seizes the opportunity to engage a captive audience in a conversation, this wasn't normal. And it was her dead father that she was ignoring! Dood, he's back, at least say hi! I kept staring at him then looking up her. He kept glancing up and saw me staring at him. He looked a little chagrined and wouldn't look directly at me. He acted like someone who was trying to not be seen. I leaned forward even closer, thinking he'd at least say hello. He laid down the newspaper and walked out. My mother kept flipping through the magazine like no one was there. I remember looking at her like she was insane. I can see this entire event in my mind so clearly, it's like it happened this morning.   I always attributed this event to the notion that I was, in fact, sick, and my feverish little brain was working overtime. I never told my family about it. Then about 5 years ago, my mother told me a story about sitting with me in the waiting room of the doctor's office, less than a month after my grandfather had died. She couldn't remember why we were there, but she remembered that I wasn't sick. She said I became extremely, extremely quiet, and then turned, looked at her very seriously and very distinctly said: "I think if you look around here, you'll find grandpa."   I never told her what I remembered, she wouldn't have accepted that as anything but my wild imagination.   I've often read that little children can see and hear things that adults can't, and that the social maturation process shuts off that corner of our mind. I tend to agree with that. Also, never take a toddler along to do hospice care. Not a good idea at all.
valentina

valentina

2
Do you have a flag?
 

Goosebumps!

A couple of days ago I was reading dawndie's blog, totally engrossed in her Sixth Sense Part 1 story. I don't usually talk about things like that because for one I'm afraid people will think I'm nutters, and for two it seems very private. But I feel encouraged by what she wrote, so... here goes.   About a year ago, my husband and I were getting ready for work one morning after it had been raining all night. He was in the shower, I was in the bedroom. Midway through his shower, he thought I was in the bathroom because he heard the sink faucet turn on. When he got out and didn't see me standing there, he yelled at me for leaving the sink on. Problem is, I didn't turn it on. And it's not like I could have left it on and forgotten -- we have double sinks in the master bath, and it was his sink that was on. I never use his sink. We have the kind of knobs that you have to turn clockwise to turn on the water, and it was full-blast. We had no idea how it happened and discussed having a plumber come out to look at it.   When my husband was leaving, he set the alarm as usual, then went in the garage and got halfway to his car door when he realized he forgot his lunch. When he came back in the door a few seconds later, the alarm went off. The whole shebang with sirens and bells, not just that buzzing noise that it does when you open the door and you have 30 seconds to turn it off. It doesn't do that. That's not supposed to be possible. You're always supposed to get 30 seconds of leeway whenever you open a door. When I heard the alarm sound I came flying downstairs to find out what was going on. He was standing there looking at the alarm panel. He turned and looked at me with this confused look on his face and said "What the hell is going on around here today?" He told me what had happened, and I couldn't figure it out either.   I started to walk back upstairs, and when I got to the bottom of the stairs I heard water running. I yelled out, "Oh great, now the faucet has started up again." I started up the stairs, and quickly realized I wasn't hearing the faucet. I came back down slowly as my husband was coming around the corner. I said, "The faucet's not on. What's that noise then?" We stood there for a couple of seconds, and then I said, "Oh, wait. It's the sump pump. We had all that rain last night." He brightened and started to say something, probably to agree with me, when his face suddenly changed. He said, "I haven't heard the sump pump at all this morning." (Our sump pump makes this really loud THUNK noise when it switches off -- you can hear it all the way upstairs in the bedroom.)   He ran down to the basement to see what was going on, and that's when he discovered that the sump pump was broken. Water was already coming out of the pit into the basement. We looked at each other strangely, and he said, "If we had both gone to work this morning, we would have come home to a flooded basement." We looked around at all our boxes of stuff that we store down there, and we both felt a bit of a panic. Anyway, he wound up calling the plumber, and I agreed to work from home until the plumber arrived.   Right after he left the house (he tried opening the door again, no sirens this time), our dog Prudence started going nuts in her crate in the family room. Barking, whining, scratching at the door. She never does that. She was specifically trained to be quiet in her crate. Even after I said, "No" and "Quiet," she kept barking. By then I was pretty freaked out by all this weirdness, so I let her out of the crate. She ran straight into the kitchen and started barking at the stove. I've never seen her behave like that. She wasn't growling, just barking. I thought maybe someone had left food on the counter and she wanted it, but there was nothing there. Everything in the kitchen looked exactly the same as it does every day. She trotted off, and then turned around and came back and barked some more at the same spot.   I opened the fridge to get a drink, and after I shut the door I turned around and looked at the kitchen counter again. I noticed that one of the demitasse cups had been knocked over, and the water that was in it had dumped out on the counter. I am 100% positive it wasn't like that before I opened the fridge. I checked the counter when Prudence was barking! Those cups don't just tip over, they're short and squat. And Prudence hadn't been charging into the cupboard or anything -- there was no huge bump that could have knocked it over.   Then... nothing. The rest of the day, no weirdness. And nothing that strange has ever happened in our house since. I didn't feel anything spine-tingly the whole time. I didn't feel like I was being watched, I didn't feel like I was in danger -- nothing like that. I wasn't afraid. The bizarreness of it freaked me out, sure, but it didn't make me feel like the house was creepy. Actually I felt safe. Kind of protected.   I don't know who or what was here that day, but ever since then I have always knocked on the basement door before I go down there. It seems polite. Just in case.
filigree_shadow

filigree_shadow

3
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Queen Gertrude, De Sade and others

I tried a few imps really quickly before I put them up for swap.   De Sade: Unsurprisingly, it's leather. I'd test it on my husband if I thought he'd like it, because it might smell fantastic on him, but he's not into wearing scents. At least not where he can smell them. I tried a smidge of Manhattan on his collarbone, and he hated being able to smell it. Should I try his hands, maybe? Anyway, right. De Sade. Leather. That's about it. I don't like it on me, but I think I'd love it in other blends. I just don't like it by itself and can't see myself ever wanting to wear this blend. For me, it's a 3 of 10. It's that high because I'd love to smell it on my husband, and I think it's a novelty that I really enjoy.   Queen Gertrude: First struck me as really... I dunno. Overwhelmingly floral and perfumey. Once on my skin, however, it takes a turn for the lovely. I'm thinking Illyria might be my category even more than Wanderlust. It softens into this sweet, warm floral that is comforting and light. Very beautiful. I like it more than Shadow Witch Orchid. Odd note: Gennivre smells almost just like this on my skin, except really oddly bitter. Huh. It ranks an 8, but Gennivre ranks a swap, I think.   A dab of French Love: Bright and friendly smelling. It's just got an undertone that I don't like- there's something turning bitter on my skin, like a bad combination of herbs/greens on me. Not my thing. May be worth trying again at a later date, though. 5.   Saint-Germain: The amber REALLY blooms in this one. I'm pondering keeping it, but I'm not sure I like the beginning enough to want to wear it often. Still, the amber is just stunning. I may test this one again.   Pain: I love the mintiness of this. It's actually very pretty, but doesn't strike my fancy at the moment. I don't hate it. 6.
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Setbacks

I've lost momentum with my secret project now that school started and I had to pull out five rows. Five doesn't sound like a lot, but it feels like a lot.   I almost bought a set of size 3 double pointed needles today, and then realized I wouldn't have the first idea how to use them. I'll get there eventually, I guess. I don't know.   I'm doing okay in math so far. I like that it's a much slower pace. I just could not cover that amount of material in such a short time and grasp it... obviously. So I'm going to work really hard this quarter, again.   I need to work out next week. I'll try and go in extra early one day, if I can get to bed early enough. I just need to get in there, it doesn't matter how long. If I do it once, I can do it regularly from there on out without it being too much of a strain on my anxiety. So... here's hopin'.   I wish my switchee would post more!
smallvoice

smallvoice

3
Fishnets and Frankincense
 

The Italian Greyhound

Well hells belles, I haven't written an entry in almost a week! What have I been doing? I'm getting busier at work and it cuts down on my recreational writing time. Whatta gyp!   Last night I went to the pet food store to get some kitty food for Puddin' Tom, and the Italian Greyhound Rescue organization had a table set up by the door. The guy who's the local IG rescue coordinator was there with two of his foster doggies. The one was a bouncy youngster, about a year old. The other dog had some white on his face and was obviously a mature fellow. When I kneeled down to pet them, the older guy came over, put his eensy teensy little paws on my legs and snuggled his head against me and kind of whimpered and cried. The sweetie, the honey! There was another woman there and I wanted her to be able to pet him, but this little dog kept coming back and just leaning on me.   I asked the IG rescue guy what the story was with the older dog -- he said it was an owner surrender. This couple had owned two IGs since the dogs were pups; one dog was 9 and the other was 8. They decided that the dogs were getting older and might get more high-maintenance, so they just turned them over to rescue. Kind of like the dogs were motor vehicles. What doucebags. This little dog kept looking at me with his big sad eyes, and you could tell he's just confused. And sad. And frightened. He's being very well-cared for in his foster home, I know, but the poor little guy wanted to adopt me. He broke my heart.   Look, IGs are really delicate little creatures and I already have a bossy Basset and a very possessive male Boxer. I would seriously fear for the poor little guy. I only hope that he turns on the big-eye nuzzler act on for other women and he gets a wonderful home very soon, so he can be curled up on a couch with a little comforter thrown over him on chilly autumn nights.   Wayward dogs and pain in the ass men, they all love me.
valentina

valentina

1
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Review links: Earliest to most recent

Eris (Wow. This is sort of embarrassing. My nose was just so untrained... yeah. But Eris is special, because she was my first. I'd like to give her another go, now that I'm almost a year into it. Most of my early reviews are exceedingly painful, really.) Scherezade Moxie Eos Jailbait Aizen-Myoo Penny Dreadful (I'd like to try this one again.) Dragon's Milk Black Forest Zombi (Another I'd like to retry) Seraphim Numb (Another I'd like to retry) Inferno Midnight Hamadryad Lick It Hollywood Babylon Hell's Belle (I need to update this review to reflect an aversion to that type of musk.) Glasgow Red Devil Jester Whitechapel Dude! I really need to update this review! It's awful, and for one of my favourite scents ever!) Swank Grand Guignol (I really want to try this one again.) Bliss (I don't love this one so much anymore.) Madrid (Not as enchanted by this one anymore.) Velvet Dragon's Blood Dragon's Hide Dragon's Eye Malediction Blood Voodoo The Lady of Shalott Arkham (Revisited) Akuma (Be sure and read the review by WidgetAlley, which is right before mine.) Follow Me Boy Asphodel Florence Serpent's Kiss Sea of Glass Kali Grog Bluebeard Haunted Hunger Blood Lotus Blood Rose Lilith Block Buster Red Lantern Gingerbread Poppet Endymion Aunt Caroline's Joy Mojo Shub Niggurath Monster Bait: Closet Lolita Alice Rage Bloodlust Voodoo Queen Thirteen (13) Verdandi Tezcatlipoca The Hesperides Santa Muerte Cerberus Lotus Moon Shattered Villain Danse Macabre Debauchery Golden Priapus Coyote Khephra Hetairae Wicked O Morocco Enraged Orangutan Musk The Red Queen Vicomte de Valmont Katharina Hecate Aeval R'lyeh Carnal Port-Au-Prince Black Opal Eat Me Jack Xanthe, the Weeping Clown Chaos Theory: Strange Attractors MLXXVIII (1078) Mme. Moriarty, Misfortune Teller The Candy Butcher Gennivre, L'Artiste du Diable Theodosius, The Legerdemain The Organ Grinder Midnight on the Midway Carnaval Diabolique Devil's Night Thalia Undertow Bewitched Le Serpent Qui Danse Sleepy Moon F5 Et Lux Fuit Aglaea The Scales of Deprivation Miskatonic University Freak Show Halôa Euphrosyne Kurukulla Hymn to Propserpine Mouse's Long and Sad Tale Djinn Kathmandu Pele Eve King of Spades Mabon Nuclear Winter Doc Buzzard Monster Bait: Underpants Pink Phoenix Pumpkin Patch 2 Glitter Bengal Dana O'Shee Dublin Queen of Sheba White Musk Punkie Night Boomslang Bakeneko Australian Copperhead Zarita, the Doll Girl The Oblation Pink Moon 2005 Faith, the Siamese Twin Asp Viper Leo Mr. Nancy High John the Conquerer Bien Loin D'ici Medea Euterpe Beaver Moon Snow Angel Enraged Bunny Musk Night's Pavillion       That's it so far! I have a ton I need to write up, still, though. And I realize you can easily use the search function to see my reviews, but it's nice to just have at my fingertips. (151 as of Snow Angel)
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Is Anybody Out There?
 

A Rant About Money

I am about sick of money issues coming up. I know I shouldn't be complaining, because it's not like we're starving to death or anything, but it's awfully frustrating being the only one of the three of us with any sort of income. Car insurance and gas money tacked on to everything else is just sort of almost too much to deal with. And here's the thing with insurance: My mom had been taking care of it because she had the money and it was just cheaper for her to do it for a number of reasons. Well, when we went in to have it switched over to my name, they initially quoted a rate that was within our budget, but recanted when they noticed that we didn't get the multiple car discount that my mother has. The rate they quoted then was about double the original one. We went in a couple of days ago to finish up the paperwork and when I asked for the quote again to put in my records, we were given the lower rate- which I didn't notice until we got home. I like the lower rate, but I don't want this to bite us in the ass. Do we go in and bring it up to them? Just wait on it? Oh yeah, and here's something else fun: My windshield is cracked. Got trapped behind two big semi's riding side by side, with rocks piled into the back, completely unprotected, and several of them pelted the windshield. I didn't notice the crack until this week. We can apparently get it fixed for $70, which we don't have to spare, or we can file a claim and have the insurance rate increase. Does that seem right? I'm a bit naive about insurance, apparently, but I've been exceedingly distressed since my husband told me that any claim we make will bump up our rate.   If I had the energy, I'd shriek in frustration.
smallvoice

smallvoice

2
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