darkitysnark

I moved from NC to OR for The Mister's job, which he is quickly growing to hate. But we love it out here. So it's a mixed bag for now until we can get our vocations to match our avocations in enjoyment. My best friend's husband moved from CA to NC to be with her, unsure of where they stood (she had just left her first husband at the time) and how they were going to turn out. They are now planning to move back to CA together... so it did work out in this case, though they both had to go through quite a bit to get there.

Couch Street, pronounced "KOOCH". I kid you not. I always notice haircuts, but am not so good at the verification. Case and point, my usual question isn't "Didja getcher hair cut?" it's more of a statement along the lines of "Your head shrank. You cut your hair." I lack in the couth department. "Beat-Rice: the scent of leftover rice pudding straight out of the fridge. Chilled creamy cinnamon with a starchy sweet foundation and a twist of Grandma's kitchen".

Snarky has lost her freaking mind. Case and Point This is the flooring she wants for her bathroom. The Mister wanted something more neutral, but this just spoke to her. Maybe it's because the colorway is called "Asian Tiger". Snarky is just a complete sucker for names of colors that say nothing about the color. (Then again, The Mister's choice was something like "Picasso Splash" or somesuch.) Send help. Preferrably in the form of beigy, calming tones.

Hee hee. Snarky took your original comment as a compliment, so this is icing on the (psychedelic) cake! Snarky has a slightly different problem. Lately she finds when she speaks that she carries her tangential parenthetic internal dialogue (you know, like this) into conversation. Unless the audience is slightly ADHD and/or similarly wired, it makes for a very confusing ride.

Snarky knew that the Custo-loving Valentina would approve. It will cover a very tiny space (the bathroom is no larger than 8'x6') and will share the room with a white tub and pedestal sink. The walls are currently a pale blue. Snarky is thinking of gunmetal gray.

Magic Eye! Oh dear... that was not Snarky's intention... however, hm... verrry interesting...

Now I've got The Ramones going through my head. Again. Good luck! You've been studying very thoroughly (more than hard, more than dilligently) and have absorbed more maths and formulae than I could possibly fathom. Like planning for a wedding, this is all momentum at this point. You've done all the preparing you can do and there's no need for last minute cramming (or, you know, midnight tulle runs if I'm keeping with my shakey metaphor). Try to give yourself some mini-breaks after the exam. I know you have a whole slew of things to do before your parents get there, but a frazzled, possibly stress-sick antimony would be worse than a dusty picture frame. Again, good luck!

... for eye strain? OK, that didn't work quite as well as Snarky had hoped, nor is it nearly as pleasant as ice cream. Nevertheless, she is suffering from ever compounding eye strain as she moves from eight hours in front of the computer (under fluorescent lights in "The Cracker Cave") to a few poorly light hours throwing things around/together/into boxes at the apartment, to a couple more hours in the waning gloom of evening working up close and personal with various nooks and cranies and surfaces of their soon-to-be kalidescopic domicile. The peepers are pooped, folks. Add to that the nocturnal goings on at Flat du Snark (Snarky is an equal opportunity mangler of all languages) in the form of feline gymnastics (Seriously, what is the deal with cardboard and plastic bags and the licking? Does it really taste that good?) and there is just no rest for the wicked winkers in the forseeable future. While some more painting is on the docket for tonight's Chez Snark visitation, Snarky thinks she'll try to truncate the errand and convince The Mister that a break is in order in the form of the one-two punch of eye candy (24 and Grey's Anatomy season finale) and gelato.

The wonky wicked winkers got some west - er - rest last night. Alas alack, no gelato was had, but a good solid hour of dreaming about elaborate floor coverings was just as good for the soul (and for fewer calories). The Snarks have been scrimping and saving for the last year and are on the verge of blowing most of it on the neatification of their house. In lieu of doing any painting in the 90+ degree (!!) heat, they went to the nicely air conditioned flooring store and looked at cork, rubber, wool, marmoleum, and something that looked like sea anemones and/or a Muppet pelt. Then they went back to the apartment and crashed. Snarky slept like the dead, even with cats galavanting about. It was a good sleep.

Oh no! inkdarkmoon's already talking all rednecky and what-not! Quick, get the scissors!

I got the lovliest hairball from one of our furbabies as a Mother's Day gift. Ah well, it's not all head butts and belly rubs all the time. Ella Bean has the most soulful eyes I've ever seen accompanied by a bib (kerchief?), and I'm so glad Mugzy was found by people who knew enough to pass him on to you!

Perhaps in the midst of the hair-and-dust-raising activities of "packing up", Snarky will think back on her and The Mister's history together. Like many couples these days, they met online. The first month of their acquaintance was spent practicing the simultaneously high and low tech tradition of courting over email. Their exchanges were refreshingly open and honest from the get-go. She was finishing her degree in a field she did not respect, and he was working in an industry that no longer interested him. They found a kindred spirit in eachother's restlessness. Sometimes they made simple poetry challenges to eachother. One day The Mister asked Snarky to compose a quick poem using words no longer than four letters. Here's what she came up with: soft paws pad pad pad pad purr cat eyes look at you a grin? (too fast to tell) now she goes zoom! on your lap pad pad pad pad stop "mine" say her eyes you nod, "yes"

Snarky has to interrupt this regularly scheduled home improvement program to do a little theraputic venting/stream of consciousness whangdoodle: Givens: 1) Snarky hates moving. HATES it. With a deep, burning, vitriolic passion. She suspects she might be a little OCD about her Stuff being Messed With, even if it is she who is doing the messing. 2) The Mister has been suffering from low-grade depression for as long as Snarky has known him. That would be eight years. 3) The Mister only recently started getting treatment for said depression when it developed into anxiety attacks that affected his work performance and also showed up as heart attack-like symptoms. 4) The Mister had to stop taking his "happy pills" because they gave him a rash. 5) The Mister hates his job. This is probably what pushed his depression into anxiety. 6) The Mister's job is so consuming that he's too busy during the day to do anything "extra-cirricular" and has also had to bring home "homework" that sometimes has him up past midnight (or in one instance, he never came to bed). Therefore, Snarky has been doing all necessary research for the house/move. 7) Snarky really, REALLY hates moving. 8) Snarky wrestles with her own issues of low self-esteem (coupled oddly enough with a raging ego, work that puzzle out) which can create overblown reactions to criticism. Catalyst: So today, all those factors came to a head as Snarky tried to secure temporary permits to allow the Snarks to park a fourteen foot moving truck in front of their (essentially, for the purposes of this story) downtown apartment building. It's always the little things that set off the best explosions, no? This could have just as easily been a week-old stack of unwashed dishes in the kitchen or an odd comment on the appropriateness of a certain pair of pants to a certain type of musical venue. Something trivial and small yet monumental, like dripping water or straws on camels' backs. Results: A very terse, very public cellphone conversation in the middle of the engineering department where at points Snarky had to hold the phone away from her ear because The Mister, in his best moods, cannot use an Inside Voice to save his life. As he was at times apoplexic with anger (at Snarky, the world, his employer, again with Snarky, and again with work), fuming with frustration, and exclaming in exasperation, his Outside Voice was just about at Football Stadium Level. Snarky responded with hushed, angry, trying-to-be-not-"you-statements" speak and had a fun time wrestling her features away from alternating between tears of rage, tears of sadness, tears of fear, and just plain good old fashioned WTF. Snarky admits she is not blameless in this. She is passive-aggressive, sensitive, and requires much grooming. She's usually pretty much self grooming, but enjoys a fluff every now and again from her paramour. She can be a demanding diva bitch banshee at times, but has been working hard to recognize when those "chocolate and pickles" style impulses present themselves. This is the rockiest point before it gets smoother. This is the abyss from which, after the dust has settled, they will look back with their arms looped around eachother's waists, and they will say "Whew! That was a close one!" And they will be glad that they had eachother to lean on, rail against, and be pushed through by in order to make it to the Other Side. They just have to have faith and get there together. Solution: Snarky plans on making peace offerings tonight. But for now, she has a job interview for which to prepare, and a slowly rising tide of panic to quell with logic and love.

That is BEAUTIFUL!! Have you considered wood burning too? You must have a really steady hand. Im just... in awe of your talent!

Darkity is very thankful for your empathy. Things almost immediately started to get better once she posted and after a furtive face-to-face with The Mister. The rare moments of friction in their lives together always end with quasi-ultimatums that spring from some deep respective doubt they both seem to harbour about their own ability to make enough of a contribution to their marriage. The drama has decreased with time (often, arguments get short cut and end eventually with "can we just get to the making up part already?" ) but life changing circumstances like this still shake loose the old insecurities. Well, there are about four steps up to any door into the house... so you could also run up and down, pumping your fists triumphantly in the air for comic relief as well. Duh-nuh naaaah! Duh-nuh naaah! The Snarks will make it through this, and once the dust settles, The Mister is going back in for a re-evaluation. Darkity is pretty firm about this. She is also planning on resuming her own personal habits for Improved Mental Health (knitting, weight lifting, cooking).

I am SO out of the loop. I was totally thinking: "OH NO! They canceled 'Everybody Hates Chris'! I didn't even know you could vote for shows!" Because I'm out of touch with pop culture and gah. OK. Gotcha. Idol. Sheesh. Which one was Chris? (And just as full disclosure I am a total nutjob for ANTM, so I'm definitely not on any high and mighty anti-reality-TV thing here. I'm just cluless. )

French Manicured toenails are deeeesguuuusting! Flip flops are de rigeur over here in Portland -- all part of the super laid backedness (we're talking jeans at fancy pants restaurants... where one should wear, you know, fancy pants!) but there's also a push to be more "metropolitan". So I often get the dubious pleasure of seeing svelte urbanites in their carefully constructed shabby chic outfits with glaring white toenail tips in tarted up thong sandals. It just... hurts. I feel your pain. Also, I have hideous feet, but I do keep them out of sight. And trimmed.

Cus---sto? I am so deeply, desparately out of the loop. :googles, goggles, gets back: What a fancy schmancy website they have!

Since Snarky is an image posting fool, this entry is continued from Part One below... On to the brightness: This was supposed to be the Auburgine Anteroom to the Brown Boudoir. The second coat is darker, and the Snarks are planning a third. The Mister is already grumbling about washing over this with either black or dark blue to tone down the pink. PINK! Behold the pukey green before of the exercise room. This color has been dubbed "shittay" by a close family friend, and the Snarks are not arguing with that. Shittay indeed. The solution? A little somethin' somethin' called "Glowing Firelight". "Glowing"? Try "Glowering"! Darkity likes! After one coat. There might be as many as three in this room too. Also eventually a metallic wash over the whole shebang. Because they can. A shot of the test wall in the living room for the Granny Smith Apple Green. It is a bit brighter than in this shot. Also, yes, the red has GOT to go. This is not Christmasville. Are your eyes now pulsing and watery? The Snarks are enjoying their crash course in color theory. They did not have the opportunity to paint prior to moving in to their last house. While the coming weeks promise to be a hectic scramble to the finish for so many things (the amazingly intricate domino array of contractors needed to just Take a Bath, not to mention the whole "move all the crap in the apartment into the house" manoeuver) (A procedure so complicated it needed extra vowels!) The Snarks are truly enjoying the feeling of putting their (technicolor, barf-up-a-rainbow) stamp on this little house. Last night they even schlepped a few things over to make their first dinner in the house. Nevermind the fact that they don't have a fridge yet. Brushetta! Snarky would like to leave you with something a little more restful for the eyes. This is what greets them from the kitchen sink when they finally manage to wrestle the battered side door open: Just breathe... (Thank Beth for Faustus!)

Snarky's glad to bring a (flaming, radiating) ray of hope into your future homeownership. She and The Mister had a good chuckle over the fact that most of their colors where the darkest, most saturated ones on their respective paint chips. They likes their whiskey straight up, no chaser!

The Mister and I were on the fence about DSL vs. cable internet (we currently have cable). A few things have conspired to push us in the direction of cable, even if we are paying through the nose for it. S'good to see you pop in! Hope you get your DSL issues resolved soon!

Coat #1 was more of a, dare she say it?, fuschia, actually. Here, , you might need these for future posts.

"Oh! You wanna take this into the living room, you saucy dog, you? Well, um... hold on a sec. Gotta shimmy out of this number and put on the complementary nightie for that room... 'K? It'll be just a second..."

Snarky TOTALLY read "gorgeous panties" right there. Valentina's influence is subtle and widespread!

Whoops. Too late. The "shittay green" has a lot more brownish yellow in it than the picture shows. Snarky suspects the flash took out a lot of the "pea soup Exorcist" tones that one can only truly appreciate in person. Or maybe the golden color of the flooring brought out that bit of yuck that turned a perfectly good olive green into whatever this was. And the bruschetta was nummers.